Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

Jurot remained silent, feeling Adam’s heavy thoughts emanating from beside him. The half elf had remained fairly quiet that day, though enjoyed himself during his time at the market, especially when he had spent hundreds of gold upon a particular item. 

‘Why is he so annoyed when I was unable to fight much this year?’ Bael thought, letting out a soft sigh, Kizwolima glancing up towards him.

“Are you bored, mister Bael?”

“A little.”

“Why?”

“I wish to fight.”

“Why don’t you fight?”

“At this time, we prefer not to fight,” Bael informed the girl.

“Why?”

“I must protect you.” The half dragon reached down to pinch her nose, causing the girl to giggle.

“I don’t need protection, mister Bael. I’m strong.”

“How strong are you?”

“Not as strong as mommy or daddy, but I am stronger than my little cousins,” the girl said. 

“How strong!” Bael joked, causing the girl to smirk bashfully, giggling louder as he ruffled her hair. 

The half elf stared down at the cup, not within it, but noting the design of the rim, the various patterns running around infinitely. 

“Okay?” Dunes asked, dropping down beside the half elf, taking a cue from the Iyrmen. 

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“I am here to listen.”

“I don’t know,” Adam replied, shaking his head lightly. “You ever just… feel like you aren’t who you think you are? Not what you want to be? Unsure of what you really are?”

Dunes appreciated Adam’s straightforwardness, cutting to the heart of the issue rather than speaking in metaphors and poetry. “I am Mo Dunes, of Black Mountain, soon to be Manager Dunes, of the United Kindom.”

Adam paused for a long moment, his eyes darting towards Dunes, who had spoken with great conviction. The half elf stared deep into his eyes, and slowly smiled. “Yeah.”

The four carriages, one formed of various metal rods, thick fabric keeping out the wind and sand, waited for the group. The four steeds waited, still as statues, each formed from the magic of great spells, ready to draw the group away, slowly, steadily. 

“Amal, you tell me if uncle Ashmir is bullying you, okay?” Adam called out towards the girl, who soothed his heart with how she always accepted food from his fingers. “If he does, I’ll have Taygak beat him up.”

The girl blinked at him innocently, waiting for the food he would gift her, the half elf caving instantly, tearing off a small fluffy piece of bread for the girl, who chewed it slowly. 

“It is the world’s greatest travesty I cannot spoil you in this moment,” Adam joked, feeling his heart stir. ‘What was I doing? I was moping around all day yesterday when I should have been spoiling the cutest cousin of all? If I’m going to be a fool, at least I should do it properly!’

As the half elf spied all those ready to enter the carriage, he thought for a moment…

Amal cuddled against Anka’s bosom, the girl snoozing away lightly, while Ashmir sat opposite. Kizwolima sat beside Adam, babbling away about this and that, looking out the window, while Adam kept her company. She listened to his tales, asking him a thousand questions, Adam answering as many as he could. Jurot glanced aside towards Dunes, who seemed far less anxious now that Adam had returned back to normal, and Uli glanced aside, out the other window, watching as they passed the hills by. 

Adam also saw the hills slipping away, the walls of the capital so far behind them as they made their way eastward along the road, towards the nearby town. He had spent so long within the capital, yet not long enough. He had explored the capital only lightly, understanding why, yet his heart ached, for if he stopped…

As they continued, Adam narrowed his eyes, towards the distant walls of the capital. “Hey, Jurot.”

“Yes?”

“Dunes, you too.”

Dunes peeked his head out, noting what Adam was looking at. The anxiety returned as the group continued their way, followed by a carriage, as well as dozens upon horseback, flying that particular banner. Dunes thought back and recalled the young Lady. ‘Did we offend her so?’

The large carriage loomed like a lion, the four stopping and waiting for it to pass by, only for it to slow. 

‘Oh no…’ Dunes thought, while the banner, that of a black blade against plain gold, which imposed upon the group.

Those upon horseback were heavily armoured, each in breastplate, wrapped around with long cloaks, the loose clothing billowing in the gentle breeze. The carriage, ornate as one might have expected, the lion statue atop, painted gold, but carved of wood, so Jurot and Laygak noted, seemed ready to leap out towards them at any moment, but it was not that lion which stepped out, the doors opening to reveal a familiar face.

“Scholar Mo?” 

“Scholar Muh,” Dunes corrected.

Adam hissed out in annoyance at his inability to recall names. ‘Seriously.’

‘That is Scholar Muh?’ Maharan thought, standing a little taller. 

“How do you do?” Scholar Muh asked, smiling with such delight towards the half elf, while Yasmin slipped out, waving a hand awkwardly towards them.

