Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

[843] – Y03.143 – Journey to Home VIII

It was raining that day.

The Vice Commander of the Thousand Hunts couldn’t help but admire the large walls of the Iyr. The walls of the Iyr were less like walls and more like mountains. ‘What large walls.' His eyes scanned across the large incline towards the village at the Front Iyr. He could feel the gazes of unseen figures all around him, but he ignored them. The Iyr would dare not take a swing towards him.

The small fence around the Front Iyr was so small, it was almost for show, forming a boundary around the village proper and the rest of the fields all around. Hundreds of children made their way around, some glancing his way, a few making their way over, before their elders shouted for them, and the children darted away.

The Vice Commander spotted a few Iyrmen with bronze tags from the Adventurer's Guild, and he even spotted a figure with a steel tag, but he mostly ignored such tags. Compared to him, a Grandmaster, they were more like ants than Experts. Though, there was another, a handsome Iyrman, a man who would no doubt become a silver fox, with a chiselled jaw, his hair cut so short he wasn't able to gather the colour, and at his side he wielded a flail. It was the blueish silver tag around his chest which impressed the Vice Commander, revealing his rank as a great warrior. Just like the Vice Commander, the Iyrman was more than likely a Grandmaster.

'The Front Iyr Elder...'

The Vice Commander followed the Elder of the Front Iyr, who led him towards the side, to a small cabin. There were other Iyrmen around, each wearing their savage furs. Some were decent folk like him, but there were others, the wicked devilkin, who swarmed around the area.

The boy stood firm and tall as he stared at the Vice Commander, his stance wide, as he had been taught, his fists clenched together beside him. A younger girl stood by his side, holding onto his shirt with a firm grip, the girl’s dark eyes staring up at the heavily armoured Vice Commander. The pair were under a small shelter at the front of the cabin, keeping them dry from the rain.

‘…’ The Vice Commander could feel more gazes upon him, rather than just the gazes of the children.

“If he wishes to come and speak with me, he may step inside,” called a tired voice.

The Vice Commander stepped within the cabin, noting how small it was, barely enough for the large number of figures within, a half dozen figures about his age or older. A devilkin woman, two older human women, and two human men.

The older devilkin woman, who held an unlit pipe in her lap, eyed up the Vice Commander obviously. He ignored her savage glare, bowing his head towards the other older women, one who wore a tattoo of blue and red, and another who wore a tattoo of blue, the same tattoo as the older man, that of a blue circle flanked by blue diamonds. His eyes fell to the older man in the corner, who had aged from grief, his eyes dark and hollow. He held a tiny devilkin within an arm.

“Are you the one they once called Mad Dog?” the Vice Commander asked.

“You are a long way from home, Sir James Greatwood,” the Iyrman replied, his lips forming a sly smirk, though his eyes remained dead.

“I had heard rumours you died.”

“Baktu has yet to claim me.”

“Recent rumours suggest you headed east to Aswadasad…”

Jarot’s eyes darkened. “I did.”

“Did you slay Forgryn?”

Jarot’s eyes flashed with a viciousness the Vice Commander hadn’t expected, but it disappeared after an instant. The old man gently rubbed his thumb along the little boy’s leg. “There were many who slew Forgryn alongside me.”

“Did it claim your arm?” the Vice Commander asked, noting how the robes fell alongside the Iyrman’s left.

“My arm was lost during our journey east.”

‘What honour is there in beating a cripple?’ “As a Vice Commander of the Order of the Thousand Hunts, I thank you for slaying the vile creature in the east. You have made the lands a safer place. I will leave you to your recovery.”

“You may stay the night,” Elder Lykan said. “We will escort you in the morning.”

“I thank you for your hospitality.”

The boy and girl stared up at the Vice Commander as he left.

‘Big,’ the boy thought, before looking to his grandfather. ‘…’

“Do you know who that man is?” a voice called.

