Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

“This is insanity!” Vice Commander Harrison shouted. “You must answer for this, Iyrmen! Our First Vice Commander, slaughtered like an animal before us! His life remains in Lord Sozain’s hands!”

“What must I answer for?” Chief Iromin asked, as though it were not at all obvious.

“This is no game!” Harrison growled, having caught his breath from his bout with Amokan. The young Iyrman was impressively powerful, but thanks to his magic, Harrison had managed to go toe to toe with him. Unfortunately, going toe to toe with someone around half his age, and someone who had yet to reach the strength of a Master, was already a great loss for him.

The shame of the Orders gathered here today could only be contained if they managed to gain something to keep it at bay.

“Chief Iromin, you understand the situation clearly, so please illuminate us,” a woman in heavy armour called out. She wore full plate, and unlike most of the figures here, she did not wear an amulet. At her side she carried a blade, formed seemingly from silver. It was not any blade, but Rolling Thunder, a Greater Enhanced blade, one that surpassed most other blades. She had dark eyes, dark hair that was short, but curly, and her skin was pale, like milk.

Iromin stared into the woman’s eyes for a long while, trying to gather insights from her stone like face. As much as he wanted to cause trouble, the Chief decided against it, since she was one of those. “Why are you asking me to answer for this matter?”

“I merely wish to understand the situation,” Sir Jessica replied, the Fifth Blade of the Order of the Three Hundred Blades.

“Adam’s children were harmed and killed by those he has killed,” Iromin replied.

“Are you saying the responsibility does not lie with the Iyr, but with the man in purple?”

Iromin remained silent.

“If that is the case, then he must pay for the crimes he has committed.”

Iromin continued to remain silent.

‘What is he doing?’ Sir Jessica thought.

“This is a matter of the Rot family,” Mulrot said upon noticing the silence between the pair. “Elder Peace and Chief Iromin have no right to speak upon the matter.”

“Do you understand why we must draw our blades?” Sir Jessica asked, her eyes darting to the old woman who spoke, she who wore the same tattoos as the Mad Dog.

“It is because you believe my greatchildren, children not yet four, are worth less than those who kill children,” Mulrot replied simply, her eyes filled with a terrible glare.

The Order tried to understand just what the Iyr was trying to achieve out of this situation. They could end the matter here cleanly if they handed over one man. Surely they didn’t want to die for the sake of one young man?

“You said Adam is your grandson?” King Merryweather asked.

“Yes.”

“If we wish to claim him, you will fight for him?”

“Yes.”

“He must answer for his crimes.”

“What crimes has my grandson committed?”

“They were guests under my protection.”

“What of the children who were killed? My Jarot? My Larot? Even my Jirot, who bears the marks of a bolt through her stomach?” Mulrot’s eyes moistened with shame, before she narrowed her eyes towards the King, suddenly burning with anger.

“Those children. Were they were truly Iyrmen?” King Merryweather asked, cautiously.

“Yes,” Mulrot stated, but her voice was nearly drowned out by the rest of the Iyrmen who responded, all save for the Great Elders.

King Merryweather’s eyes then met the Chief’s. “If they were Iyrmen, why did you bring so few?”

“Did we need to bring more for the sake of three Orders, banished from their homes?” Iromin asked.

King Merryweather had hoped the Chief wouldn’t pick such a fight with all the Orders, especially since he was currently responsible for them. However, could he push further against the Iyrmen considering their role in allowing Floria to take root?

‘Why are they going to far for this…’ King Merryweather stopped the thought as quickly as it appeared. It was obvious why they were trying to save Adam. He was a young man who had managed to slay a Vice Commander and his apprentice, an impressive feat only matched by one other within the fort, who just so happened to be on the same side.

“King Merryweather,” Iromin called, breaking the King out of his thoughts. “We are the Iyr.”

King Merryweather held the Chief’s gaze.

“You are thinking too deeply,” the Chief stated.

“Are you truly saying that you caused all this trouble for the sake of two children, Iyrmen, in the forms of a goblin and a demon?”

“Adam, stand up,” Iromin commanded.

Adam inhaled deeply, slowly pushing himself up, the half elf’s body stiff from the fight.

“Remove your helmet.”

Adam reached up to his helmet, but Mulrot grabbed his elbow, his eyes full of fury towards the Chief, though she quickly masked it.

“What are you doing?” the woman asked in their tongue.

“Even now, do you doubt me?” Iromin asked.

Mulrot’s brows raised high with alarm, feeling the words cut through her. She paused for a moment, considering the Chief. He had defended her grandson from the Iyr for years up until this point, and had taken responsibility for him from the other Great Elders. She squeezed her grandson’s arm gently, before withdrawing her hand.

