Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

Jogak stood, tall and proud opposite the Commander, holding out a cut gem. The Commander stared at the gem, before his eyes darted up to meet Jogak’s. The pair remained silent for a long while, Jogak slightly worried about that particular man, even while dealing with the Commander.

“What is the position of Director within the business?” the Commander asked.

“We assist in advising the President,” Jogak replied. “We hold greater authority than the Executives.”

“Your tattoo matches that of another Executive.”

“My daughter, Jaygak,” Jogak stated, his eyes bursting with pride.

“Is it a business of the Iyr?”

“It is a business the Iyr has great interest in.”

“Very well,” the Commander said, clutching the gem tight in hand. “Who are those within your carriages?”

“Those who assist with our business.”

“The demons?”

“Managers Lucy and Mara are also assisting.”

The Commander bowed his head, leaving it at that, but the Director was not quite so lucky as a figure stepped towards the carriages.

“I will confirm the matter,” Vice Commander Esme stated, the one eyed woman approaching the carriages.

“If the Commander wishes to confirm it, he may,” Jogak said, taking a half step to block the Vice Commander.

Esme narrowed her eyes at the Iyrman, who dared to speak up against her. “Director Jogak, was it?”

“Vice Commander Esme,” Jogak replied.

“Why do you intend to block my way?”

“You are not the Commander of the fort.”

“You are not the President of the business.”

Jogak smiled slightly. “I have the authority granted to me by the business.”

“I, too, have authority granted to me.”

“By your Order, not the military.”

“Are you not the same?”

“No,” Jogak said. “I was requested to possess such authority by the business.”

“So, too, was I requested to possess such authority.”

Jogak smiled wider. “Yes, but my authority was not given to me so that the Iyr may keep me leashed.”

“Watch your tongue, Iyrman.”

“I hope you find your home soon.”

Esme tensed up slightly, reaching down for her blade, only pausing as the carriage doors opened. Out stepped a woman in full plate, carrying a blade at her side. She undid her helmet to reveal she wore the same tattoos as the Director.

“My nephew, is there an issue?” Gangak asked, barely glancing towards the Vice Commander.

“The Vice Commander wishes to overstep,” Jogak replied.

“Does it concern the Iyrmen?” Esme asked.

“You should know your place,” Gangak said, before her eyes fell to the Commander, feeling the Vice Commander’s rage boiling to the surface. “Are we free to leave, or must we spill blood?”

“Aunt,” Jogak said, clearing his throat. “I am currently on business for the United Kindom.”

“Ah,” Gangak replied, reaching up to hold her chin, still feeling the Vice Commander’s urge to fight. “Then we will allow you to step back at this time, Vice Commander.”

“Step back? Are you able to ask me to step back?”

“If I was unable to ask you to step back, how could I face my greatchildren, or the Mad Dog?”

“What is your relation to the Mad Dog?”

“We grew up together,” Gangak said, before the smirk crossed her lips. “I may call him my brother.”

“Do you think it gives you the ability to speak to me this way?”

“No, but the last time I was asked to step back by the Orders, there were many more,” Gangak said, her lips grinning even wider. “Those Orders were not quite as weak as yours.”

“Weak?” Esme drew her sword, flowers of yellow light dancing around the air as her blade arched across the air. “Are you one of those so called Paragons of the Iyr?”

“I am no Paragon,” Gangak replied, still grinning. “You and I are of similar strength.”

“How do you assume such?”

“You and I are both Grandmasters,” Gangak replied, simply.

“You are a Grandmaster?” Esme continued to hold her blade, still pointed to the earth. However, she had still drawn her blade in front of the Iyrman. “Do you truly believe I would fall for that.”

“You should know of me, I am Flame Brand.”

‘Flame Brand?’ Esme thought, thinking for a short while, before sheathing her blade. “I see.”

“Commander, you may check the figures within the carriages, while the Vice Commander should focus on the true threat across the horizon,” Gangak stated, still grinning towards the woman. “You are fortunate my grandson has requested I deal with the matter calmly.”

Adam blinked, the carriage gently shaking as they continued along the road to Red Oak. ‘I thought Mad Dog was the one who was meant to be causing all the trouble.’

“What are you thinking of so deeply?” Jogak asked.

“I thought, ah, you are both definitely related to Jaygak.”

Jogak reached up to stop his snort, doing his best not to laugh. “She is my daughter.”

“How could you say he was your grandson?” Jarot growled.

“He is the father of my greatdaughter, does that not make him my grandson?” Gangak asked, glancing aside to Adam.

“Your greatdaughter?” Jarot asked, tensing up slightly.

“Will you deny it?”

Jarot glared at the woman, but he turned away, beating away the shame. “How can I deny it when it is true? Brat, you cannot call her grandmother before you call me grandfather!”

“Who will I call my grandfather, you old geezer?” Adam replied, flushing a deep red, avoiding Gangak’s look, to see if the half elf would deny her.

