Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

A calmness took the fortress, where once a hundred Experts tarried back and forth, lanterns swayed, illuminating the giant fortress in gentle light, and deep within, a pair sat, unarmoured, weapons within arm’s reach, cups of hot tea in hand.

“It has been quite some time, Chief,” Sir Dunnock said, the woman tasting the gentle flavour of the tea.

“So it has.”

The pair fell silent for a moment.

“I have come to ask for the Iyr’s assistance in the matter of the Reavers.”

“The Iyr has responded in kind, in line with our obligations to the Aldish,” Chief Iromin replied simply.

“It is graver than we thought,” Sir Dunnock admitted. “It has sharpened the weapons of many great warriors, even the likes of the First Hope, who has led an impressive inquisition against the Reavers, but the number of great warriors whom have lost their lives to such a great foe, are too many. There are those one could have assumed, with some misfortune, they would have lost their lives, but there are those, those whose blades could keep me at bay, those where our bout could be decided upon a flip of a coin, who have found themselves in the embrace of Lord Sozain, much to the world’s dismay.”

“The Iyr shall prepare for the Reavers, as we have prepared thus far, though if you wish for the matter of the Reavers to be dealt with seriously, you should speak with the Aldishmen, the Aswadians, the Florians, each with a half foot within the war.”

Sir Dunnock sipped her tea, hiding her frown. “We are currently convincing the various nations of the seriousness of the matter, for even Sir Robin, who would find herself best upon the battlefield, remains within Aldland to plead the matter to the High Council.”

“The Iyr itself is still in preparation, for there are important domestic matters to attend to,” Iromin said, holding the woman’s gaze, for she of all people should understand what matters he spoke of, after all, the last time they had met, Iromin himself had almost drawn his blade, though Sir Dunnock had the wisdom to keep her blade sheathed.

“I do not worry for the Iyr, and I do not necessarily worry of the Reavers, but that which is to come after.”

The Chief remained silent for a long moment, but bowed his head, for if she was going so far as to reveal so much, he would need to take the matter far more seriously than previous. “You may remain here until the end of the month, and should you choose to extend your stay, please inform us, for we of the Iyr shall not shirk those of the Wings.”

“As always, our deepest gratitude.”

“Is there a need of gratitude between the Iyr of the Order of the Wings?”

Once more, Sir Dunnock was glad their Order had remained so close with the Iyr, whose hospitality remained unmatched, not in the pretentious sense, for certainly there were nobles who had hosted her with greater refinements, but how many opened their hearts without even the thought to speak of it to others?

“It has been quite some time since I passed this way,” Sir Dunnock said, her eyes taking in the sight of the room which hadn’t existed a few years ago. “I had no idea it had changed so much, and it is not just this fortress, but the village across the river.”

“It was a change the village had to make.”

Sir Dunnock held the Chief’s gaze once more, sensing the darkness within the words, and she bowed her head.

After all, the Iyr was the Iyr.

The purple sky welcomed the Iyr, in which the Iyrmen settled in for the evening, many drinking and eating their fill, some stepping out to completely their evening exercises, while others completed their evening studies, and others, their evening trouble.

“Ope!” Jirot gasped, holding little Larot within her arms, choosing to steal him away from the other family members, only to find the tall shadow loom over her, a shadow clutched by three. “You are back, daddy?”

“I am back,” the fool confirmed.

Jirot blinked, glancing down towards the back of Larot’s head, then back up towards her father, blinking rapidly. “I did not doubt you, daddy.”

Adam smiled in return, a joyful smile that beamed down towards the girl. “I know. You never doubt me, do you, my dear?”

“…” Jirot, as an Iyrman, chose not to lie. She placed down her younger brother and approached her father, patting his leg gently.

Adam blinked.

Vonda held his hand, all the while the half elf relaxed within his chair, spooning the potato, offering every other bite to his wife, even though she had already ate, for even the Iyr would not dare to starve a Ray, nor the granddaughter of a particular Mad Dog.

“I met with Sir Dunnock.”

“What an honour.”

Adam almost side eyed his wife, but quickly shut his eyes. “She placed an order for two Greater weapons, a greatsword, and a glaive. I intend to donate some full plate, and some other magical weapons, and a chest of silver and gold.”

Vonda rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers intertwining with his, her thumb brushing tenderly along the side of his hand.

“Aren’t you glad you married someone so merciful, so charitable, and so humble?”

“I am.”

“Oh, also, how do you feel about joining the Wizards of Skool?”

Vonda pulled her head away, narrowing her eyes, judging her husband’s playful face. “I would dislike it very much.”

“I suppose if you don’t like it, my darling, it is the end of that.”

“Did you wish to join?”

“Absolutely not, but if I have the justification that I must please my wife, how can they blame me, a simple husband listening to his wife?”

Vonda sighed, resting her forehead against his shoulder, shaking her head lightly, while Adam did his best to resist laughing.

