The Iyrmen remained standing close by, their weapons gripped tightly within their hands. The looming Iyrmen baked over them like a shadow of death atop the bandits.
‘I should have brought Mattias along,’ Balrog thought, his eyes scanning between the Iyrmen. ‘No, I should have brought them all.’
The tense atmosphere had disappeared. No longer did the villagers cower in fear, but with the numerous Iyrmen in sight, they clutched at their weapons more confidently. A couple of guards even stepped forward, but Tazwyn raised her hand off Jurot’s shoulder and motioned them back.
The Iyrmen were here, so they would need to take responsibility for dealing with the bandits. There was no need to outnumber them, for a good fight would be lost.
“Jurot,” Adam said, “do you remember this guy?”
Jurot was overcome with his rage and shame, which clouded his thoughts. He didn’t question how Adam knew, too busy focused on the flashing images of when he was young. Even now, if it wasn’t for the ghost of Tazwyn’s grip, he would have charged in to die already to wash away the shame he had brought to his father.
Balrog was focused on the Iyrmen totally now. ‘I could take one of them on,’ Balrog thought, his eyes flashing across the Iyrmen. Yet, he also knew that each of the Iyrmen around him could slaughter the rest of his men like sheep. ‘Carter and Daryl might last for a few moments, but those new guys’ll die before I blink.’
“Why don’t we end things here?” Balrog asked, pulling his hand away from the hilt of his axe, not wanting to remind the Iyrmen of whose grip he had torn the weapon from. “We’ll hand over some tribute for the village to get back on its feet, and we’ll leave with the understanding that the Iyrmen are protecting this village.”
“We can’t let them go,” Adam said. “They’ve kidnapped children. We need to save them.” Adam’s eyes darted to Argon, hoping the Iyrman would be spurred to act due to his word.
“We smuggle children, sure, but who said we have any right now?” Balrog asked. “Iyrmen, let’s just end things here, peacefully, without blood,” the bandit urged, trying to settle the Iyrmen down.
“Do you really think I’m just going to let you go?” He drew his sword, but Tazwyn quickly grabbed his shoulder.
‘Who the hell is this crazy bastard?’ Balrog thought. “That’s not how it’s done in this land.’
“You’re misunderstanding something.” Adam cracked his neck. “I’m not doing this under the eyes of the law or the gods! I’m doing it because I won’t let you go, you no good bastard! Release the children!”
Balrog hadn’t drawn his axe yet, and seeing how the Iyrman had stopped the boy and had sheathed their weapons, he sighed. ‘Phew. Looks like I’ll be getting out of this alive.’
“What are you doing?” Adam asked, feeling the strength of the Iyrman’s grip against his shoulder increase.
“I am stopping your death.” Tazwyn squeezed his shoulder through his armour. “We can’t have you die before we step into the Iyr.”
“How much tribute do you offer, Balrog the Bane?” Argon asked.
Adam threw the Iyrman leader a look. “What? Hey! What are you doing?” He hadn’t expected Argon to offer Balrog a way out. ‘What the hell?’
“Since he has offered peace before he has drawn his axe, we should settle matters here.” Argon shook his head. “This is how it’s done in this land as Iyrmen.”
‘What the hell is he talking about?’ Adam looked to Jurot desperately. “Jurot! They have a bunch of children captive!”
“We have not seen the children,” Jurot said, still glaring at Balrog. “We can’t act without purpose.” His eyes met Argon’s for a moment and the boy looked away. Even if he wanted to attack, he couldn’t. He’d shame Argon, who had been kind enough to assist them.
‘I’m sorry, Jurot, but you must bite your anger and shame here.’ Argon remained staring at Balrog, waiting. Even he had to bite his anger. The Iyr had rules, and the rules should be followed. Even the axe in Balrog’s hands wasn’t good enough grounds to attack him, not when the man had yet to spill blood.
‘Damn it! I can’t believe the Iyrmen are…’ Though, could Adam blame them? He wasn’t exactly trustworthy. It seemed more like he was fighting for fame. Adam, son of Fate, slayer of Balrog. ‘Shit.’ Adam inhaled. “I didn’t expect Iyrmen to run from a fight,” Adam spat, pushing Tazwyn’s hand from his shoulder, and he stepped forward, sword in hand. He reached into his pocket to grab his die too, keeping it within his shield hand.
