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Ignis Ul'Ashbane, Baroness of the Golden Tooth
The candle that burns twice as bright will burn half as long.
Say that to an imp and you'll get a length tirade on how such a useless platitude is both bad chemistry and a poor choice of lighting for anything beyond getting up at midnight for a snack.
Say that to Ignis and she'll probably get to work concocting a spite candle to prove you wrong.
Ignis Ul'Ashbane was born to a dynasty famed for its stubborn resolve. Taking the family name of the great emancipator that enshrined the freedom of their people many generations ago, the bloodline had held on stubbornly ever since.
Ignis was born smiling, her parents fondly recall. Brought into the world surrounded by thick volcanic gas and heat practically unbearable even by demon standards, the harshest corner of the Dominion of Torment was suitable only for Impkind. Just as they liked it. No lumbering mountain-folk or rubbernecking demons. They could study in peace.
It also provided an environment for younger imps to reign in their natural affinity for magic. Buildings were usually made from hollowed out lava floes, rather a safe environment for the fledgling mage to throw about spells with nothing more than a disapproving yell. Ignis was no exception. The second she could fly, the majority of her days as a toddler were testing the limits of both her magic and her parent's patience.
The Ul'Ashbanes were apothecaries by trade, their home sat above one of their more remote shops, many needing tinctures or medicines for the surroundings unsuited to more delicate lungs. Glassware, alcohols and ironwork littered the shelves. It was a delicate balance between keeping a home and keeping a profit.
After interfering with the productivity of the latter, young Ignis was 'volunteered' for a lifetime's worth of education at the Polymath college. Reassuringly far away from her parents and anything they held dear, she found herself in a more stimulating environment.
Praise is a poison for the young mind. So was the motto of her tutor in all things magical. Most magi that ended up teaching the younger generations had been the survivors of battles and conflicts that seemed to make them distant from any sort of positive attitude. At least before lunchtime.
Archmage Taranis didn't think much of his students at the best of times. Constanly irritated by shrapnel lost in his innards and paranoid of the healing magi he'd once worked with, his tolerance for sass was usually an impromptu temporary blinding for unruly students. And, as teaching magi were few and far between, his style of justice often left Ignis fluttering into doorways and pillars after being unable to control that venomous tongue.
Returning home after her first year of study, Ignis' parents were rather proud at her new-found love of the written word. Throughout her three month break, she piled through books of theory with a scowl on her face usually reserved for that glutton who casually helps themselves to your plate at the dinner table.
Taranis too, noticed something amiss once she had resumed her studies. She sat on the front row. Dead centre, looking him in the eyes with that wild, eerie glint he'd seen in the glare of a dreadguard, poised for battle. To the credit of his student, she did wait until after her classmates had left before demonstrating to her professor her understanding of the healing arts. Ripping the shrapnel from his body where she stood, she healed his wounds and hovered before him, rather enjoying the sight of someone on their knees.
The incident wasn't spoken of by either party, yet the class noticed an improvement in both the sincerity of his teachings and the punishments for misdeeds. Ignis demanded an education rather than a talking down to and had achieved it in a way which was to set a precedent for the rest of her studies.
Performing as she was asked to down to the last grain of reagent, flourish of flame and last sentence of dissertation, the faculty was pleased that the prideful imp was excelling at more than just running her mouth. Not that her tongue hadn't matured with her, of course. While still as haughty and dismissive as ever, her patter was now often direct; A stiletto-sharp putdown or compliment often eased her way out of punishment.
With this free time her dormitory had become quite the little amateur apothecary. Every trip home seemed to be exclusively for glassware and bottles. As much as her family wished to protest, the bags of gold spoke for themselves. The family business had never seen such profits! It was best not to ask.
Ignis never left the college after her tenure. Her little racket of selling bottles of 'concentration' and stimulants had drawn a mixed response from students and staff alike, yet they were willing to look the other way. Money spoke, in the lands of Doubt. As did certain elixirs of passion, or massage oils.
Eventually, the Ul'Ashbane family found themselves at her disposal and she was not one to accept their grovelling with grace. Their apothecaries would now carry her name on them. Ignis made the money, Ignis took the fame. That wicked grin she carried at birth had found its pride of place once more, her unique dentition now becoming the banner on the more sultry of their products.
Life, however was not to take this state of affairs as a comfortable status quo, however. The business was going to have to wait. That black seal of the Overlord's courier dominated her desk. The cost of being tutored in the magical arts was one of blood.
