Ianthe

Marxist Sorcer

Description:

Name: Ianthe
Race: Human
Class/Level: Sorcerer/1
Hgt/Wgt: 6’0"/148lbs
Age/Sex: 21/Male
Hair/Eyes: Black/Grey

STR: 12 +2
Dex: 16 +4
Con: 14 +3
Int: 15 +3
Wis: 13 +2
Cha: 20 +6

AC: 12 Physical Defense: 13 Mental Defense: 12
HP: 24

Weapon:
Staff 2 to hit 1d61 dam

Backgrounds:
Failed Wizard: 3
Well Read: 2
Professional Rabble-Rouser: 2
Unhappy Home Life: 3

Feats:
Linguist
Chaos Bolt-No penalty with range

One Unique thing:
???????, who is a Marxist sorcerer, arguing for the people to overthrow the decadent bourgeois icons. Current targets: The Archmage, the Emperor, and the Elven Queen

Money/Wealth: 25

Class Features/Racial Powers:
Reroll breath weapon: On a 16+ use again that turn.
Dancing Lights as a standard action.
Gather Power- Spend one turn gathering energy, double spell damage next turn.
Random Energy types: Roll 1d4, choose that as your energy type.
Roll initiative twice, choose result you want

Talents:
Blood Link
Familiar- Mr Bananas the capuchin monkey. Has scout ability, roll 1 random ability, change every time I am healed all the way up.
Arcane Heritage: +2 to a background that involves or suggests magical knowledge or talent up to limit. Get 1 Wizard spell at current spell level, instead of two levels lower.

Powers/Spells
Ranged:
Chaos Bolt- 1d8+CHA random damage
Lightning Fork- 3d6+CHA damage, can chain
Breath of the White- 3d6+CHA damage on 1d2 enemies

Close Range:
Burning Hands- 1d6+CHA damage to two enemies

Equipment:
Changes of clothing
Literature
Staff

Bio:

It was a dark and stormy night…

Or rather, it was dark. And night. Mostly, a dusky sort of twilight at the worst. In fact, it was quite far from storming. That would come in nine months. As it was, there was a man and a woman. As such things go, each hated the other; which meant in the backwards sort of way that only youth and hormones can account for, they ended up making love.

Pull back from the scene and look at the flow of time, what will be and what won’t be, what is. Events strung along like pearls on a necklace. Ten months from that time, the child leaves his mother forever, for his own good. Ten years from now, the child is caught writing letters to his mother and disciplined severely by his father. He has been disciplined like this so often, he no longer views it as punishment. Twelve years from now, the child, now on the cusp of becoming a man, sulks in the halls of the great University of the Archmage. He is brilliant, all his teachers agree, but…unhinged. Incorrect. His magical theory is unfounded at best, they say. Of course, they add, everyone has an area that needs improvement.

Fourteen years see the boy, now clearly leaving youth behind, lowering his father and grandfather into the ground. The funeral is a sparse affair. The homestead sat on the outskirts of a small town and the actions of those within lead to a self-isolated empire. The boy feels conflicted. He should be sad or ecstatic, but all he feels is irritated. This is more time than either deserve. Yet, how is it fair that both his father and the innocent are buried with the same service? Or that the wizards at the school should question is theory? That night he will write his mother again.

In five years, he will be lead out of the wizarding school, removed due to a disagreement. The official papers say he is in good standing. He writes his mother about it again. She will be angry at him for leaving, she had cherished what he told her. But he had bigger plans. Surely she would respect that?

The letters are few, far between. Magical in nature, as no post nor any traveler goes there. They appear on the desk. Sometimes they were old newspapers or other writing, the ink squirming like night crawlers across the paper. He will bring knowledge to the people. He will bring freedom, a glorious freedom for all.

Ianthe

An Age of Light... or Darkness. baldurdash