Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG
Side Story – Blackwater Crisis VII

Side Story – Blackwater Crisis VII

They buried George and Randal together. 

The drakken remained silent, allowing the others to mourn. They were not so close with the deceased, and some of them had been beaten by the pair, but they understood what it meant to the Royal Guards and the Iyrman.

“I will go alone,” Akrat said, finally, turning to face the others. “Without George, the rest of you may die. Daegyar is injured, and I can finish this alone. You must live to tell the tale.”

“That’s not your choice to make, Iyrman.” Kendrick turned from the graves, his gaze falling to Akrat. “The blood which was spilled, it was from my men, and the price needs to be paid by my sword.”

“We no longer have George’s magic, Randal’s great strength, and Timothy is injured too. Our strength has decreased too much. I have failed to protect you, and I will continue to fail.” Akrat shook his head, unable to accept any more deaths on his hands.

“John, tomorrow, you’ll return with Timothy. The drakken will guide you back.” Kendrick didn’t even look back to John, keeping his eyes focused on Akrat.

“I can’t do that, Captain,” John said. “Charles, George, Randal, they were my comrades too.”

“Take her back,” Kendrick said, turning to face John, holding out Randal’s sword. “You and Timothy will return and send word back. The Kingdom may think we’re dead, but you will inform them of what happened. Take a few weeks to rest up, and return to North Fort. I’m not asking you, John. It’s an order.”

John grimaced, staring at the sword, the same sword Akrat had wished buried, but the Captain had requisitioned for Timothy, who the man had given his life for. He clenched his fists. “Yes, Captain,” he said, shamefully. Not only would he be unable to get his revenge, but he’d have to carry the sword, which should be driving itself into Dark Wing’s heart.

They made camp for the night, the solemness taking them. The group took watch two at a time. Dark Wing would not return, not when he was so heavily injured. Akrat was half dead, but it would not dare to fight two warriors who were still at their peak strength, each with a magical weapon.

Midway through the night, Bili squealed out. Akrat leapt up into action, grabbing his blade, tossing his blanket aside. 

“Akrat?” called a familiar voice, who had noticed the blanket as the flames illuminated it. 

Akrat’s eyes snapped to the person who called out to him, his eyes seeing through the darkness with ease due to his orcish blood. “Tamin?” 

Standing before him was another Iyrman, one with a white circle on his forehead, and white arrows heading outwards. He was a human about his age, who wielded a longsword made of a fusion of bone and metal, which was currently at the throat of Bili.

There were three other Iyrmen as well, each with their weapons at the ready. The Royal Guards and the soldier drakken had spurred into action immediately, grabbing their weapons to face their foes. Kendrick faced an Iyrman which wore the skull of a deer, wielding a pair of shortswords made of bone. John faced another Iyrman, who had his staff out ahead of him casually, knowing that he could easily beat the boy, whereas the two drakken soldiers were facing one who used a spear, poised like a viper ready to kill.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Tamin said, letting the boy go, and stomping over to embrace Akrat.

“I did not expect you either,” Akrat said as they hugged. “I have not seen you since the battle.”

“I did not see you after we chased the silver wyrm,” Tamin said. “I almost thought you had died.”

“No,” Akrat said, smiling slightly. “Thanks to the,” he was about to state the name the Iyrmen called them, but quickly replaced it with Aldspeak, “Royal Guards.”

The other Iyrmen sheathed their weapons when they had heard, seeing how these people seemed to be allies. They still didn’t approach the camp, however.

Kendrick sighed, having felt as though he was seconds from death. He stared at the man with the deer skull, noting the pattern on his forehead. A black tilted cross, and several eight pointed stars. 

“What are you doing here?” Akrat asked. 

“We are chasing Rogryaen,” Tamin replied, his lips forming a smile. “Why do you look,” he said, motioning to Akrat, “like shit.”

“We are chasing Daegyar,” Akrat replied, his lips forming the same smile.

The Min and Rat families had been old rivals. Even their older siblings, Kasomin and Shakrat, clashed like two savage stags against one another. 

Tamin glanced around, noting the company he was keeping. Kendrick was strong, about as strong as he, but none of Akrat’s companions could match the other three Iyrmen at his side. “Your story will be more impressive than mine,” he said, the pair clasping forearms. “Shall we share stories in the morning?”

“Yes,” Akrat replied, nodding his head. He invited them to share the camp with them, which they accepted. 

