“Pshoo!” Jirot held out her hands in front of her, concentrating as she squatted and narrowed her eyes. “Fiyahball!” Her exclamations carried all through the park, while her greatfather sipped away at his wine, proud to think only his greatdaughter could play so well. “Pshoo! Kwoo! Pshoo!”
“Hwah!” Little Jarot swiped the air with his imaginary axe, letting out grunts and gasps as he hopped and skipped about the imaginary battlefield, easily beating up the dragons who had dared to fight him. After all, he was the Mad Dog. ‘I am so strong!’ He huffed out arrogantly.
“Babo!” Jirot shouted as she darted to him. She smirked, holding up her hands. “Fiyah! Ball! Pshoo!”
“Hah? Are you your father, that you can cast such great magic?”
“Yes! I am daddy! I am cast fiyahball. Kwooroo!”
“I am your babo, not even your father’s Fireball can defeat me!”
Jirot blinked, staring up at her greatfather in awe. “Babo! I not daddy! I daddy’s dohta!”
“You are your father’s daughter?” The older Iyrman reached up to rub his chin in thought, letting out a hum of thought. “Then your Fireball can defeat me?”
“Yes!”
“Then I am defeated,” the old Iyrman said, slumping back in his seat, closing his eyes.
“Kekekeke!”
As Jirot bullied her greatfather, her eldest sister grabbed the ball and tossed it back towards her baba. Tonagek caught the ball, before tossing it towards Kirot, who blinked as it fell in front of her. She squatted, her tail swaying from side to side eagerly, before it stopped, pressing onto the floor to help stabilise her as she tossed it awkwardly, the ball slipping out of her hand to fall behind her. She blinked, staring ahead of her to try and find the ball.
“Kirot, behind,” Konarot called, pointing towards the ball behind her.
“Ock!” Kirot dropped down to grab the ball, before tossing it again, this time towards Tonagek’s knees, the Iyrman catching the ball with a gentle crouch.
Karot braced himself, standing tall and strong, his tail pressed against the earth behind him. He scooped his arms forward right as the ball struck the earth before him, the boy pouting slightly, before he grabbed the ball and tossed it back, managing to toss it back towards the Iyrman’s chest, who caught it with ease.
“You all throw so well,” Tonagek said, before tossing the ball to his son, who stood tall and firm. The chonky little Danagek grabbed the ball with a hand and tossed it towards his father, but it struck the floor but a few steps away from him.
Danagek stared at where the ball landed, before looking up, catching his father’s eyes. “Eh?” He threw out his arms in exasperation, as though it was the balls fault it was not thrown well.
“You are right,” Tonagek replied, limping towards the ball, before a cackling little girl darted past him to grab the ball.
“Babo! Babo!” Jirot giggled wildly, holding the ball up as she dashed towards her greatfather.
“You must pass it to your sister!” Jarot called out.
Jirot stopped in her tracks, blinked as she processed what her greatfather said, before she cackled once more as she turned and ran towards her eldest sister, ball in hand.
“Jirot,” Konarot called, accepting the ball from her sister, waddling over to Tonagek.
“Konarot, bring the ball to me,” the old one armed Iyrman called.
Konarot stopped, half way towards Tonagek already. She blinked. She looked up towards Tonagek, then to Jarot.
“Konarot,” Tonagek began. “Go to your greatfather.”
“Okay,” the girl replied, rushing to her greatfather, holding up the ball to him.
“How sensible!” Jarot ruffled her hair before accepting the ball. “Kirot! You must bring the ball, okay?”
“Okay!” Kirot shouted back, bracing herself, but her eyes followed the ball, which flung far away. She blinked, looking to her greatfather, who pointed towards the ball, and she ran over towards it.
“You should not tease your greatchildren like that,” Tonagek said.
“I will tease my greatchildren because it is my right!” Jarot continued to ruffle his eldest greatdaughter’s silver hair. “Only my greatchildren can be so sensible!”
Tonagek replied with a look that said more than any word possibly could.
