Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

There were many with the potential to raise such a Blade, and though the way to secure the Order’s future may have been in the hands of a particular Priest, he could not pick that individual, since he was leaving, and if he ended up picking that particular father, a riot would break out within the Order in front of their guests. Anka, herself, was decent enough, a fine reward for facing certain death so eagerly, but she did not face the Poison Sword Dragon, and was also a Priest who may not be able to wield the blade as effectively as those of an Oathsword, or even the typical Fighter.

There were many others within his Order, each worthy of the title, some young, some younger, and those who showed such great potential. However, it was not just the potential of the individual which the Malawi needed to think of, but the potential of the collective, the community.

“Young Lani,” Hassan called, more than shocking the entire Order with his pick.

Lani?

That Lani?

‘Me?’ Lani thought, having stifled her yawn midway through, hiccuping lightly as the attention fell upon her.

‘Why does that name-,’ Adam began, before furrowing his brows, his eyes shooting to the Malawi. ‘Is he…’

The young woman stood still. She was slightly shorter than the typical woman, muscular, her copper hair cut short, almost a bowl cut. She was darker of skin, bronze, her eyes dark, almost black. Chain fell across her shoulders, heavy, though her exhaustion was heavier, for she had only slept six hours, having arrived late in the night, after having patrolled the nearby lands for a week, then waking early in the morning.

“Step forward,” Hassan called, causing the young woman to jolt slightly, before she rushed forward, slowing to a quick walk, her eyes full of confusion, unsure of the situation befalling her.

Lani stood before the Malawi, her eyes wide like an innocent doe, the young woman still uncertain. There was no way she could hope that she would be blessed to wield such a fine blade, and she did not even think of the possibility of the title of Sword of the Lady. However, to be the Sword Holder, or even the squire of the Sword of the Lady, that much was more than what she deserved.

Did she need to hold out her hands for the sword?

Dis she need to kneel?

Her heartbeat began to echo within her ears, only drowned out once the Malawi began to pray.

“You must swear the Oaths,” the Malawi demanded, clutching the blade tighter, and the young woman dropped to a knee, clasping her palm over her fist as she began to pray, swearing the Oaths. Hassan inhaled deeply, beginning to pray even louder. As he did, the sword glowed brighter and brighter, until it was pure white, while the wind picked up around them, emanating out from the older Aswadian, whose eyes began to glow white.

As his eyes glowed white, the Elders of Black Mountain dropped before their knees and prostrated themselves before the Malawi. As he did, those of Black Mountain began to fall to their knees, some prostrating themselves, others taking a knee. Dunes dropped to both knees and pressed his head firmly onto the ground. Adam dropped to a knee, while most of his companions remained standing, though Nobby, Jonn, and those who did not wear tattoos upon their foreheads, remained standing.

There was another who stood tall.

‘Oh ho?’ Bael thought, as the chanting grew louder, the ringing of bells beginning to fill the air, his clothing billowing under the pressure of the Divine that emanated through the temple. He assumed the Order could channel greater magic within their home, since the oldest temple to Lady Arya remained within its consecrated peaks. However, he never thought he would be able to see such ancient magics from eras long past.

The explosion of noise filled the air, a bell that rung so loudly, for a moment, the world turned silent, the flash of white almost blinding the entire audience, until finally, they saw the dishevelled Malawi, whose eyes held red tendrils within the whites of his narrowed eyes, blood pouring down his nose, his skin no longer quite so vibrant, greyed from the stress of the effort.

‘Whoa,’ Adam thought, feeling the tingling through the entirety of his skin. He wasn’t sure what he had seen, or what he had experienced, but it had made him feel so…

Small.

Amal remained too shocked to cry, and even the sturdy Kizwolima wanted to hide behind Bael’s leg, but she stood tall and firm, all the while the half dragon’s presence beside her calmed her heart.

Lani’s entire body grew hot, her sweat evaporating in an instant as she opened her eyes, feeling the rush of fire flow from her heart to the top of her skull, to the tips of her ears, her fingers, and even down towards her heels. She clenched her fingers into fists tightly, feeling her muscles expand to fill in her clothing and her armour, her mind throbbing as it grew dense, then lighter, the world around her growing sharper, the air crisper.

“Receive the sword,” Hassan commanded, his voice hoarse, his body weak, his legs burning with the effort of standing. Though he was the second greatest Priest within the Order, knowing how to call forth Fifth Gate spells, even his body was not good enough to form a vessel to channel this ancient Divine magic.

Lani accepted the blade, standing as she did, and as she clasped the scabbard and the handle, she could feel the great magic within the blade, and as the seconds passed, the magic grew more powerful within her hands. Holding this blade within her hands, feeling the heat of the Oath, she couldn’t help but think she could take on the entire world, the young woman no longer burdened by her exhaustion.

“I pay respect to the Sword of the Lady,” the old Priest declared, as loud as he could, even as the blood dripped down his lips, tasting the iron against the tip of his tongue.

“I pay respect to the Sword of the Lady,” came the thundering chant from those of the audience, even from the half elf, though those with tattoos upon their forehead, and the one who wore horns upon his head did not speak the words.

The Malawi raised a hand, and they could see how it shook lightly. “With my final task complete, I will step down from the position of the Malawi of Black Mountain.”

“Malawi! How can you say such a thing?” one of the Priest’s called out.

“Who can lead us in this time other than you?” another added.

“Please reconsider!” Another exclaimed.

Even the Elders, seeing the how the old man had channelled such ancient and Divine magic thought he should keep his title, but they remained silent.

“I hope the Mustashalur shall take the position of the Acting Malawi until the end of the year,” Hassan said, barely able to gain the strength to hide the mischief within his voice. “At that time I trust you will select another who will lead us in such a turbulent time. I pray you will forgive me for stepping down at such an inopportune time.”

“What is there to forgive?” Adilnur replied, taking his brother’s arm as the Malawi began to shuffle down the steps, barely able to stand. ‘You damned…’

Hassan smiled, feeling the glare from his brother’s eyes, a glare so furious that it had silenced even the Elders from speaking up about the, now previous, Malawi’s unilateral actions, breaking the guidance which had been passed from generation to generation. His eyes then fell upon a certain figure.

“Mo Adam,” Hassan called, his voice still hoarse. “May we speak?”

“You should rest for now,” Adilnur stated, huffing as he had to look after his fool of a younger brother, even at this age.

“I must speak with the Mo,” Hassan urged, feeling his heart pounding heavier as he moved too quickly, and though he could feel the gaze of many upon him, he could not fight off the after effects of channelling such ancient magics through him, the consequences of such which would leave him bedridden for weeks, and perhaps he would never truly recover even as the years passed.

‘You! You damn…’ Adilnur guided his brother to a nearby building, where the old man fell upon the seat, panting for air, while two Sheaths stood outside, though they wished to step within, they were fairly certain the Mustashalur would beat them.

“You should return to to your role as the Acting Malawi,” Hassan accused, placing his hands upon the table, resting his weight against his as the sweat poured down his face.

‘Do not think I won’t beat you for your cheek!’ Adilnur thought, though he stepped back, pausing a moment. He wished to heal his brother, but at this time, with the residual ancient magic within him…

‘Jesus,’ Adam thought. ‘He looks like death.’

PATREON LINK

Damn.