Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

“Babo! You are so sick, but you are still moving?” Jirot complained, the girl’s eyes full of fury, her finger pointed out like a blade poised to strike.

“I am not sick! It is the changing of the season which brings a wetness to my throat!” the old one armed Iyrman replied, though he winced as his arm and leg pulsed. As he tried to stand, he could feel the leg dig into him harder than typical, his skin more sensitive to the air that day.

“You! You ol’ geezer! How can you worry me like this!”

The old Jarot burst into laughter, falling back onto his seat, his laughter quickly shifting towards a hack as he coughed and almost spluttered out his guts.

“You see? What did I tell you?” Jirot huffed at the old man, her face turning slightly red with annoyance.

“It is just a cold!”

“You were defeated by the cold before, so you must rest today!”

“When was I defeated by the cold before?” Jarot’s brows shot up questioningly, threatening his daughter with tickles if she dared to lie to him.

“You think I do not remember? You lost to Ice Emperor so badly and even nano tell me that she was worried! You always worry us, babo! How can you do this to us?” Jirot shot back, the girl holding out both of her hands, revealing just how annoyed she was.

Jarot growled out, but her words struck true within his heart. “The Ice Emperor, he was truly powerful! Even your father would not defeat him!”

Jirot’s jaw dropped, the girl’s eyes squinting nearly shut as a wetness grew within them. “How you can say that! Daddy is the strongest! Daddy is first place!”

The old man remembered how brutally the Ice Emperor had defeated him, but did it hurt as much as when his greatdaughter cried? Such defeats could not compare, as the old man lifted the girl to his chest, allowing the other little one to embrace him close too.

“This old man has grown so old! You must allow me to make such slip of the tongue, since I am so old now!” the old crippled Iyrman complained, embracing his greatchildren tight within his arm. He planted firm kisses on their foreheads, stopping upon the way his eldest greatdaughter glared at him, her pout piercing even deeper within his heart. “I am so sick! I do not understand the words I speak! How can I say such words? I am sorry, my little ones! This old man is a fool now, you must not cry!”

Malfev leapt into the shared estate, having appeared from the shadows. “Who is it who dares to make my greatdaughter cry?”

“Whose greatdaughter?” Jarot growled, but he let the twins escape from his arms to Malfev, who brushed his beard in thought for a moment, before accepting the twins and their affection.

“My Jifev, my Jafev, who is it that makes you cry?” Malfev asked, wrapping his arms around the twins, hugging them tight to his chest.

“Babo! Babo is smelly!” The girl gasped. She burst further into tears.

“Yes! Your babo is silly!” Malfev agreed, allowing the girl to make such a slip, since she instantly regretted it. He held the pair as they continued to cry for a long while, before they finally calmed down, allowing him to greet the other children, all while holding the pair as they sucked their thumbs.

The older Jarot grumbled, stifling his coughs, until he finally hacked out again. He drank his honeyed tea, while Konarot walked over and placed a hand upon his knee, the girl rubbing along it.

“Babo…”

“Is this foolish old man worrying you?” Jarot asked, ruffling the girl’s silky silver hair. “You do not need to worry, my dear, for a cold cannot defeat me! I am too strong!”

“Yes!” Konarot rubbed the old man’s knee further, while a pair of eyes watched the girl.

“Since your greatfather is sick, we should take good care of him,” Malfev said.

Jirot glanced away, still sucking her thumb, but her head darted back towards her greatfather, who rubbed his head with his only hand between drinking his tea.

“Jarot, you old fool! What did you say to make our little Jiji cry?” Malfev huffed, feigning annoyance.

“Hoo! I am so sick, I do not recall exactly what I said…” Jarot glanced aside, rubbing his forehead further.

“Babo say daddy cannot win!”

“It would be difficult for your father to defeat your greatfather,” Malfev said, allowing the old man to save some face, though he wasn’t entirely sure if it was true.

“No! Babo cannot beat up Ice Emperor, but daddy is the strongest! Daddy is first place! Daddy can beat up Ice Emperor! Easy peasy, lemon squeezy!” Jirot declared, her lips trembling as she threatened to cry.