Jogak glanced out of the window, staring out to another time, a time when his aunt had not been forced away from Aswadasad. He often thought of what kind of future the Gak family would have if they had not been so unfortunate even during that time. He closed his eyes.

‘You must come back safely, okay?’ The voice echoed within his mind. It was the voice of the young girl that would have been his grandniece one way or another, and perhaps, in another time, his granddaughter.

Jogak threw a look to Adam, who was still red from embarrassment, then his eyes darted to Jurot, who was filled with an awkwardness, just like his grandfather. Jurot had brought Adam into the Iyr, and Gangak had almost brought Jirot and Jarot into the Gak family.

‘Daddy is so troublesome, so you must look after him.’

Jogak almost smiled. ‘I am used to dealing with troublesome children, so do not worry, my Jigak.’ Jogak let out a short sigh, thinking about which gifts he should buy his grandnieces and grandnephews. ‘Jaygak, you brat! When will you give me grandchildren?’

The pair of guards were adorned in the chain mail of the guard, red tabards covering their chain, the symbol of a tree imprinted against their tabards. They wielded long spears in hand, a shield within arm’s reach and a pair of blades at their side. They guarded the town, though one would be far more impressed with the walls, made of heavy stone, around three Adam’s tall, with several towers running along the perimeter, unless, of course, you were used to the sight of the Iyr’s walls.

Jogak once more dealt with the guards, paying the appropriate fees, though they were in Central Aldland now, and so neither the plaque of the ducal families of the North or East could allow them to pay but silvers.

As the carriages made their way through the busy roads of Red Oak, the group eventually came to an inn, the Red Wood Inn. It was not made of the town’s titular wood, but rather a cherry wood that seemed more pale pink than red, though Adam noted the gate that closed the inn off was made of Red Oak.

“Is the wood any good?” Adam asked.

“Yes,” Jurot replied, before speaking of the particular qualities of the cherry as they walked into the inn’s estate, which revealed a large front garden, surrounded by walls on three sides, and the inn proper against the last. The main path led towards the building, while smaller paths wound away, leading to small pavilions, each like leaves on a branch.

Jogak stepped forward to deal with the payment, while the rest of the group settled themselves near a pavilion, sans Otkan, who had stepped away before entering the inn.

“Adam,” Jarot called, placing a hand upon Adam’s shoulder. “Come.” He limped away, his wooden leg striking against the floor.

Adam followed the old man to another pavilion to the side, one which was far too large for only the pair of them to sit within, but the old man sat upon the circular bench. The wooden roof atop them provided them shade, while a worker wearing pale blue, almost grey, clothing approached the pavilion.

“A bottle of wine, two cups, two baked potatoes, six eggs, butter, salt, and a pot to boil milk,” Jarot demanded, placing down gold coins to the side, mostly to pay for the wine.

Adam remained silent while Jarot thought deeply. ‘What’s up with him?’

Jarot continued to think, even as the worker brought their food, the old man washing his hands using the basin they brought, before drying his hand by shaking the water off, and patting his hand against the towel. He allowed Adam to salt his food first, before pinching it and sprinkling it over his potato and eggs, before cutting into the butter, buttering his potato, salting it once more. Jarot remained silent for a long while as they ate.

The old man then undid the seal of the cask, pouring the wine for the pair of them, the cups far larger than those within the Iyr, but that was because alcohol in the Iyr needed to be drunk moderately, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to fight upon a moment’s notice.

“I still remember when my younger brothers looked up to me,” Jarot said, sipping the alcohol lightly. “Now, one is dead, and though I am training, the other will grow stronger than me.”

“…”

Even now, Jarot wasn’t sure if he could ask. “Adam?”

“Yes?”

Jarot hesitated for a moment, swallowing the question into his heart. “Little Jarot wishes to become a Rage Dancer, like his greatfather. He pouts when I tell him I wish for him to stay small and cute, to remain within my arm. Will you allow my brother to teach him when he is old enough?”

“Won’t you teach him?” Adam asked.

“With this arm and leg of mine?” Jarot closed his eyes, before shaking his head lightly. “No. He should learn well.”

“I was going to ask Jurot too, but if granduncle wishes to teach him, that’s okay, that’s good, too.”

Jarot smiled sadly, before closing his eyes. Again, he wanted to ask the question, but he couldn’t. “Adam?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you assist me in buying gifts tomorrow?”

“Yeah, of course,” Adam replied, feeling a chill run through him as the old man spoke so softly to him. “From Red Oak?”

“Should we buy gifts in Deadwood? It treated you poorly.”

“Obviously, but Red Oak dared to treat my children poorly!” Adam huffed.

“The towns have treated my grandson and greatchildren poorly…” Jarot thought to ask then too, but he clenched his jaw.

“My children are more precious than me,” Adam replied, almost as a joke, but he meant it with his entire heart.

Jarot smiled, but he closed his eyes, for how could his grandson say such a thing in front of him, when they were all so precious to him?

Jarot’s scenes always make me so sad.