Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

“Mommy, will daddy come back today?” the green skinned girl asked, her amber eyes staring expectantly at her mother.

“No, my dear,” the woman replied, smiling warmly. “He will return later.”

“Tomorrow?” The word so full of hope.

“Later,” Vonda said, reaching down to brush the girl’s chubby cheek tenderly. “Do you miss your father?”

Jirot stared down at her potato, holding it with her small hands, feeling the warmth spreading through her. “I miss him a little bit.”

“Just a little bit?”

“A little bit,” Jirot confirmed, holding up her potato. “Salt, please.”

Vonda sprinkled salt lightly upon the girl’s potato, doing the same for her twin brother, the pair eating their potatoes eagerly, and sipped at their milk. The girl checked upon her younger sister, who dipped her the tip of her bread into the soup, accidentally rubbed some of the bread around her lips, before biting into it, chewing the bread slowly. Jirot’s eyes then fell to the sky, staring at the distant cloud, nibbling away at her potato.

‘What are you thinking of, my Jirot?’ Vonda thought, noting the girl’s eyes were full of such intelligence, more than usual.

Jirot remained focused upon the sky, the sky which fell beyond her sight, and beyond that, her mind understanding there was more. However, this was a sky her father saw too.

‘Daddy, I am going to learn to fly and then I will come and trouble you,’ the girl thought, her heart aching slightly.

Little Jarot nibbled away at his potato innocently, eating his potato half as quickly as his sister.

“Daddy is working so hard,” Jirot said, staring down at her potato. She nibbled it and turned to Jarot, noting how slowly he nibbled on his. She reached over and brushed his cheek. “We must work hard too, Jarot, okay?”

“Okay!”

“We have to eat all the potato.”

“Okay…”

Jirot sighed, but leaned in to nuzzle against her brother’s nose, bringing his potato to his lips, waiting to see him take even a small bite, before returning to her own potato.

Meanwhile, another made trouble for her Order. Built like a bull, her dark skin rugged, and upon her back a blade that made even Naqokan green with envy.

“Mo!” The woman exclaimed, reaching out to grab onto his shoulders, slapping them a little too hard. “What brings you all this way? Are you making your way to Floria at this time?”

“No, Mustashalur,” Dunes replied, wincing lightly. “I am returning to Black Mountain.”

“You were outside?” the woman asked, her brows raised, her eyes twinkling with a burning curiosity. “Was your journey safe?”

“To the Iyrmen’s chagrin, the roads of Aswadasad are too safe,” Dunes joked, flashing a wide charming smile.

“Come, come, how can we make a Brother of Black Mountain wait?” the woman said, half dragging the young man within, allowing those behind to follow. “How did you come into the company of the Lion King?”

The guards nearby straightened up, their eyes darting to the older man, who walked in with a fearlessness that betrayed his identity. They also noted the blue scaled horned drakken who did the same, as well as the Iyrmen, and the tattooed half fae, all but a handful of them sauntering within the large gate.

“We…” Dunes wasn’t sure how much to say, especially to the Mustashalur of the Black Lions.

“I wished to return to meet with his Priest Commander,” Ashmir stated simply.

“How many years has it been since we last met, nephew?” the woman asked.

“We met a few years past when I was escorted to the Iyr.”

“We did?”

“You drank long before our meeting, and during it.”

The woman nodded, flashing a wider smile towards him, before continuing to escort them within. “Have you come across any Reavers?”

“Yes, two, near Red Oak,” Dunes said, since the other way would have implied something worse.

“Red Oak?” The Mustashalur glanced aside towards Agadun, who was quietly escorting the others within, though had also suddenly straightened up further upon the words. “So far west?”

“They caused some minor trouble, but thankfully they were dealt with.”

“If they can reach so far in land of Aldland, then…” The woman thought about the various reports she had received. ‘I will have to take the rumours more seriously.’

Adam eyed up the long trail up towards the fortress, which loomed atop the hill, hiding the rest of the world behind, with the fortress blotting out the mountains too. He spotted a large number of villagers all working the fields outside, men, women, even children, though it seemed they were older children, and each group was watched over by someone who wore a turban, wrapped in black, a white badge clipped upon the front, and who carried a blade at their side.

Dunes wondered when she would mention the Iyrmen, even prompting her to do so, but she didn’t speak of them. ‘Hmm?’

“Nephew, prepare some tea for our guests,” the Mustashulur stated as they stepped through the gates into the fortress proper. “Lion King, will you speak with our Fariq?”

“Okay,” Ashmir replied, causing the pair of Black Lions to glance his way, though he did not elaborate further.

‘Just how much has the Iyr influenced you already?’ Ellani thought, leading the rest to the courtyard, which was currently empty, separating the rest of the fort, the inner walls looming over the courtyard just in case trouble was caused from the front. Workers quickly set up the tables along the stone floor, while snacks were brought, fruits and biscuits, along with tea, and a few soldiers lined the doorways.

Dunes decided to not cause any trouble, for though he was of Black Mountain, the others could not bypass such a restriction.

“There are so many who accompany you,” the woman said, the light accusation pressing upon Dunes. “There are so many I recognise, almost all their tattoos are known to me, save for the young woman.”

Kitool bowed her head lightly. “I am Kitool, Kit of the Ool family, and my grandaunt fought the Platinum Shield in the previous year.”