“You would fight alone?” Jurot asked, throwing a look to Adam in shock. ‘It wasn’t long ago you had said you didn’t want to die. What are you doing, son of Fate?’
“I would prefer if you fought by my side, Jurot, but it’s more important that you return to the Iyr alive.” Adam inhaled deeply again. “However, I can’t let them leave so freely. If they want to leave, it’ll have to be when I’m dead!” Adam gripped his blade tightly in his hand. He couldn’t just let Balrog go, not when he knew that the bandit had kidnapped a bunch of children. No, he wasn’t sure that there were a bunch of children, but did that matter? Even if there was only a slightest chance, he had to act.
Tazwyn and Argon exchanged a look, unsure of what Adam was doing. Adam surely had no proof the bandit had children, and yet he was going to step forward and risk his life. ‘How troublesome,’ the pair thought.
Even Balrog tossed Argon a look, unsure of what was happening. “I heard he speaks for himself, but that he’s backed by your swords. So as long as we don’t kill him, we can leave?”
‘Adam’s guaranteed by us, but can we let him fight and get beaten?’ Argon threw a look to Tazwyn, nodding his head slowly.
Tazwyn stepped forward. “Adam, yo-“ Tazwyn began, only to be cut off by the enraged Adam.
“Fuck! What a shit story this would be to tell!” Adam exclaimed. “Jurot! Is this going to be a part of your story? That you let a bunch of bandits go? Not just any bandit, but the same bandit which had shamed your father? Do you have no shame?” Though the words were meant to shame Jurot into action, shame quickly filled Adam.
Tazwyn drew her blade once again, stepping up to Adam. ‘Damn it! I should have stopped him!’
Omen: 3, 14
“One hit!” Adam grit his teeth, quickly sliding to face Tazwyn down. “One hit!”
Tazwyn paused as Adam stared into her eyes, watching as he crept cautiously around. “What?”
“Jurot, if you get to him, I can guarantee you one hit.” Adam’s eyes remained focused on Tazwyn, who remained steady ahead of him. She was like a mountain, one he couldn’t even dare to climb. “The Iyrmen definitely won’t let you die! If you get to him, I’ll definitely allow you to land a hit!”
Jurot remained like a statue. He understood that if he stepped forward, he’d be admonished by his elders. By attacking Balrog, he’d be undermining his leader’s words. Considering how close they were to the Iyr, it would be a greater shame, and in front of all these villagers too.
‘One hit.’
He clenched his fists together, shutting his eyes tight. “Adam.”
When he called for Adam, even the villagers waited with bated breath. The grip on their weapons tightened, and the area grew cooler, even with the sun beating down above them.
Argon and the other Iyrmen waited too.
‘Jurot…’ Argon’s fingers twitched. ‘You’re no longer a child, Jurot. You have the tattoo of your family, the same as your father before you. Your blue circle, your blue diamonds. The moment you left the Iyr to make a name for yourself, you were no longer under the protection of the Iyr.’
Argon could no longer demand Jurot to do anything. Even when Jurot was told to use a warhammer, it was still his choice to make. Though it would shame him, it was to save the lives of the people, and Jurot had made the choice to listen. Right now, Argon could only wait. This would be the first real choice Jurot would make, and Argon couldn’t take that away from an Iyrman who had gone through his rites. Even if Argon was shamed, this was something Jurot had to do.
“Are you sure he has kidnapped children?” Jurot asked, his fingers twitching, his body growing hot with anticipation.
Adam remained focused on Tazwyn, but he took the chance to meet Jurot’s gaze. “I’m willing to bet my life on it.”
Jurot closed his eyes shut tight, gritting his teeth, clenching his jaw.
“Two hundred gold,” Balrog said. “We’ll bring two hundred gold.”
“One hit,” Jurot whispered.
Tazwyn caught the whisper, snapping her head towards Jurot, raising her blade towards him. Before she could call for him to bring him back to his senses, the young Iyrman snarled like a beast, leaping forward as he drew his axe. “One hit!” Even if he were to die this day, if he could wash away the shame of that day, it would be worth it.