Adam removed his helmet, revealing his handsome face, and his leaf shaped ears. The various figures around him shifted, suddenly on edge.

“What is the meaning of this?” Sun Sword Zachary called out, restraining his voice, though he gripped his blade tighter in hand.

Adam could feel the killing intent surrounding him, though it was nothing compared to what two of his companions could feel.

“Sir Harrison of the Thousand Hunts, I want you to look carefully at this young man’s face,” Iromin said, ignoring Zachary’s anger, while Rajin took a half step around to stand in front of the Sun Sword. “The First Vice Commander and his apprentice killed his sons, and wounded his daughter.”

“Beasts,” Harrison corrected, only to feel Iromin’s gaze steel, and for once, the Chief, who had been playfully serious up until that point, suddenly darkened.

“Iyrmen,” Iromin stated, firmly, before his eyes took in the sight of the various other figures around him. He could see it in their eyes, the annoyance, the disbelief, and more importantly, the shamelessness. The Chief’s jaw tensed, and his face flushed a deep red as his body began to heat up. Though he had wanted to state the matter clearly, and to show them the laws of the Iyr, he couldn’t help but feel the rage rising within him. ‘How dare they!’

“Chief Iromin,” Elder Peace called, trying to calm him down, for of all the things which could rile up an Iyrman, the death of their children was it. ‘Not in front of them.’

“Mulrot, I will clear the path,” Iromin said in their tongue, taking in a sharp breath, before closing his eyes.

Mulrot could see it, the rage building up within the Chief, whose hands were tied, because Adam didn’t want the matter to escalate. Her eyes darted around, and she could see it too, within the eyes of the Order.

The politicking of the situation which would benefit them if Adam took all the blame. Her grandson had wished for it to shield the Iyr, but could she let the hyenas tear her grandson apart? She gripped her spear tighter in hand.

Malfev watched the stress upon his sister’s face, his eyes darting between the Chief and his sister. He closed his eyes, his mind pulsing. He should step forward and assist, but his hands were tied. ‘I should have given up my position!’

“What of the demons?” King Merryweather asked, breaking the silence in the air, only to cause the various members of the Order to turn their attention to the pair who were grey of skin, with ram like horns curling out of their skull.

Lucy gripped her greataxe tighter, glancing around to see how many members there were who focused upon her, while Mara shifted slightly towards her.

“What of the demons?” Mulrot asked.

“If we make them take responsibility, will you protect them too?”

“The girls play so well with my greatchildren,” Jarot replied, grinning slightly.

Lucy’s heart quickened, while the words of the crazy Iyrman soothed her heart. ‘Is this because I let you steal them away from me?’

Mara could see the joke written within Lucy’s eyes, the woman smiling slightly, gripping Destroyer harder within her hand.

“What of the Aswadian?”

“What of the Aswadian?” a voice called out, before he stepped forward. He was an older man, of average height, and muscular, though he had gained some weight in the Iyr. He had long hair, like that of a mane, two braids falling across the front of his shoulders. His skin was dark, littered with scars born by many battles. His eyes were dark, and full of life, and over his shoulder, he carried a well made spear casually, as though he wasn’t surrounded by dozens of Oathsworn ready to fight.

After all, he had forced the previous Elder Wrath to retire.

Dunes tilted his head towards the side, where he saw the figure step forward. ‘What is he doing here?’

‘Hmm?’ Rajin thought, noting the spear, which was certainly the spear of the Mir family. Not a spear, but the spear.

“Will you step forward for the Aswadian?” King Merryweather asked.

“Since he has given me grandchildren, I must,” Ashmir replied.

Even the Aswadian guards nearby filled with shock upon hearing the words. The Lion King had a child? A child as old as Dunes? It was impossible, wasn’t it? Why else would he step forward?

“Why did you fight, young Aswadian?” King Merryweather asked.

“Those children are like aftel to me.”

‘Aftel?’ Merryweather thought, finding it awkward to attack the young Aswadian. He was no doubt a member of an Aswadian Order too, and drawing them in when their countries were currently flirting with an alliance was awkward. “I see. What of you, figure in the wondrous armour?”

Vice Commander Joshua prayed to all the Divine that he would no longer face the large figure before him, his entire body pulsing, even after healing himself. He was certain of it, this figure was far stronger than himself, the gap between them like himself and the raining clouds above.

“He came on behalf of the Rot family,” Iromin said, his tone low, ignoring Elder Peace’s gaze.

“Who are you?”

“…”

“He is too big for you,” Bael warned, grinning wildly.

King Merryweather glanced towards the drakken fellow, who was no doubt a dragon. “May I know your name?”