“She’s sayi-,” Adam said, only for Jurot to place a hand on his shoulder, causing him to stop immediately. ‘Oh? It’s that bad?’

“How are you related to the Mad Dog?” the woman asked, her eyes falling upon the young Iyrmen.

“I am his grandson,” Jurot replied.

“I am his granddaughter,” Nirot confirmed as the woman’s eyes fell upon her.

“Are you Flame Brand’s grandchildren?” Ellani asked, noting the tattoos upon their foreheads.

“She is our grandaunt,” Laygak replied, with Tagak bowing his head, and Taygak sat up a little taller.

“How are you related to the Bearded Dragon?”

“I am his granddaughter,” Uwajin replied, forcing herself up, remaining as alert as she could manage, though the heat called her to slumber.

“What of Bloodblade?”

“My granduncle,” Chosen replied, smiling with a cheek that came to him from being related to such a figure.

“There are many with your tattoos,” the old woman almost accused.

“Silver Drake is my grandmother,” Naqokan replied proudly.

“What of Wildheart?”

“Grandfather.” Bavin sat a little taller.

The woman smiled slightly, taking in the sight of all the Iyrmen. Her eyes also darted to the young man to one side, who she would have sworn was an Iyrman, yet though he matched Bavin’s stature, he was untattooed. Finally, her eyes fell upon him. Him, whose tattoos were almost the same as the Kans. “How are you related to Hadi?”

“He is my grandfather’s grandfather,” Tanagek replied, his eyes holding a threat.

“He was named after Hadi,” Dunes informed the old woman.

“You are named Tanagek?” the woman asked, her brows raising, in equal parts alarm and congratulations.

“I am.”

“I met him once,” the woman said, narrowing her eyes slightly as she looked through a time that was forgotten by almost everyone. “It was when he came to this land to speak with Lord Veisswing, and I had taken a greater role within our humble Order. I had the chance to cross blades with him. To this day, I find there is no one who could match his sword play.”

“I have heard he spoke highly of you,” Tanagek replied simply, for he was too young to hear it from the old man’s lips for himself, for he was his grandfather’s grandfather, and therefore they could not meet.

“What of Duteous?”

“He is my granduncle,” Tanagek replied.

“I have crossed blades with him too,” the old woman said, sipping her tea. “He was acceptable.”

Tanagek’s lips formed a small smirk, his eyes so full of pride. His granduncle being called acceptable after speaking of the older Iyrman’s grandfather was the highest praise he had probably received.

‘What the?’ Adam thought, for this was the first time someone had known so many Iyrmen, almost every single tattoo within their group, but not just that, she had come across two of the strongest of their generation, both from the same family?

“I wonder, why have so many Iyrmen, who are related to legends of previous eras, come to Aswadasad.” The old woman’s words struck them like hammers, for of all the people who could ruin their outing, it would be this old lady, who caused such trouble for the Order.

“We are here to accompany our cousin and the Priest,” Tanagek said, since she seemed most interested in him, no doubt because of his tattoo. After all, though the Gek family hadn’t caused much trouble to Aswadasad, this old woman knew of their might, and since it appeared the pattern was every other generation they would birth a grand figure, her eyes accused him of such potential.

“Why have you brought a child?”

“It was time for her to travel.”

“During such a turbulent time?” Ellani asked, her accusation dripping within her tone so obviously.

“Taygak is safe,” Tanagek warned, for she had gone a little too far, and though he certainly wasn’t his granduncle, or his granduncle’s grandfather, he was still an Iyrman.

“I have no doubt,” the woman replied simply, sipping her tea once more. “Who are you, drakken?”

“Young lady,” Bael began, before pausing. “How old are you?”

“I have yet to reach a hundred.”

“You may call me Bael, young lady,” Bael replied, smirking playfully towards her, his nose scrunching slightly, his want to fight evident.

The old woman judged him with her keen eyes, but after a long moment, noting how he was positioned, and how he was carrying a long box, she figured he was chained appropriately. “What of the other child?”

“Kizwolima, she’s talking to you,” Adam whispered, motioning towards the older woman.

“Hello! I am Kizwolima!” the girl said, sitting upright, nibbling upon her biscuit.

“She says hello, and that her name is Kizwolima,” Adam said, chuckling lightly, wiping the girl’s mouth clean, though she quickly made a mess once more at the biscuits, which tickled her tongue with flavour.

“I do not see other mermen,” the old woman accused the half elf.

“We found her on the sea, and she doesn’t recall how she got there,” Adam replied, smiling innocently, understanding how awkward this all seemed.

“Prince Merza will retrieve her soon,” Dunes informed, noting how the old woman was eyeing up the girl, but he was fairly certain that would lead to disaster.

“Oh? Prince Merza?” the old woman replied, trying to recall if she knew of such a name, though assumed he was a Prince of the Undersea Kingdoms. “How do you know this?”

Dunes fell quiet. The young Priest sipped his tea, placing it down, closing his eyes as he leaned back into his chair. He thought for a long moment. The young Mo of Black Mountain sighed in defeat. “Adam knows of him.”

“Adam?”

“Hello there,” Adam said, brimming with innocence, but they could see it within his eyes, that he was his daughter’s father.

One chapter of Adam causing no trouble is too any chapters.