Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

[1074] – Y05.074 – Gone I

“Jurot,” Adam whispered.

“Yes,” Jurot agreed, glaring at the figure, who was adorned in full plate, but it was not just any full plate, but armour of the night sky, with a large glave that almost reached the sky with its presence.

Bael tilted his head, smelling a vaguely familiar scent. The scent of ash and iron, a certain sharpness to the scent, which filled his nostrils. ‘He must be…’

Jarot growled towards the large figure, while Rajin placed a hand upon his shoulder. The pair exchanged a look, and Jarot huffed, limping away. ‘We do not need a stranger’s help! This is a family matter!’

Rajin wasn’t sure how to feel about this figure assisting them, but if the Chief had shirked the Rot family’s authority, it must have been for a good reason. However, he was still annoyed, considering how Uwajin wasn’t allowed to come, even though she had a greater reason to fight. The amount of complaints the Great Elders would receive by the end of this situation would drown them. Rajin wasn’t sure if any of the Great Elders could be forced to retire since the Reavers were upon the horizon, but they wouldn’t be the Iyr if they couldn’t handle that little.

While the group settled themselves in that evening, within the Iyr, preparations continued to be made. While the Iyr had begun to prepare for the Reavers, one particular family still needed to deal with an additional worry.

Sonarot clasped her hands together, thinking deeply. Though she no longer held the position of Family Head, she still held the greatest authority in this particular matter. There was one way she could all but guarantee the survival of her boys.

The extended estate was near silent, but the woman’s steps broke the silence. She stopped, a wave of nostalgia striking her. Her eyes drooped towards a corner where she had fallen and scraped her knee. Her father had rushed over to her and cleaned it with a cloth, though it had hurt so terribly. That evening, he cut pears for her, and spoke his tales to her, her twin sister, and her younger brother.

“Sonarot,” called a quiet voice, the older woman smiling. She wore a simple pair of robes, and carried a pair of shortblades at her side, that of her family’s before she married into the Gek family. “You cannot sleep?”

“I have come to speak with the Family Elder,” Sonarot admitted.

Laygek narrowed her eyes slightly towards the woman, but instead of seeing the Sonarot that was once the Family Head, she saw the Sonarot who would climb the nearby fences to play with the goats, much to her mother’s chagrin. “Okay.”

Laygek allowed the woman to enter, lighting the candles her husband made for her earlier in the year, before taking her seat opposite her niece. “Shall I pour some tea.”

“No,” Sonarot replied. The pair sat in silence for a long moment, and Sonarot waited and waited. Then the woman blinked. She stared at Laygek, tilting her head slightly. Laygek made no move to go find her husband. “…”

“…” Laygek smiled, seeing the confusion upon Sonarot’s face.

The next day, greater trouble greeted Adam and his companions, for once more, they were stopped by the Commander of the fort. Tonagek passed over the pouch full of silver and gold coins, and as he turned, he stopped. He turned, noting the appearance of that woman. She was easily in her sixties, her hair near silver. She wore full plate, a blade hanging at her side, but it was the amulet of the sun within the blooming flower which provided her with her greatest power.

“I can feel demons within the carriage,” Esme said, staring at the carriage with her one good eye.

“Yes, and?” Mosen asked, almost yawning, eyeing up the nearby Order members, each also wearing an amulet with the symbol of a sun within a blooming flower. “You should step back while we are still showing you mercy.”

“I do not care if you are on Iyrman business, I, too, am on my Order’s business.”

Unfortunately for them all, the door of the first carriage opened, drawing in the various eyes, as an old, one legged Iyrman, stepped out of the carriage. Esme’s eyes glared at the figure, who wore more wrinkles, and though he had lost his arm and leg, he still carried with him a viciousness. Her hairs stood on end, as the darkness swallowed her vision, and she recalled the man when he was younger. Back then he wore a viciously wild grin upon his face, but that grin was nowhere to be seen today, now only a wickedness full of murder was on full display.

There was only one demon before her today.

“It’s you,” Esme said, pointing her blade at the Iyrman without realising she had drawn it.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Jarot tilted his head, closing his eyes, his neck pulsing as the heat flooded his head. “Who are you?”

