Hieronymus Pangloss
A man who has devoted most of his life to the pursuit of knowledge, and the good he knows it brings to the world, tragedy and atrocity have taken their toll and set him adrift.
Yet, some inkling of hope remains, stained deep down in the spine of his mortal bind.
Appearance
Spry and straight of spine. While he looks like he might have seen better days, he still moves with a deftness many find surprising. Yet, his grey beard and wispy white hair, along with the dark rings and wrinkles about his face tell in part the story of his long years.
Skills and Abilities
Maester of Elbion: Forty years of dedicated study and practice have allowed this man to wield the powers of magic with an efficiency most magicked and un-magicked people alike may find horrifying. Luckily, wisdom errs on the side of conservation of energy. Especially when his bones start to ache.
Conjuration: Able to manifest physical objects from raw magic, Hieron can construct spears of energy, walls of light, or an ever useful magic hand to name a few things in his library.
Magic nullification and redirection: The inner workings of magic being one of his primary studies, Hieron is a master at causing miscasts in the spell forming, weaving, and expression of combatant casters. More often then not, simple misdirection is his trick of choice, as increasing the complexity of the interruption, such as outright nullification, dissipation, or reflection, comes at an increased cost to his magical reserves.
Living ink: A curious little trick, and the first bit of spell craft he stumbled upon as a much younger man. Hieron can craft special inks, which help him take notes in the field, his research, and personify a bit of company when the midnight madness of study and recording take hold. He'd never tell, but he has a few jars of the stuff he swears have personalities of their own after so many years of use.
Swordplay: He is a capable duelist, but no soldier.
Tome Binding: He learned it from his parents.
Personality
Pensive
Whimsical
Melancholic
Dedicated
Errant
Whimsical
Melancholic
Dedicated
Errant
Biography & Lore
It was raining when Hieronymus arrived at the site. The rubble and ruin of The Gilded Feather already gone. He was left to stand there, as rain pittered and pattered off the wide brim of his red-steeple hat.
He should have been there. Just as he should have been there so many times before.
"Then you would have been there, Hieron," Harold, his hat, reminded him.
Part of him knew that, yes. But it didn't make it any easier.
He should have been there. Just as he should have been there so many times before.
"Then you would have been there, Hieron," Harold, his hat, reminded him.
Part of him knew that, yes. But it didn't make it any easier.
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