Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

‘How embarrassing,’ the warrior thought, watching as the Iyrman beat the foolishness out of their companion, for facing against the likes of Marmak was not something that was so easy, so simple, and now facing against a Master, it was too much.

“Should we step in?” another whispered.

The warrior looked between Marmak and the woman, letting out a soft sigh, before noting an old Aswadian fellow, narrowing his eyes, then smiling wide. “Oh ho! Do my eyes deceive me?”

“Faizal, you son of a goat,” Afraz called, the pair clasping one another’s forearms, half shoulder barging one another. “What brings you here?”

“We were just passing through, making our way to the Order. There were…” Faizal paused, looking out to all the Iyrmen, noting a woman with red skin and horns, and considering how Afraz had stood beside her, and her intense aura, he was about to make to speak, until he realised his companion might end up dying. “By any chance, akh…”

“Betta, can you ask your uncle to stop killing our friend?” Afraz called.

“Yeah! Baba! Beat her up!” exclaimed a green skinned girl with glimmering amber eyes full of viciousness, holding up her fists.

“Of course,” Adam replied, pausing a moment so the girl could continue shouting her words of encouragement, until finally he shouted out to his uncle, whose axe stopped from cleaving the woman in half, all the while she knelt under him. Thankfully Marmak hadn’t also stepped forward, still flexing his muscles towards Gorot. Though he would have been able to beat the youngster well, for he was two realms below the old man, the young Iyrman wasn’t already half dead from facing the terrifying fae woman.

“Thank you, betta,” Afraz called, smiling warmly towards the half elf, who flushed in response.

“You must be Flame Brand,” Faizal, who was someone unarmoured, and wore a staff at his back, and though he was adorned similarly to the fae woman, he himself was an Aswadian fellow, a human, and did not carry the terrifying emanating aura the woman possessed, instead held the gentleness that was like that of the Fev and Ool families, save for the likes of Kitool.

“I am,” the woman replied curtly.

“This is Fast Fist Faizal,” Afraz said, as though the woman hadn’t known who he was, but there were few who did not know of him.

“Oooh,” called the two green skinned children, who had been cheering on for his companion’s demise.

“Shukhur, it is my honour to finally meet you, for akh Afraz has often spoken of you,” Faizal said, glad he had drunk with the fellow any time he passed by, for it finally saved their leader’s life.

“Bastara, you should greet my great grandchildren first,” Afraz said, motioning hand to the green skinned twins. “This is Jirot, and this is Jarot, who is named after the Mad Dog.”

“The Mad Dog?” the pale skinned fellow nearby asked, and though he was young compared to the others, it was his ears which had perked up at the mention of the name. “The Mad Dog?”

“Yes.”

“I recognise the name,” Faizal admitted, though his eyes reflected he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Butcher Marmak is similar to him,” the pale skinned fellow said, who wore scale armour, and a long cloak over his shoulder, and carried a pair of sabres, one longer than the other, and a bow upon his back. “Oh! Raining Bow Sokikez?”

“Raining Bow?” Faizal called, also vaguely recalling the name.

“How is it that you have heard every name under the sun, but do not remember them?”

“What do you expect? I’m an old man now, like akh, though I do not-,” Faizal began, only for his head to snap to Afraz, who was no longer in his village drinking, and seemed, mostly, sober. As he was about to speak, Afraz threw a punch, and Faizal pulled away.

“Bastara! I am introducing you to my great grandchildren!”

“When did you have great grandchildren? When did you have grandchildren? When did you have children?”

“Betta, come here, introduce yourself and your children to this fool, who must hear things ten times before he can speak them once!”

“Noor bless you, I am Adam, and I am lucky enough to call myself these adorable children’s father,” Adam said, feeling the glare from his daughter, the half elf smiling innocently.

“Noorshukhur, thank you for telling your uncle to step back, for our leader might be passionate, but she is not stupid enough to trouble children of the Iyr,” Faizal said, realising he was moments away from dying if anything had gone wrong.

“Aha, it’s no problem at all, because I know how people can react when they meet my granduncle, for my grandfather, the Mad Dog, has also left many men and women feeling the same, and knowing my grandfather, it was definitely all his fault.”

“Brat, do you-,” Jarot began, only for his grandson to interrupt him.

“Will you deny it in front of Jirot?” Adam asked, and the girl’s head darted to her greatfather, who stopped talking, and his face adorned a visage of guilt.

“Most of the time it was my fault, but sometimes, it was not my fault, and it was their fault for begging for the sweet embrace of Baktu…”

“That is true,” Jirot said, her eyes peeking towards her father, as though negotiating with him.

