Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

[1078] – Y05.078 – No Justice II

“So, this is the Mad Dog I have heard so much about?” the woman in breastplate asked, wearing her amulet, that of a red blade pointed downwards within a circle. She also carried at her side a well made blade, one that was no doubt tinted pink or red. She was pretty, the scar across the side of cheek only adding to her rugged beauty, while her short hair curled over her ears, which were studded with silver. 

‘Mad Dog?’ the other thought, also wearing a breastplate, and wearing a familiar amulet they had seen a few days ago, that of a sun within a flower. He was plain faced, and if not for the tattoo of a sun upon his chin, he would have seemed like any John in a city. 

“Careful with your tone, Sir Iris, for there are few Iyrmen I would rather have at my side than the Mad Dog,” Kris said. “If not for him, perhaps you would not see me this day.”

Jarot inhaled sharply, almost grinding his teeth, as his eyes darted to the side, towards Sir Iris. His eyes remained focused, like a tiger who had spotted a lion within his territory, though for a moment, they held something else. 

Was he a boy who had been admonished?

“You did not tell me about his wooden leg,” Sir Iris said, eyeing up the Iyrman, though she saw how he stood, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. 

“He lost his leg in the civil war against the Blood Knight,” Kris stated, clearing his throat lightly, before smiling towards the Iyrmen before him. “Fate has brought us together it seems, for-,”

“You should lower your gaze,” the voice, gentle as a feather, called to them. “Was your previous Grand Commander not also crippled?”

Iris’ eyes darted to the Iyrman with grey skin, who wore a large greatsword upon his back, and a glare within his eyes. “Who might you be?”

“You should ask Sir Maxwell who I am.”

“Unfortunately for me, the Keeper of the Blades remains within the capital, mister…”

“Rajin.”

“Rajin?” the woman replied, narrowing her eyes slightly. ‘Who in the Damnation is that?’

“Grandfather fought Sir Maxwell in his youth,” Timojin said. “He is known as the Bearded Dragon.”

“You are the Bearded Dragon?” Iris asked, suddenly straightening up, her eyes suddenly glued to his. She was certain she had heard the name before. ‘Was it not…’

“How is his arm?” Rajin asked. 

“Cold,” the woman replied, still holding the Iyrman’s gaze.

‘Bearded Dragon?’ Sir Hugo thought, glancing between the Mad Dog and the Bearded Dragon. There was no coincidence that the pair appeared together, Sir Hugo was certain of it, considering how many tales they had both earned a generation ago. The Mad Dog, who had taken his best friend’s eye, and Rajin, who had fought figures who were now Vice Commanders, if not Grand Commanders, of the various Orders gathered here today. He thought of the other Iyrman who had come to the gathering, including the two Great Elders, who were also active during that time. ‘The Iyr is taking the threat seriously if they have brought so many great warriors.’

“You will never guess who I spoke to earlier this year,” Kris said, smiling a smile that almost killed him. “I met Flame Blade as I made my way to the gathering.”

“Hmm,” Jarot grinned wider, baring his teeth to the Vice Commander. “It is a shame it is the fifth year, or the Blades would have made an appearance here! It would have been your great fortune!”

“Right…” Kris replied, smiling awkwardly, feeling a hostility from the Iyrman’s words. “Shall I leave you to go and greet your-,”

“Ah! How rude of me?” Jarot chuckled a low chuckle, more like a growl. “I have not yet introduced you to my grandsons!”

Kris’ brows raised suddenly, feeling a gentle annoyance grow within his heart, that quickly gave way to surprise, as the Iyrman had spoken of his adoration for his grandsons and greatchildren so often, he thought Jarot was the Mad Grandfather instead. 

“This is Jurot, my eldest son’s boy,” Jarot said, grabbing Jurot rather roughly, before pulling him forward. 

Jurot could feel how tight his grandfather gripped his collar, feeling the shaking hand that needed to grip something, else he might have made a mistake. 

“My Jurot… claimed first place at the Nightval Tournament last year!” Jarot howled with laughter, closing his eyes as his jaw tensed up, causing his laughter to come out like coughs.

“I would have expected as much,” Kris said, holding out a hand to shake the Iyrman’s forearm. “It’s good to finally meet you, young man. Your grandfather often spoke of you.”

‘Papo! I love you too!’ Jirot had claimed, grabbing his face, kissing his cheek. 

Jurot could even feel Jarot’s small hands upon his bicep, squeezing at his muscles, the boy’s eyes wide from seeing the difference in the sizes of their arms. 

“I am… Jurot.”

“Right?” Kris replied, furrowing his brows, before shifting his hand to point towards the Iyrman instead since the Iyrman didn’t want to shake his hand. ‘Why do you Iyrmen always have to be so queer?’

“This is Adam, my grandson. He is Jurot’s brother, so he is my grandson.” Jarot tapped Adam’s purple armour, still smiling almost like a hyena, his eyes narrowing once more. He paused a moment for Adam’s joke, but the half elf remained silent. “He won first place in the tournament too. The Princess begged for a draw.”n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

“I am quite certain,” Kris replied, chuckling lightly, before offering his hand to Adam, who did not take it, remaining still as a statue. “What? Did you Iyrmen stopped shaking forearms?”