“Since they are my daughter’s grandchildren, and who is more sensible than my daughter?” Jarot asked, meanwhile wrapping his arm around his tiny greatson, who held his name. The boy cuddled up beside his greatfather, a small shy smile across his lips.
Tonagek thought of his sister, flashbacks to the trouble she caused as a child and even when she was an adult filling his mind. ‘Sensible?’
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The word sensible was an awkward word for the Iyrmen, who were only sensible in matters of killing. There was another who was sensible in matters of killing too.
Jurot’s axe easily dispatched two of the spectres, each which burst with the psychic magics of Phantom. Jaygak’s gleaming blade tore through a pair too, the young Iyrman willing her body forward to burst the spectres into Baktu’s embrace. Lucy’s axe bisected one, while Mara’s axe bisected another, their flaming axes barely managing to kill the creatures. Kitool’s staff and fist blurred as two more spectres burst into death, finally knowing peace.
A chill spread through Jurot as a spectre drained his life force, and though he could feel a deeper chill spread through him, his rage ripped through the chill, minimising its effects on his body. Lucy’s eyes managed to catch the sight of the Iyrman’s muscles rippling, while his red rage seemed to lighten slightly. It was not his rage which lightened, however, but his skin.
‘What are they doing to my hunky friend?’ Lucy thought gripping her axe more cautiously. Unlike Jurot, she could not resist the deathly might of the spectres magic, and seeing as how even Jurot was being effected by such a creature, she drew away from a spectre which aimed to drain her life, while Kitool flipped around the last.
Yet, the difference between a wraith and a spectre was almost night and day. The stench of death clung deeply into the wraith as Adam approached it. It was unfortunate for Adam he did not take the wraith seriously.
Fighting Spirit: 3 -> 2
Attack - Wizard’s Axe (Advantage)
D20 + 10 = 24 (14)
D20 + 10 = 24 (14)
Hit!
Wraith: 3 -> 2
Mana: 25 -> 24
Ability: Divine Smite
Divine Smite Enhanced!
2D6 + 2D6 + 3D6 + 9 = 31 (1, 4)(2, 5)(1, 4, 5)
Damage resisted!
27 damage!
Attack - Wizard’s Axe (Advantage)
D20 + 10 = 21 (11)
D20 + 10 = 23 (13)
Hit!
Wraith: 2 -> 1
Mana: 24 -> 23
Ability: Divine Smite
Divine Smite Enhanced!
2D6 + 2D6 + 3D6 + 9 = 36 (4, 5)(2, 5)(3, 4, 4)
Damage resisted!
32 damage!
Onward Soar: 1 -> 0
Attack - Wizard’s Axe (Advantage)
D20 + 10 = 21 (11)
D20 + 10 = 23 (13)
Hit!
Mana: 23 -> 22
Ability: Divine Smite
Divine Smite Enhanced!
2D6 + 3D6 + 9 = 22 (3, 5)(1, 2, 2)
22 damage!
It was unfortunate for the wraith it came across this fool of a father.
Adam inhaled deeply, smelling the undeath of the creature, which should have remained in death. ‘Lord Zaladhin, shouldn’t you take your role more seriously?’ The thought passed away as the world seemed to slow around him, and his eyes narrowed, his entire focused on the mass of black undeath before him.
Adam’s axe flashed a bright white as he darted forward, striking into the wraith so suddenly, his magic exploding through the creature. It screeched with a most terrible scream, but Adam ignored it, spinning around it as his axe flashed cold with icy magic. Adam barely noticed that the cold of his axe was being resisted, since his Divine Smite was enhanced due to the creature’s status as undead. He smote his foe into oblivion, pushing through his limits as his axe exploded into white, dissipating the last of the wraith, silencing it forever.
Jasmine’s eyes widened slightly as she saw how easily the Iyrmen, and their companions, dealt with the spectres, which were any soldiers nightmare. Then her eyes fell to Adam, who had so swiftly dealt with the wraith, with such swiftness, it was as though he were a Vice Commander of an order. ‘I thought he was a braggart!’