“They seemed to know a lot about me.”

“How much?”

“A lot. I’m not sure if they know everything, but it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“The Wizards of Skool are close to Lady Erudite,” Vonda mused, and they were also powerful Wizards, and thus needed to hold great knowledge.

“Their citadel, does it fly?”

“Yes.”

“Damn. That’s so cool.” Adam bit his lower lip at the thought of having such a fine magical structure. “I want a floating fortress.”

“Jarot is afraid of heights.”

“I suppose if my grandfather is scared of heights, I’ll have to show him mercy,” Adam said, ignoring his wife’s gaze, the half elf’s lips twitching lightly. He returned back to his meal, and his wife returned back to his shoulder.

As Adam readied his children to bed, he apologised, but of course, it wasn’t enough, of course.

“Of coas!” Jirot pointed towards her father with a blade like finger, threatening to cut him down. “I knew it, daddy! You think I am stupid? You are going to leave in the night and in the morning, you will be gone, and you will say that you must work!”

“Dear! You cannot slander your daddy like this! I will be working, but I will be here in the morning, and if I am not, you must inform the Iyr, for your daddy is lost!”

“Huu!” Jirot held her finger up, and as she raised her brows threateningly, she dropped her finger. “Daddy, you dare to be missing, you will see.”

“Okay, okay, but if mummy says you must forgive me, you must.”

“You will see.”

The half elf dropped down to hug her once more, the pair exchanging kisses, and Jirot motioned towards her eyes with her fingers and then to his, watching her father leave.

“Mummy! I might not be able to forgive daddy.”

“If I ask, will you?”

“You are so lucky I am a good girl, mummy, so lucky.”

As the children welcomed their slumber, one particular child full of food, another full of a viciousness, and another full of meekness, their father swung his axe under the company of starlight. Adam cut through the air, panting as he worked up a sweat, until finally his lungs burned enough to stop him. He panted heavily, then glanced down towards his hands, noting it shake lightly. The shaking stopped, the half elf clenching his fists tight.

“It seems my handsome nephew is thinking deeply,” called a voice from the darkness. He was tall, handsome, his tattoo the same as those within his family, a blue circle flanked by blue diamonds. His eyes dark, his hair lightened as time kissed him, the tips falling just down his shoulders, and at his side he wore an axe. Over one eye he wore an eyepatch, and a wicked scar.

“Uncle Fakrot,” the half elf greeted.

“I heard the Order of Wings came looking for you.”

“They did.”

“What a great honour.” Fakrot smiled, placing a hand upon his shoulder.

“For them.”

Fakrot laughed, the Iyrman grinning wide. “Yes, certainly it is.”

Adam smiled slightly, though the darkness remained upon his lips. Fakrot pat his shoulder gently, squeezing it reassuringly, though let his nephew go a moment later.

“How are you?” Adam sked.

Fakrot inhaled deeply, smiling awkwardly. “When you leave, may I join you?”

“Of course, uncle. Who could refuse you?”

Fakrot smiled awkwardly, for it was not a matter of being refused, but a matter of being accepted. “When Cirot and Sirot were young, they were so sweet to me. Then, when they were five or six, they began their descent into bullying their father.”

“Girls are always the most vicious.”

Fakrot let out a soft sigh of agreement. “They were vicious to father too, and that is how it spread. Father, he had been a Grandmaster for almost their entire life, so they could bully him with such fervour.”

“I wish he was still here,” Adam admitted, causing Fakrot to raise his brow. “I’m sure Jirot would have enjoyed bullying him, and then the old man would kick up a fuss about wanting to be bullied.”

Fakrot’s lips formed an even wider smile, barely able to contain his laughter. Yes, if it was their Jirot, certainly that would be true.

“Also, I’m sure he’d think you’d be quite handsome with one eye.”

“He would beat me for losing my eye.”

“Oh yeah?” Adam replied, shocked.

“Gently,” Fakrot admitted, winking with his one good eye.

“I didn’t realise he was the kind to do that…”

“He would say, how dare you, for you have your mother’s eyes!”

“Ah. Then, maybe...” Adam paused. “I would ask grandfather to stop him, since you lost your eye for our sake.”

“I lost my eye because I was too weak.”

“You’ve been giving off quite a scary aura recently.”

“Perhaps it is because I stepped into the realm of a Master?”

“Ah! So that’s what it was!” Adam smiled even wider, suddenly full of excitement. “Then who can complain with you coming along? I heard you have to be a Master at least.”

Fakrot chuckled once more, glad to see his nephew so excitement. It was those eyes, so bright, which his children had inherited. Though he hoped it would not be needed, he was glad he had a chance to soothe his heart. Fakrot could only pray the journey was safe, though, not too safe, for he wanted to show off to his grandnieces and grandnephews too.

PATREON LINK

I fear Jirot may in fact be the greatest character I will ever create.