Chaos Sorcerer, Smithy, Pretty Boy
STR 9 DEX 5 CON 16 INT 10 WIS 11 CHA 18
Saves – proficiency in CON and CHA
Trained Skills: Deception, Insight, Intimidation, Persuasion
Tool Proficiency: Smith’s Tools
Languages: Common, Dwarvish, and Halfling
Background: Guild Artisan
Personality Trait: I am an eternal optimist and look for the good intentions behind every slight.
Ideal: Everyone should be free to pursue their own livelihood.
Bond: A halfling community made me into the man I am today. It is a debt I shall always endeavor to repay their race.
Flaw: The ends justify the means so long as I am not put in danger.
Katla Brahe (Lisa’s Character):
For Ibaom, Katla represents the best hope he has for establishing a safe place to live and not having to always be on the run. In her he sees the potential to establish a safe haven for people who would otherwise burn as witches. He doesn’t believe another opportunity such as the one Katla represents will come along in his life time. Because of this he is willing to take extraordinary risks to his own well being if it means ensuring her safety. If he see’s a way to improve her prospects to take over her current family then he acts on them (sometimes without her knowledge because of her own blind love for those that would see her burn alive). He is less keen about her starting her own family as this means she would have a very weak power base and lose claim to the very strong power base of her current family. If possible he attempts to steer her away from such ideas.
Karl Brahe AKA Brytag Killgore (Mike’s Character):
Karl is Ibaom’s biggest obstacle and most ambitious project. Karl hates witches and Karl hates magic. But Karl wanted to know how to forge chaos iron. Ibaom taught this technique to Karl in a subtle way such that Karl did not realize the magical nature that such smithing required until it was too late. Now this semi-magical knowledge resides squarely in Karl’s head. Ibaom did this in the hope that Karl would see what good magic can do for society. Ibaom is relentless in his attempts to persuade Karl that magic can help people. Ibaom believes that if a person such as Karl can change then so can other folk. On the other hand Karl is somewhat of an obstruction to Ibaom’s desire for Katla to take over the family and create a haven for spell casters. Ideally Ibaom would like to see Karl strike out on his own and start a new family line. In this endeavor Ibaom supports Karl at every turn. Ibaom’s pursuit of reforming Karl leads him to meddle and snoop into Karl’s affairs. Ibaom would like to steer Karl away from making any choices that Karl or Katla may regret later.
Doctor Jones / Simon Tam (Glen’s Character):
Ibaom has had to escape from his fair share of city states lest he be burned at the stake. To this end he has befriended Doc Jones. Though befriend may not be the term Doc Jones uses. As a smuggler knew the ways in and out of cities that individuals who wished to avoid notice could use… for a price. Ibaom would often rely on Doc Jones. If a client needed some chaos smithing then Ibaom would have Doc Jones smuggle him in. This relationship has lasted many years. Ibaom consider’s Doc Jones his best friend. He doesn’t even pay heed to the Doctor’s attempts to keep his distance. Ibaom can often be talked into one of Doc Jones’s schemes. To Ibaom it is a lot of fun, many societal laws have less meaning to Ibaom and the schemes are a collaborative chance to spend time with his old friend. Whenever Doc Jones finds himself in trouble he can always count on the busy body Ibaom to help the good Doctor out.
Rhia (Jesse’s Character):
Rhia is important to Ibaom. She represents a sliver of a chance to reconnect with his past and understand the indentured servitude of his upbringing. He suspects that she does not realize it herself but Ibaom recognizes some of the things she describes or draws in the dirt from her visions. Not all but a scant few of the experiences she has related about her visions he can recall from his own childhood: symbols written on sheets of paper, sounds that echoed from the wizard’s tower or the chasm that the chaos weapons/armor were tossed into. This bit of small shared reality between the two he does not openly reveal. But since meeting Rhia he keeps a close tab on her, ever hopeful that her visions will help him glean some understand of the events regarding his own history. To this end he completely enables her desire for Ghostweed, spurring her on to ever loftier visions.
I have heard that orcs in the area have been seen with Chaos Iron weapons. Are these the same weapons that I helped forge in my youth? Do the orcs know where the halflings and dwarf smith have gone? If another has forged these weapons do they possess the power of chaos as well? Perhaps I could learn something from this smith?
I’ve overheard that a sizable amount of Ghost Weed can be found in the region. If the entire store were to burn, how much more powerful would Rhia’s visions become? Would she at last reveal some clue to my own past? This is certainly a possibility worth pursuing.
