Omen: 7, 14
Smithing Check (Strength)
D20 + 6 = 9 (3)
Omen: 7, 14 -> 7
14 + 6 = 20
Smithing Check (Constitution)
D20 + 5 = 16 (11)
Adam plucked a Thread of Fate, not thinking of the consequences for a mere 14, and thus Fate was forever changed. He forged an axe, one he would enchant in the future, either to sell or to hand to one of his future workers.
‘How are they doing without me?’ Adam thought, before he made his way to the extended Rot family estate.
Adam entered the courtyard of the Rot family estate, bringing with him an air of awkwardness. He glanced around to the Iyrmen, nodding his head slowly to them, though noted that Jarot, the old man, and Jirot were missing. Baby Jarot was within his basket, staring up at all the faces, not recognising them, though once he saw his father, he smiled and cooed.
“Jarot, my cute little babby, where is your babo and your sister?” Adam asked, lifting the boy up, holding him close to his chest.
“Jirot is unwell,” Mulrot said, calmly.
“What?”
“Jarot is looking after her.” The Family Elder guided Adam to the room where Jirot was kept, the form of the one armed Iyrman casting a shadow over her.
Jirot was fast asleep, but her breath was coarse and loud, as though it was scratching her throat.
“I should go get Vonda,” Adam said. “No, I have Healing Word, I can-,”
Jarot almost whacked Adam upside the head, but he was holding baby Jarot, so merely grabbed it instead. “What are you thinking? Trying to cast magic in this month, you fool.”
“Then what am I meant to do?” Adam asked, feeling how tightly the old man was holding his head, not quite hard enough to hurt, but enough for him to feel the pressure of an Iyrman’s strength.
“She must rest,” Jarot said, letting go of Adam’s head. “There is a herb the forest may hold. It will be brought to the Iyr.”
“Right,” Adam said. “A team needs to be formed. I’ll go get…” ‘Who can I get? Jurot, Kitool, and Jaygak are all gone. Should I take Lucy and Mara? No, they’re busy in the Iyr. Vonda? Dunes? No, magic is awkward this month…’
“A team has already been formed,” Jarot said.
“What?”
“Tarot has formed the team, taking with him Experts and Masters of our family.” Jarot’s eyes remained glued to the little girl.
Adam held his son against his chest, who could feel how quickly his father’s heart was beating. “Where are they? I’ll go too.”
“Relax, Adam,” Jarot said, calmly. “Otkan has gone with them.” Jarot’s heart would have been beating as hard as Adam’s, but after hearing that Jirot was ill, Otkan went to assist to ease the old man’s heart.
“Well, if it’s Otkan…” Adam quickly shut his mouth, realising what he had said. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Tarot and the others of the Rot family, but Otkan was someone who he trusted more than the extended Rot family. “Thanks.”
Jarot sighed. He wanted to go too, but he was needed here, to look after Jirot and Jarot. Tarot had put out the call personally, wanting to earn Adam’s good grace after what had happened.
Adam frowned, holding Jarot close to his chest. ‘What the hell happened? Is it because she moved to a different place? No, there’s no way Jarot would have moved her if she was going to get sick.’
“At times like this, leave it to us, Adam,” Jarot said. “No matter what happens, little Jirot will be fine. I can guarantee no one can take my precious Jirot from me.”
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“How can you say that? She’s obviously sick because she misses her father. What a silly girl, if you missed me, you could have just said. Babo is such a bad influence on you…” Adam could see the sweat on her forehead, her thin hair stuck against it. He kissed her forehead.
A short while later, Konarot appeared. She pouted up at her father, carrying with her one of the fine furs that Entalia had gifted the triplets as part of their hoard. Kirot and Karot also held their own fine furs, their own personal blankies.
“Sorry, sorry,” Adam said, pulling them in close to hug them tight. “I should have come back to you. Thank you, Aunt.”
Sonarot smiled. “I could not hold against her. She pouted and threatened to cry before me, and she would not eat.”
“You silly girl, how could you worry Aunt Sonarot like this?” Adam lifted his daughter up and showered her in affection. “No matter how cute you are, you can’t do something like that.”
Konarot wrapped herself around her father and sucked on her thumb, her siblings following suit.
“They may remain within the family estate,” Sonarot said. “It would be good for the children to know their family.”