The boy twitched, his eyes snapping up towards his father, before the young man dropped to a knee and embraced his son into a hug which caused his son to melt.

“That man is the Vice Commander of the Order of the Thousand Hunts.”

“Strong?” the boy asked.

“Yes. He is very strong.”

“Father is stronger?”

“No, but it would not be easy for him to defeat me,” the Iyrman replied, brushing his son’s hair gently. “Come, Jurot, I will make bread.”

“Okay,” the boy replied, allowing his father to pick him up, wrapping his arms around his father’s neck, watching the Vice Commander step away. He felt the rain drop onto his head as his father stepped into the cabin.

It was raining that day too.

The rain began to fall as the group made their way out. The Grand Commander watched them from the wall. He stared down at his hand, which shook ever so slightly, his head still pulsing. ‘Jurot…’

Sir James Greatwood thought back to the time he had stepped into the Iyr, back when he had met with the Mad Dog. The old Iyrman had been a shell of his former self, a man barely worth raising his sword against.

The Grand Commander recalled what his Vice Commander had told him after they had reunited once the war had ended.

‘The Mad Dog…’ Sir Kris Huntsmaster had began. ‘He is as crazy as they say.’

The rumours of what the Mad Dog had done had spread like wildfire, though few believed the words until they had been confirmed by those who had returned.

Of course he would take an arm from a Vice Commander of the Order of the Black Moon, it’s the Mad Dog.

That Mad Dog.

‘Old and crippled, but you still posses such great strength?’ He clenched his fist together. ‘Even so, the difference between you and I is that of a wolf and a tiger.’

“The Iyrmen really are insane…” Vasera said, her lips forming a wild grin as she rode her steed beside Adam. She had remained silent, since it was a matter of the demons and not the children. “How are you almost as insane as them?”

Adam chuckled. “You should have seen…” ‘Wait, wasn’t she there?’ Adam thought back to the Marshal of the East. ‘That feels like forever ago…’ “Ah, well, it is what it is.”

“Do you think they’ll come?”

“Definitely, since I’m involved.”

‘He’s insane,’ Cobra thought, her eyes glued to Adam from behind. ‘Insane!’ Her heart pounded within her chest. ‘He doesn’t seem to be after us, but…’

Fred let out a long sigh. He could feel it. The emptiness at his side. The tingling sensation no longer filled his body. ‘Did he take it cause I didn’t want to fight the order?’ Fred glanced across the people all around him. The children around him were urchins, those with even less than him. He could hear Remy and Jeremy outside, the pair sometimes inhaling sharply, letting out a “heave” or a “ho”, keeping their bodies warm and ready.

‘Warm and ready for… what? Are you going to be fighting the Grand Commander?’ He thought to the warriors around the Grand Commander. They were at least Experts, just like Remy and Jeremy, but the difference was that Remy and Jeremy were porters, whereas they were trained warriors, Guardians, with the ability to call for the divine magic of their oaths.

Fred twitched, feeling a hand pat against his, before looking down towards George. The boy let out a reassuring sigh, understanding what it felt like for someone to take something which belonged to him.

“Don’t worry,” Fred reassured. “I’ll protect you good, even without the magic sword.” ‘I wish the Captain had been at the other fort. Would have been nice to talk with him…’

Jurot remained silent. His hand pulsed, having felt the might of the Grand Commander when they clashed. Though he was still able to fight, and was seemingly fighting the Grand Commander evenly, he had spent all his effort in the fight, while the Grand Commander had yet to use any of his Second Gate spells or greater.

‘Stronger…’ Jurot thought. ‘I need to grow stronger.’

Within the Iyr, another thought the same way.

The older man was pinned down under the pair of his greatchildren, who clutched at his shirt as they sucked their thumbs, sleeping peacefully.

Meanwhile, the little red skinned baby scowled towards the trio.

‘How dare they show me an unsightly visage before I sleep!’

The Mad Dog, tamed not by a dragon, but our adorable children.

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