Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

“Sun, do you want to fly?” the girl asked, her head raising and falling as the half awakened half dire wolf breathed, lazing under the girl.

“No,” the wolf replied.

“Oh. Okay.” The girl stared up at the darkening sky, the stars already peering down at them. “I want to fly.”

Sun leaned in to nuzzle her cheek gently, before returning back to lazing upon the grass. Meanwhile the girl day dreamed about flying, her body vaguely recalling the sensation, the kind that felt like she was flying, not from someone casting the Third Gate spell now and again, but by someone who truly knew how to fly.

“Sun, when I am big, we will adventure together,” the girl said. “When I am eighteen, like brother Jurot says.”

“Yes…” Sun was too afraid of her elder brother to refuse, for though one of her brothers threatened well, the other one was born in the Iyr, and did not need to speak the words to threaten him, a simple look was enough.

“I will ride you and we will go all across the land and I will fight and fight and fight and sometimes I will not fight, I will drink a lot of wine…” The girl paused, recalling what her brother said about drinking. “I will eat all my own food and all my own drinks so I am not poisoned.”

“Yes,” Sun replied.

“Do you want to hunt a dragon?” Lanarot asked.

“No…”

“It is okay, you can watch me hunt the dragons.”

‘It started with a dragon, and now it is dragons?’ Sun thought, but he decided to leave the girl be, allowing her to daydream in peace. The wolf curled around further, his tail laying over the girl, providing her greater warmth. One day, she would grow so much larger, and his tail would no longer engulf her in warmth and comfort. He curled a little tighter, so she could see his face, and he closed his eyes, allowing the girl to drift away to sleep on top of him, before her mother would come and steal her away.

As the stars twinkled away in the evening sky within the Iyr, the stars were blotted out by a shape above the village, before they reappeared a moment later.

“That’s a rukh?” Adam gasped, noting how far away it was in the night sky, only seeing the outline of the creature. “I thought it would be smaller.”

“It is a greater rukh, a rukhsha,” Dunes informed. “Sometimes the younger dragons will go to fight them, and if they are particularly arrogant, they will lose their lives to such animals.”

“They’re that strong?” Adam whispered.

“They are considered the only natural rival of dragons, or at the very least, drakes, for dragons are often too intelligent to lose their lives, while drakes and rukhshas fight for territory, especially upon the mountains. If a dragon is unlucky, they might come across two rukhshas, they would often have to abandon the mountain.”

“Are there smaller rukhs, then?” Adam asked, vaguely recalling that there were, but he wasn’t sure why.

“Yes,” Dunes replied, narrowing his brows towards the half elf, before pointing to Jurot. “Giahroh brought many to the Iyr when he helped liberate the devilkin.”

“Ah! That’s how I remember them!” Adam said, nodding his head. “A shame there are no more rukhs in the Iyr, otherwise I would have tried to steal a few for my children.”

“There are still many in the Iyr,” Dunes stated.

“There are?”

Dunes motioned a head to Jurot, who bowed his head, but said no more of the topic, not unless his brother-,

“Really?” Adam furrowed his brows. “How come I haven’t seen any?”

“They are kept upon the western side,” Jurot replied. “They are only called when we face an aerial threat, those of dragons, wyverns, or if the Aldish ever try to war, or the Florians with, their gryphons.”

Adam slowly nodded his head. “Yeah, that makes sense. Huh. So could I ask for a rukh and ride it?”

“You could ask, but you would be refused,” Jurot stated firmly. “The rukhs and their riders are among our most elite, and they are carefully cultivated. If other rukhs appear nearby, we would need to slay them, as to not affect our companions.”

“Companions?”

“It is awkward to call them beasts, for they grow up with the Iyrmen, and many generations past, the riders petitioned to change the language we used out of respect for their hard work.”

“That’s really cute.”

Eventually, the half elf and his companions returned to the quarters they had been assigned, allowing them to sleep in peace. Meanwhile, Dunes spoke with the older woman, who had brought more biscuits to make sure the young man was properly stuffed before he would leave again.