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‘How manly,’ Kandal thought, his fingers already around the handle of his greataxe.
‘Fight!’ Eshva grabbed at the handles of her warhammer, spinning them as she stepped forward.
‘Nice,’ Dargon thought, reaching for his greatsword. ‘Finally, some action!’
Battle Order
1D20 + 1 = 5 (4)
“Fuck! You fucking bastard!” Balrog drew his axe to meet the young Iyrman in battle. He swung his blade down, trying to cut the raging Jurot down so he could turn to concentrate on the more imposing threats. His axe had cut down plenty of great warriors, so an Iyrman who had just left the Iyr did not concern him one bit. ‘I just need to drop him and use him as a hostage again,’ he thought. ‘The Iyrmen won’t allow him to suffer a coward’s dea-‘
Omen: 3, 14 -> 14
As Balrog swung his axe down, a thread of Fate snapped.
A thousand miles away, a small group of travellers were beset upon by bandits. The leader, a seemingly human woman, drew her sword, with the other seemingly human woman near her drawing her bow and arrows. The dwarven man donned his shield, already praying to the gods. The human man brought up his staff, which he almost dropped. An arrow meant for the human man’s heart, found its way to strike his shoulder instead.
Balrog’s axe, which was definitely going to remove Jurot’s shoulder, slipped out of his practised grip. ‘What?’
Adam grinned from behind his helmet. The die within his shield hand remained still, but the various dots which were etched into the faces were shifting between one another.
“Didn’t I tell you?” Adam said. “I am Adam, son of Fate!”
Jurot had dreamt of this moment. Time and time again, he had thought about Balrog, about the day he had been caught. The day his father had surrendered in order to save him. He had created a blot on his father’s tale, one formed out of his stupidity. He gripped his axe handle tighter, hearing the swoosh of the magical axe, which missed his shoulder, cutting through the tips of his hair.
A dagger approached Jurot from the side, but he did not care. He had one thing he had set out to do the moment he had drawn his axe, and only death would stop him. As the dagger approached his neck, a greataxe tore through the bandit, splitting him in half across his waist. It tore through flesh and bone, and roaring laughter accompanied the gasp.
“Go, son of Surot!” Kandal roared, his face a giant grin. A sword had found itself into his side, but the Iyrman laughed it off, wanting to see.
“I am Jurot, son of Surot!” Jurot declared, swinging his axe recklessly. He didn’t care if he was going to be struck down, but in that moment he just wanted one thing. His blade cut through the man’s armour, slashing him across his side, barely meeting flesh. His axe had now been wet by the blood of a worthy foe. Jurot’s lips formed into a wild grin.
“I have confirmed it!” Argon shouted, swinging his greatsword wildly. “Now step back, son of Surot!” The Iyrman tore his greatsword through a bandit, splattering blood and guts all over the scene.
Dargon almost cried with laughter, casually engaging a much worthier foe, who was barely blocking the Iyrman’s blows. “I can’t believe you almost shamed our little cousin by refusing this honour!”
“Fight!” Eshva howled, smashing her warhammer against her foe’s thigh, almost shattering it apart. “Fight!”
‘What did I do to deserve you, Adam,’ Tazwyn thought, trying to step towards Jurot in order to pull him back. She swiped her blade wildly against two bandits, forcing them to step back away from the armoured death machine who forced her way through.
Adam sighed in relief once Tazwyn walked past him, moving her focus to trying to retrieve the youngest Iyrman. Now that he had forced an encounter, he understood that things would no longer remain simple.
“Stay back,” Adam shouted back to the villagers, stepping around to try and support Jurot. He stepped up towards one of the bandits, who was currently engaged with Tazwyn.
Attack (Flanking)
D20 + 5 + 1 = 26 (20)
Critical hit!
2D6 + 2D3 + 4 = 16 (4, 3)(2, 3)
16 damage!
Adam’s blade cut through the air, catching the bandit unaware. His steel struck through the bandit’s mail, piercing through and meeting with leather, though the bandit gasped for breath, winded from the terrible blow.
“You damn bas-“ The bandit brought up his axe to catch Tazwyn’s sword as it struck down against him. ‘Damn it! We’re going to die like this!’ The bandit took a defensive posture, pulling away from the pair of them.
