Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

Little Jarot picked up the piece and placed it down where his eldest sister requested, the boy staring down at the board. The squares alternated in colours and the various pieces, each different, were formed of similar colours. Tonagek’s finger curled across his lip, Konarot also doing the same as she waited for her granduncle to move his piece.

“You have learnt well,” Tonagek said, moving one of his knights forward, finally bringing him into the skirmish for the centre of the board.

Konarot’s tail swayed under her, while Jirot focused completely upon the board. The pair continued to work together, while little Jarot lifted up the pieces one by one. Kirot and Karot cuddled up with their grandmother, snoozing away in the heat.

Tonagek’s eyes then fell to the side, to the pair of babies who were snoozing away, the first son of his nephew, and the youngest daughter of his other nephew. As they continued to play, Jirot managing to spot her granduncle’s ploy immediately, the girls managed to claim a two piece advantage, before their granduncle finally surrendered.

Tonagek reached out a hand, rubbing Konarot’s head, then Jirot’s, and finally little Jarot’s. “You did well.”

The children smiled, and squirmed slightly at their granduncle’s affection. After waiting a moment to hear his grandniece’s cheek, Tonagek realised it would not come. “Adam, come, walk with me.”

”Okay.” Adam stood, reaching out to tickle the back of his twins’ hands. “Daddy will be back soon. You can bully babo while I’m gone, just a little bit though, okay?”

“No, I will not,” Jirot replied, holding her father’s hand with her own, the girl clutching at it tight, her amber eyes staring up at him, a small pout upon her lips.

“Daddy needs to go speak with baba for a bit, okay?”

Jirot blinked towards the older Iyrman, her grandmother’s brother, pouting further, her ears drooping. He did not give in to her pout, so the girl bowed her head lightly, and Adam followed the heavily armoured man out. Konarot watched her father leave.

‘Daddy…’ Even now she could see how small his shadow was, almost as small as him.

Adam’s eyes fell down to the sheathed blade at the man’s side, which dangled slightly with his gentle limp. All Iyrmen carried weapons at their side, daggers mostly, but most also carried their family’s weapon, or the main weapon they preferred to use. That was the kind of life his children would live, if Vonda gave her blessing. They stepped away from the shared estates, towards the cabins to one side, where a few teen Iyrmen worked, cleaning the area.

As they stepped out towards the outer edges of the outer most shared estates, Tonagek led them to a small area where the Iyrmen lined up their crates of vegetables. He stopped at a particular set, those marked with the Rot family’s symbol. He stared down at the crate, where long spirals of stems flowed out, brown flowers blooming, revealing the potatoes were soon ready for harvest. The Iyrman’s eyes remained glued to the vegetables, which had been so eagerly buried by their tiny green hands. His sister had shown off the pair to him when they had buried the potatoes within the soil, this year and the last. It was difficult enough to stop them from eating the earth, but now…

“When you go, I will come with you,” Tonagek said.

Adam swallowed, glancing down at the wooden crate full of earth, with stems flowing upwards, and the brown flowers revealing how they were ready to be plucked. The half elf remained for a long moment. There were some Iyrmen who were difficult to refuse. His Aunt, Sonarot, was definitely the hardest. Gangak, too, was difficult, since she had accepted his twins so readily. He had thought to repay her by assisting Jaygak, but the debt he owed passed down to Taygak, who so patiently waited for her training.

Then there was Tonagek. If not for him, Adam wouldn’t have known his triplets. Though Adam had adopted his twins first, his triplets had found him not long after, all thanks to the Iyrman before him. He, who had lost his own son, and had found hope, only to lose it to Adam a short while later.

“Would you deny me my rights?” Tonagek asked, noting Adam’s long silence.

“No,” Adam replied, his throat dry.

“Okay.”

The pair remained at the crates for a long while, with an Iyrman taking note of the pair, but leaving them be. If it was a half elf, then it must have been that particular figure, and considering the plot he stood upon, he was not out of place.

While the pair stood silently over the crates, Vonda and Pam remained within the shared estate, the pair at one side. Most of the children were currently being schooled elsewhere, while their own children remained at the shared estate. Virot and Damrot were doted upon by their grandmother, who held the pair to her bosom.

“Adam’s finally resting, but now Jurot’s working harder,” Pam joked, reaching out to rub the back of Vonda’s hand gently. “Should I tell him to stay?”

Vonda smiled, and though she usually beamed with joy, or gave a polite smile to throw around the weight of her title, this smile held a sombreness. “It is a difficult time for him. We should give him the time and space he requires.”

Within the Iyr, though there was a darkness, the Iyrmen continued to work. Some Iyrmen would come by the shared estate, but the Iyr needed to continue moving towards the future. Within the nearby woods, an Iyrman raged, slamming his axe into the trees, his arms aching from the force. Even as the trees fell, he pushed them over with his shoulder.

The other Iyrmen chopped away their trees calmly, allowing the young man his space. Their eyes darted towards him now and again, making sure he remained out of danger, but though many were decades his senior, he was still stronger than any of them. It made sense, of course, considering who he was related to.

Another Iyrman approached, following the trail towards the woods. He was tall and lean, and a face his wife appreciated so much, she married him for it. His hair fell down to his shoulders, hanging free. At his side he wore his axe, which he had adopted when he married into the family, and upon his forehead, the blue circle and diamonds.

He stopped some ways away from the young Iyrman and waited.

Jurot continued to rage and thrash, until finally his rage slipped away, leaving him with his body full of pain. He stared at the trees around him, at the mess he had caused. His lungs burned with effort, before he turned to face the Iyrman who had patiently waited. Jurot swallowed, still panting, his eyes catching the eyes of the other Iyrmen, who nodded, and the young Iyrman left them to deal with the woodcutting in peace.

