Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

‘Crazy Father?’ Rajan thought, watching the carriages roll out, heading towards the rising sun. ‘What an epithet!’

The Bard could still feel the heaviness upon his shoulders, understanding that though he was a Bard, there was a time and place to reveal this information, and considering the glares of the various Iyrmen, each descendants of terrifying monsters, he was certain he would need to keep this a secret for a few years, up until Adam finally made a name for himself.

‘To think he has slain Grand Commander Yamas of High Garden!’ The excitement flowed deep within his heart, the Bard’s heart throbbing in pain, for how could he not write a poem about such a monstrous being? A young man of twenty four, slaying the Grand Commander of High Garden, one of the few active Paragons in Aldland? Such a tale would only raise their names if he sang of them. For a moment, the Bard thought of shirking the Iyr, only to snap to attention, realising how close he had come to death in that moment. ‘Rajan, have you grown so old, so courageous?’

“Kal Rajan,” the Rais called, a middle aged man whose moustache were like two daggers, his jaw freshly shaved that morning. “The wyverns nearby…”

“There is such trouble?” Rajan asked, winking at the Rais. “I will go once my companion returns.”

‘Companion?’ the Rais thought.

Zabir glanced aside towards his daughter, who held up the small wooden slab, signed by the Bard. “How was it?”

“He is as charming as they say, but… he does not feel powerful.”

“He may not feel powerful, but Kal Rajan, he knows of such a terrifying spell. There is a spell which allows one to turn into a dragon. It is already impressive, but most who know of such a spell, they may turn into brass or white dragons. Those who are greater, they can turn into copper or black dragons, and those more powerful than them? Bronze and green. Then, those who are truly powerful, they may turn into silver or blue, but Kal Rajan? Ten years ago, he turned into a red dragon. Red, betti, red. Ten years ago, he had already reached such strength. They say he was upset when others believed the Grand Malawi was more powerful than him, and so, red dragon.”

“Red?”

“Gold and red, they are the strongest of all dragons, and the number of those who can transform themselves with magic to such dragons, they cannot be underestimated. Even Executive Adam cannot defeat Rajan.”

“Didn’t his grandfather kill the blue dragon?”

“His grandfather, with the help of three more, two of whom died?” Zabir replied.

“Oh, yes.” Yasha flushed lightly. ‘Dragons are so…’

Ashmir decided against speaking up.

The Order of the Black Lions remained as the gateway to Black Mountain, rising high on top of the hill, walling off the entrance to the mountain. The large carved statues up ahead were as one might have expected, the light and shadows dancing along each strand of their manes causing great nightmares for the children, who would often see the stone lions from afar, and would swear to their mothers and fathers that the lions were truly real.

However, it was always the sight of those in their black armour, their helmets forged into the shape of a lion’s face, the chain dangling down like the mane of the lions, each white. It was they which proved greater than the large stone statues, the grand walls, even the eleven fortresses, each overflowing with loyal soldiers, the best of whom would be plucked to bloom into a Black Lion.

“Agadun!” shouted a figure, whose light voice had filled the halls for generations. She was taller than most of the warriors within the Order, built more like a bull than a lion, wearing a large blade upon her back that could cleave grown men in half. Her skin was dark and rugged, her face rounder, and she still held a beauty she had no right to with her great strength. Her curly hair was still long, not short like many others, though one might have expected as such, for she was one of the strongest across the land. “Agadun, betta! The Shen has called for you?”

“Not yet, Mustashalur,” Agadun replied, reaching up to his forehead, already feeling the stress from the woman.

“Why are you sighing, my nephew? Is this old lady bothering you? Should I go greet Lord Noor today?” the old woman said, and though she was ancient, she looked decades away from dying.

“Ahm, ahm, please, how can you say this?” Agadun asked, holding up his hands in prayer, while someone adorned in all black quickly approached them. “Ah! Someone has arrived? Good, good, I must go greet them, as the Fariq!”

“You did not even allow him to speak! I worry for the Order if you are such a tyrant!”

“Ahm, Mustashalur, please!” Agadun replied, his heart beating with effort to deal with the tension in his head and chest, the old man quickly retreating from the old woman.

Ellani laughed, watching as the Grand Commander fled from her, the old woman’s eyes darting to the younger workers to one side who were smirking, though their smirks retreated as quickly as Agadun, and they gained an extreme focus upon the corners they were brushing clean, as though inspired by the Divine of Cleaning.

“Whoa,” Adam whispered, for as they arrived at the gates, they were greeted by soldiers who glared upon them, their glared softening as they saw the vestments upon Dunes. As the word was sent, one of the soldiers approached Dunes, speaking with him for a moment, before retreating away.

“They will send someone to greet us appropriately,” Dunes said, standing tall and proud, a Priest of Black Mountain who could not be stopped from entering the mountain, even by the Black Lions.

“So, what’s this Order about?” Adam asked, realising he had spent too much time playing with Kizwolima in the carriage, though he supposed it was truly, it was not enough time.

“It is a…” Dunes wasn’t sure how to describe it, especially with the Order so close by. “It is managed… Black Lions work closely with the Shen’s family.”

Adam noted the look within Dunes’ eyes, realising what he meant by that. “I see.”

“The Order of Black Lions. They are few in number, and generally, they patrol the mountain, the western side, for they know not to step too close to the eastern side.”

“Why not?” Adam asked, and upon Dunes’ look, he furrowed his brows, since it was apparently obvious. “Why?”

“It is under the purview of our Order, named after the mountain?” Dunes replied, as though that were obvious.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah, sorry, right, of course,” Adam said, nodding his head, a disappointed smile spreading across his lips as Dunes slapped him in the face with basic logic.

“We will pay our respects, and to Black Lions, as we did with Five Moons, we must give gifts of silver and gold to stay, and I will deal with the rest.”

“You know anyone in Black Lion?”

“I know many within Black Lion, we train together often,” Dunes replied, motioning his head, trying to think of the map in his mind. “There are several Orders around Black Mountain. We are the only within Black Mountain, and you see how they are set upon the hills, and not upon the mountain? Only our Order may be allowed to settle themselves upon the mountains, they cannot. However, there are others nearby. There is one north east, of this, half way along the others side of the mountain. There is another north east of our order, following the road, and one east of of our Order too. Our five Orders are close enough to allow us to mingle and train with one another, and we often have competitions and tournaments, and we sometimes form expeditions across the land together. There is also another Order, further to the south, in the desert, but…”

“What’s with the face?”

“They believe themselves to be so great, because they have survived between the two dragons for generations,” Dunes said. “It is not untrue, but they feel they do not need to host us, or to be hosted by us.”

“Well, that’s not very nice,” Adam said in a particularly sarcastic tone Dunes had come to understand as Greyish.

“It is fine,” Dunes said. “Ah! If I have not said it already, but one hundred or so miles directly south of this Order is the Order of the Bronze Dragon, where Veisswing slumbers. There is another dragon too.”

“The number of dragons in this land is really getting out of hand,” Adam said. “Didn’t we just slip by one a few days ago? The red one? Now there’s one, two, south of us, another right next to your Order as well, and let me guess, there’s another one near the northern Order?”

“Yes,” Dunes replied. “Another eastward of that dragon too.”

“How can this be!” came the roar, almost like that of a lion, as the old woman appeared, with another older man, who was much younger, but still at least twice Adam’s age, meaning he was probably at least sixty. She was tall, built even wider than Nobby, and wore a large blade upon her back.

‘Oh, Lady Arya take me,’ Dunes thought.

We’ve met so many crazy old men, but now, finally, we meet a crazy old woman!