Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

Sir Darren, the Seventeenth Blade of the Three Hundred Blades, remained glaring into the Captain of the Fifth Death Squad’s eyes, even as the screams and cries continued. “Do you not fear the Divine?”

“I am certain Baktu will praise us,” Samool replied.

‘These damn cultists…’ Sir Darren thought, swallowing lightly, for if the Iyr was going this far, to slay every single one of the soldiers, then that could only mean one thing. “Are there…”

“…”

“Children?” Darren continued, since Samool was not showing him mercy.

“Yes,” Samool replied.

‘Death Dog…’ Sir Darren considered why anyone would put Death Dog into this fortress, for within the southern fortress, perhaps, but this fortress, right in the path of the Iyr’s typical path? Who didn’t know Death Dog’s disdain of the Iyrmen? Except, even the Death Dog, he had assumed, wouldn’t have caused this much trouble.

How did it occur?

No, it wasn’t how.

Why?

“How is the Fifth Blade?” Captain Samool asked.

“…” Darren narrowed his eyes. ‘Is he saying it was…’

It was only then Darren understood how close he had come to death. No, if he had drawn his blade, it wouldn’t have ended with just him. The Seventeenth Blade let out a soft exhale, for though the others would criticise him so, he had saved his Order, and so he was certain they wouldn’t force him to take too deep of a punishment, for if the Iyr was going this far, and if it was those particular children, his lack of courage, so they would declare, had managed to save their entire Order.

The question was…

How far would Aldland force the Iyr to go?

Bearded Dragon. Black Shark. Bloodblade. There was also the bald woman, who wore the same tattoos as the Captain of the Fifth Death Squad, who was certainly one of the Ten Paragons, and then, his eyes fell to the two Iyrmen, one upon each carriage, each who wielded bows, certain one was Raining Bow, considered among the greatest of archers who had stepped through Aldland, and then there was the other, who yawned lightly, and yet he was certain that man was no less an archer than Raining Bow.

The problem was, all the other Iyrmen, each of whom were at least as strong as he, or, at the very least, as strong as the two Masters on either side of him.

“Mercy!” cried a soldier, before a blade silenced him forever. There were some soldiers who had been asleep, but had awoken during the fight and though they had donned their armour, and with spears in hand, they tasted cool steel that morning.

Who had stepped out?

Vibak, Bibak, Baztam, Shaool, Rajin, Gangak, Mulrot, Malfev, Otkan, Shayfev, Shasen, Rasam, Shagek, Marmak, Dogek, Tarukan, Karmin, Tarvol, Okvar, Tanagek, Mosen, Difan, Saywir, and from these names, not one was a step below Grandmaster. They were almost two dozen, the average between Grandmaster and Paragon, against a force of one hundred, whose average was perhaps Adept at best.

“Gah!” a soldier grunted, having leapt from the wall, and as she panted heavily, she stumbled away, only for a spear to crush through her skull, and with a kick, Malfev leapt back to his position, keeping an eye on the walls, so that no soldier may escape.

“To think they would flee after committing the most gravest of sins,” Shayfev said, her spear cutting the throat of a soldier, who choked, dropping to their knees, and fell, gurgling their blood, before embracing Baktu’s gentleness forever.

“If only the Black Lions were here to watch,” Okvar muttered to himself, holding out his palm, and as the arrow struck it, he clasped it, and used his ki to deflect it back towards the archer, striking them between the eyes. The soldier fell from the wall, and the sickening crunches eased the Iyrman’s heart.

Takvar’s fist crushed a skull, and his palm broke ribs, and not even once did he consider Elder Peace would punish him for stepping out of his role, for before he was Elder Peace’s loyal servant, he was an Iyrman, and none of the Great Elders, perhaps not even Elder Story, could dare to punish any Iyrman for stepping out of their role in order to protect, or avenge, their children.

It was this law, that was the Prime Law of the Iyr, and it was every law in the Iyr which came out of this law, and it was this law which had brought Aldland to heel two millennia ago, by their great ancestors.

