Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

[1056] – Y05.056 – Noonval Festival III

“I don’t want to say this,” Adam said, noting the looks of the Chief, Elder Teacher, Elder Forest and Elder Gold. The four Great Elders had come to check on the children, before whisking Adam away to one side, clearing an estate to speak with the half elf. A myriad of aides stood within each archway, while several watched from the rooftops. 

Adam glanced between the Great Elder’s eyes, noting their expectations, tempered by the wisdom of their age. “I can’t guarantee something like this will happen. There were plenty of ways this could have gone wrong. My little Jarot, he loves me so much, but he might not have wanted to try the food. He loves potatoes, but maybe he wouldn’t like crisps. I love prawn cocktail as a flavour, maybe he wouldn’t. I tested him with salt and vinegar, but it was too strong, and who knows, that could have been the end of it. There were so many factors. The taste, the texture, the temperature, his temperament, the way it was introduced, who was around. Somehow, it all worked out, but it was luck more than anything.”

Chief Iromin didn’t want to hear such words, his eyes meeting the other Great Elder’s gazes. “How is it that you know so much about this matter?”

“Isn’t…” Adam fell silent for a long moment. ‘I can’t say it’s obvious, since it isn’t.’ “I knew someone who went through something similar. It was a little worse in a lot of ways, there were other issues which couldn’t be solved. Unfortunately, milk and crisps isn’t the best diet, but right now, it’s better than air. We can begin to introduce different types of foods later. I’m not sure why he isn’t eating porridge, it was his favourite, but I assume it might be because he ate it in the morning when-,”

Iromin could see the way the half elf winced, the way his throat stopped, his jaw pulling taut. The Great Elders waited for Adam to gather himself, the half elf having rambled himself to his heartache. The half elf sniffled, blinking away the tears which threatened him.

“Around duskval, I’ll be testing out to see if he wants to eat more. Stuff like baked potatoes, pizza, the, uh, Aswadian food that Dunes sometimes cooks. Unfortunately, Korin made his way back. I’m not sure how Jarot feels about spice, but seeing as how he’s close to the Gaks, he might want to emulate them.”

“We will come to you to speak of such matters in the future,” Iromin said.

“While I’m still here, feel free to ask those kinds of questions. If I can help the Iyr by making sure no one starves, I’ll do what I can.”

“We appreciate your assistance in this matter, Adam.”

“I know,” Adam replied, smiling slightly. “I appreciate all that the Iyr is doing for, well, everyone.”

“We have also received word from Prince Morkarai,” Iromin said, before reaching into his pocket, placing down a round gem. He placed a finger upon the gem, the gem slowly shifting from a gem to a giant blade, one which would been impossible for any man to wield. It was too big, more like a slab of iron, than a blade.

Adam raised his brows, throwing a look to the Chief, who returned an innocent gaze. “I shall send word to Lord Morkarai, but I hope you can send the sword back.”

“As you wish.”

It was the next morning when Adam decided to message the Prince.

Mana: 25 -> 22
Spell: Sending

“I appreciate the gesture, Lord Morkarai, but my family uses an axe and shield.”

‘I’m sorry, Adam.’

“Jirot, Jarot, Lord Morkarai is thinking of you,” Adam said, holding little Jarot upon his lap, holding the boy’s cheeks, leaning in to nuzzle his nose. “What should I tell him?”

“Hello! How are you?” Jirot asked.

“Well, daddy can’t have a long conversation with him, so why don’t we think of something nice to tell him?”

Jirot thought deeply as her father brushed her hair in the morning, while he glanced aside to his son, who yawned and rubbed his eye, before catching his father looking at him. The boy smiled slightly, radiating an innocent warmth that caused Adam’s heart to ache further.

“Shall I tell him that you like the festival?” Adam offered. 

“Yes! I like it so much!” Jirot said, smiling so brightly up to her father. 

“What about you, Jababy? Are you enjoying it?”

“Yes…” 

Mana: 22 -> 19
Spell: Sending

“Jirot and Jarot say they’re both enjoying the noonval festival. We hope you’re well, and are enjoying your time with your betrothed.”

Morkarai wasn’t sure what to say. 

‘I hope they are well.’