They first slept, with the Iyrmen assisting on watch. They also healed Timothy, who glanced around in shock.

“Sleep,” Kendrick said. “Just go to sleep.”

Timothy nodded her head slowly, closing her eyes to sleep. She was still light headed, unable to remember much. 

When they awoke in the morning, they shared a meal and their stories, with Timothy replaceing out what happened. 

‘Five Deathsingers,’ Bili thought, blinking. ‘Wow…’ He was admiring all of them, seeing their powerful forms. 

“You buried them like Iyrmen,” Tamin said, ruminating on the words. Charles had been accepted as an Iyrman, though he was cremated, and the two had been buried like Iyrmen. Akrat had accepted them as Iyrmen, which was well within his right as an Iyrman, and such news would need to be brought to the Iyr. “Once we deal with Rogryaen, we will return to the Iyr to pass on the story.”

“Thank you,” Akrat said, nodding his head. As much as they were rivals, they were both still Iyrmen.

“We will leave you to Daegyar,” Tamin said, once they had exchanged their stories. He clasped the Iyrman’s forearm again, saying his goodbyes. 

“You won’t join us?” Kendrick asked, glancing at all the Iyrmen. “If we join forces, we could take on both dragons.”

“This is not my story,” Tamin said, shaking his head. “I can’t take this away from you.”

Akrat smiled. “Then let us mee-“ 

“Dragon!” a drakken soldier exclaimed, pointing up to the sky. 

From the heavens emerged a dark dragon, swimming through the air. His scales glittered a mesmerising blue, as though he were made of lightning, and he opened his long maw. 

“Rogryaen!” Tamin exclaimed, his eyes beaming up at the sky wyrm, drawing his blade of bone and steel.

The other Iyrmen each drew their weapons, as lightning rained down from the heavens. 

The drakken each leapt aside, as Timothy withdrew to a nearby tree, readying her bow. Her fingers were unsteady, still affected by the fact that George had died, and that she had dropped and caused the death of one of her companions too. 

Kendrick drew his sword, which glowed slightly as the magic ran through it, and John lit the blade of his fallen comrade alight. Their rage would not allow them to run this fight, but it was not the only rage which would cry into the heavens. 

“It seems you’ve come for your death, oh Lightning Sun!” Tamin declared, his teeth bared like a beast. “You will be slain today by me, Tamin, son of Setmin!”

The dragon landed on the mountain’s wall, talons crushing into it as it turned to face them. “You’ve been following me long enough, little boy,” he said, trying to recover his lightning. His head snapped aside, as two of the Iyrmen ran up along the wall on either side of him, and then bore into his side with their weapons. 

Rogryaen howled in pain, battered by staff and spear, before its body nearly froze from the inner power of the pair, who jabbed deep into him and tried to seize his body for a moment. The dragon swiped its tail towards the pair of them, feeling the burning of two wounds, but they flipped over the attack with ease.

‘These Iyrmen are more powerful than I expected, I should settle this quickly.’

Rogryaen leapt into the air, his powerful wings on either side of him as he circled around towards the drakken, who had fled to one side. He crashed atop them, crushing the two adults, and almost tore into a young drakken boy with a shortsword, but he felt something pierce his hind leg.

A pair of shortswords pierced into his leg, causing him to shake violently and almost fall aside as the magic ran through them, causing his scales to dry and flake. The skulled Iyrman kept one of his blades inside the dragon, stabbing him once again. 

Tamin and Akrat both charged together, blades in hand, cutting into the creature’s side, slashing its stomach open as it howled in pain. They were spurred on by their rage, Tamin with a wild grin, and Akrat with his face contorted in utter rage.

A dragon had come to quench his rage.

They weren’t the only few channelling their rage, as two more blades cut through the dragon, piercing through its back, causing it to screech out wildly, the entire area shaking with its mighty cry. 

“Bastard dragons!” Kendrick cried, recalling the snapped head of Randal and the gruesome appearance of George. “I’ll slaughter you!”

John’s blade cut in deep, and the fire spread through the wound, and soon the dragon’s blood started to pour all over the few who had struck it.

‘I thought I could get at least two free blades from the pair which weren’t Deathsingers, but it seems I’ve made a mistake.’

“Surrender!” the dragon declared, quickly, and an arrow piercing its neck. “Surrender! I yield to the Iyrmen!”

Kendrick and John, who were full of rage, forced their weapons inside. It wanted to surrender? While they were still shaking with rage?