I don’t want a dragon egg. That would call entirely too much attention to myself. I most certainly cannot allow Katla to have one either; she may break away from her family and I fear she will need that power base if I am to ever establish a safe haven for myself. However, should Karl obtain an egg then his breaking away and establishing his own family could be very advantageous for me.
I have since learned that my earliest experiences were on a large beast called Maze That Walks. The few memories I have of my time on that beast’s back are a contradiction when compared to other Maze Exiles I have encountered. These other exiles describe the minotaurs as brutal and mean spirited lords. But for me it was the other inhabitants that behaved this way, always abusing me the way the minotaurs abused them. The minotaurs never even paid me any notice. Where they might kick a child, they would pass me by. Where they might snatch the dinner from a man, they would never bother to take the scraps of food I had stolen. As a child I thought this was the punishment given to those who treated me poorly. But as an adult I wonder if something else was going on. I’ve learned that one minotaur has quit the Maze That Walks and taken up residence near the Pits of Pandemonium. I should like to meet this minotaur and learn more about the circumstances I experienced in my very early years.
Twisted Tower of T’Tocs
I have the power of chaos in my veins. This power seethes and pushes against my will to control it. My desire for community acceptance and a life freed from the worries of being burned at the stake are challenged by this power. However there is a chance that methods to control this power, beyond what I can attain on my own, exist. The Tower of T’Tocs may hold secrets that will help me achieve further mastery of the chaos in my own soul.
Where did you come from? Where have you been?
My earliest memories are of being atop the maze that walks. I don’t remember if I ever had parents there. The people in my village treated me poorly. They would beat me, they would verbally abuse me and worst of all they would ignore me. I liked the Minotaurs they would beat and abuse the other people, but never me.
Sometimes we would have witch burnings. The witch burnings were wonderful events back then. It was usually somebody that had been mean to me so I was okay with it. I was too young to understand the full weight of what was going on, so I didn’t know to fear it. But what I liked most of all about witch burnings was that everyone was too agitated to do bad things to me.
One day another minotaur came to our town. My world was simple and small, it never occurred to me that there might be more than one of them. This was sure to be an exciting thing! The villagers were as agitated as though we were going to burn a witch. I wondered if we were going to burn this new minotaur?
The minotaurs shouted at each other, and then they began to fight. It wasn’t like the other fights I’d seen; the one sided beatings the powerful gave to the weak. Nor was it like the fumbling fisticuffs that the humans did over food or property. This was a blood and violent fight like I’d never seen before. I was lost in fascination.
The visiting minotaur chopped a horn clean off the other’s head. It flew high in the sky turning end over end. The horn cam down upon me, its tip piercing my thigh. The force of the impact knocked me to the dirt. My thigh now resting on the ground, the horn was pushed back out the hole it made through me. Blood came out to pool around me and so did many other things.
First it was a slimy thing that made croaking noises. It came from the hole in my thigh and hopped away. Nobody noticed at first, I was beneath notice and the peril I found myself in was beneath their concern. But then more stuff poured out of me. Energy of all types, blue flames danced about me, creatures crawled out of the pool of blood I was now soaking in. Noises and scenery foreign to the village appeared. It was chaos and its presence was so great even the minotaurs stopped their fight.
My last memory of the village was of a man throwing a rock down on my head. I woke up falling. I was next to something big but it was moving away as I fell. then I suddenly stopped falling. Something white and cold had enclosed around me. Then the world went dark again.
I next awoke in a room with a person that looked my age but didn’t seem like it. When he saw me awake he began talking to me very quickly and excitedly. I couldn’t follow everything he was saying. As an adult it all makes much more sense to me now. I was in a halfling community that had gathered around the tower of a mighty arcane caster. They were helping a wizard do something. They managed to gather the resources and dwarf master smith necessary to help the wizard. However, they still needed a chaos flame. And so the community prayed to somebody. For some reason I don’t recall the name they gave. That was when I fell out of the sky into their midst.
I was healed and they began teaching my young mind about the new world I found myself in. Things like the white stuff is snow, the cold can kill you, they were halflings, I was to work with a dwarf crafting weapons and armor. I was told that chaos lived in me. They said that I had to learn to harness it and produce flame; that flame would be the only reason they had to keep me alive. When I told them I didn’t understand, I didn’t know how to do it the response was that it didn’t matter. Once I was near the chaos iron the flame would come.
One final lesson they instilled in me was that I was a witch and if I ever used any powers I might have in front of others would mean that I would burn at the stake. They made me promise that I would never use a power unless the dwarf living they asked me to. Then I had to promise that so long as other people remained in the community I would not try to leave it. After making these two promises they gave me something to drink. It smelled foul and tasted fouler. I believe this potion forced me to honor my promises in an unnatural manner. Likely it is also the reason that, despite spending 14 years of my life within that community, I cannot recall a single name nor can I remember a single face from that time.
