Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

Adam reached up to undo his helmet, painfully slow. He pulled it up, revealing his pale face, the tears falling down his cheeks out of his wide eyes. Jurot, who could feel the pressure of the strange woman, focused completely upon his brother, seeing how small he had become, but from the corners of his eyes, he could see it.

“Jurot,” Adam whispered, his voice ghost quiet. His jaw ached, and he could feel his body grow lighter, and heavier. He couldn’t even remember if he had said his brother’s name. “Jurot.”

Jurot remained silent, unable to speak, almost choking on his shame. 

Adam couldn’t bring his eyes from the bodies. He reached into his tunic, reaching for the diamonds, but the Chief placed a hand on his shoulder. The half elf, the boy, froze in place. 

“I am sorry, Adam.” 

“Chief,” Adam coughed, feeling the heat in his stomach rise. “Chief. Why?”

“…”

“I didn’t. I didn’t use it. So… why?” Adam asked, as though the Chief could possibly have the answer.

“The Orders passed through. Jirot was harmed, but Jonn was able to save her. Jarot. Larot. They were…”

Adam was prepared to die, but he was not prepared for worse. Even seeing that they had been run through clean, a quick, painless death, hadn’t managed to soothe his heart. Adam remained staring at the bodies, of the greyed green and red. He wasn’t sure if the room was cold, or if he was cold, or if the room was hot, or if he was hot. He wasn’t even sure he was awake or asleep, but though he wished it was all a dream, he understood it couldn’t be. 

“Is… Vonda… okay?”

“Yes.”

“The baby?” Adam’s lip quivered, biting his lower lip, as the world around him grew blurred through his wet eyes. 

“Fine.”

Adam closed his eyes shut tight, the tears slipping down the contours of his cheeks. He was barely able to swallow, his neck taut, the half elf nodding his head slightly, like tiny tremors. He reached up to cover his eyes, squeezing at his skull, barely feeling the pain. 

“Can I… have a few minutes, alone?” Adam asked, as the tears continued to fall down the sides of his cheeks, the half breathing through his gritted teeth. 

“Okay,” the whisper floated in the air, before his steps echoed through the tunnels. 

Jurot, with his eyes shut tight, turned his head, too ashamed to even look at Adam through his eyelids. He wanted to ask to stay, but his throat tightened once more, and the Iyrman turned, bumping into the wall, before he reached out for the cold wall, leaving a trail of sweat against the stone as he stumbled away. 

Adam was certain he was alone, even if he hadn’t heard the other pair of women step away. The half elf, began to strip out of his armour, letting it fall to the floor, but his body remained heavy. He tossed away his shield, the crimson shield scraping against the floor. He dropped his axe to the side, against his armour, the clang filling the air, before the echo of a small die fell upon the floor, skipping along the floor until it fell silent.

Adam dropped to his hands. “How much?”

[I’m sorry, Adam.]

Adam fought the tears, sniffling again. He swallowed, dropping onto his hands, the amulet dangling dangerously close to the floor. “Baktu.”

The half elf waited.

“Baktu.”

Silence. 

“Lord Sozain!” Adam pressed his forehead onto the floor, feeling the rough earth against his bare forehead. “What do you want? Baktu. Lord Sozain. I’ll do anything, so please. Please.”

Silence.

Chief Iromin waited. He was unsure of how much time to give Adam, but he waited, and waited, until he stepped through the tunnel once more, until the gentle glow gave way to a brighter room, where two bodies lay upon slabs of obsidian, and another rested up against the wall, his forehead bloody, his eyes red. 

“What would you have us do?” Iromin asked. 

Adam blinked. 

“We can prepare their… cremation,” Iromin said, his voice pained, waiting for Adam to ask.

It was only then Adam noted the Chief’s presence, the half elf staring up at him, his eyes lost, the half elf blinking rapidly. His mind remained delayed, and even now, Adam was unsure of what to say, except the first question that came to mind. “You won’t bury them?”

“We do not bury children in the Iyr,” the Chief said gravely. 

Adam blinked again, barely processing the words, before his mind finally caught up to him. “Chief Iromin, you, you can, can you keep them in stasis? The spell, the one to, delay. How… how long has it been?”