“Are you sure you do not wish to stay a day or two?” Rianna asked.

“I should go, or the Malawi will have my head,” Dunes joked, but winced at the thought.

Rianna would have admonished him, but that brat really would take the young man’s head if he was in a bad mood and was asked to break a set of vows. To allow him to do so, it would write a great shame upon his tenure as the Malawi, the Fariq of Black Mountain. He might even break Amira’s vows for the price of the young man’s head. The chance was tiny, slim, but…

“Do you have any advice?” Dunes asked.

“Pray.”

The next morning, the carriages set off into the mountains proper, following along the long path. Tanika panted lightly, for the mountains were so different to the sandy dunes she was used to. When she was upon the sand, it was as though she could fly, and she was glad she had brought such thick boots along. She refused to acknowledge that it was her father’s wisdom, finding it too difficult to praise the man when she was so busy trying to battle the mountain with every step.

“I’m surprised they just let us through without a group of guards,” Adam admitted, adorned in the brand new scarf he had bought from the villagers, draping the cloth over his shoulders, while Kizwolima napped under her own scarf, her head resting up against Jurot’s bicep.

“You are within our charge,” Dunes said. “I am not sure if bringing others along will help contain the likes of you.”

“I promised to behave, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“Don’t sound so doubtful, it hurts,” the half elf mumbled quietly, but he looked out the window. He had remained rather cringe the entire time, but surely they had seen the effort he had put in.

The carriages continued, taking breaks often, partly for the half elf, partly for the baby, but more than always at the benefit of the sand giant. The half elf also offered to heal the giant woman every time they paused, though she refused, preferring the gentle ache that flowed through her at this time, rather than wanting to feel sharp aches once more.

In the distance, Adam could finally see it. The carriages approached the large gates, where two heavily armoured figures, each wearing chain like a blanket around themselves, a pair of blades at their side, as well as large shields, each almost rectangular, resting upon the earth, like walls of steel. Their eyes peered through the visors, which hid their eyes beneath a mask of black, the cloth certainly thin enough so they could see, but patterned in such a way outsiders could not see their eyes. They remained ever still, silver statues, with the world unsure if they were even alive.

Dunes stopped the carriage further away than Adam expected, and he reached over to awaken Amal, who groaned at the man, but Anka took over in order to feed her, so she would not cry as the Priest stepped out of the carriage and approached a few steps closer towards the gate, but still far away. He cleared his throat and began the prayer, a single line, short, and yet he elongated the various syllables of each word, the prayer echoing through the mountain, continuing even after he stopped.

A prayer returned, equally as short, and yet equally as long and elongated, echoing off the mountains, as the pair of guards prayed their hearts out. Once they stopped, the prayer continued, echoing into the distance for moments longer, until silence accompanied them.

“Brother Dunes,” called one of those upon the gate. “Is that you?”

“It is!” Dunes replied.

The guards glanced between one another, noting the number of carriages, but if there was an issue, Dunes would have said so. Even so, one stepped away, going to call for other guards, while the last remained upon the gate.

“Brother Dunes, I have to warn you, the Malawi is not happy with you,” the guard joked.

“What is new?” Dunes joked in returned, the young man smiling brightly towards the guard, causing the woman to laugh. “Shukhur, I hope ahm Isam brought good news?”

“He did. Did you have something to do with it?”

“In some way, yes.”

“Shukhur, perhaps the Malawi will not beat you,” the guard called. “Who are those within the carriages?”

Dunes sighed. “Trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” the guard called, almost worried, waiting to see if those within the carriages would step out and attack.

“You will see soon enough.”

Adam sighed. “Amal, I told you not to bully your cousin…”

Amal rubbed her eye, glaring at the half elf, whose eyes quickly darted away.

“Alright, alright, no need to give me that kind of look.” Adam’s eyes then met Jurot’s. “Told you, daughters are scary.”

“I am glad Monarot is still too young.”

“She’ll be bullying me soon enough,” the half elf said, raising his brows towards his brother.

“…”

Finally! They have arrived!