Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

“Huwaa!” the boy cried, the tears streaming down his face, washed away by the rain.

“Merry,” Merl called, the woman wiping her son’s face tenderly, the woman smiling warmly towards him. Though her son cried so loudly, disrupting the world around them, Merl was glad the boy could cry so loudly for a boy who was so small.

“Daddy! Daddy!” the boy howled into the air, smothered by his mother’s bosom, the pair embracing one another tightly. His cries continued to soak her away, his muffled voice soothing the woman’s heart.

“When your father returns, he will hold you,” Merl promised. “You have to wait.”

“Daddy!” the boy cried, his voice drowned out by the thunder rumbling in the distance, and as lightning flashed, a shadow formed over the village.

The rain continued to poor, pitter pattering, drowning out the world.

It stood opposite the tall, strapping, sturdy wall of a man, whose eyes were cold, harsh, and deadly, the kind forged at the edge of an Iyrman’s blade, his muscles forged by the Iyr’s training. This held a good look, but was this large, bull like, a man? Is that what they called this soft, fleshy creature? Was this man any good to wet their blade?

‘Two,’ Nobby thought, unable to hear the footsteps which had faded behind him. Were there more of these Reavers? What would happen to those that had come out with him? They always argued to come along with him, since Nobby was just a little townboy and they were proper villagefolk, and though he had married their future Chief, he had yet to earn their trust.

No.

That wasn’t important now.

It was up to Fate as to whether Mother Soza or Lord Sozain would bless them that day.

How was it that he had come across two Reavers? Nobby, who had been born within Red Oak, the son of a porter, whose distant family were porters. One day, just like that, an Iyrman plucked him. He trained hard, coming across all manner of powerful creatures. He won his first tournament. He came face to face with one of the Divine. He married the daughter of a Chief, one who would become Chief herself, and now he would come face to face against a Reaver.

No.

That wasn’t important now.

He felt the gentle weight within his arms. The soft skin against his neck, the shallow breaths, and the innocently squealing of his son, who cried so loudly, one might not have expected him to have been born weeks too early.

The heat of rage filled the young man, his entire body turning red, the fire rushing through his forearm as he swung his axe.

It was up to Fate as to whether Mahtu or Baktu would bless him that day.

‘Oh?’ the Reaver thought, its blade meeting Nobby’s axe, feeling the weight of the young man’s might. All of a sudden, the disappointment was cut to pieces as they began their dance of death. Their steel sang a song of viciousness, and though Nobby prepared to dance with both Reavers, one stood to the side, waiting and watching.

The rain sizzled off of Nobby’s skin, the mist in the air hiding their fight from the world. The clash of steel, muffled by the thunder, the flash of lightning illuminating the figures. As the pair fought, the thoughts swam through their minds.

Heavy.

As the Reaver fought against Nobby, that’s what it thought. Nobby’s axe was heavy. Nobby’s might was heavy. Nobby’s heart was heavy. It was a pleasure to fight against someone like Nobby, for he was stronger than expected, meaning the disappointed had dissipated into the air, but more importantly, he was strong enough to give the Reaver a good fight. It was that kind of fight, one which it could truly enjoy. If Nobby had been any typical Expert, the Reaver would have killed him, and yet the young Nobby remained standing tall, like an immovable wall.

As they clashed, Nobby forced the Reaver back with his great strength, the auroch of a man slamming like thunder against the creature. While the Reaver thought about the joy, the thrill, Nobby’s thoughts remained purely on a single task. No matter what, Nobby had to step forward. Even if it was a single step, he had to take it, putting distance between the Reavers and the village. While his mind thought of pushing forward, the thought within his heart was very different.

Nobby was going to lose.

With each clash, with each red mark they painted one another, Nobby could feel it creeping within his heart, along the periphery of his vision, the darkness that was defeat. His shield arm throbbed as he caught the blade, but the force crashed through his side, almost causing him to fling away his shield.

If Nobby had been a typical Master, he surely would have died, but Nobby was not a typical Master. Perhaps if he had been a Master, he would have been able to defeat the creature before him, whose red eyes seemed to gleam with delight as it slowly chipped away at the wall known as Nobby.

A thought crossed the young man’s mind.

How many years ago had it been? Was it the last year? No, it was the year before that, when Freddie had joined the business.

Among the business, Nobby was certainly one of the strongest in its employ. Outside of those particular Executives, Nobby could call himself as someone in the tier below. There was one Executive, however, who he was certain he could defeat. She knew it too, for she admitted as such.

‘I’m not sure any of you have the capability to become as strong as Nobby, he’s stronger than even the monsters I grew up with,’ Jaygak had said, and this was before she had her impressive showing at the tournament. ‘Jurot is too strong for any of you to think about defeating, maybe in your dreams, but… I can train you so that you become stronger than me, at least?’

Nobby had understood those words, for they had been spoken by an Iyrman so full of humour, and who held no delusions. Jaygak had long accepted her place in the world, that of an Iyrman who could not break the shackles which bound her family. Nobby, on the other hand, may have lost to the likes of her companions, but they understood that Nobby was stronger than Jaygak.

Yet…

‘If you want to become stronger than Nobby, then train twice as hard as him. Fight twice as many hydras, twice as many dragons, then maybe you’ll be able to defeat him,’ Jaygak had stated to the businessfolk who were so eager to train towards better lives.

‘I don’t know if I can train you to become stronger than Nobby, but...’

The smile Jaygak had shown, it was the kind of smile only an Iyrman could possess. It was the kind of look all Iyrmen possessed, for the Iyrmen were raised with that kind of look. Nobby had understood why Jaygak could give it, but the problem was, why did the others give that kind of look? The Mad Dog, he too gave such a look, that kind of look, when he was such a monster.

It was now Nobby understood. He was strong. That’s what they all said. He, who had been taught the way of the Rot family, who Adam entrusted to deal with a great number of threats, including these Reavers. However, Nobby was only strong when compared to the strongest of the weak. The Grand Commanders of the Orders, they could defeat him. The Vice Commanders, they could defeat him. Out of all the Iyrmen he had met, there were easily a hundred who could beat him, and countless more who could do so with an arm tied behind their back.

There was almost no chance for him to defeat the likes of this Reaver.

Nobby was weak.

The Iyrmen, those who could bat away Nobby without a sweat, there was something that made them look weak too, but they had it.

The look of the Iyrmen.

It was the look of the weak that was embodied by Jaygak’s words, which all Iyrmen possessed, and which had sparked something within the businessfolk.

‘I’ll train you to become strong enough to at least take an arm.’

Nobby’s blade swung through the air, no longer poised to take the creature’s neck, but poised to make it easier for the villagers. For though he would die here today, he would not make it so easy. He would struggle as a weakling, and take the price that came from killing the weak, the same kind of price that the strong took because they were strong.

Nobby swung with all his might, the might that came with a final burst before death, his heart pounding within his chest, like the war song of the Iyr which had spurred a fool of a father earlier this year.

Nobby, a father too, understood just why Adam’s back looked like a mountain. The Reaver’s blade cut across the young man’s front, the giant form crashing against the nearby trees, the splinters breaking off of the young man’s skin, forged as tough as iron.

The Reaver stared down at its arm, the magical axe stuck within. As it flexed, the axe dropped to the earth, and it turned to face its companion, a bemused expression upon its face.

It thrashed like a weakling, the look said.

You did not feel the axe, the other replied.

No! Nobby! Not like this!