Ioxia Ebon'alon the Egg-Brain

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Role

Chapter 5

Worst of all, she knew that if her beloved mother could see her now, she
would not recognize what had become of her daughter. Ioxia was a cold-blooded
murderer. She was sharp-tongued and sarcastic in a way she'd never been. She
was purely evil, with little hope of redemption.

She didn't deserve her family name. Her village had been small and last names
were rarely used, but they did have them. Ayn'al'arana had been hers, but
that name was as dead now as all her kin. She thought of what to call
herself. Her heart was as black as her feathers and that seemed as good a
start as any. She was also a killer.

Ioxia considered the options. Blackkiller? No, too on-the-nose. Blackfeather?
Blackwing? That sounded like something an unimaginative boy would come up
with. Maybe ebony something... Ebonyblood? No, that wasn't quite right. Maybe
something for her talons? BloodTalon? Ugh, so second age. Maybe not
black...maybe "ebony". EbonyTalon? No way, that one was just plain weird.

"Ah!" she said aloud, "I've got it!" Swap a couple letters for the apostrophe
in arial custom and you've got "Ebon'alon". Now that had panache. When she
met Lord Panmorne she'd say, "Hello, sir. I am Ioxia Ebon'alon and I've come
to dedicate myself to you."

Role

Chapter 4

"What have I become?" Ioxia whispered to herself.

She was sitting on a branch in the Village of Battleragers, her wings tucked
in and her legs pulled up under her in a meditative posture. When the
adrenaline of battle didn't ward away her thoughts, she still found herself
remembering the night the mages burned her village. Despair would consume
her, and she would cry quietly. She felt very much alone.

Of all the things she lost, she missed her mother the most. She hadn't just
been her guardian, she'd been her best friend. Ioxia could always talk to her
mother, always confide her innermost thoughts and feelings. She didn't know
exactly what happened to her mother the night of the fire. She was pretty
sure she didn't want to. Her mother's first instinct had probably been to
find her. Ioxia imagined, painfully, her mother running through the smoke
calling her name. Then, in her mind's eye, she could see her beautiful mother
burst into flames, cry in death, and forever fade from Ioxia's life.

Her heart ached so much. She could never meditate as her sensei instructed.
There was no stillness in her mind. She was filled only with Rage and Hate
and the screeches of burning birds. Today was no exception. She gave up, and
flew down from her perch.

Ioxia knew she could not go on as she was, alone and full torment. She'd
hoped to fix some of that by joining the Battleragers, but so far it wasn't
working out. She was happy to have somewhere to nest, but it was a time of
strife for the Village as it fought a mostly losing war against the Empire.
The ranks were thin, and Ioxia had only met two surly duergar (one of whom
was surely the biggest bitch in the world) and an elf. Though brothers in
arms, she knew none of them would be a friend or confidant.

All was not lost, for there was one Ioxia could reach out to. Lord Panmorne.
It was said that the old god was a cunning warrior and a brilliant
strategist. He could guide Ioxia in the ways of War so she might kill
magicians and rally the Village. It was also said that the cantankerous old
man had a heart of kindness beneath his gruff exterior. She could certainly
use that too.

Role

Chapter 3

She was at crossroads, a turning point in her life. She was faced with a
decision that would say who she was and what she was about for all her days.
She should reason her response, should take time to think about the
consequences of her next choice.

But Rage filled her.

Ioxia inserted her finger slowly into the gnome's neck and felt him struggle
and squirm beneath her. She ripped out his throat as she'd done to his
companion. It felt -so- good. In that moment she knew this was not the end,
not the last magician she was going to kill. She was going to try to kill
them all. As she straightened over the corpse, a new bloody, red aura shown
around her.

Role

Chapter 2

When at last the magicians had left, she took in all the carnage before her.
Feathers of her fallen friends and family floated with pieces of ash in the
air. The smell was awful, like burned meat and horror.

