Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

Adam had decided against using his rolls or Omens during enchanting, not wishing to tempt Fate any more than he had. If his Omens could really shift Fate in the world, he didn’t want to end up causing any civil wars, or worse, cause any illness to befall his children as he had done the previous year.

His morning began with a light workout, a bath, and then breakfast. He read to his children after breakfast, a single chapter of one of the many stories of the Rot family, before going off to enchant. He enchanted from late morning to the early evening. 

He returned to play with the children, before eating with the group. He spent his evenings then reading to the children again, before spending time with his own children. He spent the early nights with his friends and family, just chatting away, before they would need to turn in to the night. 

However, he was not the only one hard at work. Jonn continued to train Brittany, focusing on her agility and her skill. Nobby assisted the Iyr with his might, for strong bodies were always welcome in the Iyr. Fred also assisted the Iyr, wanting to keep his body moving, and his mind occupied.

Kitool had chosen to begin her studies into the way of the Iyrmen. Jurot continued to assist the Iyr as he usually did, though worked a few hours less than typical. His mother saw him spend more time with the youth, speaking of their tales, as well as generally assisting the parents with the young children. 

“Ji?” Jirot asked, looking up towards her uncle’s face. She sat on his lap, beside her brother, who also looked up at Jurot. 

“Yes,” Jurot confirmed. “You were named after Ji of the Rot family, Jirot.”

“Oooh,” Jirot replied, as though she understood. “Ji?”

“Yes.”

“Oooh.” The girl stared down at the book, before placing her hand on the page. “Wead.”

“Okay.”

The pair of Goblins stared down at his finger as he continued to read, following along. In the back of Jurot’s head, he thought about how distant the triplets remained. Konarot was currently whispering to a bird, while her younger siblings played nearby. 

Jaygak assisted the Iyr with whatever matters they required, trying to keep her body busy as she thought about what she wanted to do. 

‘I have plate mail now, but they don’t need me,’ she thought. ‘I should retire now that I am an Expert.’ Yet, Elder Zijin’s words plagued her mind. She sighed, staring at the lumber that was to head to storage. 

When she returned back to the shared estate during the evening, she saw Raygak sitting beside Kavgak, reading to her. Kavgak was not quite as, to borrow the phrase which Adam often used, chonky as Gurot, but she was still rather tall and broad for her age. She sat up straight, and Jaygak could have sworn the girl was more like Taygak than herself. 

“Look,” Taygak said, holding up Tavgak, her own younger sibling, towards her cousin. “Poop.”

“She soiled herself?”

“Yes,” Taygak said. “Big poop.”

“I will go clean her.”

“Taygak help,” Taygak said, before following Jaygak to clean up her sister. 

Jaygak returned with a sleepy Tavgak, who had also decided to pee all over the older pair, before finally yawning and making to sleep. Jaygak placed her aside with the other children who were also sleeping, and she returned back to see Maygak suckling on the teet of their mother. 

Maygak, who was so young, and had yet to hear of her elder sister’s tales. Raygak sat nearby, his hands clasped together, the boy deep in thought.

“What are you thinking about?” Jaygak asked, reaching down to rub the boy’s head. 

Raygak winced, expecting her to rub his head much harder, but as Jaygak showed him mercy, he looked up at her. “Kavgak was as small as Maygak, but now she is so big.”

“Yes.”

“So does that mean Maygak will be as big as Kavgak next year?”

“As big as Kavgak? She is bigger than the other children, but Maygak may grow almost as big.”

Raygak fell silent again, thinking about this newfound knowledge. “Cousin Lanarot has also grown big.”

“Yes.”

Raygak slowly nodded his head, as though understanding the profound nature of such words. 

Jaygak thought about tugging his hair, but instead, she pulled her hand away, allowing her little brother to think. She sighed, wondering if she should really abandon Raygak and the others like this. ‘Laygak will do well, especially with Adam’s help…’

Meanwhile, Mara asked for an audience with the Chief. It wouldn’t have been such a great deal, but Iromin chose to speak with her almost immediately. The Demon sat opposite the Chief, sitting upright. She, for the moment, ignored the Chief’s offers for snacks, though sipped the juice he offered.