Two of the bandits had died, and another two were heavily injured. That left five bandits against five true Iyrmen, which was no longer a fight, but a slaughter waiting to happen.
“Form a wall!” Balrog commanded, bringing his mighty axe down against Argon’s greatsword, which was glowing almost red. His own black axe was eager for blood, but he could not quench its thirst.
As the magic weapons met, another bandit fell beside Balrog. Kandal continued to howl with laughter, dripping his blood everywhere. “Damn it, Argon! You always manage to face the strongest foes! Weren’t the two trikro enough?”
Eshva heard Kandal’s words, and slammed her axe down onto the bandit in front of her. When they had faced the two trikro, it was Argon who had led the pace of the battle. Somehow, he had managed to slay both trikro, and it wasn’t because he had been waiting for the right time. Still, under his lead, she had never had so much fun.
The bandit in front of her stared up at her wicked face. ‘She’s an angel of death! Sozain! It’s not my time yet! Please!’
“Don’t lose your focus!” Argon shouted, managing to barely catch the axe meant for his neck. Balrog was quite the foe. ‘This axe is troublesome. The Gar family should be proud.’
‘Just my luck!’ Balrog grit his teeth, quickly understanding just how strong these Iyrmen were. He had thought he would be able to clash with one of them, but Argon’s strength far surpassed his own. ‘Last time I came across that boy’s father and I could barely handle him. Even this axe, I barely managed to get it from that other bastard Iyrman when he was poisoned! Why did I think I could deal with any of these crazy bastards?’
Balrog’s arms throbbed wildly under the force of Argon’s heavy blows, which threatened to slay him in a single swipe. Though he wore splint mail, it was no more than paper under the great might of this Iyrman. ‘They’re not men! They’re god damned monsters!’ His gut churned, unsure of whether he’d manage to survive this day.
Jurot roared, ready for a fight as he swung his axe wildly towards a bandit beside him. He managed to barely force the man back, who brought up his axe to meet with Jurot’s axe, causing his axe to dent under the force of the Iyrman’s blow.
‘I’m going to die!’ the bandit thought. “Surrender! I surrender!” His voice cut through the air, signalling the other bandits.
Tazwyn kicked the wailing bandit down and stamped his chest with her heavy boot, bruising him through his mail. She brought her blade up, which grew alight with blazing fire. The bandit screamed as she struck down with her magical blade.
Attack
D20 + 5 + 1 = 19 (13)
Hit!
1D6 + 1D3 + 4 = 10 (3)(3)
10 damage!
Adam caught the blow with his own sword, managing to barely save the bandit’s life, though the fire almost licked the man’s cheek.
“What are you doing?” Tazwyn asked, surprised to see that he’d dare to catch her blow. ‘No, that’s not surprising at all.’
“He’s already surrendered! Don’t waste your time!” Adam’s voice quivered. ‘Why the hell did I save this guy?’
Tazwyn sighed, stepping away to move towards another bandit.
The bandit below dropped his axe, panting for air. He had seen his life flash before his eyes, with the angel of death becoming him into the afterlife. “No,” he spluttered as his eyes rolled back into his skull and he fell limp.
Balrog pulled away, pushing one of his comrades onto Argon. The muscled mountain of a man turned and bolted, hearing the sound of a blade piercing through mail, bone, and mail again. A soft gargled choke betrayed his comrade’s death. ‘That bastard! Why did he tell us to wait near the Iyr? I should have known! I should have known!’
Argon kicked the bandit off of his blade, dashing after the fleeing Balrog. “Balrog the Bane!” Argon roared. “Where do you think you’re going? Come and fight, you coward!” Other bandits fled past him, but he didn’t care. Balrog was the greatest foe here, and he’d be the worthiest to wet his blade.
Jurot turned to chase the fleeing bandits, but Adam grabbed his shoulder. “No, Jurot. We must remain behind to protect the village.”
Jurot turned to stare at Adam, his eyes full of bloodlust still. “You would stop me?”
“You’ve had your fun, and we’ve done our part.” Adam said, sheathing his sword. “Now we have to trust that they can save the children.”