Adam swallowed, not speaking up to correct him, though it was obvious he was no Iyrman, since he had yet to remove his helmet. Which Iyrman did not reveal their tattoos so proudly?

Kris’ eyes turned to Amokan, noting his tattoos were different from the other Iyrmen nearby, save for Tonagek, whose tattoos were identical, save the colours were inverted. Though, he was certain he had seen Amokan’s tattoos recently.

“Do you remember I spoke of my greatchildren?” Jarot asked.

“I do. One was named after you, if I recall?”

“Perhaps we should speak of-,” Iris began, feeling something in the air. 

“That is right!” Jarot laughed, almost howling. “My greatson, Jarot. What a cute little boy he is! So small! So sweet! No child is as sweet as my Jarot!”

The laughter caused the nearby figures to glance their way, noting the large group speaking to the trio of Vice Commanders, the Vice Commanders which had remained together due to obvious reasons, for they were each members of the previous Orders which made their home in what was now Floria. 

“His twin sister. Do you remember her name?”

“Jirot?” Kris replied, throwing out a name, smiling awkwardly towards the Iyrman.

“Yes!” Jarot’s grin grew even wider, his eyes full of sheer delight. “She is trouble, my Jirot. She is too smart for her age! When I returned from the war, missing my leg from the Blood Knight, they had forgotten me! My greatchildren, who I coddled against my chest each night, they had forgotten this old man, because he was too busy in the war! I deserved it. They were too young, babes, but…”

Kris saw Jarot lick his lips, the old man chewing on his thoughts, far more unnerving than he had been a few years ago. ‘Did losing his leg bring him such pain?’

“After some time, coddling against my chest, who can dare say they are my greatchildren’s favourite babo?” Jarot laughed once more, a laugh full of such delight, though quickly his eyes filled with his wildness again. “They adore me, and I? I adore them. I adore them, Vice Commander.”

“I’m sure.”

“What of you?” Jarot asked, his voice almost a whisper. “Where is she, that… apprentice of yours? Melinda, yes?”

Kris smiled, motioning a hand to one of the nearby women who had sat with the other warriors, playing dice in the rain, and drinking lightly. “Sir Melinda, come and meet the Mad Dog. It’s a shame that you hadn’t met last time, but fighting side by side against the Reavers? I’m certain it is a greater honour than facing against our old brothers and sisters.”

Melinda stood, bowing her head lightly, the woman in her early thirties or so, adorned in breastplate over a light chain, carrying a blade at her side, and an amulet that denoted her Order. “I have heard a great many stories of your exploits, Mad Dog. Your courage in facing against Lord Asa has spread through our Order, and your tale of killing the Azure Terror has spread further.”

The nearby figures threw looks towards the older Iyrman, he who had one arm and one leg. 

He killed the Azure Terror?

Suddenly, his erratic behaviour made much more sense, since he was strong enough to be that mad.

“I did!” Jarot licked his lips again, tasting the light rain that matted his hair. “He killed my son, my daughter, and my grandson. So I killed him by my two hands.” Jarot blinked, staring down at his scarred hand, clenching it into a fist, warming it up for what was to come. “I did what I had to, as a father. The Iyr did not deny me my rights.”

“Of course,” Kris said, seeing the look from Jarot’s eyes, which caused a chill to run through his spine. “Every father should gain his vengeance, especially against such wicked beasts.”

“Aye,” Jarot growled, feeling the rage stir deeper within him, spreading through his old bones, warming his body. “Those who kill children are no better than wicked beasts.”

Standing beside Melinda, Martha narrowed her eyes towards the figure in the purple armour, then his brother, and finally the red skinned figures nearby, one of whom had caught her gaze. ‘Aren’t they…’

Kris narrowed his eyes slightly. His instincts told him something was amiss, but he wasn’t quite sure, and he couldn’t bring his eyes away from the old Iyrman who he had fought beside during the civil war.

“My Jarot. My Jirot. I love them so much. I wish to teach my Jarot our ways, but he is too soft, and I… am too weak. My Jirot? She is fierce. I am too weak to her, for she bullies me so viciously, though she is only four.” The tears slipped down the side of his cheeks. “I have more greatsons. Another is Larot. Quiet. Well behaved. He was born later, after the war.”

“Perhaps you can tell me about him over dinner?” Kris offered, flashing a charming smile towards the Iyrman. 

“No,” Jarot almost growled, his neck pulsing, his smile causing him to bare his fangs. “I wish to ask you one thing, Vice Commander. I told you so much about my greatchildren. I told you how much I adored them. So why did you do it?”

Kris furrowed his brows. “Do what, Mad Dog?”

“Why did you kill them?” Jarot’s voice shook, and the rage threatened to overwhelm him.

“Excuse me?” 

At least he finally mentioned Larot.