“You wish to speak with me as a representative of the Demon Lord?” Chief Iromin replied.

“The Demon Lord would like to inform you of her intentions to commit herself to the Iyr.”

“What need of the Iyr of a Demon Lord?” Iromin replied, as politely as one could.

“A Demon Lord possesses great strength at their peak,” Mara replied, as politely as one could. “It is never a bad idea to gain the support of a great figure.”

“The Iyr is not one to sharpen a blade which may spill Iyrman blood.”

“Then why have you not killed Adam?” Mara asked, speaking of the one figure that caused her worry. 

“We have many sheaths for the blade known as Adam,” Iromin replied, sipping more of his freshly squeezed juice. 

“The Demon Lord promises to become a staunch ally.” 

Iromin reached for the snacks and fell quiet for a long moment. Mara, too, decided to bite into the fried dough snacks Iromin would often eat. 

“One thousand years ago, the Demonic Devastation swept across these lands,” Iromin informed, speaking of the tale of old. “It is the reason why Demons are so hated across the entire land. It is already a miracle you have not been killed. You were accompanied by Iyrmen and Sir Vonda, which has assisted in keeping you alive.”

“I have heard many of the tales of the Demonic Devastation,” Mara confirmed. “The Rot family gained great honour during the wars. It was unfortunate what happened to the Gak family.”

“Treachery from the Aldishmen,” Iromin confirmed. “They have never forgotten.”

“I have heard the Iyr never forgets.”

“We do not,” Iromin stated, firmly. He caught Mara’s eyes, and though the young woman held a great presence, one of a woman who had known war for generations at least, Iromin, too, knew what it meant to fight for his life. A wound throbbed at his side, the same wound he had received from the hydra he had killed when he was young.

“We are not the same Demons.”

“No,” Iromin admitted. “It is why you have been allowed to walk the Iyr as freely as you have.”

Mara nodded. “We have made our intentions known.”

“We will consider them,” Iromin assured. He waited for a long while, and seeing that she had no more to say, he raised his hand to dismiss her. 

Mara stood. “I appreciate that you met with me so soon.”

“It was my pleasure,” Iromin replied, watching as she stepped away. “Do you know the story of Jirot?”

“The Jirot of the Demonic Devastation?” Mara replied.

“Yes.”

“I do.”

“A tale as sad as time,” Iromin said. “She once trusted the Ancient Dragon, the Demon General Balakazor, only to come to blow many years later. She fell, allowing Jurot to save the child.”

“Jurot has spoken of the tale to the elder twin.”

Iromin nodded.

“I am fond of the girl,” Mara said.

“So was Balakazor,” Iromin replied.

“…” Mara understood the threat behind Iromin’s words. “She is no Iyrman.”

“Whether she is an Iyrman or not,” Iromin began, his voice remaining neutral, “she carries the name of Rot. You may not know of this, but her greatfather was wild in his youth.”

“I have heard the tales.”

“No,” Iromin said. “You have not. If you knew of the tales, you would never have mentioned that the girl was no Iyrman.”

“I am merely stating facts.”

“The Iyr has many rules,” Iromin said, holding the woman’s gaze. “Even I, the Chief of the Iyr, find it difficult to keep track. However, every rule derives from one singular rule, or as you might call it, the first law. Every time we Iyrmen wake up to welcome the next day, the sun’s ray’s greeting us in the morning. Every time we Iyrmen reach for our weapons, ready to wet the steel with our enemy’s blood. We do it for the sake of the first law. Do you know of it?”

“I do.”

“It is a rule which we have engraved into this land, by blood and steel,” Iromin said, recalling the last time it happened. “We Iyrmen never forget. One year. Ten. One hundred. One thousand. It does not matter. We Iyrmen never forget. Where you are from Aldland. Whether you are from Aswadasad. Whether you are from this realm. Whether you are from outside our realm. It does not matter. We Iyrmen never forget.”

“I shall take your words to the Demon Lord.”

“Adam has offered us a great many boons,” Iromin said. “We will repay him in kind. It does not matter whether you are an Elf, full blooded or otherwise, or a Demon. We Iyrmen never forget.”

Yeah if anything happens to our little Jirot I’m sure the old man Jarot will do something.

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