Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

I will be taking a short hiatus for health related issues. I hope it will only last a few days. 

“Babo! Within my arms you dare to be hurt?” Jirot threatened, holding her greatfather’s head against herself, even monopolising it from her brother, who was enjoying the big strong arms of his greatfather, nuzzling up against the wooden bicep, while the soft, wrinkled, fleshy hand brushed against the boy’s hair and cheek.

“How could I dare?” Jarot replied, his voice mostly muffled from his greatdaughter’s affection.

“You are hurt?”

“I am not.”

“Hmph. Yes.” The girl planted a firm kiss atop his head.

The old man allowed the two children to completely overwhelm him with their tender affection, all the while his wife remained to one side, full of annoyance, though she did not speak the words, for this time their greatfather had earned the right.

“Babo, why did you let her beat you up so much?” Jirot whispered, brushing the old man’s hair with her thick fingers.

“You must know.”

“Of coas I know, but you must tell me!”

“No, my dear. You must know. This greatfather of yours, even against such a powerful warrior, even against such powerful magics…”

“Oh!” The girl held his head, brushing his hair. “You are so cool, babo.”

“Yes,” the two called Jarot confirmed, causing them to chuckle.

“Babo, one day you will know.”

“I will know?”

“I will become the greatest mage and if someone bullies you like this, I will counter their spells, and then you can beat them up without them hurting you.”

“Ah!” The old man leaned in to nuzzle against the girl’s neck, causing her to squirm lightly, though she continued to share her warmth with the old man, still half threatening to choke him as she held his head.

“I will grow up big and strong like you, babo,” little Jarot whispered.

“You should grow up small and strong.”

Little Jarot flushed, the boy hiding his face within his greatfather’s chest.

The old man held the twins close, his heart thundering within his chest, and as he closed his eyes, the flashes of their tiny forms filled his mind, of the troublesome little girl who was vicious even as a babe, and the meek little babe who would snuggle close to him tightly at night.

It was at a time like this, covered in bandages, his sore skin prickling him, that the old man once more thought of what the three letter word meant.

In another cabin, the triplets spoiled their greatuncle and greataunt who had stepped forward, with Dogek remaining as quiet as a ghost as little silent Karot beamed up towards him with sparkling eyes. Konarot and Kirot were loud with their praise towards their greataunt, who flushed, and held the pair closer to her chest, glad they had all watched her fight.

“Nano, your fists are so tough!” Kirot said, clasping the woman’s calloused fingers, rubbing the woman’s knuckles gently.

“So tough!” Konarot agreed, flexing her biceps for the older woman.

Shayfev smiled even wider, and leaned in to nuzzle each of them. “I should have claimed you when I had the chance!”

“Kekekeke!” Konarot cackled in return, causing Shayfev to raise her brows wide, and she laughed at the little girl, who continued to cackle wildly, causing her siblings to cackle.

“Babo, can I be a Paragon like you?” Karot whispered.

“Yes.” Dogek brushed the boy’s hair gently. “I am certain you will be a greater Paragon than I, Karot.”

Karot flushed and shyly hid his head away, allowing the old man to embrace him.

The trio fell asleep with their babos and nanos, for though they were called their greatuncles and greataunts, they were still the elders who adores them greatly, he who was his grandmother’s uncle, and she who was his greatmother’s cousin.

As the sun fell upon Aswadasad once more, the searing heat of noonval kissing the land, the carriages darted off, leaving a wake of dust and broken dreams.

“Daddy, why did you leave so much silver?” Jirot asked.

“I am your mother’s husband, after all.”

Jirot blinked. A small smile encroached across her lips. The girl looked out towards the hills, looking towards the distant plains far along the horizon, and as the carriages barrelled their way across the land, the thoughts slipped deep into her mind.

“Daddy, we are following your footsteps, your tracks,” the girl began, her eyes beaming.

“Ah? I suppose you are.” The half elf smiled in return, towards the girl who was most vicious, and yet equally as adoring.

“That means I am as cool as you.”

“No,” Adam began, and as his daughter made to fight, the half elf smiled and continued, “you’re so much cooler than me, my dear.”

The girl blinked. She flushed, turning to look back towards the horizon once more. ‘You are so lucky you are so wise, daddy…’

The outpost allowed them through without issue, partly thanks to the Black Lions, but mostly due to the number of terrifying Iyrmen who almost dared them to act up with their glares.

