The triplets sat alongside their distant baby uncles and aunts. They were so through their nana, as they were her nieces and nephews. Tonagek spoke a tale to the children, Danagek sitting on his lap, the large boy about as large as Gurot and Kavgak. The children listened intently to one of the many Gek tales. During the tale, a few guests had arrived, those which the children had long become accustomed to.
“Papo,” Lanarot called, embracing Tonagek.
“Little Lanarot,” Tonagek greeted, hugging her with one arm, before allowing her to greet her cousin.
“Dana,” Lanarot said, hugging the boy tight. “You ah okay?”
“Okay,” the boy replied, hugging the girl back.
“Did we interrupt the tale?” Sonarot asked.
“It was the end of the chapter,” Tonagek replied, before the children were dismissed, allowing them to play.
The pair shared tea, though since it was the Gek family estate, Tonagek poured the tea for his sister. Sonarot noted the necklace her brother wore, a simple necklace made of string and three scales of the blue dragon his nephews had slain a few years ago.
“I will bring Jirot and Jarot tomorrow to play,” Sonarot promised.
“Can you take them from their greatfather?” Tonagek asked.
Sonarot smiled in response, sipping the tea her brother had made, which tasted lightly of berries. “Father is like that.”
“So he is,” Tonagek replied. “He is not like greatfather at all.”
Sonarot thought of their greatfather, who had gone to die when Jurot and Tanagek, who had been named after the old man, had been born. “Yes.” The old man had been rather cold, very much like what the Aldishmen thought Iyrmen were.
Tanagek the Dutiful.
He had been a man of duty, taking the duties of Family Head and Family Elder. He was a man of the Gek family before he was a husband or father.
“Since I am an Iyrman,” Tonagek said.
“I should do as an Iyrman does,” Sonarot continued.
The line had been passed down to them to explain the ridiculousness that was Tanagek the Dutiful.
“Have you spoken of his tale to the children yet?”
“Not yet,” Tonagek admitted. “The tale of Bloodblade is next.”
If it was the tale of Bloodblade, Sonarot assumed it must have been one of the first Bloodblades, for it made no sense to speak of their uncle’s tale before their greatfather’s. After all, it was Tanagek the Dutiful who had returned the Bloodblade back to the family. She glanced to the side to find Karot standing beside her, Danagek beside him, though the rotund boy stared at his father expectantly.
Tonagek lifted his son up onto his lap, pushing away his cup of tea so it was out of the boy’s reach. Sonarot lifted Karot up, who wrapped an arm around her neck and rested his head against her shoulder. She turned to see the rest of the triplets waiting expectantly.
Sonarot smiled.
While the triplets cuddled their grandmother, Adam watched the fight between the large summoned earth elemental and the tyrantboar. The large summoned earth elemental caught the tyrantboar within its rock hard arms, lifting it up as though it were a pillow, before slamming it into the earth behind it. The tyrantboar’s flames flickered for a moment while the tribesfolk darted around it, though only three stepped forward to face it. They wielded long spears, jabbing away at the creature, while it violently thrashed.
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‘That’s one way of handling it, I suppose,’ Adam thought, his eyes glancing aside to see the Iyrmen dispatching the smaller boars. They worked with glorious efficiency, which was different to Iyrman efficiency, for the way they fought certainly wasn’t to kill them as quickly as possible, but rather, to bring back a story to the Iyr. Iyrman efficiency would have seen the fireboars already dead, with the tyrantboar on the way.
As Adam’s eyes fell back to the tribesfolk, he gasped.
Mana: 18 -> 15
Spell: Fly
Adam raised Wraith into the air, chanting out the words to his spell, the magic filling his entire body. As the tingling sensation swam through him, his feet lifted off the ground, and the half elf darted through the air, flying towards the fallen group. He reached into his inner robe pocket, and a smaller pocket within, reaching for a diamond.
“Adam,” Jurot said as the half elf landed on the ground. He stepped in front of the half elf, stopping the young man from stepping further ahead.
“Jurot, the-,”
Jurot placed a hand onto Adam’s shoulder. “We cannot interfere.”
