Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

Anka remained stood awkwardly, eyeing up the half elf, who strapped upon his armour after his light rest within the garden. He had sat far too calmly for someone who was about to fight Isam, the figure also donning his own armour, seemingly made of bark, adorned in runes of magic. Upon his back he wore his blade, a slab of magical steel upon a simple rod, but one that would terrify anyone coming across it, for it it was among the greatest of the swords in Aswdasad.

“You let me pick a fight with a guy who is called Poison Sword Dragon?” Adam whispered, strapping on his gauntlet, his eyes full of judgement towards his brother.

“It is a good story,” Jurot replied simply, assisting his brother into his armour, the purple gleaming under the noonval sun, which crested across the horizon.

“Yeah, I guess,” Adam grumbled to himself. “Though, it isn’t right that my life is on the line, and what about him?”

“He will fight the Reavers,” Dunes said, double checking Jurot’s work, not that it was required.

“Yeah, but if I beat him, wouldn’t it make more sense for me to go?”

“I will send word to Jirot that you do not intend to return then,” Dunes replied, dealing with the half elf so easily.

“Good point,” Adam replied, frowning slightly. ‘Still…’

Dunes chuckled, excusing himself before Adam received any more bright ideas, the Priest stepping away towards the others who were still perplexed about the situation.

“Why were you so eager to fight him?” Jurot whispered, glad Dunes had taken the hint, the Iyrman taking the opportunity to ask now that they were alone together, and mostly out of earshot.

“I mean, you know…”

Jurot blinked.

“Ain’t no way I’m letting Dunes’ friend die in front of me, it’s just not happening,” Adam replied in a particularly playful tone Jurot had figured was a way to defend his heart. “Obviously they need his help, and he has his own requests in order to assist, he isn’t going to help for free, but still. Also…”

Jurot narrowed his eyes slightly.

“I need to fight someone strong for Monarot.”

Jurot paused as the half elf smirked, deciding against saying the words specifically, but the smile said enough.

“Also, I need to figure out how strong he is, and how strong I am.”

“He is at the Peak,” Jurot stated, though he tilted his head slightly meaning he wasn’t entirely sure. “He may be an Idol.”

“Like Starsword?”

“Yes, but Starsword is stronger,” Jurot stated, not tilting his head at those words, since the difference between Isam and Starsword was night and day.

“Yeah, well…” Adam shrugged his shoulders. “If I can get him to help, helping Black Mountain in that way, then that’s another little notch in our favour, right?”

Jurot had already heard the real reason within Adam’s words, and his logic. It wasn’t just Starsword the half elf worried so heavily about. “Okay.”

The Malawi stood tall, wearing a scarf around her head, a cuirass of scale over her torso, and a skirt of chain, and as expected, a blade at her side. “You should stop your friend before he plunged himself upon the blade of Kal Isam. I am not sure if the Poison Sword Dragon will stop himself from killing the likes of a Brother, especially a Brother of Death.”

“I am not so certain about either of those myself,” Dunes admitted. He was a little worried since Isam was strong, one of the many Hidden Dragons within Aswadasad, where within every shadow an old forgotten monster relaxed. If not for these Hidden Dragons, Aldland may have already pressed itself deep within Aswadasad.

The Malawi glanced aside towards the young Priest, letting out a small sigh, hoping she didn’t need to step forward. Isam probably wouldn’t have killed Anka, but now that a stranger had gotten involved, on behalf of someone of Black Mountain, things had grown so complicated. Her eyes fell to the Iyrmen, who seemed so eager to watch the fight, and then to the Priest beside her, who was deep in thought.

‘If you die, Lady Arya will claim your soul,’ Dunes had warned the half elf, feeling the strong aura of the Lady upon him within this particular grand temple, soothing his aching heart.

‘She doesn’t have the courage, respectfully,’ the half elf had replied confidently, almost arrogantly.

Dunes raised his brow, causing the half elf to chuckle.

‘You better start saving up,’ the half elf had said.

‘What?’

‘It’s going to cost a lot to redecorate if she wants to claim the soul of Lord Sozain’s Chosen,’ the half elf had joked, but within his tone, even within this temple, held something threatening.

‘Adam,’ Dunes thought, praying within his heart that the half elf hadn’t allowed his ego to get the best of him. He had only just begun to form a relationship with the twins, and if he returned without their father because he was acting a great fool, what was he meant to do?

“Kal Isam, was it?” Adam called, his words instantly annoying the half dragon. “Since you’re aiming for my life, how about I get your sword when I win?”

“Fine,” Isam replied, counting down the seconds before he could cleave the head off the Priest, and since he was a Priest of Death, the Lord of Death would even thank him for it.