It was a month before the halflings felt I understood enough to let me meet the dwarf. The meeting was not warm or memorable; the dwarf treated me like a tool and little else. Even so that dwarf was the closest I would ever know to a father. Everything I know about smithing is thanks to him. There was a length of cold rust colored metal in the smith’s shop. I was directed to put my hands, palms open, above the blade. Fire licked out of my hands onto the metal, soon it glowed red hot. The dwarf hollered for me to remove my hands as he began hammering the metal into shape. In time I would learn to warm the metal between hammer strikes.
This labor that took 14 of my most formative years taught me how to forge chaos iron. The way a person must strike the iron differently each time or it would begin to warp. A smith cannot set a rhythm as the hammer the chaos iron or it will go brittle. To cool the chaos iron water must be tossed from the air onto it and not doused in a container or the resulting steam will be toxic. These are some of the secrets I learned. They always made me take the completed work to a near by chasm in the ground where he was instructed to toss the weapons and armor down into the darkness. This act was perplexing and it was never explained to him why they were doing this.
Sometimes people from outside the village would come to deliver supplies or visit the central tower. I hated these stretches as I was never permitted to use my powers and the only smith work the dwarf did was mundane repairs. For some stretches I even had to pretend I was somebody else. Early on it was pretending to be a halfling. When I out grew that I had to take on a variety of roles that would make people think I was anything but a blacksmith. These roles helped me normalize so that as an adult I do not stick out so much in public. But eventually the visitors would go and the chaos iron work would continue.
I never saw the mage that was spoken of in the tower or if I did, it is not a memory I still have.
Once I was a man the world changed for me again. I awoke one morning to find that no one else remained in the village. Over night every last person save myself was gone. There were no traces that anyone had left and most all the buildings were old and dilapidated. From then I felt the urge to leave and visit the wider world. My experiences in the village had taught me enough that I would be okay. I prefers to think of those times as a dream. Because anything less would mean they had abandoned me and that thought hurts more than I can bear.
Who are you in brief
Since then Ibaom has traveled rather often from place to place, wanderlust pushing him ever onward. He plies his talents as a black smith to help make ends meet. Though very beautiful he does not wish to be the focus of attention. He no longer enjoys the burning of witches as he understand the travesty of it. He would like to see the practice change. He knows his magic is dangerous and would rather not use it. In conflicts he acts like a powerless commoner. He would prefer to be bullied than burned at the stake. When trouble does find Ibaom he will use his ability to act as a means for slipping out of town before things get to bad.
Ibaom considers the halflings and dwarf master smith his friends. Though he cannot recall their names, he still remembers their faces. Having raised him through the entirety of his formative years, Ibaom cannot recognize that this community used him as a slave to complete some mysterious task. He is the picture perfect example of Stockholm syndrome. Ask him about his time as a child and he will talk happily about his enslavement not as a low of freedoms but as opportunity to belong, the comfort of acceptance and the joy of learning a trade. To this end he very much wishes to reconnect with the individuals he lost so long ago.
Questions to Consider
Why did the minotaurs ignore Ibaom as a small child during his time on the maze that walks?
Who was the wizard that commissioned 14 years of chaos iron crafting? What was the plan? Where did the dwarf and halflings go? What has become of all that chaos iron now? Why did they leave Ibaom alive?
How does Karl feel about Ibaom after being tricked to learn chaos smithing, a skill that is nearly magical in nature?
Does Karl know that Ibaom wants Katla to take over the family? Is he okay with that?
Does Karl know that Ibaom wants him to start his own family? Is he okay with that?
What does Karl think of Ibaoms persistent attempts to persuade Karl that magic can be good and help people?
When Ibaom pushes Katla towards taking steps that upsets the balance of power between members of Katla’s family, how does she react?
Ibaom has known Doctor Jones the longest of all the group members. Though circumstance and Doctor Jones’ own efforts make the pair part ways, the red string of fate always seems to pull them back together. How does your character deal with this? Distance and avoidance is one thing, but you know that Ibaom can help fill pockets with cash as much as melt metal with flame.
How does Rhia feel about another who takes her visions seriously?
What does Rhia think about somebody that encourages her desire for Ghost Weed but will not partake themselves?
How does Rhia express the visions that she sees? Does she draw pictograms in dirt and on walls? Does she make carvings? Does she narrate while the visions happen?