“Surrender?” Kendrick asked. “You-“

Akrat placed a hand on Kendrick’s shoulder, stopping him. Akrat’s face was still full of rage, but this was not their prey.

The group had violently assaulted the dragon, not quite bringing it to death, but harming it enough that it had to think twice about the battle. Though it was an older dragon, it still wasn’t quite at the peak of its life, and would wish to continue to claim more treasure for the next few centuries. 

“What is the offer?” Tamin asked. He was the star of the story, so Akrat had to allow him to make the offers. The other two Iyrmen, with their staff and spear, quickly stepped up beside the dragon, ready to strike it down if the offer was not acceptable, and the skulled Iyrman remained on his back, holding the handles of his blades tightly.

“Half my hoard,” the dragon offered, “and I will come to assist you once.”

“Three times,” Tamin said. ‘Wait until Brother Kasomin hears about this! A dragon, which will enter into the next phase perhaps in two hundred years, owing us three favours!’ Already he could hear it, the praises to be sang about he and his family.

Rogryaen the Lighting Sun stared at the warriors. It had only recently made a name for itself in these parts, and soon all would hear how he bargained for his life. However, he would still be alive.

“I will accept.”

With that, the Iyrmen withdrew from the dragon, putting away their weapons.

“That’s it?” Kendrick asked, blade still deep within the dragon. He stared at them in utter shock.

“Half his hoard and three favours from the sky wyrm is a fair price for its life,” Tamin said. 

“You believe it will keep its side of the bargain?”

“He will,” Akrat said, nodding his head. “The Iyr never forgets its debts.”

“If it refuses to come, it will be hunted down forever by we five, as well as those who wish for glory.” ‘Or by our families.’

“Iyrmen are hungry for glory,” Kendrick said. Even so, his rage was still boiling deep within him.

“I will bring you to my lair,” the dragon said, turning into a humanoid form, a young man, with two large horns atop his head. He looked like a handsome drakken with greater horns, and he wore a thick cloak around himself. He wore no weapons, armours, or boots. 

The three young drakken immediately wanted to bow their heads in fear, but with the Deathsingers here, they did not. 

They buried their dead drakken, who had died in combat against a mighty foe.

The dragon led them to its lair, passing by a few villages. They rested in the villages, speaking of their tales, and upon entering the last, asked for assistance with bringing back the hoard. Another twenty drakken joined them, each carrying large packs to help with the hoard, a portion of which would be given to each of them.

“This feels so surreal,” Kendrick said. “We’ve beaten a dragon.”

“Yes,” Akrat said.

“You’ve kept your promise.”

“No,” Akrat said. “I will help you slay Daegyar.”

Kendrick nodded his head slowly. Even now, the rage was still boiling within him. Three of his men died like heroes, but they were still dead. He saw them every night in his dreams, haunting him with their wails. He shook his head.  

Once at the lair, Rogryaen had the chance to slay them, but he didn’t want to take his chances, not since the songs would be sung, and the Iyrmen were empowered by another lot of drakken.

Glimmer gold and silver, jewels of all shapes and sizes, as well as a myriad of various items made of every precious material in the land littered the floor. The Iyrmen immediately grabbed a few jewels, and then set to work on replaceing any magical weapons they recognised. 

Kendrick found a small necklace, one with was made of string, with a white pearl which swirled with a tiny golden fish in it. As he looked at it, the skulled Iyrman’s head came into focused behind it, and he pulled away. 

The Iyrman just nodded. “Good choice,” he said, his voice deep and low, like a shadow. 

“What is it?” 

“It has many names, but it will save you from death, once, to half vitality.”

“We get picks of the hoard too, don’t we?” Kendrick asked. “For our assistance.”

The Iyrman nodded, before slipping away to replace himself something. 

“Here,” Akrat said, tossing Timothy a bow. 

Timothy looked at the bow and then to Akrat. She took it, staring down at it. It was made of some kind of metal, but it was extremely light. 

“It is a good bow,” he said. “It will help in slaying Daegyar.”

She nodded her head slowly, gripping the bow tight, feeling its magic stick to her. 

John walked all around the mountains of coins, before he noticed the hilt of a blade. He reached down and pulled out a handle. Just a handle. It was carved out of gold, but it was much heavier, with a star across the hilt. 

“Starrysword,” Tamin said, eyeing up the weapon, nodding his head. 

“Do you want it?” John asked, staring at the Iyrman. 

“It is yours,” Tamin said.