The giant wished he had more time to think of something better, but the spell would have faded before he could send his well wishes.

“Lord Morkarai is so silly, isn’t he?” Adam asked. “How can he send daddy a sword when he uses an axe?”

“So silly,” Jirot agreed. “Is big sword?”

“Yeah, do you remember his sword?”

“Is too big. How can you hold it, daddy?”

“Well, I mean, I could definitely hold it if I wanted to…”

Jirot’s incredulous look struck Adam deeper than even Morkarai’s blade. 

“Remember, I was first place.”

Jirot blinked. She nodded, accepting her father’s argument, just like that.

Unfortunately for Adam, Lord Morkarai wasn’t the only one thinking about the twins.

Strength Save (Trained) 
D20 + 8 = 11 (3)

Health: 112 -> 74

Adam skid towards the wall, grazing his side. He reached for his axe, glancing upwards towards the figure. They were short, stout, with slightly pointed ears, a bare chin where there should have been a beard, but long sideburns fell down the sides of their face. They held out their small, stubby hand towards the half elf, though slowly, as though they had been formed by the Lord of Lethargy. 

“Lord Stokmar,” Adam said, slipping his axe back to his side, hoisting himself up onto his feet. “What do I owe the pleasure?”

The old one armed Jarot glared at the Lord of Earth, only kept at bay because his grandson spoke so politely. ‘Facing Lord Stokmar would make for a good tale over milk.’

“The audacity to set your sights on Shama,” Lord Stokmar said, their voice low, like shifting gravel, yet so clear. “You can’t even protect your childr-,”

“Lord Stokmar,” called a raspy voice, ghostly quiet. She was short, and wore thick clothing, black as the void. She was older than time, the wrinkles on her face like ripples within a lake. A medallion hung against her front, shaped in the symbol of Baktu, made of the blackest wood, and clutch a staff made of the same black wood. The tattoos upon her forehead were black, small, hollow circles, each uniform, smaller than any other Iyrman tattoo. The central circle held a symbol of Baktu, that of a stylised skull. 

Stokmar glanced towards her, deigning to show the old woman the slightest respect. 

“You are granted, by the grace of Elder Story, to roam freely within the Iyr,” the old woman warned. 

“…” Stokmar raised out their hand, flattening the earth they had used to punt the poor half elf. “Is it because they are goblins?”

“What?”

“I thought a fool of a father like you would have already left for revenge.”

Adam frowned slightly, swallowing. “They’re Iyrmen.”

“I doubt it,” Stokmar replied, throwing the nearby Iyrmen an accusatory look. “I may have fallen asleep for a long while, but do you think I have forgotten your tales? Konagek spoke of them often enough.”

“We are still waiting,” Jarot snarled back, glaring at the entity before him. His eyes remained vicious, and as Stokmar met his eyes, the pair stood off against one another.

“My son is finding it difficult to eat,” Adam said, drawing the Lord of Earth’s attention. “Thankfully we’re able to make sure he can live, but if you could, would you be willing to spend some time with my twins? I’m sure they’ll greatly appreciate it, since they are children of the earth.”

“Are you in a place to make such a request?”

“I’m just checking to see if-,” Adam began, only to realise how close he was to flirting with death. “Please, Lord Stokmar. Your presence might give him the courage to eat again.”

‘The boy is finding it difficult to eat?’ Stokmar thought. ‘How old is he? Just a year? Ten?’

‘Do I need to get on my knees?’ Adam thought. 

Vonda watched as they appeared into the estate. The twins glanced upwards towards their father, before noting the figure to one side. Their amber eyes remained completely focused on the Lord of Earth as they shifted the earth to form a seat for themselves, almost melting into it. 

“Is there anything to drink?” Stokmar asked, recalling how the dwarves shirked them, before suddenly growing with annoyance. 

“I will find Rajin,” the old Jarot said, stepping away, his metal leg striking the ground as he left. 

‘Rajin?’ Stokmar wondered why that name sounded so familiar.

“Daddy, you are in trouble?” Jirot whispered. 

“You really are your mother’s daughter,” Adam replied, unsure of how his daughter could be this scarily smart.

Lord Stokmar casually doing enough damage to almost kill an Expert...

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