The three words had sealed their Fate.

The purple flowers caused a chill to flow through Jurot. Esme wasn’t a nobody, indeed, she was a Grandmaster, as one might have expected. The Fourth Gate spell she used dealt greater damage to one’s mind, the only damage the Rot family could not shrug off. There was also the particular ferocity from the spell which could cause one’s heart to doubt themselves.

Had Jarot not have grieved for his greatchildren, perhaps Esme could have managed to instil within the Mad Dog a great fear, but unfortunately for her, as her blade glowed bright white with each heavy blow she brought down upon the Mad Dog, the memories returned.

The memories of how easily the Mad Dog had beaten her so terribly all those years ago. No matter how heavily she struck, no matter how much her smites exploded upon his skin, the thunder rumbling out from the tip of her blade, somehow the one legged Iyrman did not step back, and his wooden stump did not crack under her pressure.

Jarot was not just the Mad Dog, or the Undying, for most others would have long fallen to her gleaming blade. He was a force of nature, one that could not be stopped, even as the Order members drew their blades, and charged forward. Though they aimed their blades towards the Mad Dog, who continued to beat their Vice Commander with the hatred of a demon, their blades crashed against blades of others.

Rajin’s heavy blade stopped a pair in their tracks, his entire body flashing a deep red. Mosen’s blade stopped one similarly, his own body also a deep red with rage. Gorot’s blade caught one between its shark teeth like edges, his body too, full of rage. Tonagek had leapt forward, even with his limp, and had caught another. Jurot did not catch the last, for the Order member had stopped before they could clash, stopped not by the form of the Iyrman, but the look within his eyes.

“Stop this at once!” one of the members of the Order of the Floral Sun cried aloud, feeling a deep chill. The only noises the Vice Commander made, was the squelching of guts and the crunching of bones, as the Mad Dog continued to slice away at her with his axe.

“Enough!” the Commander shouted, while the Mad Dog continued to carve into the Vice Commander’s body. “Enough, damn it! Enough!”

The soldiers watched on in horror, unable to reach for their weapons, for the Mad Dog continued to roar and cry, using the back of his axe to bludgeon the woman until she was no longer recognisable. The Mad Dog roared and shouted in the Iyr’s tongue to the heavens.

“Bring me another, Baktu! Another!” The old man shouted. “I will slaughter them! Those who dared to kill my greatchildren! Bring them to me! Another!” Jarot then turned, his body still red hot, his eyes white as he glared at the remaining Order members. He pointed at them with his axe. “Come!”

“Jarot,” Rajin called, his voice quiet.

“Come!” the Iyrman switched to their tongue. “Come! Come and avenge your Vice Commander! Come, so that I may gift my greatsons your heads. My greatdaughter, your hearts!”

The Order members stepped back, glancing between one another, for they never would have expected they would have lost their Vice Commander so easily, especially not to an Iyrman who limped at them with a wooden leg.

“Come!” Jarot growled.

“Control your man, or-,”

Rajin’s head snapped to the Commander, who stood far too closely for him to make demands of the Iyrman. “Shut up.”

“Father,” Gorot called. “It is done.”

“Done?” Jarot asked, glaring at the man who had married his daughter. Jarot looked down at his axe, seeing it covered in red and bits of the Vice Commander, turning to look at the remains of the woman. He could see it was not the Vice Commander he had thought, but a stranger, a woman with one eye. He turned back to face Gorot. “No. It is not done.”

The Commander shuddered, not because of his words, but because though the Iyrman had spoken such words, he limped his way to the carriage, leaving them in peace.

“You are fortunate this day,” Rajin whispered to the Commander.

“This is madness, Iyrman.”

“No,” Rajin replied. “It is knowledge.”

“What?”

“A lesson.”

“…” The Commander watched as the Iyrman with the sharktooth blade picked up the Vice Commander’s blade, bowed his head lightly to the Order members, before slipping into the carriage. The group pulled away to Red Oak, before the Commander’s eyes fell to the form of the Vice Commander of the Floral Sun. Esme was well known as one of her Order’s strongest warriors.

Yet, just like that, she was gone.

The scariest part was that she Crit him three times and he rolled pretty poorly to hit.