|Population:||1,000, or 2,000, or|
40,000, or five.
So close to the plane of ultimate chaos, Xaos (pronounced KAY-oss) is a town gone mad. The whole place is in a constant state of flux, awash in the power of elemental chaos. The only thing a berk can count on is that he can't count on anything (and sometimes he can't even count on that.) No map or mapper can nail this town down. Fact is, a body's mind just can't tumble to how reality swirls and rearranges itself in this place. Even the name of the town changes from time to time, the letters jostling about at random in search of a new identity.
The region surrounding Xaos (pronounced SACK-so) is a mess of rocks, swamps, pits, fields - every kind of terrain and climate, really, all lit by rainbows of light. To get to town, a cutter's just got to plunge into the most frightening and mind-warping area. Next thing he knows, he'll be there (like it or not).
Who's in charge? Depends what time it is, Literally, no one and everyone is a high-up in Xaos (pronounced OCK-sa). A prime new to town might find himself the supreme law-giver for about a minute and a half, then suddenly go back to being an average sod, subject to the whims of others. 'Course, laws often evaporate long before anyone could actually be sentenced under them.
Trying to describe local landmarks in town is a sure road to the barmy house. Nothing remains the same for long. On the other hand, everything is an important landmark - a unique creation that exists once and is gone, leaving only unstable memories in the minds of those who were privileged to see it.
The Gate to Limbo changes along with the city. One minute it's a small blue pyramid in the palm of an iron statue. The next, it's a glowing ball of exhausted spirits drifting through the marketplace. In an hour it could even be a pit lined with spikes, berk. But no matter what it looks like, for some reason a body can always mark it as the Gate to Limbo.
More mind-blasted than the sods of Bedlam, the folks of Xaos (pronounced AX-oss) aren't thrown by the twists and turns or their reality. Everything changes, including themselves, so that's the way it should be. The warrior who attacks a berk in the morning becomes the waiter who serves him a hot cup of lint soup for evening breakfast. For amusement, the locals like to watch visitors slowly go barmy as they try to sort things out (naturally, the Clueless make for the best entertainment).
Humans, humanoids, bariaur, slaadi, and githzerai are all common natives of Xaos (pronounced soaks). But just because they're chaotic, that doesn't mean they don't have goals - they just pursue their goals in a roundabout fashion. A slaad intent on killing a traveller will still try to do so, but it may send flowers first. A basher of the Xaositect faction may try to build an army by marking buildings with random magical signs. Here, such things work. Most of the natives just don't let it get them down.
When in Xaos (pronounced AY-socks), a traveller'd better have a tight grip on his identity. If he doesn't, it, too, will be sucked into tho whirlpool of chaange.