“What does it do?” John inquired.

“Starrysword?” Akrat asked, walking over. “Can I hold it?” 

John passed it over. Tamin and Akrat admired it for a long moment. They had heard the tales of the weapon.

“The sword can turn into a beam of light which explodes in the distance into light,” Akrat said.

“What?” 

“It will reappear if you call for it within the day, or it will reform where it had landed,” Tamin said, nodding his head.

“It is a great weapon,” Akrat said, handing it back.

“Is it that good?”

“Yes,” the pair replied. “It’s enchantment is beyond basic.”

Rogryaen frowned, watching as they were all taking away the precious magical items he had gathered over centuries. Of course, he’d wait a hundred years or so to regain them from the others, but the Deathsingers would keep the weapons for much longer, and he’d have to give up on them if he wanted to keep his life. 

Akrat scoured the place, trying to replace a blade for himself. That’s when he felt it, something calling to him. He turned on his heel, glancing all around. He followed the trail, and then stuck his sword into a pile of gold, before pulling out a sword. 

It was a dark blue gem, Sapphicule, with lightning coursing through the entirety of it. 

‘No! Not my precious!’ Rogryaen frowned. ‘I was going to give that to my daughter…’

“You will slay Daegyar,” Akrat said, nodding his head slowly.

The young drakken trio looked around, staring at all the wealth. “Wow…” They took some gems for themselves, since they were told they can take a few things. 

“Here,” Akrat said, handing a shortsword to Bili. “It is of a basic enchantment, but it will grow with you.” Akrat also found him a set of breastplate armour, a pair of braces, and a shield, each with a basic enchantment. Though they were numerous, Akrat decided not to take too much for himself.

Bili accepted them, having not expected it. “Thank you!”

“These come with a responsibility,” Akrat said. “You must live up to that.”

“Yes!”

Kendrick walked over to Timothy, who turned around to look at him. It wasn’t as though he could sneak up on her, but he still felt a little sad about how easy it was for her to pick up on him. He held out the necklace, before placing it on her. “It’ll save you in your direst hour. If it ever goes off, just run.”

Timothy nodded her head slowly, before hugging him quickly.

Kendrick smiled. “I’ll make sure you get back safe and sound, alright?”

Timothy looked up at him, seeing the look of grim determination in his eyes. She frowned, but nodded slowly.

With everyone equipped, and the items gathered, mostly gems and magical weapons, they returned back to the village, leaving the dragon to take the rest of his hoard and settle elsewhere.

When they settled in the village, they sorted through all the rewards, parting all the gems so that each group had their own treasure. 

“Will you take my share back to the Iyr?” Akrat asked. 

“I will.” Tamin nodded his head.

“Take our share too,” Kendrick said, handing over a few gems from his Royal Guard.

Tamin looked to Akrat, who nodded his head, and the Iyrman took the gems. “I will speak the tale,” Tamin said.

“Thank you,” Kendrick replied. They retained a few gems for themselves, though he handed his to Timothy.

They rested for a few days. Though the songs were sung, and the people celebrated, with the drakken feeling the liberation running through them, the three Royal Guards remained solemn.

“Good luck, Akrat,” Tamin said, shaking the man’s forearm. “I will speak of your tale when I return.”

“There is no better respect,” Akrat said, shaking Tamin’s forearm, before his group set off. Akrat watched, seeing the four Iyrmen go with their treasure and stories.

Kendrick and the other Royal Guards watched them too. Kendrick knew this would be the last time they’d meet.  

“We will slay Daegyar,” Akrat said, renewed now that he had this blade at his side, claimed from a dragon which surrendered to him. What a tale it was already, but it did not calm the rage within his other heart.

“Yes,” Kendrick said, nodding his head. ‘Or I’ll die trying.’ 

Akrat turned to Bili. “We will go alone,” he said, speaking to the young drakken. The other two of the trio had accepted that they would be left behind, but Bili was still pouting. “You have a responsibility now, with that armour and that weapon. You must protect the people. If we are gone and Daegyar attacks, it will be up to you.”

“I will,” Bili said, nodding his head. “Come back, Deathsinger.”

“I will, and I will tell you the tale.” Akrat smiled. He took the boy’s shortsword, and handed Bili his old sword, the sword which had been given to him by his mother, Ikrat. “I will return to swap blades with you again, so wait for me.”

Bili smiled. “I will.”

