Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

“You’ve heard of me?”

“Who has not heard of the one who took the head of someone like Kal Yamas Greatwood?” Navid accused, and as he dropped to a knee, he stretched out his back, wincing lightly, for there were so few who caused him to stop holding back, and one of them would have been the likes of this particular half elf.

As he spoke the words, suddenly the numerous warriors took the half elf within their sights, and realised, yes, he was a half elf, and indeed, he was surrounded by Iyrmen.

“Do you believe such rumours?” Adam replied, his voice dripping as though he were guilty.

Navid grunted, and as he clenched a trembling hand, flexing his muscles all through his arm, as if the half elf had fought even more seriously, perhaps he would have lost much sooner. “How can I not when you defeated me with such ease, Mo?”

“You don’t have to feel so bad, Kal Navid, for the one thing you, the Strong Steel Sword, can say is that you lasted longer than he against I!” Adam declared, his voice filling the estate, and as Kal Zahid flexed his muscles, refraining from drawing his blade against such an outburst. The half elf’s laughter soon filled the air. “Not only that, but I have grown so much more powerful since then, so hold your head high!”

Navid blinked, staring at the fellow who spoke so brazenly, for he was certainly a braggart, and yet how could he deny the words when he had been at the end of the young man’s axe.

“Not just that, but I have… well, I wouldn’t say a better sword, it’s an axe, and the sword I wielded, the sword of my niece, is still among the greatest I’ve ever wielded, but I have much better armour now, a gift from my wife.”

“Kal Tawid informed me you were a particular fool of a father, but that you were quite the fool of a husband too,” Navid joked.

“Kal Tawid?” Adam asked, his eyes flitting upwards towards the dark purple sky. “Oh! You know Kal Tawid? Had I known, ahm, I would have treated you far more respectfully! Noorshukhur, how could I treat a friend of Kal Tawid like this? How can this be? My daughter will have my head!”

Navid blinked, having wanted to tell the fool it was alright, but upon hearing his words, he laughed, and as the half elf healed him, causing the twinge in his back to disappear, he stood and pat the half elf’s shoulders roughly, but in the way that was full of affection. As he made to speak, Navid burst even further into laughter, unable to contain himself.

“I apologise for showing such a terrible side of me, for I am still but a boy, and though my wife has done her best to try and turn me into a reasonable fellow, my audacity reaches the sun,” Adam joked, beaming towards the other warriors shamelessly. “I hope the great warriors here would be willing to spar with my cousins, who are so eager to face such great heroes of the realm.”

“Are they as powerful as you?” one joked.

“Considering their tattoos, they must be,” one woman said, her eyes darting to Tanagek, who acknowledged her acknowledgement with a simple bow of his head.

“Well, Jurot and Kitool have defeated me, but Tanagek and Chosen…” Adam called, and though Jurot made to speak, he realised, technically, what Adam said was the truth. “Before the two were Masters, I made sure to show them my affection…”

“How affectionate my cousin is,” Chosen said, stretching his neck. “He is as affectionate as his grandfather.”

“That old geezer is way more affectionate than me.”

“Especially to your children.”

“Noorshukhur, I’ll shower you in my affection now, you prick,” Adam snapped, his eyes darting to Chosen, who howled with laughter. Adam was about to threaten his cousin when the man with the small white hat and the chest long beard stepped forward, clasping his palm over his fist in the martial greeting.

“I am the one they call the Pious Sword,” the Aswadian said, for his eyes had locked with the Iyrman’s.

It was that Iyrmen who donned his shield and drew his axe. “I am Jurot.”

The group gathered around, still stunned by the sight of the half elf, who seemed as though he could face Strong Steel Sword twice over, but they grew even more stunned as the clash of magical steel filled the air. Pious Sword was not quite a Grandmaster, but even a Grandmaster would think twice before facing his shining steel, and as his graceful movements threatened the Iyrman’s eye, the Iyrman stepped forward.

The clash lasted only shortly, for though the Iyrman was reckless in his strikes, and Pious Sword was able to wield the recklessness with such skill, the Iyrman’s blows were even more wicked than his brother’s, forcing Pious Sword back, and he quickly brought his palm over his fist, pointing his sword to the earth as he did so.

“Young hero, I accept my defeat,” Pious Sword declared, causing the warriors there to fall deathly silent, for Pious Sword was at least twice as old as the young Iyrman, and his name was already well known by the time the boy was suckling from his mother’s teet.

