Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

The boy’s silver tail shuffled from side to side, while he raised and lowered upon his greatfather’s chest. The old man wrapped his arm around the boy’s back, causing him to squirm slightly, before returning back to his dreams. Though it was still morning, the boy and his siblings napped along with their greatfather, who had finished his morning workout and bathed, before accompanying them to sleep, his old bones aching from his workout, and he would not suggest it was because of his adorable greatchildren laying upon him.

‘You are all sleeping too much,’ the old man thought, feeling their gentle breath tickle his neck, Konarot snoozing against the pillow which rested against his half missing limb, Kirot’s pillow over his shoulder. ‘Is it too hot for you?’

Karot’s tail swayed gently from side to side, the old man feeling the scales against his calf and shin, the boy’s tail checking to see if the old man remained. His own hand remained on his greatson’s calf, gently rubbing it. The boy stirred once more, and awoke, rubbing his eyes.

“Babo…”

“Yes, my Karot?”

The boy climbed up and wrapped his arms around the old man’s thick neck, his head nestled between his elder sister’s and the old man’s, his tail drooping down behind him, around his greatfather’s leg, and the boy returned back to sleep.

The old geezer stared up at the ceiling, trapped under his greatchildren, but he supposed there was no better place to be. ‘My greatchildren are the greatest.’

As the hour passed, the trio eventually awoke, rubbing their eyes, each then embracing their greatfather, who pulled them close to his chest.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Mm,” the children replied affirmatively.

“You must begin your afternoon lessons soon,” the old man said, grunting as he pushed himself up onto his foot, reaching for his metal leg, strapping it to his right thigh. He noted how his greatchildren waited for him, the youngest waiting to hold his hand before stepping out to greet the rest of their family and east. ‘Hmph! My greatchildren are the cutest!’

“Oh!” Virot gasped, noting the arrival of her eldest siblings, the girl climbing down from her chair, much to her mother’s chagrin, for it had taken so long to get her to settle, and rushed to her elder siblings, the girl stopping to allow them to embrace her.

“Where is big kaka and big papa?” Konarot asked, holding her sister within her arms, almost lifting her up as they hugged.

“Gone,” the girl replied.

“Where?”

The girl pointed in a vague direction, but gazed upon her eldest sister with a lonely expression, pouting slightly. Meanwhile, Kirot picked up Damrot, planting a firm kiss behind his ear, the boy melting against his cousin.

The thickly built fellow blinked. He reached up to his scruffy beard, having not shaved for the last month, something which he hadn’t done in many years, since his daughter was a child. He wore a scarf around his head almost like a pony tail, and his eyes scanned around the area, to check where the twins were.

‘…’

“Baba,” Damrot called, pointing towards the thickly built man, smiling so brightly.

“Dam,” the middle aged man called, reaching out a hand, the boy squirming away from his cousin to charge his grandfather. ‘I prepared so many doughnuts…’

“Where…” Jarot’s eyes darted from side to side, noting the lack of his wife as well as the other old woman. ‘…’

“Do not cause trouble, father,” Sonarot called, her eyes upon the old man. “They will remain for some time.”

“Who dares to covet my greatchildren?”

“The Great Elders.”

“If they wished to die, they should have cleaned their necks and come to me,” the old man growled.

“It is Elder Story’s will,” Sonarot stated firmly.

The old man let out a grunt of disappointment, but what could he do if Elder Story called for his greatchildren? “I will let them live for another day.”

Sonarot was glad the old man wasn’t so delusional that he would even cause Elder Story trouble, but then again, who in the Iyr could?

While the twins caused trouble without their presence, their father caused trouble with his. He eyed up the guards at the barbershop, having managed to force his way to come during the afternoon when Dunes could no longer stop him. At the very least, Adam had managed to spoil Amal and Kizwolima at the market, then spoiled them with all kinds of fruits and desserts, and even watched Nirot and John spar, with Jurot whispering something within his ear which caused him even greater ease.

