Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

The river split the golden hills in half, like a trail of blood carving through the land. The distant mountains, grey as death, welcomed the young Faro as he marched up towards the top of the hill, followed by four of his guards.

One and four, that was how it was always done.

The rays of noon sparkled off their armour, for though promises were made, promises were like people, of lofty ideals, but easily broken.

The older Shen sat at the table, pouring tea within his cups of silver, adorned in heavy steel, decorated with inlays of gold, defying his once master’s will. Yet, what could the Shen of Aswadasad do to the likes of his family, even when he was once a Faro? Even his helmet, inscribed with the words of Noor, were of beautiful gold, the kind which even Lord Musa would covet. His beard was thick, neatly trimmed, and fiery red, like the passion within the older man’s heart, which raged with a burning fury.

The younger Faro sat opposite the Shen, placing down his cup of wood, while boiling his tea pot beside him. The Faro wore blue scale, that of a dragon which his family had slain centuries ago, and his helmet was forged of the firedarksteel of the fire giants, inlayed with words of Noor in silver. His head was wrapped in a scarf of deep red, like that of blood, slipping out from the sides of his helmet, hiding the chain beneath. His own beard was a deep black, not yet aged by time or stress.

Their guards were also adorned heavily in steel, like walking fortresses, each ready at the command of their Lords before them. It was not the first time they had seen one another, and it wouldn’t have been the last.

Once the Faro poured himself his tea, and the Shen finished pouring a second cup, the discussion was allowed to begin.

“Noor bless you, Faro,” the Shen began.

“Noor bless you, Lord,” the young Faro replied, daring to poke at the figure before him.

“I have come with an offer,” the Shen said, ignoring the young Faro’s obvious provocation. “Marry into my family and swear yourself to me. Rather than a leader among seventeen, you shall be a leader among five. I will help you regain your land, all the way to the Dragon’s Spine with my armies, and you will assist me in taking control of Eastern Aswabayad.”

“This hill,” the Faro motioned with his hand towards around them. “Do you recall what happened on this hill?”

The Shen of Aswabayad remained silent, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Generations ago, Faro Rashidun bin Wazim, once ruled these lands,” the Faro began, seeing the recognition in the Shen’s eyes. “He had two children. Raeez the Falcon. Faraz the Wise. The pair assisted their father in keeping control of this land for the Shen. They were instrumental in keeping the region in check. They were so great, even today, your rebellion could not succeed without them, with their strategies and administration.”

The Shen sipped at his tea, holding the young man’s gaze.

“Upon the Faro’s death, he named Faraz his heir, the boy younger by five years, but more capable. Raeez, defying what might have been expected of him, stepped back for his younger brother, and made his home eastward, but…” The Faro held up his hands, feigning defeat. “Faraz took his brother’s life upon this very hill. He almost killed his nephew, but the boy was taken away, Noorshukhur, the loyalty of Hassan shall never be forgotten.”

The Shen frowned upon hearing the name, his eyes narrowing further.

“As the boy, Rahim, grew, he was taught of his uncle’s treachery, and raised his sword when he was but sixteen, barely a man. He had four wives, and seven children, and Noorshukhur, he needed them, for he was killed in battle, and his eldest sons, twins, were raised to fight. They called the eldest the Falcon, like his grandfather, and the youngest, the Hawk. The first son, he pushed deep into these hills of yours, and his younger brother fought well, but as he killed his cousin, the second son’s life was forfeit in the same skirmish. In his grief, the eldest passed. The third child, a daughter, was kidnapped, and killed. His fourth child, Aqilah, found her vengeance. She married a warlord, and the warlord pushed Faraz back, beyond the river, deep into your mountains, where he found his rest at the warlord’s blade, who forever slumbered under the most beautiful sky our lands have ever seen.”

Shen Akbar could hear it deep within the Faro’s voice, the sheer contempt, and the sheer delight, of the tale.

