Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

The Iyrmen nearby tensed up, surging with killing intent, but the moment passed. The Iyrman stepped aside, allowing Jurot to step through. The Iyrman marched forward, noting the appearance of the Great Elders, with Elder Shaman sitting among them in place of Elder Peace, while the most obvious Great Elder remained missing.

“Who was killed?” Elder Shaman, adorned in her heavy, deep green cloak, asked. She was the visage of time, wrinkles falling across her face, carved through decades of thought.

“My nephews,” Jurot said, unable to speak their names.

“They are not Iyrmen,” Elder Shaman stated, her voice clear, not just speaking to Jurot, but also the Great Elders around her.

“They are my nephews,” Jurot stated through his gritted teeth, feeling the rage boiling within him, trying to beat out the hopelessness which had gripped his heart.

“We have our rules, young Iyrman of the Rot family,” Elder Shaman stated, her voice falling upon the Iyrman’s ears like a rushing waterfall, pressing down upon him with the great weight of responsibility. “Under the laws of the Iyr, they have no such rights.”

Each word battered Jurot deeper than any blade he had faced, even the blade of King Merryweather.

“I have my rights,” Jurot said. “I have rights afforded to me.”

“Even if you were to die, we would not bring you from Baktu’s embrace, for you are no child.”

“I know my rights,” Jurot stated firmly. “I am a Master soon.”

“Soon, but not yet,” Elder Forest said, the woman’s voice full of regret.

Jurot could feel it. He was on the cusp of Masterhood, just a little more, and he would be able to reach such a height. Once he was a Master, he could use his rights to help, he was certain of it. He continued to shake, his fists clenched, to the point his nails dug into his rough palms.

“You should return,” Elder Shaman said.

Jurot remained standing there, trying to think of a way to help in that moment. Even if he could bring them back a second earlier, he would do so. As an aide placed a hand on his shoulder, he refused to move. The aide raged, causing Jurot to flash red hot with rage too, but the young Iyrman was unable to resist, as the aide dragged him away.

Jurot let out a sigh, relaxing, dropping his rage. As they dragged him away, he reached up to pat the aide’s shoulder, who let the young Iyrman go. Jurot inhaled deeply, standing taller. “I am an Iyrman. You cannot deny me my rights. I will pay the price, a life for a life.”

Chief Iromin raised his brows in shock. “Which life?”

“Larot,” Jurot replied, without hesitation.

“You would leave Jirot without her twin brother?”

Jurot narrowed his eyes towards the Chief. “Where is he?”

“…”

“He was not with the dead. He was not with Jirot. Where is he?”

The sky over the Iyr was darkened with grief. Within the side of the mountain, a path led to small caves, which had been carved thousands of years ago. A woman walked along the length of the path, while another sat in front of the cave, pouring salt into the water, before pushing the pot forward.

“I still owe him a favour,” Otkan said. “You may ask on his behalf.”

Jarot remained silent, reaching down to pick up the pot, sipping the salted water. He refused to ask, for he could not ask more of her, who had given her arm to make sure he would see his greatchildren grow. However, how could he come to face them now, after allowing them to die? Was he so shameless, he, who had urged them to leave the business to train?

A set of graceful steps approached the cave, where the Iyrmen sat, only separated by the invisible wall of shame.

“Did I not tell you, Chief?” Jarot asked, clenching his teeth, and though he smiled like a hyena, there was little light within his smile. “He is my grandson!”

The stars twinkled in the sky, darkness not yet looming over the Iyr, but growing deep within.

Adam jolted upon hearing the striking of the staff, the overwhelming pressure of the Iyrman almost causing him to choke, bringing him out of his grave thoughts.

“You should return to the estate,” the voice said firmly, the old woman clasping the top of her staff.

Adam bowed his head, slowly climbing up, before stumbling upon his weak legs. He used the wall to guide him out, unsure of where the estate was, but trusted the tunnel to take him to a familiar place. He could still feel Elder Shaman’s gaze upon him. He finally stepped out, into the dark world that was his reality, and his slow blink revealed another figure beside him.

“Is this an illusion?” Adam whispered.

“No,” Jurot whispered, holding his brother’s elbows, embracing his brother in a half hug.

“I need to go,” Adam said, struggling to breathe in the crisp air of the Iyr. “I need to see them. Would you stay with Jarot and Larot? I’m sure they’ll like that.”

“Adam,” Jurot whispered, wrapping his arms around the half elf, hugging him tight. He wasn’t sure what to say in this moment, finding words had become more difficult than numbers at this time. He, who dared to threaten nobles without even batting a lash, could not find the words for his own brother.

Adam’s eyelids grew heavy, and the half elf tried to pull himself away from his brother’s arms, unsure if it was the stress and the travel which had caused him to grow so tired, or his brother’s supernatural abilities to put children to sleep.

“Huu!” called a voice from behind them.

Adam shut his eyes tight, hearing the whimpering, before he turned, leaning against the side of the cave, still finding it hard to breathe. He squinted his eyes, and through his blurry vision, he noted the two forms.

