Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

Omen: 11, 15

“They have sent someone to fight?” Jurot asked, staring at Adam’s opponent.

Adam’s opponent was heavily armoured, adorned in full plate. The metal was almost a liquid silver, with tiny black etchings against it. The metal was worked exclusively by the Magisterium, an ancient order of Magesmiths. Such were the rumours which the Iyr had gathered from all the corners of the world. It was difficult to confirm such rumours, due to who the Magisterium worked for.

‘This fight will be more difficult.’

Adam had bet quite a pretty penny on himself, using a large portion of his own personal funds, as well as a sensible amount from the party fund. Looking at his opponent, Adam wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. The pair circled around the arena, before meeting at the centre. Adam donned Strong Shield, the red shield glinting with the sun, and gripped Wraith tightly.

His opponent before him held out her hands in front of her, as though she was gripping an invisible blade, before a greatsword appeared between her hands. It was a blade which matched the colour of her armour, with tiny runes etched along the metal.

“Cool,” Adam whispered, nodding his head towards her. ‘I should have expected that since they introduced her as Blade of the Magisterium.’

Battle Order

D20 + 1 = 20 (19)

Attack - Wraith

D20 + 10 = 12 (2)

Miss!

Attack - Wraith

D20 + 10 = 15 (5)

Miss!

Health: 78 -> 48

Once the signal was given, which was drowned out by the noise of the crowd, Adam charged forward, swinging his axe wildly at Blade. He found his opponent was not quite as simple as she seemed, as she stepped to the side, clashed with his axe twice as though she were dancing with him, before spinning her blade in her hands.

Adam was full of confusion as she dropped her blade, though still made to strike with her hand. Adam brought it up to the imaginary blade, but the young woman, known as Blade, inhaled deeply. She forced her body to shift as she changed the position of her hands. Though her sword had almost tumbled to the floor, it appeared at Adam’s side as she struck him with a hefty blow.

The crowd sheered at the display of magic which had taken even them by surprise.

“Gah!” Adam groaned as he stumbled. He had yet to see her form, but considering she was almost as tall as him, and her blows were about as great as his, he felt how physically strong she was. ‘Damn!’

The crowd roared, noting how Adam had almost keeled over from the hefty blow.

‘She managed to strike so deeply twice?’ Jurot thought. The odds were hundreds to one, and certainly wasn’t seen every day. Except for when he was beside Adam, in which case it happened almost daily.

Fighting Spirit: 3 -> 2

Health: 48 -> 53

Attack - Wraith

D20 + 10 = 26 (16)

D20 + 10 = 29 (19)

Critical hit!

Mana: 21 -> 20

Ability: Divine Smite

4D6 + 4D6 + 9 = 37 (3, 4, 5, 5)(1, 2, 3, 5)

37 damage!

Attack - Wraith

D20 + 10 = 13 (3)

D20 + 10 = 24 (14)

Hit!

2D6 + 9 = 15 (1, 5)

15 damage!

Adam and the young woman engaged again, Adam managing to duck under a while swing, keeping his attention on the fact she could summon her blade into her hand if she chose to drop it. As Adam stepped forward, almost shoulder barging her with his shield, before his axe struck right across her front, almost scratching the pristine armour as it flashed white hot for a moment.

The woman stumbled, and Adam could almost hear the exclamation mark from her lips as she raised her blade, gripping it tighter. They clashed once more, and though a near invisible barrier tried to deflect his axe, he managed to strike her again, causing her to step back once more.

Adam held his axe, and as he thought about forcing himself forward, he found that the moment had passed, and the pair clashed again, with Adam narrowly dodging a swing, before the pair stepped back to find themselves a moment to themselves.

‘Fifty two damage,’ Adam thought, holding his blade. ‘So if she’s an Expert, she’s probably only got a little bit of Health.’

‘He did not refresh his strength?’ Jurot thought, watching over the fight. He was certain Adam would win, but Adam was dancing on a knife’s edge. The Adam he knew was both more reckless and more cautious.

Fighting Spirit: 2 -> 1

Health: 53 -> 58

Attack - Wraith

D20 + 10 = 17 (7)

D20 + 10 = 28 (18)

Hit!

2D6 + 9 = 20 (5, 6)

20 damage!

Once more the pair charged forward, blade meeting axe, while Adam deflected a blow with Strong Shield, before his axe slipped across her side, piercing through a chink within her armour, and the woman dropped to a knee, almost falling onto her side. Adam stood over her, victorious. He held up his axe in victory, though was ready to strike her in case she tried anything, before the match was called.

Applause thundered, and Adam stumbled around the side of the arena, keeling over for a moment as he grabbed his knees to brace himself. ‘I need to milk this for all it’s worth.’

Blade remained on her knee for a short while as a guard approached her, before realising she had lost consciousness. A Priest quickly approached, healing her, causing her to jolt awake, summoning her greatsword into her hand. Thankfully, she had the wherewithal to not strike a Priest.

Victory!

XP Gained: +500

XP: 9 700 -> 10 200

A guard stepped beside Adam, reaching out a hand. Adam took the hand, thanking the guard, before stepping out towards the wall with them. As he approached the wall, he found several more guards waiting for him.

“Follow me,” one said, before she turned and led Adam away. Two guards stood behind Adam, waiting for him to walk forward. Adam followed the guard out to one side where more workers were currently working. He found taller, thuggish, tattooed fellows flanking a door, which the guard knocked on.

