Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

“Oh my gosh! Isn’t papo Tanagek so amazing?” Adam asked, clapping his hands. “Papo Tanagek and papo Chosen are so amazing!”

“So amazing!” Jirot called out and the twins cackled together with delight as they clapped their small hands, yet surely their applause was the loudest.

Tanagek blinked. He noticed the approving gazes of the Order members to the side, for his story was rather impressive. A group of Iyrmen who went northward and fought all manner of beasts and monsters, even the likes of a wyvern? He was only twenty four, like Jurot and Adam, and he was greater than an Expert, though not yet a Master. Even if he was just an Expert, he would be slightly younger than the average Expert, impressive in its own way.

As Chosen began to mingle with the figures around them, keeping them busy with his charm, Tanagek’s curious eyes remained glued to Adam. He studied the half elf, who picked up his twins and blew raspberries into their stomachs, before the three fought with their affection.

‘What is it?’ Tanagek thought. ‘What is it?’

There was a prickling of heat against the back of Tanagek’s neck. As he studied Adam, it grew. As he studied Jurot, it grew. As he studied Kitool, it grew. Then, when he studied Jaygak, as the woman stole away the twins from Adam, it reached a boiling point, and he realised what he needed to do.

“You must tell me your tales,” Tanagek finally said, holding his cousin’s gaze.

“Okay,” Jurot replied.

“Brother’s tales are so good,” Lanarot said, smirking slightly at her cousin, who rubbed the top of her head, causing her to flush slightly.

The children were finally taken away to the central estate, though Adam’s children, along with Damrot, were taken to the third section of the fort, which held buildings for the Executives, as well as other, more secretive areas, which a select few were privy to.

“Did you like listening to papo Tanagek’s stories?” Adam asked as he brushed his daughter’s hair before bed.

“Yes! I love it so much! He is so strong, daddy, but not as strong as you, because you are first place, and he did not fight in the tournament, but you fight and you win, and papo Jurot win, and kako win, and kako Jaygak is so strong too.”

Adam smiled, though he had noticed how talkative Jirot had become recently. He kissed her forehead, before brushing his son’s hair, preparing them for bed. Jaygak helped Konarot, Kirot, and Karot, while Kitool assisted Larot, Virot, and Damrot.

“Did you say goodnight to Blues?” Jaygak asked.

“Yes,” Konarot replied, her tail swaying lightly, the girl smiling to herself. She had spent so much of her time with the bird, though even now she couldn’t speak with the bird.

“Daddy, why did you not see papo Tanagek? He was so close!” Jirot asked, furrowing her brows.

“Ah, well, I didn’t know he was in the town beside us. If I had known, maybe I would have gone to see him. It’s my first time meeting him today too.”

“It is your first time?”

“It is.”

“Why?” Jirot asked, beginning the bombardment of questions.

“Jibaby, do you think I don’t know what you’re doing?” Adam asked, lifting her up onto his legs.

“What I am doing?” Jirot asked, her eyes glancing aside with guilt.

“You always ask why why why whenever you want to stay awake,” Adam said, planting a firm kiss on her cheek.

“I do not! I do not, daddy!”

“Kekeke,” little Jarot cackled while his sister tried to fight her father, the girl holding up her finger as she tried to trick the half elf.

While the children prepared for bed, Jurot spoke the tale to Tanagek and Chosen. The trio had all left at the same time, months before he had met Adam. He spoke of the first year, the second, the third, all the way to this year. For six years, Jurot had adventured. He had spent so much of it in the Iyr too, while the other two went out, but how many dragons had he come across? How many times had he fought in a tournament? How many times had drawn his blade against legends, like King Merryweather?

Tanagek followed along, understanding Jurot, for one reason or another, was omitting quite a large portion of the tale.

“You have been busy,” Chosen joked, also noting how much Jurot had left out, but with them being at the fort, surrounded by strangers and potential ears, he said nothing.

Jurot nodded, before his eyes met Tanagek’s. Their goals were similar, each wanting to gain great strength for the Iyr, and while Tanagek went with Chosen, Jurot had originally gone alone, but had joined his brother. The pair reunited, each experiencing the loss of their family, and different men. Jurot, married, with children, and Tanagek, who came back to an Iyr that was so similar, and yet so different, as though looking through a mosaic.