Rage filled Ioxia. She screeched in her wrath. It was the call of a bird of
prey. She beat her black wings and rose from the ash. She knew she could not
win a straight fight with the mages, but maybe if she could catch them
unaware she'd have a chance. Maybe she could avenge her people. Maybe it
would ease her pain.

When she caught up to the mages she slipped into the shadows as she'd done
the night they killed all her kin. They had made camp on the roadside. They
were casting spells, apparently calling multitudes of them in the air. They
must be practicing again.

Ioxia watched from the shadows for hours. The two magicians had a pattern.
They would cast until they lacked the power for another spell, then slept.
Once rested they awoke again and began another series of incantations. If
they couldn't cast, she could beat them. She waited for them to drain their
power and sleep.

The next time they laid down, she moved in on silent wings. The first
magician was a dark-elf, she realized for the first time. Ioxia had never
seen any people other than arials like her. But, she knew from the stories
what she was looking at. She inserted her claw in the fleshy area of its
neck, right below the ear. As the dark-elves eyes went wide in shock she made
a quick jerk and pulled flesh, muscle and organ lose. A spray of blood hit
her face. It was warm and...satisfying.

Ioxia turned toward the other magician. Not a dark-elf. A gnome, she thought,
or a svirfneblin. She couldn't be sure. Just as she reached the small wizard,
it awoke. Ioxia pinned him beneath her hand.

"Stay right there you piece of shit," she hissed. The gnome saw his dead
friend, and his eyes filled with fear.
"P-p-please, no!" the gnome begged.
"Please no?" Ioxia sneered, "Did you listen when my friends, my family,
screamed 'no' to you!?"

Despite her strong words, Ioxia felt a pang of guilt. This little gnome
wasn't like the dark-elf. There was no evil in him. Maybe just ignorance?
Perhaps if she gave him mercy he could spend his life trying to atone for
what he'd done?

Role

Chapter 1

Even under the weight of her grief, the absurdity of her situation was not
lost on her. Ioxia could not believe it had actually happened to her. Mages
had burned her village. It was funny, she knew, though her anguish would
never let her laugh about it. In fact, she wasn't even sure she'd ever laugh
again. But, there it was. She'd become a cliche.

There are hundreds of thousands of words in the Common Tongue, but no
combination of them were adequate to describe her grief. Everyone she had
ever known was dead. Every nest she'd ever sat in was but ash and smoke. Her
chest felt heavy, as if her heart forgot blood for lead and sank like an
anchor into a sea of despair. Would this pain ever fade?

She looked down at her talons. They were covered in dried, brown blood. A
single teardrop fell into her hands. She didn't even know she was crying. The
tear made a small trail of red in the old blood. She tried to forget the
events of the last two days. She closed her eyes as tightly as she could and
clamped her beak tight, willing anything into her mind other than the smell
of burning flesh and homes. She was unsuccessful.

Ioxia remembered the moment they'd come. They two magicians strode right into
the edge of the Village started killing people. All the people. Children,
women, and men alike were set upon by fearsome spells. The two magicians were
dispassionate about it, see mingling ambivalent to the screams of her people.
It was as if they were just...practicing spells. What kind of wicked person
would practice spells by killing innocent people?

Her people had not been warriors. That, she supposed, was evidenced by their
utter demise. Perhaps if they'd had a champion, they'd be alive. Instead, her
people tried only to hide just as she did. Ioxia alone was successful, and
she felt guilty for that. It wasn't any skill...she'd just been born with
dull, black feathers that blended well in shadow.

The consequence of her survival was listening to every dying scream, every
wail of every mother, as her people were mercilessly burned alive. She could
have done nothing to help, she knew that in her head. But, her heart told her
she was a coward and that she should have tried to fight. She should have
died with her people, at least making some effort to save the village. She'd
done none of those things. All she did was lay as still as she could and try
not to choke on the rising smoke.

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