‘Nice!’ Adam thought, though his heart pounded heavily within his chest. He was nervous, of course, since this fellow was probably the strongest mortal he had faced. He could see how relaxed the half dragon was, barely even acknowledging the half elf, and the way the rest of the Priests and acolytes around him eyed him.

“He is spreading his name too quickly,” Jurot said, taking his place beside Kitool as Adam warmed up his body.

“Will you not stop him?”

“You are the wise one.”

“If his name spreads too quickly, it spreads too quickly,” Kitool replied simply. “If he is unable to deal with Aswadasad, he will be unable to stop them for Taygak.”

Jurot nodded, inhaling sharply, feeling the words cut deep into him too. Since Kitool had spoken the words, Adam was no longer allowed to lose. However, if this was where the half elf would die, then…

Mork could feel the heavy aura coming from the Iyrman nearby, glancing aside, away from the Executive. He reached into his cloak, feeling the gem through the fabric, before letting out a soft sigh. ‘I’m sure they won’t press us too much if I were to Revivify him…’

‘I should be able to step in,’ Dunes thought. ‘I’ll have to take such criticism when I speak with the Fariq, but…’

Uli’s eyes darted between them all, seeing the storm of emotions within them all. He was pretty sure he was meant to stop this, since Adam was half the reason he was here, if he was being conservative in his estimates.

However, he did want to see the Poison Sword Dragon fight.

Isam swung his blade a few times to warm up his old bones, swinging it as though it were feather light. His sharp eyes green, and full of venom as he glared at the half elf, the half dragon dark skinned, as one might have expected for an Aswadian, with scales of green all across the sides of his neck. His horns curled up and back, covered in chain thanks to his helmet, which seemed to be made of bronze and fashioned into the face of his father, the green dragon Romoleaf. He was short, even shorter than Dunes, even shorter than Taygak. His spikey stark white hair contrasted his dark skin, his thick moustache flowing over his lips and out beyond his jaw, his beard starting from underneath it, coming down as a thick goatee. He held a sharp ruggedness cut by a cleanliness, and all could see he was Aswadian with how cleanly shaven his ear to his moustache was.

‘This brat thinks because he is covered in magic he can face me?’ The old man’s nostrils flared slightly, a dark smoke escaping, finally resting his greatsword over his shoulder, leaning his head back as though to look down at the half elf. ‘I’ll take my time to butcher him.’

Adam, this time, had taken Mork’s shield, revealing to them just how nervous he was, strapping it against his arm. Isam glared at the young man, taking a look at the shield, narrowing his eyes slightly, but he noted it was too different.

“Executive,” Tork called as the half elf stepped towards his opponent.

“Yes?” Adam replied, raising a brow towards the horc.

Tork glanced aside to the other figures around, those of the temple, as well as its many guests, each of whom had come to see the duel between Adam and Isam. Since the Iyrmen hadn’t asked for privacy, it seemed they intended to allow this to spread far and wide, at least, within the temple. Tork undid his sword belt and held his sheathed blade up. “Don’t lose, since I’m bettin’ this fire sword!”

“How can you bet it when it’s not even yours?” Adam asked, grumbling towards the horc. “What? You think Basic Enhanced swords grow on trees?”

“At the business, don’t they?” Tork replied, grinning wide.

Adam flushed lightly. “Hmph, well, whose to say?”

The Priests each gathered the books to count the bets, accepting the magical blade from the horc, as well as the hundreds of silver, gold, weapons, buildings, and even services of the temple. Each bet was placed against another, the fiery magical blades offered by the horc, one on behalf of his brother, the Brother, against the Priests and the temple, which owned bits and pieces of places not just within the city, but beyond towards the nearby villages.

Adam checked his Omens, 16 and 18, and let out a soft sigh. At least he could guarantee two Critical Hits would no longer strike as deeply, which should allow him to survive.

“Are you ready?” the Malawi asked, smiling nervously.

“Yes,” Adam replied, and with that, he pointed Thunder’s Triumph forward. ”Taygak, watch carefully.”

Battle Order

D20 + 1 = 4 (3)

‘Oh, come on!’

‘Please, Adam,’ Dunes prayed within his heart.

It was Isam, the Poison Sword Dragon, after all.

He was certainly at the Peak of his abilities. He could strike twice as often as the half elf, and with that sword of his, strike twice as deadly, for that sword of his, which he had bet against the half elf, was greater than even Thunder’s Triumph. Without a doubt, the blade could cleave even Reavers in two, and considering before Adam’s arrival, Isam had complained about killing four of them already, the bout went exactly as expected.

‘Adam, you need to win for Inakan’s sake,’ Naqokan thought.

‘Should I ask on behalf of Mijin?’ Uwajin thought.

I’m sure going against someone called the Poison Sword Dragon will be fine.