‘Iyrmen are so scary,’ Faizal thought. “Shukhur, shukhur.”

Afraz raised his brows towards Faizal, who side eyed him for a moment, and then slowly looked towards the half elf with the understanding Afraz was introducing them for a reason.

“Fast Fist Faizal is a wonderful martial epithet, I can already assume how you fight, and know I would dislike to face you, ahm,” Adam joked, chuckling playfully.

“Aha, I am but a Grandmaster, so perhaps you could defeat me?”

“Aha, even though I have defeated many who call themselves Grandmasters, it is always those who fight with such swiftness who trouble me most, perhaps other than those who fight with their rage,” Adam replied with an audacity that disarmed Faizal, causing him to laugh wildly.

“If you are a young man, you should hold this much arrogance!”

“Hahaha!”

“Hahaha!”

“Hahaha!”

“Haha!”

“Hahaha!”

“Ha!”

“Hahaha!”

As Adam continued to laugh, Faizal was certain he didn’t understand the joke, and as the children also laughed with their father, he understood something was wrong. ‘What is so funny?’

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the Iyr knows this was a clash between granduncle and your leader, and there was no danger to my children, nor my siblings,” Adam assured with a grace that stated he was the-

“Eh? I should have realised you were a Mo, but the amulet was hidden, behind your daughter,” Faizal said, clasping his heads and bowing respectfully.

“Oh, it’s fine,” Adam assured, dismissing the man with a hand, motioning towards others. “Let me introduce you to the rest of my family.”

Faizal’s eyes trailed towards his companion, and then as the fourth and fifth appeared, he realised he was close to death once more, as the half elf introduced him to everyone around them, from one monster to another, and then to the children, apparently all of them being his children, his siblings, and then his cousin, who looked so much like Flame Brand.

“Oh! I knew I recognised you!” the red skinned devilkin called, reaching out to shake Flame Brand’s forearm. “Shukhur, shukhur, I am Winding Cloud Sword.”

“Ah, Winding Cloud Sword, and your cousin is Hill Splitter Sword?” Flame Brand asked, as though she didn’t know.

“Haha! I am glad to hear that you know of us! It was your tale which inspired us to step out, Flame Brand!” Winding Cloud Sword said, who had never been able to meet the woman. It was she, Flame Brand, who had inspired many others to step out to take the sword, and though many were forced to retire at Expert or Master, there were some, like he, with his red skin, his horns, who were able to claim the title of Grandmaster, with great effort, greater than those of the Aswadians, whose blades needed to only pierce the sky, whereas his own had to first pierce through the Aswadians.

Flame Brand smiled, the kind of smile that said she was proud to hear it, for though she was an Iyrman, she held no illusions of how she looked, and she was glad that she, like many other Iyrmen who looked like her, were able to assist the devilkin in such a manner.

“Since your leader is injured and it’s dangerous to travel, why don’t you stay the night and we can hear your tales and speak our tales to you?” Adam offered, beaming brightly towards the five, for he could show off in front of his children.

“Perhaps we should spar too, to provide some entertainment for your children?” Faizal joked.

“Oh! Great idea! Actually, my cousins and I would love to spar with such great warriors, and since there are five of you still ready to fight, why don’t we rest up a little and then fight when the sun is not so overbearing?” Adam noted another member who was sticking to the shadows, away from everyone’s sight.

“Haha!” Faizal laughed, in a way that suggested he had accidentally gotten himself into trouble, and as his eyes fell to Afraz, his smile dropped. ‘What?’

“Betta, can you and your cousins show mercy to my friends?” Afraz asked, letting out an awkward sigh for asking a favour from his dearest grandson twice.

“If you like, I’ll just fight them myself,” Adam offered, smiling innocently.

Afraz placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Please, betta.”

“Jiddo, I will show mercy,” Adam assured once more, with the arrogance of someone like himself.

“Betta…”

“Haha!” Adam laughed in such a way that suggested the old man should step back, for he had saved the woman’s life, and therefore, since she said the words she shouldn’t have spoken, he needed to crush her spirit for the rest of her life.

“Akh, do you think we will lose to the children?” Faizal asked.

Afraz smiled that kind of smile that said he was a bastard and he needed to be quiet when he should have been quiet and he had done all he could for his friend and that the rest of it was his own fault.

‘Why do I know the name Adam?’ the pale skinned bowman thought, holding his chin. ‘Adam. Adam. Adam.’

They say when a name is spoken thrice, misfortune befalls.

PATREON FOR 30+ CHAPTERS!

He’s about to find out.