Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

While Lani’s entire world continued to come crashing down, from her ascension to the Sword of the Lady, to finding out this random fool was indeed one of the most insane people imaginable, and even worse, he was rather strong, the half elf settled himself to one side, letting out a long sigh of exhaustion. Just seeing the old man was exhausting, though he looked moments away from dying as they had spoken. Adam thought about how the Order could end up-,

He closed his eyes, relaxing his entire body, allowing himself to fall into a meditative state, allowing his heart to soothe, deciding against tempting Fate by even thinking about something terrible. His mind wandered towards his children, wondering what they were up to.

Within the Iyr, they were up to no…

For once, they were up to good.

Jirot listened intently to her teacher, a woman of the Ool family who had taken responsibility for teaching Jirot about their history, and not just their history, but the history of the world, and other scholarly pursuits.

“The Aswadian Amirs fought because the Shen asked them to share the shendom on his death?” Jirot asked.

“That is correct.”

“I thought they were smart?” Jirot asked incredulously, for the woman had definitely stated the Amirs were intelligent, but everything suggested they weren’t quite that smart.

“The Amirs didn’t want to share.”

“Why not?”

“They wished to gain all the wealth of Aswadasad for themselves, command all the armies to conquer beyond their borders, wishing to reach as far as what is now Floria and even as far east as what is now the Confederacy, and even beyond, perhaps even to Baharat.”

“If they shared and helped each other they could have completed their wishes.”

“You are thinking like an Iyrman, not like those of the Aldish or the Aswadians.”

Jirot furrowed her brows, blinking in confusion for a moment. “Why are they so lacking in wisdom?”

“Their cultures are different,” Dayool stated. “The Iyr’s culture stems from our history, our origin, of people pushed to the hills by many outside forces which wished to see our people killed. When we of the Iyr, once known as humans and horcs, were forced together within the hills, we joined together, fought back against our oppressors, and with the assistance of a great many legendary beings, were able to form the Iyr, where our priority was to survive for generations to come. Those of the Aldish and Aswadians, their culture came from uniting to conquer. We united for the sake of survival.”

“I cannot blame them for not being born Iyrmen,” Jirot said, swiping a hand through her hair, letting out a thoughtful sigh. “If I was the Amira and Jarot was the Amir, we would join together and help each other. I would not let anyone bully my little brother, and Jarot would listen so well, since he is so well behaved.”

At first Dayool hadn’t been sure what Citool meant when she said that Jirot was as cute as she was troublesome, but after their first day, she understood.

“Every action has its consequences,” Dayool informed. “When the Amirs fought against one another, they ended up weakening their forces, their people, and once they had spent too much upon their wars, from their wealth to their strength, and within years their country crumbled. They lost the east when they turned their blades against Aldland, which invaded a year into their civil war, right before the Amir claimed victory.”

Jirot listened intently to the greater details, writing down her notes and her thoughts. Meanwhile, her brother was studying nearby, taught by his greatfather, though one might suggest it was the young man beside him who taught the boy. The boy listened to the tale of the Iyr’s formation, not for the first time, but he learned all the names of the great figures, from those he already knew, to those he had seen during the various plays, but didn’t understand the full significance of.

Konarot, Kirot, Karot were also learning of the Iyr’s history, while also practising their reading and writing, trying to find the mistakes in the paragraphs. They had listened intently to the tales, and tried to remember what the teacher had said. Was it the names which were wrong? The number of soldiers? The dates?

Virot and Damrot yawned, rubbing their eyes, while Vonda drew them both closer to her bosom. The pair stirred away slowly, before gazing up at the woman’s smile, causing Virot to squeal with delight, while Damrot smiled shyly.

The boy held his greatmother’s finger, smiling with his toothless smile, half waddling along as she assisting him in his walk to the nearby table, where he found his grandmother. The boy’s eyebrows raised in delight, and he scooted along the side of the table to catch her, only to find that she had shifted to the side. The boy blinked. He smiled and followed around the table to her once more.

