Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

[1126] – Y06.026 – The Skirmish III

[1126] – Y06.026 – The Skirmish III

“We should have expected this treachery from the likes of you!” the Order member snarled, his cherry blade glowing brightly as the waves of magic struck outwards.

“Do not speak of treachery to me!” Jogak snarled, his blade shaking as he clashed with the Aldishman. “You have no right!”

“Whatever plot you have conjured, it will not play out as you wish, savage!”

“Plot? How dare you!” Jogak flexed his body, pushing through his limits as he clashed with the Aldishman, who stepped backwards from the force of Jogak’s rage. “How dare you kill those precious children of mine and speak to me of plots!”

“There is nothing wrong with killing vermin.”

“I agree!” Jogak snapped, clashing wildly against the Aldishman. ‘Are you watching? My Jarot! My Jirot! You have to see!’

The Aldishman grunted, but as the fight continued, he could see it. The Iyrman before him had grown winded far quicker. He shouted out the words to a spell, and as thunder rumbled through Jogak, the Iyrman flew backwards away from the Aldishman.

“Gah!” Jogak gasped for air, swinging his blade even though his arms screamed at him for trying to lift his blade to defend himself, barely deflecting the Aldishman’s blade.

“Do you surrender?” the Aldishman called, panting slightly.

“Surrender?” Jogak panted, glaring at the Iyrman through his visor. “Never.”

“May Lord Zaladhin watch over your soul, Iyrman,” the Aldishman said, swinging his blade down cut at Jogak’s neck.

“I’m afraid Lord Zaladhin will have to wait,” said a voice, as steel rang against steel. The yellow cloth fluttered in the air, as the woman forced the blade away.

Jogak’s eyes fell to the blade, but he recognised that voice anywhere, in his dreams, and even in his nightmares. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to look cool in front of my sisters,” Jaygak replied simply, spinning her blade over the blade of her hand.

Jogak grunted as he stood, the chaos around them loud, and yet not as loud as his duty. “Step back, Jaygak! It is dangerous here!”

Steel rang against steel as Jaygak clashed with the Aldishman, the woman and the man engaging in a fierce clash, far fiercer than Jogak’s clash.

“It is dangerous! I had to cut down an Aldishman on the way to save you!” Jaygak shouted, trying her best to reply as she fought the Oathsworn before her, who was no doubt close to a Master.

Close to a Master.

Her father had done well enough, considering he was an Expert. He had been lucky enough to survive this long, but Jaygak was lucky too. If he had been a Master too, she would have had far greater trouble.

“What is your name?” the Aldishman asked, struggling against the woman before him.

“Jaygak,” she replied, while a smile beamed through her visor. “I do not need to know your name, since you dared to raise your sword against my father.”

“Uncle! If you are not too busy, I would like some help!” Laygak shouted from nearby, causing Jogak’s eyes to dart to the side. “Jaygak would take too long with her limp!”

“What are you doing here?” Jogak shouted, charging towards the young Iyrman, leaping up as he thrust his blade towards the gap of the Aldishman’s visor, but the woman shifted her head to the side.

“How could I stay back this time?” Laygak replied, his voice light, but it cut deep within his uncle’s heart.

Faool inhaled sharply, battering his opponent with his staff, but he was feeling the ache deep within his body. He was moments away from falling, but he did not cry out. If he were to die here today, then his sister would grow more powerful for revenge.

Unfortunately for Faool, his thoughts were cut short as a staff crushed the Aldishman’s neck, and the woman crumpled to the groun.

“You have fought well,” Kitool said, a chill filling her body, her muscles flexing as the life force of the dead Aldishman strengthened her. “Make sure Katool does not cut herself with Sentinel’s Rest.”

“Okay,” Faool said, not questioning his cousin’s ridiculous words, the Iyrman slipping away, through the battlefield, doing his best not to interfere in the other battles.

Citool was too busy against her own opponent to assist her daughter, though it appeared to be the case the young Iyrman didn’t need it. ‘I should not shame our family.’

Kamool, too, spun her spear around herself viciously, trying to knock back her opponent. ‘I should have trained harder. My poor children, do not watch me fail so.’

Naqokan’s greatsword cleaved through an Iyrman, but she was facing against someone between an Expert and a Master, and she was only an Expert. The Aldishman’s smites rocked through her body, and though she was a Rage Dancer, she followed a different path than the likes of the Rot family. The thunder rocked through her as it would a Gak.