“What are you-,” Adam froze, as he stepped out.

Adorned entirely in black, full plate, his long cloak remained stuck to his armour, as though weighed down by duty, the black blade upon his back unlike any other the half elf had ever seen, for it held even greater pressure than the man. The blade was forged of blackness, ebony, and the Iyrmen’s eyes fell over it, wanting to touch the blade which had once been wielded by one of the descendants of the Divine, a now long dead demigod. If not for the fact he wore no helmet, Adam was fairly certain that the fellow had come to hunt him down. 

He was handsome, hair cut short, almost as short as his beard, equally as silver, his eyes falling upon the group, passing through each of them, taking in the gaze of the Lion King, the pair bowing their heads lightly to acknowledge one another, the stranger doing the same towards Kal Uli, Dunes, Sokikez, before the dark skinned figure’s eyes fell down upon the half elf, bearing upon him with a heavy gaze. 

Tanagek eyed up the a particular faris, Chosen picking another, each of the Iyrmen claiming their own, though there were a few too many for them to claim only one, so some claimed more with their greedy hearts. 

“I am Lord Usama Ibn Sayfaswad,” the figure said. “Faro of Jabal Adh Dahab, Liwa of the Golden Tower.”

Dunes was glad Adam’s eyes were so wide, it meant the half elf understood-, 

Dunes narrowed his eyes. 

‘I’m so glad he did not say what I thought he was going to say,’ the half elf said, paled by shock, almost hearing the ghost of his past. He let out a loud breath of relief, his eyes catching his brother’s. 

Usama stared down at the half elf, who seemed… relieved? Did he assume he was the Shen? Perhaps in another life he could have been, but there was little chance of that now, no matter how much the Pretender to the east tried to coax him. 

“Mo Dunes, of Jabal Adh Aswad,” Dunes greeted. 

“I have come to speak with one known as Executive Adam, of the United Kindom,” the old man said. “He they call the Crazy Father.”

“Noorshukhur, it is my pleasure to meet you, Usama Ibn Sayfaswad, Faro of Jabal Adh Dahab, Liwa of the Golden Tower,” Adam greeted, smiling politely. “I am Executive Adam, of the United Kindom, called Crazy Father by those with wisdom in their hearts, grandson of Flame Brand from my children’s side, and from my brother’s side, the Mad Dog, as well as the…”

“Rising Swallow,” Jurot whispered.

“Rising Swallow Mulrot, the grandnephew of Falling Swallow Malfev, Butcher Marmak, and from the Mo’s side,” Adam said, pointing towards the older Aswadian.

“Adam,” Dunes called, stopping the half elf.

“Well, I suppose I could also call Hadi Tanagek my great great granduncle?” The half elf joked, far too playfully towards the Faro. He bowed his head, crossing an arm over his chest. “What do I owe the pleasure, Lord Faro of Jabal Adh Dahab?”

“I wished to greet you, and your companions, before you left for your travels northward. Unfortunately, I was indisposed with governing particular important matters,” the Faro admitted, his eyes holding the half elf within his gaze. His eyes then fell upon the others, greeting each of them, allowing not just the Iyrmen to greet him, but also the likes of Zabir, Yasha, and even Maharan. 

Adam stood there awkwardly, until it was Kizwolima’s turn, and then, for a moment, Sokikez, Bael, Usama, Scholar Muh, and two of the farisi felt it. It was almost imperceptible, but for that instant, it was Usama who was within the half elf’s sights. “Kizwolima, say hello to the Faro.”

“Hello! I am Kizwolima!”

“Good morning, Kizwolima,” the Faro replied in Elementi.

‘Okay, I didn’t know you were like that, Faro,’ Adam thought. 

 His eyes then fell upon Bael. Bael stood tall and still, arms crossed, refusing to greet the Faro if he did not speak up to him. 

“Amal, Amal,” Adam called lightly. “Greet the Faro.”

This time, even Jurot could see it, the tension within the half elf, building and rising, Kitool shifting her weight lightly. 

The Faro reached out a hand towards Amal, Adam’s entire body jolting slightly as he tensed, his eyes completely focused upon the Faro, who held out a finger towards the devilkin babe, who pulled away back towards Anka, hiding her face.

“I have heard rumours of your abilities,” Usama admitted in Elementi. “I wish to test them.”

“How would you like to test them?” Adam asked.

“A spar.”

“Who am I sparring?”

“I will spar you,” the Faro, Liwa of the Golden Tower, stated.

“Sure,” the half elf replied. ‘I’m just glad you didn’t say Laden.’

I wrote this a month ago not realising it was going to come out around this time so please don’t cancel me.