“You are too slow, Xarot,” Sonarot teased the boy, before picking him up, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Monarot is so much quicker.”

“Oo!” The boy held his grandmother’s head, kissing the top of her head, before accepting her tender hug.

Larot stared up towards the sky, feeling the warmth of the noonval rays against his skin, his hands clasped behind his back. The boy meditated, inhaling deeply, exhaling almost as deeply with every breath. He opened his eyes and noted the approaching Iyrman, glaring up at him.

Tonagek stared down at the little boy, who turned, and began to saunter off, heading back to the shared estate, wordless as ever. Even he wasn’t sure how he should feel about allowing someone like Larot within the Iyr, but he supposed if the Rot family had adopted him as their own, and wished to treat him like their own, he would need to do so too, lest the other Iyrmen decided to complain about his existence.

“Jarot,” Jirot called once their school was over, the girl embracing her younger brother tight, pulling him in close, kissing his cheek, the boy doing the same to her.

“Jirot,” Jarot replied, hugging his sister tight.

“How was your schooling?” Jirot asked, taking his hand, taking the other Jarot’s hand in the other, the girl leading the pair away to eat with the rest of the children.

“Good.”

“Good, good.”

“Your schooling was good?” Jarot asked.

“Good.”

“Good, good.”

The old man smiled, enjoying the dessert as the pair spoke of what they had learned, especially when Jirot made her promises to the boy.

“I will always share with you, Jarot,” Jirot promised, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Jarot replied, smiling. “I will always share with you too.”

“Of course, since you are so well behaved,” the girl said, as though she already knew such words.

‘Why are my greatchildren so cute?’ the older Jarot thought.

Meanwhile, their father relaxed to one side within the Order, as though he had made quite a name for himself, it was Lani who had gained an even greater fame for herself in the span of a few hours. So many came to visit her, to hold her sword, all the while the half elf kept himself out of trouble.

“Adam,” the Lion King called, sitting opposite him, leaning back within the chair.

“How may I help you, ahm?”

“Amal,” Ashmir said. “Sully left her within my care, and has asked me to watch over her. He has given me permission to do with her as I please, as long as she does not need to look over her shoulder for death. I originally intended to allow you to raise her, but you are too dangerous.”

Adam flushed, wanting to refute his words, but there was no way he could. The half elf closed his eyes, letting out a soft sigh. “I’ll try harder, so I hope you’ll reconsider.”

“I will watch over you to see if you are able to keep your word,” the old Lion King stated. If the half elf continued to behave this way, he would get himself killed, that much the Lion King was certain.

As the day passed, Adam relaxed, watching the spars between the various Iyrmen and the Order’s warriors. Adilnur had quickly taken to his role, placing another within the role of Acting Mustashalur, since he was unable to take that role at the moment.

As evening came, Adam relaxed within the quarters, along with Dunes, Jurot, and Uli. The half elf stood, throwing a look to Dunes, who escorted him away. Dunes had thought it was important, but as Adam explained what he needed, he realised it was important to Adam, and rather respectful of him too.

Many miles away, within the Iyr, the woman who was feeding her son straightened up slightly, hearing her husband’s words. She smiled, that awkward smile that she had, which understood the half elf was in trouble, or at the very least, troubled.

“I have been well. We miss you too. They love you. I love you too. I will not steal them. Please be safe.”

The half elf heard the words in return from hundreds of miles away, staring up at the sky. He thought to send her word about Amal, but decided against it, wishing to speak with her face to face about it.

‘Should I try to adopt Barak too?’

“What are you thinking?”

“A decent joke.”

“Decent?”

“It’s troublesome, which is why it’s so funny.”

Dunes pat Adam upon his back, glad the half elf had learnt to keep silent before saying something ridiculous. He waited a beat. Another beat. Another.

‘Oh? Has he really learned his lesson?’

A beat.

“Dunes?”

‘Ah.’

“Will you introduce me to the Vestmaster tomorrow?”

Dunes blinked.

PATREON LINK

Adam might be causing trouble, but he wants to be dripped out when he does so.