“Tanagek,” Chosen said, sipping the wine from his small cup, his cheeks flush with warmth. “The Iyr is the Iyr.”

Tanagek let out a long sigh. As much as he disliked Chosen saying it so overtly, he had a point. The Iyr was the Iyr. Jurot was no longer the same boy he once was, nor were either of them, and the Iyr was different, but it was also the same. The same Iyr that, if his younger brother had died before he received his tattoos, would have brought him back, just like they did with the boys.

“Little Jarot does not eat?” Tanagek asked.

“He eats very little.”

For a moment, it all made sense to him how Adam could have so much influence over the Iyr, but then, realising he held such sway before holding the knowledge of dealing with such a pressing issue that had plagued the Iyr since its inception, it no longer made any sense.

It wouldn’t be too long before Tanagek would realise such a sensation was the norm with this particular half elf.

“Fresh Snow Zephyr,” Jurot called, finally finding a chance to speak of it.

Tanagek unstrapped his sword belt, handing the blade to Jurot, who drew the blade. It was white, like snow, with gentle engravings etched into the blade, like rain falling through the blade. Jurot did not swing it, instead holding it tight in hand, feeling the weight of the blade. He recalled the greatest names whose hands this blade had passed through. The blade was Basic Enhanced, but allowed one to move swiftly when battle began.

“It is a good sword,” Jurot said, handing it back to his cousin.

“You do not want to hold my blade?” Chosen asked.

“I will hold it.”

“No need. It is no Fresh Snow Zephyr.” Chosen smiled, sipping the rest of his wine, catching the air between Jurot and Tanagek. “I will leave you two to speak.”

It was dark in the business, many having fallen asleep some time ago. Upon the walls, Bael lay, sipping at his wine, for the return of the Iyrmen and the arrival of the Bear Mother was quite a day. The silence was loud within the fort.

“I have a favour to ask of you,” Jurot whispered.

Tanagek held Jurot’s gaze, seeing into those dark eyes. As boys, they would often play together, and though he wasn’t as close as Jurot was with Jaygak, or Kitool, or Amokan, they still were close enough for Jurot to ask a favour.

“The children are different. My nieces and nephews. My sister. Your brothers too…” Jurot paused for a moment to gather himself. “His older children, they were adopted into the Iyr officially last year. The triplets are close with your father. I hope you will grow close to all the children, as their uncle.”

“Is this a favour?” Tanagek asked.

“It is.”

“You did not need to ask.”

“Then I will ask you to watch over them.”

“You did not need to ask such either.”

“I hope there will not come a day when you need to remember my words.”

Tanagek wondered what Jurot was so worried about. The Iyr had accepted the children as Iyrmen, no one could deny that now. As much as Tanagek was uncertain about Adam’s relationship with the Iyr, the children’s relationship was clear.

Unless Jurot was asking him to go above and beyond?

“I will remember your words,” Tanagek promised. Since Jurot had asked the favour, Tanagek engraved the promise within his heart. It was not a favour he could refuse, not from Jurot, since he would accept a similar promise. Whatever his cousin was afraid of, Tanagek would step forward if the time came to it.

The pair drank, speaking of their past, before they finally made their way back to the estates, in the second section of the business, where the children remained. Tanagek noted the figure at the gate towards the third section, and he approached the young Iyrman.

“Why are you standing here?” Tanagek asked.

“I am waiting,” Chosen replied, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, his eyes closed, focused on his other senses.

“Why?”

“You will find out soon.”

Tanagek did the same, mirroring Chosen, the both as still as statues. Seconds passed by. Minutes passed by.

Then, upon the gentle breeze, they could hear it.

It was quiet, near silent, but it was the unmistakeable sound of a cry piercing the air.

Tanagek inhaled sharply, before stepping away.

“Do you think she cries for her brothers?” Chosen asked.

Tanagek stopped, turning slowly to face Chosen. “…”

Chosen opened his eyes, meeting Tanagek’s gaze. A long moment passed between the pair, before Tanagek continued to walk away.

‘You did not need to say it,’ Tanagek thought.

‘I know,’ Chosen agreed.

Bael listened from the wall, hearing spoken words, feeling the unspoken words, and understanding that soon, words would no longer be enough.

I kind of feel sorry for all the Iyrmen born in this generation since they need to make stories alongside Adam.