‘Do they believe Great Jaeryael will be able to protect them?’ Saywir thought. It was she who had trained Captain Samool, beating him well to become a Grandmaster, and as she turned, she eyed up Samool, who remained standing opposite the Seventeenth Blade, a figure who was good enough to kill, and yet, she had raised him well, for a figure like he was good enough to send a message.

Was there a need to rid the world of the Three Hundred Blades yet?

‘Will Elder Peace allow the Death Squads the honour?’

Saywir could only hope.

The soldiers could not.

“You have not killed him yet?” Baztam growled in their tongue as he approached, for twenty Grandmasters was a little much, and they did not need him to slaughter pups who had only just been weaned from their mother’s teet but a few years ago.

“He did not draw his sword.”

“Even if he did no-,” Baztam said, but he stopped when he noticed the figure’s face. “Oh? Sir Darren, the Seventeenth Blade?”

“Black Shark,” Darren greeted, holding his sheathed blade within both hands as he raised it between them. It was a dangerous gesture, but he hoped the Iyr would merely accept it as his respect.

“How is the Fifth Blade?”

“She is well…”

“If you had come to trouble us when we were travelling with our children you should have brought you entire Order, then, perhaps, you could have slain most of us before your Order’s name would grace the books of history,” Baztam replied, with such a sigh, one might have thought it would have been preferable.

“The Order of the Three Hundred Swords has no intention of making the Iyr its enemy,” Darren replied.

“At the very least the Fifth Blade had the courage to speak up,” Baztam grumbled. “It seems allowing her to live has saved your life. What a shame.”

It was rather audacious of the Black Shark, so the Seventeenth Blade thought, however, it was Black Shark, who was the Chief of the Iyr’s peer, and his greatest rival, and like the Chief, he was considered on par with the First Blade, never mind the Fifth or Seventeenth.

“Are you sure they did not draw their blades?” Baztam asked, speaking in the Aldish tongue.

“I am certain.”

“Tch!” Baztam waddled away, pausing a moment, and then turned to take the three figures within his sights, those who no doubt had been put here to assist Death Dog, and yet they were unable to even draw their swords. For a moment, he considered bringing up this and that fact, but even if he wished to slaughter them, how could he do so when they needed to spread the word.

It was not as though they would only slaughter one outpost this day.

Ah, no.

They would need to send word, wouldn’t they?

The Iyrmen completed their task of slaughtering the soldiers, and they piled the hundred or so bodies into the forest, to allow the beasts to claim them, for though they would normally show the dead bodies a great respect, their highest priority were the children within their care, and so as they claimed the fortress. However, they made sure to behead every dead body, leaving their skull in front of their open necks, for the sake of identification, and as orderly as the Iyrmen were, not one head was missing, and not a single soldier was left alive, and out of respect for many of the children’s mother, they did so out of sight.

“Adam, can you send word to the Iyr?” Mulrot asked, having taken her grandson to one side, brushing his cheek gently.

“Of course, grandmother!” Adam replied with such passion.

“Then, please inform them…” Mulrot held out a piece of paper for the half elf to speak, exactly twenty five words, which would be enough to let the Iyr know of what happened, and that of all the Iyrmen to inform, it had to be that one.

Within the Iyr, the Great Elders met, to discuss important matters, though all fell silent as Elder Peace stopped rubbing her beads, and she tilted her head.

The other Great Elders glanced aside towards her, waiting for her to speak.

“Baktu knows best, there is no need to worry,” Elder Peace replied to the words that only she had heard, and she stood. “It seems there was a conflict between the fortress and the caravan. The carriages were fired upon, but the children are safe, and the soldiers have been dealt with.”

Elder Wrath stood.

The horns of the Iyr blasted.

The bells of the Iyr rung.

The steel of the Iyr clattered.

PATREON FOR 30+ CHAPTERS!

He really shouldn't have done that. 

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