Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

Jurot inhaled sharply, the crisp wind filling his lungs. He lightly grunted into a squat, holding the position, for he could feel the presence of his wife’s father nearby, who also held such a position. As the two held their squats in front of one another, seconds turning to a minute, and beyond, Bam stepped out of it, continuing his workout. The two had begun their workouts together, the light warm up, the light stretching, but Jurot continued to hold this stance throughout Bam’s workout. When Bam stepped out, Jurot continued the rest of his workout, his thighs and legs screaming and crying, but he ignored it, as Iyrmen often did, even as the rest of his workout caused the fire to continue to spread through him.

Kitool inhaled sharply, the crisp duskval air filling her lungs. As she continued to squat, she could feel the presence of her cousin nearby, Faool, who was also training, until, eventually, the two began to spar against one another with their staves, beginning lightly, following their family’s techniques, before finally they began to spar one another in earnest, threatening to bruise one another as their bodies shifted through the air, as though they were leaves upon the wind. They were like the Fevs, and though their techniques moved somewhat differently, their ultimate path was the same. Except, Kitool’s techniques were different, for though she was Kitool, Kit of the Ool family, she no longer wielded the Ool family’s techniques exactly.

A shadow loomed over the two of them, while Faool rested upon his back, his lungs screaming at him.

“What are you two doing?” Jaygak asked, amused by Kitool, although she knew Jurot was probably also working hard, for he had been denied work, all thanks to her, of course.

“I am training,” Kitool replied, daring to respond such a way towards the Elder.

“Training, or crying?”

“…”

The two stared between one another. Kitool realised what folly it was to treat Jaygak like that, for they had grown up together, so it was hard to hide her true thoughts away from the young woman, as the two began to walk, following along the outer wall of the Front Iyr, one of them covered in a sheen of sweat.

“It seems your thoughts are so heavy these days,” Jaygak said.

“Are you speaking as the Elder, or as Jaygak?”

“I am speaking as Elder Jaygak,” Jaygak replied, emphasising both her title and her name.

“I am too weak,” Kitool replied, and though Jaygak side eyed her in a particular way, she did not relent. “Jurot and I, together, will be unable to subdue Adam.”

Jaygak considered her words, for though they were close friends, indeed, if anything were to happen to Adam, it would be up to Kitool and Jurot most to deal with the half elf. It wasn’t only the Iyr’s thoughts it should be those two, for Adam, too, requested for them. There were those had had specifically mentioned it shouldn’t be, and of course, as one might expect, it was those younger than himself, though as a half elf, she wondered if they’d be able to keep that word to him. Then again, technically Kitool was younger than him, for she and Jaygak were roughly a couple of weeks younger.

“I need to train harder and… I may need to speak of my rights.”

“I have been thinking of your rights recently,” Jaygak assured, causing Kitool to glance aside towards her, but she did not speak up. Jaygak allowed the young woman to go, and made her way nearby, to another training area, in which she found a particular Iyrman working on training his arms, for his legs quivered so terribly. As the two stared into one another’s eyes, the Iyrman placed down the weight, and with a sharp breath, stood, grunting lightly. “What did you do?”

“Bam was training beside me,” Jurot replied.

“Ah,” Jaygak replied, and then walked with him around the perimeter of the Front Iyr once more, and there, the same conversation occurred, for it was not just Kitool who had felt Adam had grown far more powerful, beyond the peak of the mountain, blocked out of their sight. Jaygak assured Jurot too, who spoke of his rights, and he side eyed her, but they returned back to the training area, in which she found Lucy and Mara, each of them in their meditations, and they, too, would need to train.

‘Should I tell them about…’ Jaygak thought, for today was the second day of duskval, in which that would be discussed.

A small army descended upon the border fort, that which the Iyr had worked, beyond the small village that was upon the border of the Iyr’s land. It was an army of roughly two hundred, a force that would impose upon the village shortly, and would speak of the seriousness of the matter, each adorned in heavy steel, but not an army that had come to war, or battle, or skirmish, so she hoped.

The Countess rode upon her steed, the seven Oakguard accompanying her as she trotted over the bridge, leaving behind her army. She wore a lighter breastplate, emblazoned with the titular tree of her family, proudly displayed for all to see. The long cloak hid much of her form away from the Iyrmen. Her Oakguard were similarly adorned in their own armour, full plate, with long cloaks, the colour of dried blood, while the blades at their side were far more vibrant.

The Countess almost floated off of her horse, like a butterfly descending, and her cloak parted to reveal the rest of her armour as the cloak fluttered in the cool wind, revealing the blade at her side. She removed her helmet, revealing her stark white hair, her light wrinkles, and the look of exhaustion within her dark eyes, which came from the recent dealings with the Iyr, this year, and the last.

“Chief Iromin,” the Countess called.

“Lady Redoak,” the Chief replied, showing her courtesy, though she was now upon the Iyr’s land. The Chief stood with a second Great Elder, a woman who some may suggest was a devilkin, with purple skin. Within her hand, she held a set of beads, with one hundred and two beads, a hundred rounded, two cubes. One cube was white, which she continued to rub constantly, and the other was red, which she sometimes brushed along, something which caused the Countess to swallow.

“Elder Peace,” the Countess called, bowing her head lightly.

“Lady of Red Oak,” Elder Peace replied.

Though she stepped with her seven Oakguard, the two Great Elders stood with two of the Ten Paragons, though another was upon the wall, one of the few who wielded a bow, who drank in the cool air lazily, for Tarvol was certain the Countess would not cause trouble.

The Countess’ eyes darted about as she entered the fortress, and upon seeing the lack of the half elf, they could begin to speak of negotiations, about what the massacre the Iyr had committed. It would be her blessing if somehow the half elf was involved, so she could petition the King, but if the rumours were right, they might have to drop it altogether.

After all, Death Dog probably would do something like that…

PATREON FOR 30+ CHAPTERS!

Death Dog thought he was the Mad Dog.