As Jurot’s axe swiped through a spectre, he inhaled deeply, trying to force off what deathly magic the spectre had seeped into his muscles, but he could still feel it within his body. ‘I will need to speak with a Shaman.’
“Okay?” Jaygak asked.
“Okay,” Jurot replied.
Victory!
XP Gained: +500
XP: 10 500 -> 11 000
“It’s a shame the nobles didn’t allow you to win the tournament,” Vasera said as Adam returned, the half elf tossing the core towards the dragon, whose hand blurred as she snatched it greedily from midair.
“Don’t remind me,” Adam replied, grimacing. “Do you know how much Jirot bullies me because I came third place? Next time, next time I’ll beat them all up, and I’ll see if a noble wants to ask me to lose!”
Vasera chuckled, throwing Rook a look. The pair had already come against Adam’s axe before. A few years ago, during the Noonval Tournament in East Port, Rook had come across Adam and had been thoroughly defeated. Vasera wondered how different it would have gone if she had crossed blades with him seriously. ‘Nah. Nothing would have changed.’
‘…’ Bilal’s eyes remained fixated on the half elf. The Iyrmen were impressive, and so were the demons. No one their age could hold a candle to them, no doubt, but… ‘Is he not only twenty two years old?’
The next day, the group managed to approach the village during the late afternoon. Jurot and Kitool spoke with the Chief, finding out the bad news that there were a few villagers who had made their way north, but hadn’t returned in time. While informing the Chief of the bad news, the Chief slipped the pair a small piece of paper, which Kitool read, before handing it to Jaygak.
“Karza,” Jaygak called, smirking slightly. “You should leave.”
“Leave?”
“You should not approach the Iyr at this time.”
“Can the Iyr dictate where I can and cannot go?”
Jaygak threw a look to Morkarai. “If Karza wishes to come, she will be slain.”
Karza met Morkarai’s confused gaze. “What is the meaning of this, Iyrman?”
“There are certain matters we cannot explain,” Jaygak replied. “Matters of the Iyr.”
“Karza, don’t cause trouble,” Morkarai warned.
“I came all this way and assisting escorting you all! Do you know how many creatures left us be due to my presence? Now you’re telling me to leave?” Lightning crackled around the dragon.
“I’ve said what I had to out of respect for Prince Morkarai.” Jaygak shrugged her shoulders.
“Do you think I’ll leave because you threatened me?” Karza growled, lightning crackling within her mouth.
“What’s the problem?” Adam asked, noting how loud everyone had become.
“She cannot come to the business, due to certain matters of the Iyr,” Jaygak explained.
“Damn. What a shame, since you’ve helped us quite a bit coming all this way…” Adam didn’t want to know why the Iyr wasn’t going to allow the dragon to approach. He hadn’t heard of this happening before, since the Iyr welcomed all manner of guests openly, except for when it closed its gates.
“Unbelievable!”
“How about the business smooths things over. Lady Karza, you have been invaluable in assisting us all this way, and we truly appreciate it. Why don’t we consider this a favour to us, one that you can cash in for a Greater Enhanced weapon?”
“Do you think a little gold will…” Karza paused, having expected for the half elf to offer her a pile of gold. “A Greater Enhanced weapon?”
“Indeed. If you have a Greater Enhanced weapon with particular specifications, please let us know, and we’ll pass it on to the Enchanter, who shall create it at some point and you may retrieve it from the business.”
“Not the business, but East Port,” Jaygak corrected.
“As you say, Executive Jaygak.”
“Then I’d like a lightning sword,” Karza said.
“Of course.”
Karza remained silent for a long while, before catching Morkarai’s look. “Is he messing with me?” she asked in the giant’s tongue.
“It will be done,” Morkarai assured, confused as to why the Iyr wasn’t going to allow the dragon close. It was rare to hear the Iyr treating them in such a way, but the next evening he understood.
‘What madness is this?’ Bilal cursed within his mind, almost frozen in shock.