Ixen bin Niran

User: Eric
Campaign: Terrak
Gender: Male
Feature: Shelter of the Faithful - Cult of Ibafarshan.

Ideal: Change within Ignis' Temples.

Personality Trait: Fervent in religious beliefs, Rage at corruption and ignorance in Ignis' temples, Fear of being betrayed.


He must find the Revelation of Ibafarshan so that he can spread the truth and purge the temples of Ignis of those unworthy.

He wants to find Ibafarshan.

He owes the blind magician a debt that can not be repaid in this life.

He wants to recover his birthright, especially the white encoded book.

He wants to help those who can't help themselves, those treated as unwanted and permanent outsiders to all of society.
Ixen bin Niran

Raised by a human mother, Abida, who was young priestess of Ignis and was disowned and dishonored by her temple because of petty political games of small minded bureaucrats. Set adrift in the desert without any hope of survival she was visited by the chosen of Ignis, Ibafarshan, a great gold dragon. By then she had little hope of survival in the great desert and had no fear left to give Ibafarshan. Yet the mighty creature was not there as executioner to the condemned but as an emissary of Ignis and savior of Abida. Abida spent a mere week in the presence of Ibafarshan and yet somehow learned a lifetimes worth of knowledge to pass on to her children. Abida thought when the dragon told her this that it spoke of religious disciples not biological children. She was left at a small farmhouse far from civilization with enough supplies to last a decade. Days after the dragon left and having seen no one since, she realized she was pregnant. Just a few months later, Ixen came into the world without a sound… a gold scaly creature with smoke already pouring from his mouth.

Within a year Abida was spending every waking moment teaching Ixen as directed by Ibafarshan: The languages of Draconic, Ignan, and common; the belief and knowledge of Ignis’ most devoted worshipers, and the skills and discipline required to defend himself in a world that would always see him as a monster. As fast as Ixen grew his mother seemed to age. She was not even twenty when she had Ixen and before her 27th birthday she was an old woman who looked more like she was of age with her grandmother or great-grandmother. When she passed, as he knew she would, Ixen created a pyre large enough to honor her life, as dictated by Ignis’ funerary rights. As he stood vigil for the fifth day, waiting for the last embers to die, as is custom, he recalled the last thing his mother had told him, “Open the case and go to the temple of Ignis in Véronne. Spread the faith and find Ibafarshan.” She breathed her last breath as she exhaled his father’s name. He opened the case in order to find hundreds of neatly bound and kept gold leather books. He opened them and started reading through hundreds of pages of his mother’s hand and Ibafarshan’s words. He realized what he was to do. He was to cleanse the faith of its impurities as a flame cleanses the wicked.

As Ixen emptied the last few books from the giant iron case he found that at the very bottom of the case was a white linen cloth wrapped around a series of objects. The same gold leather but embossed heavily with gold. It was in his mother’s hand but it was not Ibafarshan’s religious teachings in the common language but instead it was an alternating series of Draconic and Ignan that made no sense at all… Code. Next to it was a blade that was what appeared to be an enlarged copy of his own wavy bladed sword. His blade was nearly five rods long but this was clearly at least seven and solid black, appearing as if it was charred wood not steel. Upon grasping the hilt the blade immediately began to glow like dry grass just catching the flame, it was light, far too light and he felt the fire flow through him in a way that he had never felt before. In another linen wrapping was a stylized symbol of Ibafarshan’s name written in Draconic wrapped around Ignis’ own name written in Ignan; the whole symbol glowed like a blade just pulled from the furnace giving off a soft light. Soft gold robes with flames embroidered along the cuffs and bottom laid across a suit of white plate armor edged in gold flames.

Ixen followed the map he found folded into his white book. His travels were difficult and repeatedly he found himself fighting for his life. He was attacked everywhere he turned as a monster, a creature to be destroyed. He took to wearing his armor, helm and all, constantly to avoid being seen. He had been told that he would be treated as less than others but he never expected this level of immediate and instinctual hatred.

When he arrived in the city and the temple he refused to take off his armor until he was in the presence of the high priest, that he had brought a great treasure many hundreds of miles by pull cart and that the high priest should have the first one. The high priest came to meet Ixen expecting a gift of gold or jewels but found hundreds of books instead. The high priest said all manners of nice words, even after Ixen took his helmet and hood off, revealing himself. The high priest sat with Ixen and talked, they ate, and then Ixen woke in irons in the dungeon where he sat alone and naked till days blended together completely. He was fed, barely, but no one ever answered his questions. When he tried to roast the jailer who came to feed him he wasn’t fed for what seemed like a lifetime. He had expected to be treated like a prophet, revealing the new gospel to the faithful but was thrown away like the scraps the dog wouldn’t eat.

Eventually, on his deathbed, he was freed by blind man and his followers. He owed this man more than he could repay. Without him his duty would go undone.