“It was a good fight,” Jurot assured.

“May I ask of this heroes’ family?”

“I am the grandson of the Mad Dog and the Ascending Swallow.”

“I believe I recall the names, but I do not entirely recall the tales, I apologise.”

“My grandmother’s cousin is Butcher Marmak.”

Pious Sword remained silent for a moment. A bead of sweat dropped along the curve of his cheek. “Ah. I see.”

“My grandfather, Mad Dog, is to Aldland as Butcher Marmak is to Aswadasad.”

Pious Sword remained silent for another moment. blinked. Another bead of sweat dropped along the curve of his cheek. “…”

“Jurot, who did he fight recently?” Adam called.

“Full Moon?”

“I was going to keep it a secret that he beat up Full Moon, I meant the other guy,” Adam said, as though he hadn’t purposefully admitted that Jarot had beaten one of the Five Moons, one of the Paragons of this land. “He has a really cool name.”

“Sun Sword Zachary,” Jurot said confidently.

“That’s the one. When my brother here fought King Merryweather, my grandfather fought Sun Sword Zachary,” Adam said, and before the others could understand the half elf, too, was his grandson, he continued, nor the fact that Jurot, the Iyrman before them, had fought King Merryweather. “Apparently, back in the day, our grandfather had already defeated Sun Sword once, and then when we went to slaughter the Aldishmen for killing my children, grandfather beat him up again.”

The other warriors held the young man within their sight, noticing the smile upon his face, but the tension around his jaw, his forehead, caused a chill within the air. Even the Amira was uncertain of how to deal with the one known as the Crazy Father, especially not in this matter.

“Ah? You are brothers, Mo?” Navid called, trying to change the topic.

“I am,” Adam confirmed. “Do you see why I have to be so strong? I’m related to so many monsters, and my brother here, he fought off King Merryweather. Even to my son, Damrot, he won’t stop showin-,”

“Damrot is my son,” Jurot stated.

“This guy! Do you see how he oppresses me? Just because he’s beaten me up and he can fight King Merryweather, he thinks he can bully me!” The half elf pointed at the Iyrman with an accusatory finger.

“I believe it is my turn,” Kitool said, glad the half elf had chosen to make a fool of himself, stepping forward with her staff tightly in her hands, raising them together respectfully.

The half dragon stepped forward, adorned in green scales, and wielding a large blade upon her back formed of what looked to be the beautiful dragonglass, though as she drew her longsword with both hands, it was no less deadly than it was beautiful. She was a woman with tan skin, with green scales, and a pair of large horns which curled back over to the sides of her heads, her long hair dark, tinged with green.

“…”

Kitool assumed this was Meek Dragon, and as the two readied themselves, their bout swiftly began. The giant blade of the Meek Dragon cut through the air with such force, one might have thought she was trying to bisect the young Iyrman, but as Kitool leapt through the air with such grace, even Dancing Wolf, whose eyes were often upon Tanagek, couldn’t help but watch the young woman fight.

‘So, she’s a Master too?’ Dancing Wolf thought, for though she was in her mid thirties, the young woman was a decade her junior, and yet fought with as much skill as she. ‘Are they sending them out in order of the strongest to weakest? So the Gek is weaker? Is he not a Master too?’

The warriors watching the fight understood there was no need to take reason and logic into account, because though Meek Dragon was between Grandmaster and Master, and her blade was not unlike any other blade, a gift from her dragon mother, even she was finding it difficult to deal with Kitool.

Kitool, with sweat slick against her forehead, continued to leap and weave between the terrible blows, and magical staff met magical sword. The fight was vicious, with each threatened to take one another’s life, the staff and sword flowing through the air with such great might, such great skill, it was a dance of death. After a particularly brutal clash, in which the two were forced apart by one another’s great might, the two stood.

“I accept my defeat,” Meek Dragon said, sheathing her sword, clasping her palm over her fist.

“It was my honour to face you,” Kitool replied, holding her staff with both hands, though raising her fists to her forehead in respect.

“May I know of your family?”

“I am of the Ool family,” Kitool replied, though with the understanding she may not know of anyone in recent history. “My grandmother is one of the Ten Paragons of the Iyr.”

“I see,” the half dragon replied, however, it was then the rest understood, especially since most recognised the other set of tattoos, that this group wasn’t normal in the slightest.

PATREON FOR 30+ CHAPTERS!

Kitool is a monster too.