“Come in,” called a gentle voice, and the guards opened the door, revealing the spacious room inside. The furnishings were made of exotic woods Jurot probably knew the name of, with an older Devilkin woman sitting at a desk, currently eating from a platter of fruit. There were all manner of tiny statuettes made of bronze, silver, and gold strewn about the area. The rug on the floor was a deep red, like that of fresh blood.

“Step inside,” a guard from behind said, and Adam did so.

“Take off your boots,” the older Devilkin woman said. “This rug costs more than your armour.”

“My armour is pretty expensive,” Adam said, beginning to unstrap his his armour so he could remove his boots.

“Not as expensive as a rug from Voodur,” the old woman assured. She was ancient, in her seventies or eighties, with dozens of tiny gems embedded within her face. To the corners of the room Adam spotted two heavily armoured warriors, their armour stylised with a symbol of the arena from a bird’s eye view.

Sensing the tension in the room, Adam slowly unstrapped the belt at his side, and offered it to the guard behind him.

“No need for that,” the woman said, waving her hand dismissively. “I don’t think you’re so stupid that you’d try to attack me in my own home.”

“I hope I’m not that stupid either,” Adam admitted. “Still, it would make me feel better if I handed it over until whatever this is,” Adam said, motioning his head to the guards, “is sorted out.”

The Devilkin bowed her head, allowing the guards to take his shield and armour.

“I should warn you, but those belong to a business which works out of the Iyr,” Adam said. “As much as it is my axe, it’s an axe which belongs to the Iyr. The same with the shield.”

“I swim in gold,” the Devilkin replied, smiling to reveal her golden tooth, which was marked with a magical runes. What need of she to steal? “Take a seat, Adam Fateson.”

Adam dropped into the seat opposite her, sitting upright as best as he could. He stared at the woman, doing his best not to look at the pair of guards who could swing their blades down upon him within a moment.

“You’re a Bronze Rank Adventurer from Fate’s Golden, adventuring for less than three years,” she began. “Within a year you killed two Dragons.”

“That’s right.”

“It says here you are twenty years old.” The woman revealed the piece of paper. It was his application.

“Yes.”

“It is hard to believe you are an Expert when you are so young,” she said, staring into his eyes.

“Yeah, you can imagine how shocked the Iyr was when learning of that.” Adam chuckled, before quickly silencing.

“I would like to confirm whether you are truly so young.”

“Of course.”

The woman motioned a hand for one of the two heavily armoured warriors to step forward. The Guardian began to cast her spell, and Adam could feel the magic wash across his body, tickling his mind and throat.

Charisma Save

Voluntary failure!

“Is your name Adam Fateson?”

“It’s Adam,” Adam replied. “Technically Fateson is a name I gave to myself, but Adam is truly my name.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty years old, like my brother Jurot. We have the same birthday.”

“The Iyrman is your brother?”

“Yes.”

“How did that come to pass?”

“I prefer not to say under the spell,” Adam admitted.

“Why did you surrender yourself under our spell without confirming what we were doing?”

“If you did anything inappropriate to me, I’m sure the Iyr would do something to you,” Adam replied. “If I had to bet between the entirety of East Port or the Iyr, I’d bet on the Iyr.”

The Devilkin reached to a drawer to one side, and revealed a large glass vial. “Do you know what this is?”

“If I had to take a guess, a poison.”

“That’s right. Widow’s Tears. You drink this before bed, and you pass peacefully in your sleep. Just a few drops will kill any child. During the time of the Demonic Devastation, such a poison was widely circulated. Rather than allow Demons to claim their children, widows fed themselves and their children this poison. The price of such a poison was great, of course, but the price of salvation was so much greater.”

“I hope, if the Iyr wants to kill me, they use Widow’s Tears,” Adam admitted.

The Devilkin paused. ‘What?’ She reached to her other drawer, and pulled out a pouch, which she placed on the desk, something jingling within. She took another pause to try and gather herself. “Do you know what this is?”

“A pouch of gold?”

“One thousand two hundred and seventy gold,” the Devilkin said. “Mostly in gems, due to convenience.”

Adam remained silent.

The Devilkin woman pushed the pouch towards him. “Congratulations.” She smiled. “The rest of your party’s bets have been paid out to them.”

Adam slowly nodded his head, reaching out for the pouch. He could feel how heavy it was.

“Blade was in the top five contenders for winning the segment. There will be many complaints, I’m sure, but we have confirmed that you are fighting in the appropriate segment.” She motioned a hand for him to leave. “I hope you enjoy the tournament.”

“Thank you,” Adam said, slipping into his boots, before stepping out. ‘Oh. I forgot to ask her for her name.’

‘What a frightening young man,’ Layla thought, surrounded by two Masters, and wearing several magical items to protect her. The Guardians glanced between one another, while the woman who had cast the spell nodded her head, confirming he was still under her spell.

“Who bets five hundred gold on themselves?” Layla whispered, rubbing her head. “His companions bet a hundred or two gold at most. Do you know who decided to bet three hundred gold on the young man?”

“No,” one of her personal guards admitted.

“It was that bastard,” Layla grumbled, popping more fruit into her mouth.

“Oh.”

Who do you think bet on Adam with that much gold?