“Daddy!” Jarot called, beginning to sob, as the boy rushed up to his father, charging his father’s leg.

Adam could hear his voice. He could feel those arms wrap around him. He could feel his son shaking against his leg. He blinked. He could see the look of judgement from his youngest son.

“They were brought back,” Jurot said.

The words made the scene real within Adam’s mind, the half elf pulling his son against him, feeling the wet tears against his neck. He reached out to Larot too, pulling him in slowly, the half elf’s heart drumming harder.

“The Chief will speak with you later,” Elder Shaman informed, annoyed by the breaking of convention, and the Iyr’s laws.

Adam gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Jarot?”

“Daddy!”

Adam gasped again, his breath tickling against his son’s cheek, feeling his son’s gentle breath against his neck. He rubbed his cheek against Larot’s head and hair. “Larot?”

Larot tilted his head slightly, rubbing his head against father’s cheek, before going still once more.

“You! You silly boys!” Adam managed through his panting, still struggling to breathe as tears freely fell down his cheeks. “Oh! Oh my boys! How can you do this to me?”

“Daddy!”

“Yes! Welcome back! Welcome back! Oh my sons! Oh my boys! You smelly little boys!” Adam kissed his sons, kissing their cheeks, their foreheads, their necks, embracing them tight within his arms. The half elf buried his frustrations, but couldn’t help but to let some of it out, swaying from side to side as he held his sons within his arms, the half elf almost crying out against the world, the relief and grief mixing together.

Jurot allowed Adam to carry his sons, clutching at them like the most precious pearls, all the way back to the shared estate. Konarot rushed towards her father as he stepped through the archway, her eyes darting up to see her younger brothers. Her tail darted from side to side, the same as her younger sister and brother, who were unsure of who to look at, their father or their younger brothers.

“Ha!” Jirot sat up from her grandmother, pointing up at her father. Her words did not come to her, but she smiled, squealing as she climbed out of her grandmother’s arms, while Lanarot also charged at the four.

Adam placed down Jarot, allowing the boy to embrace his sister, the pair giggling and squealing, hugging each other tight.

“Jarot! Jarot!” Jirot called, kissing his forehead all over, while Jarot held his sister, allowing her to smother him in affection.

Lanarot hugged Larot tight, brushing along his hair with her hair. “You are okay now! You are okay, my Larot!”

Sonarot’s eyes darted to her son, her eyes wide, as she quickly approached the boy. She grabbed at his arms, pulling him in for a hug, her heart beating wildly.

It was the gentle thudding of metal against stone that broke the silence, as the old man stormed into the shared estate. He charged at his greatchildren, the older Jarot dropping down to his knee, so quickly that his metal leg dug harshly into his flesh, but the old man did not care.

“You little brat! You must stay within your babo’s arms from now on!”

“Babo!” Jarot clutched around his neck, feeling the heat of his greatfather’s rage warming him up, as Jirot hugged his bicep, also warming herself up.

Larot let out a soft sigh, before Jirot then grabbed him into a hug too, brushing through his hair.

“How can you do this to me?” Jirot asked, holding him close, planting firm kisses on his cheek. “You! I tell you not to come! You come and push me?”

Larot remained silent.

Adam closed his eyes, trying to keep his tears from flowing out. He and Vonda held one another, the half elf rubbing his cheek against hers. It was only then could he feel the relief set within his heart. When he heard the Chief calling for him, he dared to let the woman go, holding her hands for a long moment, staring deep into her eyes, which remained uncertain, for how did her children return to her?

“We must speak,” Iromin said.

Adam nodded, following the Chief, followed by his Aunt, whose steps were urgent, but remained a short way away.

“Chief,” Adam whispered.

“The Iyr has brought them back.”

“Okay,” Adam said. “Whatever you say, I’ll do it.”

Iromin turned to throw a look to Sonarot, before pausing. “Your children must be raised as Iyrmen.”

“Is that it?”

“They will grow under the Iyr’s care. They will learn our secrets, which they must keep, even from you.”

“Chief, you…” Adam swallowed. “You need to ask Vonda for their permission too. She’s their mother, and I can’t promise it alone.”

“Okay,” Iromin promised.

“Is it the only price to be paid?” Sonarot asked, her eyes focused upon the Chief.

“Yes.”

Sonarot let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing as she closed her eyes, steadying her emotions.

“Chief Iromin?” Adam called.

“Yes?”

“I’m fine with them being raised in the Iyr, as Iyrmen, but…”

“You need not worry,” Iromin said. “We have prepared those who we will send to kill you.”

Adam slowly nodded his head, wiping his eyes, the itch within them growing. ‘Man, I love the Iyr. Damn it.’

“There is another important matter to discuss,” Iromin said.

“What is it?”

Iromin remained silent. He did not wish to speak the words, but the blood had been spilled. His neck grew taut, and the Chief flashed crimson, thirsty for blood. “Someone has killed a child of the Iyr.”

The Iyr told you that you cannot do one thing.

Also shout out to the two new patrons. I forgot to mention that for all of December I will also post up an additional chapter for each new patron! So expect double chapters today and tomorrow!