“The fifth son ruled over the land, his sister to guide him, and forever, have their descendants fought, until...” The Faro’s smile was almost worth its weight in gold. “The Confederacy formed, and thus, no more have our families warred. Skirmishes, for fun, yes, but war? The Shen. His father. His father’s father. They did not dare to trouble the Confederacy. You? You think you can do it? You, who styled himself a Shen, with half a shendom?”

“You are a Faro of half a land, because they forced your father’s father to give up your deserts, your forests, your hills and mountains to the north. Now, they allow rebels to wander your land to trouble you. Join me, and I will help you rid of them.”

The Faro smiled. “They did not force my ancestor. The Shaik of Sand. The Shaik of Wood. The Shaik of Rock. They call me Faro, because they know. They know what is true, that all the lands in the Western Confederacy is mine.”

The Faro’s laughter filled the air, deep and long, while the Shen glared at the young man before him, a man barely his son’s age when he was killed.

“Before I killed my father, do you know what he said? He said, Yarek, my darling son, the ray within my heart, you must not conquer the Star River. Fight them, yes, for their blood sharpens your steel. Without the Star River, there is no Raimi. You have wet your blade against the Shen, your soldiers well trained. We? We of Raimi have skirmished against the Shen’s soldiers. We of Raimi have skirmished against your soldiers. We of Raimi have skirmished many peoples, like those of Star River, within the Confederacy.”

The Faro’s eyes darkened as they held the eyes of he who called himself Shen, Akbar. “The Confederacy, they are annoyed we have only sent one thousand men. What of those other ejirates? They have sent five thousand. Ten thousand. Some, they fight in the tens of thousands. We have sent only one, because we know.”

“What is it that you know?” Shen Akbar asked after the long silence.

“This river, the Blood River, has split the land for many years. To the west, your family has ruled for generations. To the east, my family has ruled for generations. This river, red with the blood. Of betrayal. Of family. Of betrayal of family. You wish to go west to face the Shen? No. You cannot. So you look to the east. You wish to the take the land of the Confederacy? The land which once belonged to Aswabayad, not this Aswabayad I see, but the real Aswabayad. Who do you think you are? Do you think you are the Shen of Shens? The Emperor of the World? You think you are Sulayman al Walid? Sulayman al Akbar? Sulayman the Great?”

Akbar remained silent, controlling the heat rising within his heart and deep within his face, even as the young Faro laughed before him.

“We, who are sons of Rashidun, of the Wazim family. We are the same people. We pray to the same God, the greatest above all, Lord Noor. We speak the same language, the language most beautiful of all, for even the dragons favour our script. Do you know the difference between us?”

Shen Akbar inhaled sharply, preparing himself for the boy’s outburst.

“I would kill the man who killed my son before I came begging for help,” Yarek stated, his eyes full of venom as he glared at the fool before him. He stood, holding his cup for one of his guards, as Akbar did the same.

“My shendom outnumbers your ejirates six to one.”

“Three to one without my Shaiks,” the Faro corrected. “Two to one when you realise they, too, are descended from the loyal branch of Wazim.”

“You are still outnumbered.”

“How many soldiers do you possess? One thousand? Then I, too, have one thousand. Ten thousand? Then I, too, have ten thousand. One hundred thousand? Then I, too, have one hundred thousand. Bring them. One thousand. Ten thousand. One hundred thousand. Bring them. I will push you back to your mountains and claim the land of my father’s father, and the stars will never be as beautiful as the stars of that night. I will claim the land to the south too, and I will take the title of Suzerain, and it will flourish under my rule.”

“You are mad to think you can defeat me,” Akbar said, standing tall and proud.

“I will take it all from you,” Yarek replied. “You, son of Faraz, sit upon a throne of silver and gold, while I, son of Raeez, sit upon a throne of steel and blood.”

“Noor bless you, Faro,” Akbar said.

“Noor bless you, Faro,” Yarek replied.

The next arc is extremely slow and will probably feel repetitive. If you want to take a month break, go ahead. Due to that, every new subscriber to patreon will mean an additional chapter for the month to speed things along. 

However, the arc after? It might be the best arc in the entire series.

Also I forgot how hard this chapter went, damn.