Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

Konarot sat up from within the darkness. She blinked. It was in this darkness, she saw the greys of the world, and as she hoisted herself onto her feet, she glanced around, noting her mother to one side. The girl shuffled up towards the woman, climbing onto the bed, reaching out to brush her mother’s hair away from her face.

“Mummy, mummy…” Konarot whispered, and as she gently shook her mother’s shoulder, the woman turned slightly, peeking an eye open to find Konarot but a finger’s length away from her face.

“Kona.”

“Toilet.”

“Okay,” Vonda replied, and she began to peel herself away from her comfortable bed, and approached the awakening two who formed the rest of the trio, and thus the four made their way out, and as they did, a shadow followed them, though that was to be expected.

Adam sat up, finding his twins clutched his knees, one completely covering his leg with her body, the other cuddling up against it, his foot wrapped around his father’s, each of them suckling their thumb. Adam’s eyes then darted to where his wife would be, and as he recalled he was within the Iyr, he closed his eyes and returned back to the void.

“Do you like the soap?” Vonda asked, lathering her own hands as the triplets lathered theirs, their skin now pale, their horns as beautiful as ever, their scales shimmering silver even under the moonlight.

“Mm!” Konarot replied, washing her hands carefully.

“Yes!” Kirot rubbed her nails against her palms, the same nails her grandmother had cut that day, speaking of vengeance.

“It’s so soft, mummy…” Karot replied, and once he was done washing his hands, he accepted his sisters’ hands, following them back to their room.

“Come, sleep with me,” Vonda called quietly,

Konarot smiled, and climbed onto the bed, followed by Kirot, as Karot blinked.

“You are not going to be tired, mummy?” Karot whispered.

“No, no, come,” Vonda assured, and she lifted the boy up, planting a kiss on his cheek, and held him against her bosom as her daughters claimed each of her sides, and though they were so much bigger now, each of them six years old, they were not so big that she would not sleep with them. She held her eldest son close, peeking down to his face, and in the darkness, she wasn’t sure if he was looking, but as he shuffled slightly, and she noted the pair of silver orbs staring up at her, she smiled. The warmth of the boy’s flush caused her to smile even wider.

What precious children.

Indeed, they were the most precious children.

As a sword cleaved through chain, a permanent dent, equally as permanent as the one’s life which he had taken, Shikan circled the blade over himself, and with a second swing of his greatblade, cleaved through another.

“No mercy!” Shikan exclaimed, and as he took the leisure to count his companions, and with the count of ten, a blade cut against his chest.

“How dare you!” came the shout of an enemy Captain, their blade managing to draw blood from the Iyrman, who slowly turned to face him. “Lord Zaladhin will not accept your souls, and Lord Sozain shall not-,”

Shikan’s blade made the Captain unable to continue, as his steel gleamed through the night, and as the red haze formed around them, the two squared off between one another, Shikan’s companions making sure to pierce the heads of each Aldishman, while the Captain glanced aside, wary of the Iyrmen.

“You have no need to worry,” Shikan assured, rolling his shoulders, eyes completely focused on the Captain. “You are my prey.”

“I shall grant you a clean death for the sake of your honour,” the Captain assured.

“If only you could,” Shikan replied, and the two engaged in a terrible melee, steel clashing against steel, greatblade against shield, sword against flesh. Though steel met flesh, the superficial cuts did little against Shikan. “To think you are not even an Expert, and your betters have thought to grant you the title of Captain.”

“I should have expected you to be an Expert,” the Captain said, knelt before Shikan, shield planted firmly into the ground, the Captain gripping it tightly, as his arm and sword lay beside him.

“Did you know, those children, they call do not call me dado,” Shikan said.

“What?”

“They call me baba.”

The Captain remained bewildered, and a moment later, he felt nothing, as his head rolled to the side.

As Shikan finished up his battle, still ready to face another, the clash of steel continued to echo throughout the night.

“You damn beast!” the Captain exclaimed, and his steel met steel, and as the two engaged in a rough brawl of steel, he coughed up blood, for though the pair wielded a sword that was efficient and deadly, only one had stepped into the realm of an Expert.

“Brother Jogak, I should have allowed you to step out…” Kaygak mused, and as the Captain let out a surprised cry, her blade slipped through his visor, causing a last throe of gurgling, before he fell limp, and the woman wiped the sword against her cloak.

The sound of flesh meeting steel filled the air.

“You’ll break your fists like that,” an Iyrman said.

As Raool, standing tall and wide, his muscles bulging even through his clothes, raised his fist, he slammed it into the enemy’s visor, crushing the steel into the flesh and bone, until, when the figure had been still for some time, he let the body drop, and as he lifted a spear, he planted it firmly into the face, piercing through skin, sinew, bone, and brain, and into the steel of the helmet.

“What is my fist good for, if not for this?” Raool replied simply, and as the Iyrmen stood around him, they could feel the grave aura he was emanating.

“To think the Aldishmen would dare to kill my grandnephews, and harm my grandniece, and they did not learn after the first time,” Gosen almost snarled, and slowly, he cut into the cheek of the Captain, who lay before him, groaning quietly.

“The Florians killed them,” an Iyrman said, and seeing that Gosen was behaving untoward, he threw a javelin into the Aldish Captain’s face, killing them.

‘You don’t know how to carve meat, but at the very least, you should know how to carve an Aldishman,’ Fonasen had stated.

Gosen considered his wife’s words, and as he rested his sword over his shoulder, he glanced aside to his Iyrmanly companions. “It seems my heart remains uneasy, for there were too few Aldishment here.”

“I kept telling the Great Elders we should tell them to place double the soldiers upon the borders,” an Iyrman muttered.

“They may have been able to slay the children if that was the case,” Gosen said.

“In front of Bloodblade? I doubt it.”

An Iyrman, holding his spear behind his back, floated through the sky, and landed upon the tip of the Captain’s sword.

“What…” the Captain muttered in disbelief.

“I will kill your soul first, as aunt would want, and then, as father would expect of me, I shall reveal to you my wings.” Tamfev’s smiled was that kind of smile, the smile of an Iyrman.

As another Captain engaged with an archer, the archer drew their blade, and met the Captain in battle.

“You are underestimating me,” the Captain said, his voice cool, calm, even as his soldiers screamed around him.

“My sword is better than yours,” Yarkez assured.

“I was trained by the likes of Storm Blade.”

“I was disciplined by the likes of the Raining Bow.”

“The Raining…” the Captain began, until his throat was torn away by the tip of Yarkez’s sword, and so he finished the thought within his mind, before it turned black.

PATREON FOR 30+ CHAPTERS!

What’s crazy is that the Geneva Convention is canon in the world.