Adam held onto his triplets, not allowing the children a chance to meet them, but he couldn’t help it since they slept so well against him.
Omen: 10, 14
Konarot narrowed her eyes at the old man who had appeared in the Rot family estate, clutching at her father’s sleeve tightly.
“What are you doing here?” Adam asked, raising his brows towards Strom. “More trouble?”
“I don’t want to hear that from you,” Strom said, placing down a barrel of ale for the Rot family. “You shouldn’t tempt Fate this month. It will be chaotic enough without you.”
Adam stared up at the old man for a long moment. ‘Did I tempt Fate and make Jirot sick? No, that’s too coincidental, isn’t it? No, is there anything coincidental when it comes to me?’ “Alright.”
Strom sighed. He couldn’t believe that he had come to tell someone to have less fun, but he didn’t want anything to happen to his six little stars, who would cause havoc on the world if they grew up well.
It was later in the day that Jarot huffed angrily at Adam, who was sitting beside him, frowning over the tiny ill Goblin. “I already worry enough!” Jarot whispered angrily. “You will only further sour the mood!”
“I’m her father, old man!” Adam replied, his voice also a whisper. “How can you ask me to leave? I can’t! What if something happens to her?”
Jarot rubbed his forehead. “You do not need to worry. Not even Baktu can take her away from us.”
Adam raised his brows, wondering how an Iyrman could invoke Baktu’s name so easily. Every time he did it, he got into trouble, but to hear Jarot say it, it caused the tension in his shoulders to release.
‘I guess I’ll go smith…’
Smithing Check (Strength)
D20 + 6 = 10 (4)
Smithing Check (Constitution)
D20 + 5 = 18 (13)
Adam’s smithing was as poor as his heart that day, though he was able to stave away the effects of forging a barely passable axe.
‘I can’t even go see my poor little babby…’
Adam spent the evening with his triplets, holding them close to him. He fed them and washed them for bed, before sleeping with them wrapped around him.
Sonarot brought a blanket for them, but decided against it. ‘They are Half Silver Dragons.’
Omen: 6, 13
Smithing Check (Strength)
D20 + 6 = 7 (1)
Smithing Check (Constitution)
D20 + 5 = 8 (3)
The Rot family decided against sending him back that day, seeing the stress and haggardness overwhelm the Half Elf. They had heard stories about Adam, how he had flung himself forward to slay Vandra, the White Dragon who would cause difficult even for Jarot, and even a Blue Dragon. Yet, the Half Elf was just a shadow as he held his daughter’s hand, feeling how hot her body had become.
Omen: 1, 20
‘Damn,’ Adam thought, wondering how he could use the 20 to help his daughter. However, Strom’s warning replayed within his mind, and he sighed.
Jirot fell asleep after being fed, though Adam remained with her for a short while after. He kissed her forehead, and brushed her hair gently, before going off to smith.
Smithing Check (Strength)
D20 + 6 = 25 (19)
Smithing Check (Constitution)
D20 + 5 = 23 (18)
‘I can’t be moping around,’ Adam thought as he forged another axe. He returned that evening with a less hollow look, more like the Adam the Iyrmen knew.
“Which story do you want me to read you?” Adam asked, holding up two books. Jirot’s left hand twitched first, so Adam picked the book in his right hand. He had chosen two stories which had happy endings, and very little drama or sorrow.
“Huuuu!” Baby Jarot sniffled, threatening to cry. He could not see the baby who was always beside him, so constantly cried. He was already in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Where were those who used to look after him and give him his milk? Where was the old man who would tell him so many tales?
The other children wondered why the Goblin cried so much, and as he was taken away, they muttered between themselves.
“Is it because he is a Goblin?”
“He is not a Goblin, he is an Iyrman.”
“He cannot be an Iyrman.”
“Why not?”
The children argued between one another, before going to Churot, who was reading a book. He hadn’t done any maths ever since Jirot had been ill, finding the mood too dark.
“Cousin Churot, is baby Jarot an Iyrman?” a child asked.
Churot blinked. “He is cousin Jurot’s nephew.”
The children stared up at the Devilkin teen, before glancing between one another, thinking about what had been said.
“Yes,” a child said. “He is cousin Jurot’s nephew.”