Uwajin continued to clash with her own opponent too, managing to strike mighty blows against the Aldishman, but even she could feel the exhaustion creeping into her arms. The exhaustion told her she had done enough, but she refused to drop her blade. She wouldn’t fall before Naqokan, at least.

‘Damn it,’ Amokan thought, his body red with rage, but his mind focused upon the fight nearby. He and his opponent were both about to fall, the pair feeling the world darken around them. ‘Sorry, Naqokan, it might take me a while.’

Timojin, too, had thought to help his cousin, but the Aldishman before him was not quite as weak as the Aldishmen he had cut down previously. ‘I cannot fall here. I do not have the privilege of being weak.’

“Thank you, cousin,” called a voice, as Amokan’s opponent’s head fell to one side, and her body dropped to another side. The one armed Iyrman then spun, using the momentum of her blade to cut through the neck of Timojin’s opponent’s neck, the lightning crackling.

“There is no need for thanks,” Tarukan replied, keeping the two Aldishmen at bay. “I was growing bored against one.”

‘Just who is this Iyrman?’

‘Damn it! How is this no name Iyrman so strong?’

“Since Rajin has claimed Hammer Hand, killing you two should be good enough?” Tarukan mused, but though he had mentioned Rajin’s name, he did not swing his blade to beat Rajin. Well, it was not the sole reason, since he couldn’t allow Rajin to show him up.

He was a Kan, after all.

‘Look, dado!’ Inakan pointed into the distance. ‘Butterfly.’

‘My eyes are too old to see that far,’ Tarukan had replied.

The girl removed her glasses, the large glasses with thin frames, apparently in a popular style from Adam’s land. ‘Here, dado.’

The Iyrmen, each possessing great titles across Aldland, noted just how red Tarukan had become, the old man threatening to lose his mind, and his blade blurred, threatening to cleave the Aldishmen in half.

“You are truly as strong as the rumours stated,” Hammer Hand panted, his hand throbbing wildly for one of the first times in his life, his greatsword shaking within his hands.

“If you die too quickly, Jajin will not see,” Rajin said, his voice barely a whisper, but his throat strained with rage, his voice coming out more insidious than he expected. “Jijin may not watch, since she likes to trouble me.”

‘How are they so damn strong?’ Hammer Hand thought, unable to give a thought to his companions as he engaged with the Iyrman once more, his magic exploding outwards, and yet the old Iyrman did not react, threatening to bisect him.

“You are more impressive than the last Vice Commander I faced,” Tonagek admitted, barely letting out a pant as he clashed with the Vice Commander wearing the cherry cloak. “My heart is still so heavy, so please, do not fall so easily.”

“You will need to try harder to unnerve me, savage,” the Aldishman replied, easily ten years the Iyrman’s senior, but so evenly matched with the Iyrman. ‘Who is this?’

Tanagek cried out, pushing back the Aldishman who was almost twice his age, and though the Aldishman was a Master, the Aldishman could feel the duty behind every blow.

“Why is your blade so heavy, Iyrman?” the Aldishman asked as the pair clashed, and they both took a chance to speak.

“I met them a few days ago, those nieces and nephews of mine,” Tanagek admitted, his eyes glaring at the Aldishman through his visor, while the grief filled his heart. “It is a shame, for little Jarot, unlike the Mad Dog, is so sweet.”

‘Mad Dog?’ the Aldishman tensed up slightly, for who didn’t know the name of the Mad Dog in Aldland, especially someone from his generation. “What is your relationship to him?”

“My aunt married his son,” Tanagek stated. “While my nephew does not match his name, I do.”

“What is your name?”

“Tanagek. I was named after the Dutiful.”

‘Who?’ the Aldishman thought, but for some reason, he was certain he had heard the name before. Unfortunately, if he was wise enough to remember the name, he wouldn’t have been here.

“Step back,” a voice called, causing Tanagek to pull away from the Aldishman without thought.

“What are you…” The Aldishman panted, his eyes darting to the Iyrman nearby, who rested his silver sword over his shoulder casually, with the body of Vice Commander Harrow slumped to the side. “Who are you?”

“Shagek, Silver Sword of the Wastes,” the Iyrman replied, followed by a pause.

‘Who?’ The Aldishman thought, certain he had never heard of such a name before.

Poor Shagek.