With that, he left, taking with him the Captain, John, and Timothy. It would be only those four who would slay Daegyar. This time everything had changed, because now they would have no distractions, either around them, or within them. 

They followed Akrat’s lead, going back to where they had met Daegyar last time. Arkat had told them his plan, and though it was dangerous, they had accepted the risk. They were once again on the same ridge, which caused Timothy to stop. 

“I won’t let you drop,” Kendrick said.

She nodded her head, but she could feel the anxiety attack her heart. She remained sandwiched between John and Kendrick, who formed a shield around her front and back. If she would fall, Kendrick would step forward to grab her. 

“Are you a little mouse again?” Kendrick teased, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Relax.”

Timothy almost smiled, but they heard a harsh exhale escaping Akrat’s lips. She pursed her lips together, clenching her fist. 

All fell silent for a moment. 

They waited for a breath, before the poison mist washed over them. The Royal Guard dropped to a knee, leaning up against the wall as they inhaled deeply before the poison came against them. It invaded them, but this time, they did not care as it set within them. Even as the dragon fear tried to take them, they pushed it off, and even if it had taken them, they would have rested up against the mountain.

Timothy shuddered, feeling the poison fill her. She glanced over the edge, which caused her to panic once again, seeing the white mist.

“I am Akrat son of Ikrat,” Akrat exclaimed, roaring through the mist, digging his blade into the dragon, “and I have come to kill you, Daegyar!” 

Daegyar howled in pain, having not expected the Iyrmen to charge through the mist towards him. He blasted the poison mist away with his powerful wings, snarling as Akrat glued to his side with his blade. 

Timothy shook her head, the roar of the Iyrman focusing her. She reached out, the bow forming in her hands as she drew the bowstring back, aiming it up towards the dragon. With no arrow, she let the string loose, which let out a wisp of magic, which flew through the air. 

‘One.’

It struck Daegyar’s side, though barely tickled his black scales, but the message had been sent. Even this little mouse, known as Timothy, was going to fight this time. 

Akrat roared, as Daegyar flew out of reach of two blades, the dragon carrying him off. “Come Daegyar! Let us fight to the death! I swear to you, only one of us will live this day!”

The dragon roared. “You have made a mistake, Deathsinger! I shall slay you and then your foolish whelps who have followed you this way!” He carried Akrat off, over the mountain wall.

“You can try!” Akrat brought out a shortsword, the very same he had taken from Bili, before stabbing the dragon in the side, using it to keep him pinned to the dragon. He pulled his lightning blade out of the dragon, before jabbing Daegyar constantly as they flew around. 

Daegyar had tried to take the Iyrmen away far enough so they wouldn’t be intruded upon, but the blade was piercing so deeply within, and the lightning was surging through his entire form, causing him to twitch and quiver. 

Blood continued to spill from him, and it eventually dove downwards, towards a rocky clearing, trying to slam Akrat across the stone. 

Akrat leapt off, grabbing his sword with both hands, before facing the dragon, which still had Bili’s sword within it.

“You are alone now, Deathsinger,” Daegyar snarled, landing on the stone, trying to not twitch in pain. He roared, the roar echoing all along the range, travelling to the three Royal Guards.

“Alone?” Akrat cracked his neck before roaring, adding to the echo, and charged forward towards the dragon. He ducked under its talon, moving to its side, where it would be blind. However, Arkat knew that the dragons had a greater sense, and so as the dragon brought its claw to where he was, having thought the Iyrman would be tricked by its psuedo blindness, he tore into the talon with his crackling sword.

Daegyar wailed in pain. “Deathsinger!” Their clash almost echoed throughout the entire mountain range, with Akrat fighting with the spirit of the three dead Royal Guard. As the dragon blasted him with poison again, and crashed against him with teeth and claw, he did not yield. 

Daegyar’s wounds were heavy, but he was still a mighty dragon against a young Iyrman. He continued to slam down against the Iyrman, cutting into flesh deeply once again, though Akrat didn’t seem to falter.

‘Soon! Soon you will fall, Deathsinger!’

Akrat’s vision blurred, and he could barely grip his sword. He tried to leap over a talon, but was slammed down into the ground by it. He stabbed Daegyar, but he was slowly being crushed under it. 

‘No! No! I am so close!’ He thought about the promises he had made, which fuelled him for another stab, but he could hear the snapping of bone as he was crushed. He snarled as his eyes narrowed, his vision blurring. In his last moments, all he could see was the blackness of death, whose name was Daegyar.

‘Two.’

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