“Bael.”

“I do not recognise your family…”

“I’m too big for him,” Bael replied, motioning his head to the figure in the dark armour.

“The Iyr defends them, but only out of preserving your Kingdom,” Iromin warned lightly, but the smirk upon his face revealed the truth of the matter.

King Merryweather was not in the business of ignoring the Chief’s warning, especially now, but he still needed to assist the Orders, otherwise…

“The Iyr defends demons, and who knows what kind of monstrosity hides behind that armour,” Vice Commander Harrison said. “We were brought here to fight against a threat which the Iyr thought to be so important, and yet my comrades have died, slaughtered like animals! Tell me, my friends! Where is the justice in this?”

“Who is it that speaks of justice today?” shouted a voice, as a figure marched forward. He had long white hair, green eyes, and was shorter than the typical Iyrman, but the large black blade, with a blade like a row of shark teeth. He stormed onto the scene, wearing annoyance on his face as ready as he wore the lust for blood.

Iromin sighed, having hoped that he would have resisted the urge to step forward until they were truly cornered, rather than when they had finally gained permission to act freely.

“Who are you?” Baztam asked, marching up to the Bellflower Sword, barging past even the members who had tried to step in his path. “Is she bullying you?”

Gorot remained silent as his uncle ruffled his hair, flushing slightly. ‘Not in front of the Aldishmen…’

“Wyvern got your tongue?” Baztam asked, smacking his nephew upon his back, and for a moment, his eyes flashed with pride towards the young man. “This is what happens when you allow the Aldishmen to run amok, Iromin! Look at their gazes! How are they not begging for their lives?”

“Who are-,” Harrison began, only to be stopped as Baztam growled, though the Iyrman wasn’t growling at him.

“Why did you have to beat her?” Baztam asked, glaring at Shaool, ready to fight the old woman for daring to take such a great prey from him.

“She wished to harm my grandnephew,” Shaool replied, narrowing her eyes towards Baztam.

Baztam clicked his teeth, but let the matter drop, since the Platinum Shield was about to harm their grandnephew. His eyes then darted to the Fifth Blade. “Will you draw your blade?”

Jessica remained silent, unsure of how to respond to the Black Shark, though he seemed ready and eager for a fight, even surrounded by so many figures.

“I no longer care for this play,” Baztam declared, his eyes darting around the figures around him who had suddenly shifted their attention upon him. “Come quickly and teach them some manners, or I will start killing.”

“You should have waited for the Chief to handle it,” an Iyrman said, stepping forward beside his nephew. “Did she trouble you?”

“No,” Mosen replied, the pair having fought too little for them to have a definitive answer to a winner.

Bloodblade Shasen glared down at the Vice Commander, before his eyes fell upon a more powerful prey, a different Vice Commander from another Order.

“Okay?” called a voice as he approached his cousin.

“Okay,” Dogek replied.

Shagek, Silver Sword of the Wastes, slowly nodded his head. He had never expected that his cousin would give up the Family Elder position. However, it was the beating of the Sky Commander, which had been especially vicious, which had surprised him most. ‘It was for the best?’

“Sister Mulrot, you should have called us out earlier,” Marmak called, rubbing the side of his neck. “It is not embarrassing to struggle against Sun Sword, but to struggle against Sir Iris?”

Rajin threw a look to Marmak, before his eyes darted over to the other Marmak. The woman was of average height, and was well built, and she too carried a greatsword upon her back.

‘Isn’t she the woman who earned Taygak’s cup?’ Adam thought, noting that her tattoos matched the Butcher’s, before he noticed the other pair. “You’ve come too?”

“We have come as the Chief’s aides,” Okvar replied, smiling innocently, though how could he remain in the Iyr when he had held the twins against his bare chest when they had been born?

“Even if the Iyr has not accepted responsibility, we can fight too, since we cared for those children?” Rasam asked, the woman trying to find a worthy prey.

The various Orders each eyed up the figures they recognised, and worryingly, if they swallowed their pride, they would recognise how many were considered equivalent to the Grand Commanders of their own Orders.

The King had originally thought some of them would stand by, but Rasam had stated the words that caused a great pain to his heart. Even knowing the great might the Iyr had brought, the King had thought it was too little. Yet, if it was truly the case the Iyr had only prepared to deal with three of the Orders, then it made sense, since this many would have certainly dealt with the members of the three Orders here.

‘What are the chances they would all fight?’ King Merryweather thought, but the blood lust in the air answered his question. As much as the Iyr was an incredible force, they were still vastly outnumbered.

Every Iyrman here has some relation to the situation, but...

Baztam is mostly here for a good time.