The village sat among the hills, the wooden walls of the village spreading far, with several layers of walls emanating out from the village proper, the largest wall fencing in the tens of thousands of goats, and the large hill farms. The thousands of Aswadians were spread about, as small as ants, upon the horizon, and as they followed the road to the top of the hill, they spotted the Aswadians in their scale, holding spears in hand, large shields, and suspicious eyes, which swiftly changed to apprehension.

An older woman appeared, adorned in a loose scale cuirass, a small blade at her side, and a walking stick that had been tempered by beating young troublemakers, stood tall and proud. Her skin was dark, a bronze weathered by time, the sun, and time under the sun, her dark eyes stared brightly, her silver hair peeking through her scarf, a deep red, like that of fresh blood.

“Iyrmen,” the woman called, as the Iyrmen began to evacuate their carriages with a practised efficiency.

This time, he stepped forward.

“Rais,” the half elf called, bowing his head gently.

“You are no Iyrman?”

“No,” Adam confirmed, and upon removing his helmet, the woman’s eyes suddenly filled with recognition, smiling awkwardly, but then warmly.

“I shall inform Afraz you have returned,” the woman said, and upon looking towards the others, she spotted many familiar faces, and she greeted them warmly too, especially the Ray of Life’s Rose, clasping her hands within her own, and swiftly invited them all into the village.

“What brings you this way?” The woman seemed to be ignoring the two children within his arms, for their eyes fell upon their village.

“We are passing through to do business with the various Orders, the Amira, and… I have come to show the world of silver and gold to my children.”

The woman blinked, and unfortunately for her, the two with amber eyes caught her eyes. “Are these your children?”

“Hello!” Jirot snapped suddenly, smiling awkwardly. “I am Jirot! This is my brother, Jarot!”

“Aryashukhur, what bright children you have, for they speak our tongue so well.”

“My daughter is a genius, for she takes after her mother,” Adam said, motioning his head to the Ray.

The Rais blinked. She reached up to her scarf, fiddling with it lightly. “Aryashukhur, Noorshukhur.”

Thankfully, an Iyrman handed a scarf wrapped within a spear, and they made their way through the large gardens and longhouses, each two stories tall, formed of wood, with banners and tapestries hanging under the sun, some bleached by time, many others freshly formed. A handful of goats lazed about under the shade, eyeing up the visitors, without understanding this may be their last few hours with so many stepping into their village.

Adam sniffed the air, the familiar scent of the village. “Do you smell that?”

The twins sniffed the air, and Jirot smiled wide. “It smells so good!”

“That’s bazur and it’s found near the forests beside the seas.”

“Oooh! Daddy, you are so smart!”

The half elf flushed lightly, his leaf shaped ears twitching. They settled in the centre of the village, while many of the villagers passed on by, returning back to their work quickly, tending their fields, their goats, their tailoring, their cleaning, and all the other chores that were required.

“Did you know that…” Adam paused. “Lord Tamaraleaf makes her home here, though…”

“Yes?”

“Is it Lord Taymoraleaf?”

“Yes.”

“Not an Ash?”

“Yes. Ramizash too.”

“Ah. I see. Anyway, the villages pay a yearly tribute to the dragon, dragons, apparently?”

“Oooh!”

“Four beht each season, for each villager, no, uh, one beht each season, for four each year.”

“Two gold a year?” Jirot thinks. However, as she did the numbers in her head, she formed a tiny circle with her lips. “Twenty thousand gold from each village?”

“Something like that?”

“Daddy, I should become a dragon, then I can make so much money, and I can spoil mummy.” The girl held her father’s gaze, waiting for him to speak up.

“You’re right.”

The girl narrowed her eyes, for her father had become too good at dealing with her jokes. “I will spoil you too, daddy.”

“Of course.”

“Of coas.” The girl leaned in to nuzzle his nose. “You are so lucky I am your daughter.”

“Of course.”

“Of coas,” the twins whispered together.

“Actually, I think it’s only for the adults?” Adam said, trying to recall what Dunes had taught him.

“That is still so much money.”

“Do my eyes deceive me!” exclaimed an older Aswadian man. He was short, bald, his eyes a deep blue. He was well muscled, his physique showing even through his scale cuirass, and he wore gleaming greatsword of sparkling silver. As his eyes fell upon a particular red skinned woman, his smile faltered, from the drunken delight, to something of another time.

PATREON FOR 30+ CHAPTERS!

Afraz! It’s him! The guy from last year! I remember him! We all remember him!

Don’t we?