Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

The afternoon sun gave way to the evening sun. The gentle noonval rain fell, warm and comforting. The temple was loud, noisy, and full of life.

Korin’s heart ached.

The old man, tall, lean, handsome, adorned in his black shalwar, smiled with an audacious smile in front of the Iyrmen.

“What a wonderful tale! I should have expected that you would have caused such trouble, when our Lady favours you so.” Majid beamed so brightly towards the half elf.

“What can I say?” Adam replied, a mischievous grin upon his lips.

“Although it was lovely to hear your tale, I can see you are not the one I am looking for,” Majid said, letting out an awkward sigh.

“Were you here to kill me?”

“Oh, no! No no no no no! I was not here to kill you, for if I had come to kill you, it would not be when you were surrounded by so many Iyrmen, nor would your children be so close.” Majid chuckled, the kind of chuckle that said he would not dare to trouble the Iyr so. “I came looking for a successor, but you are too full of joy, with far too many responsibilities here already, and should I take you away from your family, I am certain it would cause great trouble for the great Lady.”

“What do you mean by a successor, exactly?”

“Someone to take my role,” the old man stated with a heaviness. “After a thousand or so years, it is time for me to pass on the mantle, and I must pray for forgiveness from Lord Zahid and Lord Sozain.”

“I can talk to Baktu on your behalf if you need,” Adam joked, causing Majid to chuckle. “So, are you some kind of secret warrior who keeps things from getting out of control?”

Majid’s innocent smile was full of guilt.

The half elf laughed, smiling even wider towards the old man, flashing a wink towards him. “If that’s the case, then what are the requirements, and how long do you need to train them?”

“The requirement should be that they are already a great warrior of repute, or a child I can raise. heir heart must be decent, and they should be ready to welcome the Lady within their heart wholly.”

“So you’re a Chosen of Lady Arya?”

Majid reached up to cover his lips with a finger, winking at the half elf in return. “I possess some great powers thanks to the Lady.”

Adam’s eyes darted to the side, towards his daughter who returned the same look, and the pair thought the same thing towards the old man.

‘So cool!’

Majid’s eyes slowly trailed towards the old man, the figure with the one wooden arm, one wooden leg, and one wooden heart that was currently ablaze. “It seems if I request any of your children I may find myself hunted by the entire Rot family.”

“Are you able to take them on?”

Majid’s laughter filled the air. “I am, perhaps, powerful. I am a figure who would be considered an Idol perhaps. I am certain even such a title would not do me well against the entirety of the Rot family. If your grandfather, grandmother, your mother, your uncles, and your brother each attack me, I may be able to survive, but I do not think I could defeat them.”

“Yeah, but, I mean, that’s still pretty good…” Adam tried to rank him within his mind, but wasn’t able to figure out exactly where he would be. He thought deeply on the matter, all the while his cheeks flushed a deep red.

“Perhaps in a few years time you, too, could be able to possess similar great power to myself.” Majid’s words were cautious, restrained.

“Whose to say?” Adam replied, holding Majid’s gaze. The half elf’s lips twitched for a moment.

Majid’s eyes fell towards the children, little Jarot who was named after his greatfather, so he would be unable to claim the child, then to Karot, who was too smitten with his mother and would perhaps take his place as something greater to the people than a secret warrior of the Lady. Then there was Konarot, but if he took Konarot, he would need to take Kirot, and coveting one child was already too much.

Then there was Jirot.

“May the Lady watch over us,” Majid prayed, tapping his heart twice, and that was enough to remind him that he was aiming to protect the world from such grand threats, and not add to them. “It was a pleasure to meet you all, but I must leave.”

“Aw! Jiddo, I wanted to hear your tales!” Jirot called, causing the old man to wince.

“Betti, I must beg for your forgiveness, but I must leave swiftly.”

“Daddy…” Jirot whispered, staring up at him expectantly.

“In exchange I will speak to the temple about your second favourite kakos and make sure there is no trouble.”

“Who would dare to cause trouble for my kakos,” the girl stated, grumbling lightly as she side eyed the Demon Lord and her attendant, or rather, the Demon Lord’s Right Hand and the Demon Lord’s Left Hand. “Courting death!”

“That is the wrong genre,” Majid replied, standing, only to find Adam’s eyes glued to him. They were full of a knowingness, but the half elf shower mercy, and allowed the old man to step away peacefully. Partly because he realised he would be courting death asking for more. However, Majid paused. “Perhaps, before I leave, I can show you my swordplay?”

“Oooh!”

The old man drew his blades, each long and thin, the handles wrapped in bandages. He began his routine. His blades cut through the air, quick, efficient cuts, but then, as he held out his two blades in front of him, they began to glow a black and purple, and he swung both blades downward together, causing the air to shudder before him, but before he completed the swing, he let his power dissipate, yet the wind still shook the tables around them.

“Wow!” the children all gasped, even Amalrot sat upright, holding onto her head, that had almost slipped off the tip of her head, though thankfully had caught against her tiny horns.

“I would also like to show you a technique, sister,” Majid called, catching the young woman’s gaze for a moment, before he stood upright, and as he held a blade in one hand, he gathered his power. Then he raised his blade and he swung his sword downwards once.

It was clean.

It was so clean.

Korin had watched carefully, but it was Lani who had engraved it deep into her heart. She stared at it. Once she blinked, she found the light had changed slightly. Her eyed darted around to find Korin and Sara nearby, and Adam was sitting behind her.

“Welcome back,” Korin joked.

“Huh?”

“Did you learn something?”

Lani blinked, glancing around, but eventually understood she had lost herself to watching the swing within her mind, and her eyes darted to try to find Majid, but he wasn’t there. “How long ago was it?”

“A half hour,” Korin said, and he motioned with a hand, pointing towards the Iyrman, the one who was in his sixties, perhaps seventies, with short hair, a beard that had grown over the course of a few days, and his kind face was tempered by a sleepiness, the Iyrman who held a bow within his arms. “Thank you, Kal.”

“It was my honour,” Tarvol assured.

“It was my honour,” Lani insisted, for he was not just any Iyrman, he was one of the-,

“By the way, ahm Majid left you something,” the fool said, revealing a scarf that had wrapped around something.

“What is it?”

“If I had to take a guess, I think it’s some ore,” Adam replied, handing it over to the woman, who undid the scarf to reveal a slab of meteorite ore, and though it looked like the night sky, she could feel a sadness within it.

“Mother’s Tears,” Lani said.

“Oh?” Korin mused. “His swords must have been made of the same.”

“What is that?” Adam asked.

“Aren’t you the smith?”

“It’s not like I’m the High Smith of the United Kindom.”

“You are.”

Adam blinked. It had felt wrong to say and he realised why. ‘Oh yeah.’

“It’s not just any meteorite,” Lani began, placing her hand atop the cool ore. “There are a few bodies which space from the sky which are blessed by the Mother. The ore is so rare, I believe this might be the first ore in a thousand or so years, and last time they were probably made into his own blades.”

“So I guess the Sword of the Lady is going to have another magical sword?” Adam let out an awkward sigh, since he was the one who was going to enchant it, but his lips betrayed his thoughts. ‘That means they can’t complain if I gift another amazing weapon?’

“Perhaps, though I believe I should wield this blade until I earn the title of Master.”

“So a year or two?” the half elf joked, chuckling, though as the others joined him, they quickly stopped. “What?”

“Knowing you…” Korin accused.

PATREON FOR 30+ CHAPTERS!

This really is the wrong genre.