Ios the Force of Nature, Breathless Uphill Trekker

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Role

Chapter 7

Not just children, but parents, they came in the night
And chased her poor will-o-wisps and laughed with delight.
They picked through wild berries, their Yuletide feast found
And the band sat with her treant in a drum circle round!

For the people of Galadon, away from their Order,
Found joy in their Yuletide among nature's border.
Chasing lights into woods, fresh food they could share
They laughed in the weald, and drank Yuletide night air!

Her plots became joy, a twist unforseen
She sought out her swamps, her mood still so mean.
Yet she knew not the legend she had born from this night.
The chaotic druid sprite who brought Yuletide delight!

As dawn's light now broke, Galadon still alive with its cheer,
Ios walked the weald's edge, her mission unclear.
She stopped in her tracks, for they'd left her a snack.
A new yearly tradition, now welcoming her back!

Ios fled to her swamps, grumpy and irked,
Munched on a treat she hadn't thought to have shirked.
"Next Yuletide will be different yes," she hissed with a sneer,
"Next year's Yuletide mischief yes, they truly will fear!"

Yet as she nibbled the treat, and pondered her snack
She flicked out her tongue, gave her spiked tail a whack.
But she'd never admit it. Not even in jest.
This year's Yuletide in Galadon? Just simply the best.

Role

Chapter 6

She sat Galadon's weald, in swamps she did languish
And listened with spite and with terrible anguish.
With songs they made merry these Galadon folk,
And brought to Her solstice, this year's Yuletide joke.

Their songs were TOO merry, their food was SO wasteful
Each present they wrapped and in dead trees so distasteful.
It was all much too orderly, so brass and so bold,
And it grated down her spine, like a firenewt mold.

Galadon folk would line Trade Road, joy in their heart,
And oh how she wished to just tear them apart.
"They know little of Winter Solstice yes!" she hissed in dismay.
"While they revel and... yes... carol! In this orderly way!"

So Ios drew up her idea with a whack of her spiked tail,
Her plans to disrupt Yuletide that she knew couldn't fail.
She crept from the weald, as the Yuletide began,
And came wrapped in her chaos for this dastardly plan.

First she opened her bag and let will-o-wisps take flight
And they dazzled and confused with each tiny chaos light.
Then she called to the roots that did line each sad garden,
And entangled their feast tables with natures true garland!

Then she shrieked to her crows who came there in a swarm,
They drowned the citys choir who'd been so merry and warm.
And their band oh they tried! Yet confusion was known!
For her treant was her drummer on the roof of each home!

For her last trick, Ios found their great Yuletide tree.
Covered in lights for all children to see!
She pondered her staff, and looked to their dying tree with delight!
A new serpentine staff, from their giant tree wrapped in light!

With her Solstice work done, she turned with a sneer,
Knowing she had broken their sweet Yuletide this year.
But as she watched and she listened from swamps in the wild
She heard something amiss? The laugh of a child?

Role

Chapter 5

She fled. There was no escape. She stumbled into a maze, perfect in it's
construction of disturbing precision and symmetry. It's walls were
seemlessly smooth and eerily white. She took a turn, and another, but all
led to an unsettling sameness. Until she encountered the first object: a
mirror reflecting nothing but endless white. She whacked her spiky tail and
ran again. Sameness, but then: Before her stood a clock. It ticked
rhythmically but with hands that never moved. She ran again. She turned a
corner: A silent bell swung before her, but made no sound. Each object was
perfection, unyielding control. The objects whispered at her entrapment. They
teased her with a silent, inpending doom. The order was Omnipresent. No
escape.

Flashes of lightning. Ios's eyes opened, their violet fading back to bluish
silver. Her world was beautiful, disorderly, but beautiful. Yet the subtle
terror of the labyrinth and it's silent, stark white whisperings haunted
her.

The visions, the small bizarre objects... all the implications lingered
in her conciousness, serving as a silent and disquieting reminder of the cold
perfection that had almost claimed her.

Role

Chapter 4

Awake. Whiteness. Blinding whiteness. City of Shining Walls, Voralia was
white. Perfectly white. All around her the Imperial Empire controlled
everything. Once evil but now presenting themselves as "saviors", they walked
the streets in their pristine white uniforms. Everywhere they went, they were
a symbol of unyielding order.

She walked through the streets, eerily perfect. Suddenly she was in Galadon,
not Voralian City. The Tribunal Spires towering above her, now served as the
Empire's headquarters. The spires and the "justice" they stood for were
cold and silent. No "crime" was left in this world of perfection so
suffocating. The Tribunal were a thing of stories, their purpose extinct in
a land without chaos.

She ran. She sought to escape the cities of perfection. She found herself
among the forests. No! A million tiny forest guardians surrounded here. These
odd creatures of Order were no longer friends of nature. They acted as jailers,
imposing their symphony of stillness upon all of Thera's wilderness. Trees
stood biometrically perfect. Rivers flowed with calculated precision. Life's
vibrant essence itself seemed to be extinguished.