“The Ice Emperor?” Malfev asked, wondering why the girl was thinking of that fellow. ‘Ah?’

“Who does he think he is!” said a tiny voice, causing Jirot, Malfev, and the old Jarot to look his way. Little Jarot glared with teary eyes, the boy’s eyes narrowed with resolution. “My daddy can beat him up!”

“Yes!” Jirot agreed, holding up a fist, and the pair bumped fists.

The old one armed Iyrman let out a soft sigh, for though Adam had certainly defeated the Grand Commander with relative ease, in a shocking display of might, the difference between someone like the Ice Emperor and a typical Paragon was almost night and day.

Yet…

Adam, as an enchanter, in the far future, perhaps after the old man had passed, could forge a set of equipment that would allow him to face the Ice Emperor. Indeed, for though the Iyrman had fought the Ice Emperor, even with that rage of his, the Ice Emperor’s abilities were too grand for him. His grandson, however?

While the old man pondered about one of the only figures who had defeated him soundly even after reaching the great height that he had, his grandson decided to reveal how they were related.

“Did he do it? Does the glove fit?” Adam asked, smiling with such mischief, even Jurot had to pay attention to the half elf’s smile. “Did this fool of a half elf, with his pointy ears, his stupid smirk, his insanely annoying voice, his beautiful wife he doesn’t deserve, did he do it?”

The Commander held Adam’s eyes, the half elf still glaring deep into them, as though looking through into the old man’s mind. “Last year, you made your way through this area towards Ever Green. I had heard it was because… a child of yours was killed. A child of the Iyr, the rumours suggest.”

“You can’t believe every rumour that you hear,” Adam replied, sipping the rest of his tea. “Did I kill the Vice Commander? Absolutely. I cut his neck clean off. Did I kill his apprentice so he could see? Oh, absolutely. Did I take pleasure in it? A little, sure, but only because I wanted him to feel what I felt. I wanted him to see his apprentice torn in front of him, helpless to act. I wanted him to watch as her head hit the floor, and when it did, splattering the mud all about our boots, I went for his neck. I slaughtered him, like the pig he was.”

The Commander’s hair stood on end, for the half elf’s eyes were full of viciousness, and his voice, full of rage, but not the loud rage one could nitpick, but the kind of rage which would incite nightmares into one’s heart.

“I killed those two, that much was for certain. I killed them before their own, before those of the Orders, before the King, rendered helpless by my brother’s axe.” Adam pat Jurot’s shoulder, squeezing it gently, and the Iyrman could feel just how much control the half elf was trying to keep, for his hand nearly trembled. “No one could deny me my justice that day. Not the Orders, not the King, not even the Iyr.”

Adam inhaled deeply, pulling back as he groaned, trying to rid himself of his anger. An exhaustion filled the half elf, but it was the kind that made him smile. “The Grand Commander, though? Could this little leaf ear fuck kill someone as strong as that? I heard he was a Paragon, which is rather impressive, isn’t it? Could I kill a Paragon though?”

Jurot wasn’t sure how much he should allow Adam to speak of it. They had spoken of it, that the half elf should keep it vague, but… could he stop his brother from speaking of such a great tale, one which the Iyr had inked into their books, a tale which would go down in history?

“I could tell you I was wearing this armour. I could tell you that I wore that red shield, gifted to me by my cousin, not at his sister’s side. I could tell you that I used the sword at Manager Dunes’ side. I could tell you the spells I used, the way I swung my blade, the way it felt as I cut through his neck, the way his head dropped beside my foot, the way I took his blade and gifted it to my adorable cousin Katool, who always bullies me so much, but I forgive her each time, because like the Rot family, like the Gak family, I would die for the Ool family. I would bathe Aldland red, even if it would break my wife’s heart.” Adam held the Commander’s gaze, his eyes full of a not so silent fury.

“I could tell you so much, but would you believe me? I don’t think so. I think you would think the Iyr was at fault, and you would cause problems for them. Who am I to deny the Iyr their fun?”

That's right, our little Jarot! You tell them!