Jurot’s brow still twitched, his veins throbbing, his face red hot with rage. He exhaled, letting the rage go, turning to watch the fleeing bandits.
Mana: 3 -> 2
Spell: Sleep
7D6 = 17 (1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 5, 6)
Adam threw out his hand towards one of the fleeing bandits. “Why don’t you take a break?” The magic flooded through his veins, shooting out towards the fleeing bandit, who felt it invade his bones.
Fortunately, Adam’s sleep was unable to take root within his mind, and he shook his head, continuing to flee. He dared not to look back. ‘Don’t look back! Just run! Mattias!’
Balrog turned, catching the swiping greatsword with his axe, his muscles tensing up with pain. “Damn it! You god damn Iyrman bastard!” Argon and Balrog met once more in combat, for most Iyrmen had the ability to move swifter than the typical man, and even those who were trained in the art of combat.
The Iyrman brought up his blade, having nearly disarmed Balrog. His body screamed at him to slay the bandit where he stood, and his muscles tensed together in order to sink his magical greatsword deep into the man’s side, to cleave through bone, all the way towards his heart.
“Argon! The children!” Adam exclaimed. “Argon!”
The Iyrman’s blade cut through the bandit’s shoulder, having aimed to cut down to slay the man quickly, but he forced his muscles to obey his thoughts, stopping the blade from sinking too deeply into the man’s shoulder. He had cut in about four finger’s width. He exhaled, pulling his blade out of Balrog, who dropped to the side, drooling.
The villagers had watched the bloodbath play out. The dance of death was hypnotising. They had heard the rumours, of course, and though they had often seen them spar with their own people, and destroy the undead, this was the first time they could see the true strength of the Iyrmen, who lived just beyond the river.
They had never seen the Iyrmen face someone alive, especially not someone with the reputation of Balrog the Bane. Yet, even he and his warriors, who had come to threaten them for tribute, folded under the might of the Iyrmen, who could cleave through grown men like they were pups.
“Take watch!” the Chief exclaimed, quickly trying to take command of the villagers.
“On the wall!” a guard added, trying to assist the Chief in spurring the villagers.
The bandits disappeared into the forest from whence they came. Yet, behind them stalked the Iyrmen, who allowed the bandits to flee, moving from shadow to shadow.
Kandal’s greataxe yearned for more blood. He left a trail behind him, allowing the others to follow.
Dargon, who had focused on making sure Jurot didn’t die, followed too, wanting a proper fight. The trikro had made a hole within his second heart, the second heart all Iyrmen possessed, the heart which beat for a good fight.
Behind him was Eshva, who could smell it, the sweet scent which was carried on the wind. ‘More fight!’
Adam pat Jurot’s shoulder, unaware that an Iyrman had set his sights on the half elf. “You know, I only had him miss you,” Adam said. “You cut him with your own strength.”
“You had him miss me?” Jurot stared at Adam, unsure of whether he should believe the half elf. Still, he had told Jurot that he’d be able to manage one hit, and he did.
“I’m pretty sure he was going to cleave through your shoulder, but I used my powers to have him miss.” The shadow of death stepped closer to Adam, ready to cut him down. “Well, at least the Gar family will get their axe back.”
Tazwyn stepped between the pair of youngsters and Argon, whose had his blade firmly gripped in hand. “Go,” she said in their tongue.
“Step aside,” Argon managed to grunt through gritted teeth.
“If there are children as he said, you will need to stop Kandal and Eshva from going too far.” Tazwyn gripped her blade tighter. “Go.”
Argon turned, dashing away from Tazwyn and the two young men. He would need to deal with Adam later, though having heard Oshgar’s name, he wondered just how much the half elf knew.
Tazwyn sighed. Argon would have sustained some injuries from facing Balrog, but even then, could she have been able to stop him? She threw a look back to Jurot and Adam.
“Can you see the future?” Jurot asked, bringing up his axe to see the blood. He smiled wide and hugged the handle.
“No,” Adam said, squeezing Jurot’s shoulder, not realising he had almost been cleaved in half. “I just know my past.”
“I can’t wait to tell mother and father!” Jurot continued to grin wide.
Adam found his throat clog up. “I’m sure your mother will love to hear the story.”