It was only after all this did they allow the half elf to accompany them to the barbershop, where Ali’s heart ached from the half elf’s presence.

“Thank you, Mo Dunes,” Ali said, clasping the young man’s hands.

“I apologise again, ahm, but the threat of the Reavers is too grave to ignore,” Dunes apologised. “I hope this is enough to assist.”

“I understand, I understand, and how could anyone dare to suggest this isn’t enough?” The old man asked, his eyes falling upon the third Expert of the guard, and then he thought of the other two who patrolled nearby. Nine guards, each taking different shifts of the day, the Expert as well as two fairly decent warriors, those who had begun a specific path of their training. As far as he knew, they were members of the Matriarch’s household. He supposed the connection to Lady Sara had assisted greatly.

“You’re an Expert?” Adam asked, eyeing up the guard, who wore breastplate over leathers, and carried a sabre at his side. The man was only a few years older than him, perhaps in his thirties, and wore a thick beard, and a turban helmet, the chain hanging over his shoulders, though ready to be clasped within at a moment’s notice.

“I am,” the devilkin replied, glaring at the half elf, acutely aware of the scimitar at his side, just in case.

“The other two guards, you say they’re Adepts?” Adam asked, trying to recall what that meant.

“Yes…”

‘So they sent three Level 5s and… six Level 3s? I expected them to send Level 1s or 2s, but 3s? At least they’re taking it seriously.’

‘So this is the half elf that the Matriarch is so worried about?’ The guard couldn’t help but think this fool was a nobody, although he heard so many rumours about the half elf, but there was no way any of them could possibly be true.

Adam smiled, reaching into his pocket, before clasping the devilkin’s hand, who raised his brow in surprise. “I hope you’re willing to accept this small gift from me.”

“Of course…” The guard clasped his hand around the small gem, which was worth at least ten gold. He thought perhaps the half elf wasn’t so bad.

“Can I see that scimitar of yours?” Adam asked.

“You may see it.”

“Can I hold it?”

“I cannot allow that.”

“Aw. Alright, then could you just hold it up for me so I can admire it?” Adam asked with a gentle smile.

The guard revealed it, the blade shining almost orange gold under the light, for the large scimitar was made of firesteel, as one might have expected, something which would have harmed the typical individual greater than the likes of a devilkin.

“Firesteel, huh? Now that I think about it, how much do firesteel weapons usually sell for around these parts?” Adam asked.

“If I recall it correctly, if you add fifty gold to a weapon’s typical price, slightly more than that.”

‘I should really buy way more firesteel stuff,’ the half elf thought, recalling how expensive it was in Aldland, almost double that price. “Is there a smith you would recommend?”

“I believe Mo Dunes would know of such a smith better than I, though I would recommend Asel Mayuf, whose smithing ability is considered among the greatest within this region.”

“Oh? Amazing! I’ll go visit him then.”

“Her ability is great.”

“Oh, excuse me,” Adam said, flushing lightly. “Does she have any, uh, like a sword that’s particularly famous that she has crafted that is for sale?”

“She crafted a blade by the name of the Last Song of Fire, a longsabre which she is willing to sell, but she has not found anyone appropriate to sell it to.”

‘Oh?’ Adam thought, his eyes gleaming brightly at the thought of buying such a fine blade.

Dunes blinked towards the half elf. He had just finished convincing Ali about allowing them to take a young woman with them in order to train her up into an Expert, and now he was speaking so boisterously to the guard, with a look of trouble within his eyes.

“Dunes-,”

“Mo Dunes,” Dunes corrected.

“Right, right, sorry, Mo Dunes, there’s a fine blade on sale, forged by Asel, let’s go check it out!” Adam said excitedly.

Dunes sighed. “Okay.”

“Why are you saying it like that?”

PATREON LINK

We know why he’s saying it like that.