“What are you…” Adam replied before falling silent to Jurot’s gaze, the young Iyrman shaking his head lightly.
“It is not our right to interfere.”
As the dying woes of the tyrantbear grew silent, Adam stared at the two tribesfolk who lay deathly still. One had been run through by a tusk, and another had been hit by a hoof so viciously, their mangled body was twisted in unnatural ways.
Just like that, the fighting was over.
“…” Adam’s heart pounding in his chest wildly. “You should tell them I can save them.”
The tribesfolk with the shawl mask and the staff slammed their staff into the earth and raised a finger towards the half elf, shaking their head at him.
“We cannot deny them their rights, Adam,” Jurot said.
Adam clenched his jaw. He wanted to complain, but since it was Jurot saying so, what else could he do? He could feel the hand at his shoulder squeeze it gently, before letting it go.
‘I have the power to save them, though…’
“Adam,” Jaygak called, patting his back gently. “Faool was wounded during the bout.”
“Right,” Adam replied.
Lay on Hands: 35 -> 25
Adam’s warm magic filled the young Iyrman, whose skin began to stitch itself shut. Faool let out a low sigh, bowing his head lightly.
“Thank you, cousin Adam.”
“Yeah,” Adam replied. “Any time.”
The Iyrmen began to take the bodies of the dead fireboars they had killed, dragging them to the outpost, leaving the tribesfolk to deal with the tyrantboar and their dead.
“I killed three boars,” Lucy said upon their return, grinning wide. She eyed up Adam for a moment, noting he had become slightly smaller.
“Sure,” Adam replied.
“…” Lucy had been waiting for Adam’s rebuttal, since technically he had also killed three, one with his magic while the boars had charged their outpost. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Adam replied.
‘…’ Lucy exchanged a look with Mara.
The group began to butcher the boars, while some began to shift the earth to create a grave. Adam assisted with his new magic, shifting the earth with ease once they had softened it up with their shovels. He glanced aside to see the tribesfolk digging two graves where they had slain the tyrantboar.
“I wouldn’t have asked for a debt or anything,” Adam said.
“It does not matter,” Jurot replied. “They earned a good death.”
“What’s so important about dying a good death?” Adam asked, his voice quivering for a moment before he calmed himself. “Jurot. If I end up dying a good death and Vonda can bring me back, will you deny her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I would bring you back, because that is what you wished for.”
“I’m just letting you know, if you die a good death, I’m bringing you back.” Adam glared into Jurot’s eyes through his visor.
“Okay.”
“Would you prefer it if I left you to die?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“So Lanarot, Turot, Asorot, Gurot, Murot, will hear the tale and will go on to do more,” Jurot replied.
“If you want them to do more, you should stay alive and make sure they do more themselves,” Adam replied.
“My death will inspire them.”
“What would I tell your mother.”
“You-,” Jurot began, though found his throat clamping tight. “…”
“While you’re happy dying a good death, I’m the one whose gotta pick up the pieces, Jurot. I’m the one that has to tell your mother. To tell Lanarot, our sister. To tell our cousins, some of whom won’t even remember you. To tell my children. I’m the one who has to watch them cry.”
Jurot remained silent for a long while as Adam went back to using his magic to move the earth. Jurot stared at the grave, a grave which may have been meant for him.
“Adam?”
“Yeah?”
“If I do die, and you cannot bring me to life, you must bring my body back to the Iyr.”
“I won’t have to worry about that since you won’t die.”
Jurot placed a hand on Adam’s shoulder, causing him to stop moving the earth. “You must promise me, brother.”
Adam saw the serious look in Jurot’s eyes, and upon hearing the last word, his heart almost skipped a beat. He had heard so many of the Iyr’s tales, and rarely, he would hear how the Iyr could not reclaim the body. Every time such words were spoken, there was a sadness within those words.
“Yeah,” Adam promised.
Jurot bowed his head, standing silently beside Adam as he continued to dig the grave. “Adam?”
“Yeah?”
“I am not so easy to kill.”
Adam paused for a moment, turning back to face his brother. “Yeah.”