Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

He was of average height, thin as a pencil, a pair of round glasses framed his thin face more than his neatly trimmed beard. A vest of kafa brown and muted gold framed his dimunitiveness, atop his head he wore a a scarf, a shalwar that was of fine silk that was still a little too itchy.

”Tamil? What brings you here?” Adam called, carrying his twins within his arms, his triplets trailing behind him like ducklings.

”Food,” Tamil replied simply, smiling innocently as he took in the sight, a fish surrounded by sharks.

”Ah, right.”

”Noorshukhur, what a blessing to see you here, for I did not expect you so soon.”

”I came here to spoil my children, my wife, and the rest of my family,” Adam said, smiling awkwardly, before leaning in to nuzzle his children’s cheeks. ”Do you know who this is? This is mister Tamil, the one who suggested those books.”

Jirot smiled towards Tamil, her bright amber eyes sparkling, and upon seeing Tamil’s smile, the girl eased slightly within her father’s arms.

”You must be Jirot.”

”Yes! Hello, mister Tamil, I am Jirot, and this is my brother, Jarot. He is named after great grandfather, and great grandfather is the strongest!”

Tamil’s brows raised in surprise. ”I had no idea that you were able to speak the tongue of gold so well!”

”Of coas, because I am mummy’s daughter,” the girl said, then she reached up to her hijab with her thick green fingers, brushing along the hem of the article. ”I am dressed like mummy.”

”So you must be a little Ray of Hope too?” Tamil teased, causing the girl to flush lightly. ”Your great grandfather is the strongest?”

”You brat, do you not know who-,”

”This is my grandmother, Mulrot, and my grandmother, Gangak, though you might know her as Flame Brand,” Adam said, interrupting his grandfather, and Tamil sprung from his seat, and cautiously approached to shake their forearms.

”Daddy, you silly boy, I can do it!”

”Sorry, my dear, sorry!”

The old Jarot blinked as a lone gust of wind caressed his cheek.

It was then, they arrived. As the fool of a husband tentatively shook the forearms of the great warriors, a woman returned, in her forties or so, diminutive even in comparison to Tamil, thin as a branch, and adorned in a deep blue, white flowers fluttering within the sea of pink that formed her scarf. The smaller form also wore the same attire, though cream and crimson, and upon her face she wore large glasses, which made her eyes even larger.

”Good afternoon, Mo,” Aliya said, the woman’s eyes snapping around all the Iyrmen. They were easy to spot, hard to ignore, and moderately appropriate to acknowledge their great strength, extremely stressful to realise how many were no doubt great warriors.

”Good afternoon, akawat,” the half elf replied, beaming even more brightly, as though he was a Ray of Hope. ”Is this Alladi Sarah from the House of Crimson Cloth, adorned in the same attire?”

”This is my daughter, Riham,” Aliya said, reaching down to her daughter, who side eyed the large group, but did not know the fear of life, for she was still only five or six. ”Riham, betti, say hello to the Mo.”

”The sun upon you, Mo.”

”I hope not, for I find the heat disagreeable,” the half elf joked. ”Hello, little Riham, who is dressed like a little Lady. These are my children, Jirot and Jarot.”

”Your children are bavwa?” the child asked, causing even the likes of the guard approaching the group to pause, freezing in place.

”No!” Jirot snapped, taken aback by the girl’s words, clutching at her father’s collar. ”I am an Iyrman, like my nana, and my nanos, and my babo, who is the strongest!”

The girl blinked, tilting her head, narrowing her eyes in thought. ”The Iyrmen are humans, devilkin, and horcs.”

”You-,” Jirot said, though stopped upon feeling her father’s cheek against hers, the girl squirming a moment, but she melted against his neck.

”Oh?” Adam said, smiling warmly towards Riham, feeling the awkwardness in the air. Finally, someone who was more courageous than her! ”In the Iyr, they say they are Iyrmen. Not humans, devilkins, or horcs. Who was it that taught you this?”

”My tutor, miss Jamila.”

”In the Iyr, they say they are Iyrmen. Your tutor says they are not. Who is telling the truth? Who should you believe?”

”The Iyrmen always speak the truth, but my tutor is very smart, so I must believe her.”

”So if a smarter Iyrman says that you are not Riham, you are called James, should I believe them because they are smarter, or should I listen to you?”

The girl scoffed, for how could he speak of such words? Such bukwas? ”My name is Riham!”

”I see, because you are Riham, you know your name?”

”Yes!”

”Betti, speak politely to the Mo.”

”Mother, the Mo...” The girl pouted, blustering into a fluster, puffing out her cheeks.

”Then my daughter says she is an Iyrman, because she knows she is an Iyrman, so shouldn’t you listen to her?”

Riham blinked. She turned to look to her mother, who nodded. ”Ah.”

”Isn’t our little Riham so smart?”

The girl smiled, flushing lightly, peeking up at her mother, reaching up to hold the woman’s hand, Aliya accepting the touch for support, for the sake of her daughter’s heart, and for the sake of her own.