“It was the thirteenth.”

“What… what day is it now?”

“It has been over a week.”

“A week. Okay. A week. So I just, I just need…” Adam closed his eyes, willing his thoughts forward. “Seventh Gate spells. That’s all. I can do that. I’ll, uh, pay for them to stay in stasis, whatever it takes. Then, I can, I can, I just need, Resurrection, that’s all.”

Iromin bowed his head, taking a long moment. “I will inform Elder Shaman.”

“Thanks.”

“I will bring you something to drink.”

“Thank you.”

As the Chief left, he passed by the young Iyrman, hearing the weeping bounce off the walls, as well as the choked words. 

I’m sorry.

Jurot turned, unable to bear hearing the words. The Iyrman allowed his steps to lead him back to the shared estate, only realising he was back upon stepping through the archway, where he found them. His eyes fell to his mother, then downwards, to the children, noting his sister was asleep within her mother’s bosom. The little green skinned girl sat right beside her grandmother, leaning up against her, before she sat up upon seeing her uncle. 

“Unko Juroh!” the girl coughed out, her voice so quiet and raspy, pointing to the Iyrman. “Is unko Juroh!”

Jurot tensed up upon hearing the girl’s words, recalling the Jirot from years ago. His eyes then fell down to Kirot, whose silver eyes stared up towards him, full of shock, and lost, mirroring his own. Then his eyes darted to the side, to Pam, who sat beside Vonda, the young woman sandwiched between his wife and his mother. Karot sat in front of her, with Konarot sitting in front of Jirot, as though they had all grouped up to protect Vonda and Jirot from the world.

“I’m sorry, Jurot,” Pam whispered, while Vonda closed her eyes, praying lightly. 

Jurot remained silent. What was he to say to his nieces and nephew? What was he say to his sister, who had lost two of her children? What was he to say to his mother, who had lost two of her grandchildren. 

“Unko!” Jirot whined, reaching out with a hand, the girl’s face contorting as she made to cry. 

Jurot forced his body forward, picking the girl up, holding her within his arms. His entire body tensed up, shaking lightly, before he calmed himself. He couldn’t hear her crying, but quickly, within his arms, the girl stopped sobbing, falling asleep. He held her for a long moment, feeling her cheek, warm and wet, against his own. She was so small. So light. He could feel the multiple layers around her waist, and the Iyrman shook for a moment. 

‘Jirot,’ Jurot thought, holding the girl close to his chest. ‘Jirot!’

It was upon feeling the tug at his leg, that the young Iyrman glanced down, taking in the sight of the young girl, who stared up at him with a look no child of the Iyr should ever hold.

“Daddy?” Konarot asked, clutching the young Iyrman’s leg, gripping his trousers tight in hand. 

Jurot dropped to a knee, pinning Jirot’s head to him with his cheek, before reaching up to rub the top of his eldest niece’s head. He stared into her eyes, which remained questioning, and so full of fear. Jurot could feel the darkness clutch so tightly around his heart, seeping deep within. 

The Iyrman swallowed, before his eyes took in the gaze of Kirot and Karot, the pair also full of apprehension, while his sister slept away peacefully within their mother’s arms. Jurot tensed up again, before looking down at Jirot, brushing along her cheek, wiping away her tear. 

“I…” Jurot whispered. “I will bring him.”

“Papo,” Konarot whispered, clutching his trousers still. “Thank you.”

Jurot shut his eyes tight, fighting away his tears, before handing the girl out to Lavgak, Jaygak’s mother, who accepted the tiny girl. He turned, and stepped away, before pausing. 

“How are… Virot? Damrot?”

“They’re well,” Pam replied. “They can crawl now.”

“Ad-,” Jurot tensed up, unable to say his brother’s name, even to lighten up the mood. He swallowed, marching out of the shared estate, passing the shared estates, the Elder’s estate, and he made his way to a group of estates to one side. 

An aide stepped in front of the path to block the Iyrman’s way. “The Great Elders are busy.”

Jurot inhaled deeply, his entire body flashing hot red, as the Iyrman shouted, finding whatever voice of his remained. “Children of the Rot family were killed!”

These chapters were some of the hardest to write.