“You have returned,” Jurot said.

“I have,” Gorot replied, trekking his way along the trail, making his way back towards the Iyr proper, leading his nephew. He stopped, turning to face the young Iyrman. He didn’t need to see his nephew like this to understand it was true, but to see Jurot so dishevelled, he needed to prepare himself. “Your life is not forfeit?”

“No,” Jurot replied.

Gorot inhaled deeply for a moment. This was not like the Iyr he knew. Even if he was relieved that his wife’s pain, and rage, had been eased, there was still the matter of the Iyr and its rules. However, what could he do but to put his faith in the Great Elders?

“Okay.” Gorot escorted his nephew back to the shared estate, where he found his son charging up to him with his sturdy legs, the boy grabbing his father’s leg, hugging it tight.

“Daddy…”

“Gurot,” Gorot called, hoisting his son up to his chest, rubbing the back of his head.

“Baba…” Konarot called to the figure.

Gorot bowed his head to the girl, then to his wife, placing a hand upon her shoulder for a moment, before he hoisted Murot up into his arms too. He kept them close to his chest for a moment, leaning down to kiss their heads, before he placed them down.

“My Jirot, my Jarot, you are still so small?” Gorot teased, holding out his arms, though the children remained within the bosom of their greatmother. He reached over to ruffle their hair, brushing along their cheeks for a moment, feeling the softness of their skin against his rough palms.

“Baba, you are back?” Jirot asked, feeling his rough hand against her own, the girl allowing her nana’s husband to hold onto her hand. Though her nana was actually her mamo, since she could call Mirot her nana, that meant obviously Gorot was her baba, even if they rarely spoke.

“I am back,” Gorot confirmed. “I will remain here with you.”

“You will play with me?”

“I will.”

Jirot smiled slightly, looking to her brother. “Baba is going to play!”

“Baba…” Little Jarot smiled.

“I will play with you all now,” Gorot assured, before stepping aside, walking towards the half elf who sat with his youngest daughter and his nephew upon his lap. “You have returned.”

“Yeah,” Adam replied. “Welcome back, uncle.”

Gorot reached out a hand, placing it upon the half elf’s head. “It is good you have returned safely.”

“Thank you,” Adam replied awkwardly, unsure of how to behave in front of the man he rarely spoke to. In all his time, Gorot was always busy, and rarely spoke in general. When they had first met, Adam was fairly certain there was friction, and more so than anyone else, he was unsure of his relationship with this particular Iyrman.

Gorot then greeted Vonda, holding out a hand, allowing the Priest to take it within her own. “Ray Vonda, are you well?”

“I am in good health.”

Gorot was unsure of what to say to her now that she was her niece and had gone through such an experience. “I hope you remain in good health.”

“Thank you.”

Gorot made his way to Sonarot. He had heard his wife had taken the position of Family Head, but did that mean she had led the talks? No, that must have fallen to Sonarot.

“You are off the schedule?” Sonarot asked, settled beside her brother.

Gorot nodded. There was a moment the pair shared, an understanding between them. Gorot bowed his head lightly, and Sonarot returned the bow. Of course, Jarot and Larot were his grandnephews too, so it was his loss too.

“Did my mother remain?” Gorot asked.

“She did.”

“Okay.”

“Daddy?” Gurot asked, watching his father leave. Murot had already rushed over to his mother, the boy crying and squealing for attention, but Gurot stared up at his father with hopeful eyes.

“…” Gorot picked him up. “Come. We will go see nana.”

“Nana?” Gorot glanced back towards Mulrot, pointing towards her.

“Nana Tam.”

“Ooh!” The boy smiled. “Nana!”

Gorot carried the boy away, the boy staring up at his father, taking in the sight of his face. His muscular jaw, the hair that fell down to his shoulders, just like his cousin’s. Gurot rested his head against his father’s shoulder, staring at his neck, clutching at his father’s collar, before the world around him turned familiar.

“Nana!” Once his father placed him on the floor, Gurot charged towards his grandmother, the old woman lifting the boy up onto her lap, before kissing against his cheek and neck.

“My Gurot, you have come? You have brought your father, who does not come to see his mother?”

Gorot threw a glance across his distant relatives, before taking his place beside his mother.

“Can you sit here so freely?” Loktam asked, tickling the back of her grandson’s head, the boy giggling and squirming against her.

“You remained during the talks,” Gorot said.

“We did.”

Gorot remained silent for a long while staring at the ground. He glanced aside towards his son, who cuddled up to his nana so eagerly. “I have come for Shark.”

“You are Rot now.”

“I am more comfortable with Shark.”

Loktam reached out to brush her son’s hair tenderly, rubbing along his forehead, and then his cheek. “My greatnephews are so cute.”

Gorot only bowed his head.

“How could they name him after the Mad Dog when he is so shy?” Loktam joked.

“Jurot named him.”

“It is a good name,” Loktam said, noting the awkwardness in her son’s tone. If he spoke in such a way, then surely it was because of the rumours from years ago. “If you wish for Shark, I will speak with the Family Head.”

“Thank you, mother.”

“You should come visit me more often,” Loktam snapped, reaching out to pinch her son’s cheek. “The Rot family will need someone stronger in your generation, so train hard.”

“I will,” Gorot replied. “I will become a Grandmaster when my sons are of age.”

“You should aim to become a Master first.”

Gorot remained silent. Unfortunately for his cheek, his silence spoke enough to his mother, who could always tell his thoughts, just like with his father.

He’s not a step uncle, but the uncle who stepped up.