Slowly, fearfully, she turned her eyes to the fogsin the south, feeling the
gaze of unseen magesand their weight upon her. The mages of Thar-Acacia had
become the architects of nightmares. Hidden and weaving control so subtly in
ages past, now had created the fabric of this chillingly orderly reality.
They saw her and she saw them: visionaries now imprisoned by their own
creation. They themselves were now blind. Suffocated by the horror birthed
from their dream of absolute Order.

Role

Chapter 3

She soared, high above the Voralian River. The city to the north, the storm raged around
the saurian druid in her condor form. This was her element and she thrived. Lost in a sort
of meditation, she took in not only the lands around her, but the events to come as the
world thinned to harbinger nightmarish things.

Even while the imperials march, the spire recruited, and the ancient city of Thar-Acacia
plotted, the world locked their doors, and closed their windows in hopes to block out the
nightmarish things to come. She was not afraid of these things and would be waiting for
certainly orcs would crawl forth as well, and with the mages seeking to unlock the witching
hour, duergar and minotaur villagers would again run rampant. Order mages would seek a place
to develop their magic. But she would be waiting, embracing the wild energies with the
wisdom and guidance of Rarywey. Yes, even now, the chaotic feeling was beautiful it was...

Crack! Lightning whipped its strike. Bolt. Painful. Sizzling. And she fell. Plummeting.

Dazed. The chaotic world faded away as she hit the ground.

---------------------------------------
Shadows deep, tempests tall,
Chaos spinning, downward fall.
Storms, a fear not of her own,
Betray us now, not just broken bone.

Along Voralian rivers that run so deep.
Another dread does dare to seep.
Silent. Stark. With iron might,
Order's hand. It squeezes tight.

In the mind of typicalman's dream,
Chaos may a tempest seem.
But know some souls between gasping breath,
Fear silent chill of order's death.

For in a world where shadows flee,
Order might the true terror be.
---------------------------------------

Role

Chapter 2

The old saurian stood for a long time. The little thing moved not at all, but
seemed to feed off the chaotic energy of the storm that raced out from the
black heart of Ysigrith overhead.

The saurian girl did not cry. The saurian girl not yet laugh. Her eyes held
in it so many things. In one so young, you could not help but see coy
playfulness and curiosity, yet to stare at the girl further was to see a
danger and element so out of control that the wise would fear for themselves
and the world around them. A force exuded from this strange girl. A force as
old as the universe and dawn of Thera's ages. And as the young would-be
neophyte's eyes finally turned towards him, her eyes flashed violet in the
raging storm, and he gasped, his three fingered fists clutching.

Into this age of order was born this saurian priestess, of no known parents
and no last name, born of the black heart of Ysigrith. Rare was it for any
but the children of the new saurian settlements to venture out from Ysigrith,
yet the old venerable druid knew he must try to keep her here for a time, if
only to teach her the value of life as well as destruction. He reached for
her hand.

Deep within the spire, the executioner paused, concerned as he adjusted the
scales that had somehow tilted. Far to the east, the primordial ooze begin to
stir faster and faster. Deep within the nexus rift, the couriers cried to the
island, but none there were left to answer the warnings.

The ancient druid took the young girl's hand. The storm calmed...and for a
moment.. all was quiet.

Role

Chapter 1

The storm raged across the Sea of Despair and sailors
cursed. The tiny guardians of the ancient Ashes tilted their heads
frightened, yet accepting. It was a storm beyond that which those who lived
off the Sea of Despair could remember cursing for many a season. This storm
that lashed the shores of the sea from out of the Ysigrith swamplands was
like none other seen in this age.

An ill omen some muttered. Perhaps nexus magic at work again. But nexus magic
it was not, for this storm was born of the natural world. Yet it WAS born of
a world tired and aggrieved. It was an entropic yet natural response for a
world crying out in retribution and seeking to break through the muffled ears
of city walls and dwarven caves. It was an event of an age, and as the sea
lashed against long standing rocky shores, so did the world birth chaos that
night to lash against an age of Order.

What could make sense of the small saurian girl that rose from the depths
and dark Heart of Ysigrith. Yet when the old saurian druid found her standing
their naked, scales a swirl of gray, and the tiniest spikes down the back of
her tail, the venerable druid was not surprised. An answer to an age waiting.
In his ancient wisdom he considered all that had gone before and knew it
could be far worse.. yet this one would not be tainted by the dark heart of
Ysigrith. This one would blend the saurian way of Weh and Sra. Then the
ancient druid who had seen ages come and go froze, for the girl looked up,
and in her eyes, lightning was reflected. Chaos, so much chaos. A grey path
she might walk, but destruction and turmoil were in her eyes. It was an
Age's response, born of Ysigrith, to the established order of Thera. And
the grand hierophant of Ysigrith wondered, standing there in the swampy tumult
of rain and lightning, how much of the world she must tear down to born again
a world renewed.

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