”Miss Jamila must have written Gold and Blood: the History of the Iyr in Aswadasad,” Jirot huffed, turning her head slightly, gripping her father’s collar tightly still. ”Daddy, how can Muhammed Gabriel write such things?”

”Ah, well, your daddy hasn’t read it, so daddy doesn’t get the joke.”

”Daddy! He said Lowyj fought Iron Hawk and then retired in Baytsalsaal! How can he say such a thing? Lowyj did not fight Iron Hawk, is was her mother, Liwyj, and, and, Iron Hawk and Baytsalsaal? It was Iron Eagle! Baytsalsaal was where her cousin, Rowyj, retired after, not Lowyj!”

Adam blinked, furrowing his brows, for not only hadn’t read the book, he did not know the existence of any of these figures, nor where the town or Baytsalsaal, which must be known for its clay, lay.

”Oh my? Is the book wrong?” Tamil asked.

”It is wrong!”

”What a shame, for Muhammed Grabiel is well known to be a decent expert within the affairs of the Iyr,” Tamil said, for it wasn’t just Gold and Blood he was well known for writing, but his seminal work of the Iyrmen, his first book, Blood and Steel. ”How do you know it is wrong, my niece?”

”I know, because I know,” the girl replied haughtily.

”How did you find that out?” Adam asked, leaning down to press his nose against hers. Of all his children, it was Jirot who needed to be the most careful, since they did not appreciate her beautiful amber eyes, her beautiful leaf shaped ears, nor her beautiful emerald skin.

”I read it in the books.”

”Which books?”

”The Wyj family books, of coas, daddy!” Jirot huffed, as though it were obvious. ”Greataunt Keiwyj brought them to me.”

”Hmmmm?” the strongest mused. ”Why are you mentioning that woman?”

”Babo, be nice.”

”Since it is my Jirot who asked.”

”Since she killed Shade Dagger, you should show mercy,” Jirot said. ”Even if killing her is… mummy did not like it, but what can we do?”

Adam swallowed. ”It was terrible, but it was the way of the Iyr, right?”

”It is the way of the Iyr,” the girl said, for she would not say it was terrible, how could she, when the woman had come to-,

A hand covered the girl’s eyes, and then as she grabbed it, it disappeared away, and her father pressed his nose against her nose. ”My daughter is so smart!”

”When you said your daughter was a genius, I thought you were behaving like a father, but it is true she is a genius,” Tamil admitted,

”I am mummy’s daughter, after all.”

Tamil smiled, for she was exactly as Adam had described, with every dotted i, every crossed t, every heart shaped o, she was Jirot.

”Ah, I realised we interrupted your meal, I will let you and your family eat in peace, although perhaps later tonight, we can have dinner together, and I will bring my wife as well?” Adam offered.

Tamil smiled, looking to his wife, who was the heir to one of the greatest merchants across Aswadasad, the middle aged woman smiling, bowing her head gently, for meeting with a Ray was quite the honour.

”It would be a pleasure,” Aliya assured.

”I’ll treat you, since I have come into a small sum of money, so if there is an inn you prefer to frequent, please let me know.”

”You may join us at one of our estates, in which we will prepare you a feast,” Aliya, the merchant’s heir, said.

”I…” Adam paused. ”I’ll bring…”

A long silence filled the air, even causing the nearby patrons to keep an eye upon him, for as the seconds passed, the air grew heavier.

”The Iyr has special rules in place for the children,” Adam said, his voice carrying within the silence, his eyes dark. ”I intend to bring them, and thus there will be a few others, those who would give even ahm Zayan pause.”

”We will be happy to host many guests,” Aliya assured, with the understanding why Adam spoke so loudly for all to hear, especially in a place with so many figures, of so many means. ”We will call for some company for them too, for there are some warriors who wish to meet with them.”

”That…” the half elf began awkwardly, uncertain if he wished for his children to see the Iyr spill so much innocent blood.

”It is fine,” an older woman said, her skin the colour of blood, her eyes the colour of blood, her tone the colour of blood.

”It is?” Adam replied, surprised.

”It is,” Gangak stated, smiling innocently, but her eyes held a dangerous arrogance. It wasn’t arrogance, however, for even the Faro herself, how many warriors did she possess who were like Kal Fadi? Who were like the Sleeping Dragon of Arisa?

Bibak. Bibak. Baztam. Shaool, Rajin. Jarot. Gangak. Now, even Mulrot, but even previously, Mulrot was still a great warrior, beyond that of a Master.

Was it so easy even for them to find those at their level?

No.

A grandmaster in Zayan, certainly, but Rajin could deal with him, so they would bring other Masters or Experts, perhaps. Plus, did they think the Iyrmen wouldn’t surround their estate with the others?

No.

The bookworm must have understood.

The merchant must have understood.

The patrons must have understood.

If they did not, that was fine too, for then the children would understand.

PATREON LINK

Sometimes I read a chapter and I think to myself that my sleep must have been amazing because I didn’t realise I could write prose that decent. I’m fairly proud of the last few chapters.