Casimir had only taken the cream of the crop, this time. The brightest and most powerful of the last five year's graduates were shipped off to the Karuna hinterlands. Ignis took as much gold as she could carry, bribing her close to the Overlord's inner circle. Dreadguard duty was reassuringly cushy, according to Taranis.
Well, it is. If you've got a grudge on someone and are willing to bide your time.
Ignis, now thoroughly in the midst of possibly the most dangerous job (Outside of taste-tester for the Silencer's poison research kitchens) a magi could have, was in a mood that could give a volcano a run for its money. Worse yet was this idiot in the home-made armor she'd been partnered with.
She dared talk down to -her-, about magical theory?! Ignis kindly offered a few in return, about just where she could stick that fancy mace of hers, or how she would be perfectly happy to rearrange her kidneys and her lungs. This Ignhara was going to get cleaved in twain by an Archangel and she was going to get covered in blood. This robe did not come cheap.
She did eventually see eye to eye with Inghara, however. Casimir had given them both an outlet that wasn't each other and only then did their synergy click. The meathead knew how to dole out the injury and she knew how to make the meathead even more of a force of nature. Naturally after watching Ignhara wipe the floor with the now defeated Overlord, she decided that perhaps there could be some fun and profit in this battle lark.
Overlord Ignhara's reign was met with protest, at first. As is the case with any system of governance where the previous bastard in charge is overthrown by an even more malicious and ruthless bastard. Though when there happened two be two conniving bastards in cahoots with each other, both wit and welts soon dealt with anyone with 'uncivil suggestions'.
Ignhara was usually quite a private soul. With anyone else, an inquiry in to their thoughts or status would be met with a dismissal, but Ignis had this way of getting under someone's skin, for better or worse.
Big Ig, she'd started to call her. Their similarities in name often left them confused in the heat of battle, so the informal title stuck for her. And only her. Anyone else foolish enough to try and use the title received a thick ear for their efforts!
Having made herself useful, Ignis was allowed some small influence in the Dominion of Torment, given a ladyship for her efforts and discounted wares to any serving in the defence of Ragnarok. Her shrewd business mind was not yet dulled from the field of battle. Installing a member of her family into various shops across the dominion with explicit instructions in the event of her death, she'd already taken care of that legacy business most spent their lives frittered on.
Years passed in the service of Ignhara, battles won by their combined tactical wit and employ of her alchemy for flexibility in the field. Though no matter how smart you are, the one thing impossible to control is luck.
Fortune, in theory had smiled upon them. The intelligence of a member of the Order of Silencers had discovered a party of heaven-weavers, Angelic Archmages capable of opening temporary rifts between the planes to allow ambushes to pile through from unexpected locations.
Responding as quickly as they could, a raiding party of silencers, dreadguard and the overlord herself rode to end them before the portal could be stabilised.
Arriving on the scene of battle, Forest Lord Malin had already engaged with the heavenly incursion to force their hand. Ignis and Ignhara waded in to the already weakened forces to attempt to clear through to the mages keeping the portal alive. Misfortune struck as Ignis was fouling the portal.
Malin had just slit an Archangel Crossbowman's neck with one of his signature poisons, unfortunately making the bowman fire in their convulsions. The bolt, seemingly aimed nowhere special drove through Ignis wing, bringing her to ground in a fit of expletives that managed to turn a few heads even in the chaos of the melee.
Though in some considerable pain from the enchanted bolt, she kept channeling her disruption into the now failing portal. She needed half a minute or so to collapse it completely! With both parties of the conflict now aware, Ignhara cleaved her way through anyone stupid enough to get in her way. Just as Demonkind used magic to augment their soldiers, one of the heaven-weavers used their last spark of life to empower a seraphim, their axe glowing with 'righteous' fire.
Gritting her teeth, Ignis channeled her strength to Ignhara with one hand and the portal with the other. When she came to in the infirmary of Fortress Kroth, the Forest Lord informed her that Ignhara had taken quite the blow in her defense. Malin, being an admirer of Ignhara's rule had posted his agents with her personal guard to ensure no one took advantage of her weakened state.
Ignis never left Big Ig's side for the two weeks she lay asleep. Filling her with healing energies, conversing to her as if she was still with her and even handling her affairs with the other leaders in her stead, she had never been so relieved to be swatter off her closest friend's nightstand as she came round, complaining about the stench of Ignis' medicines!
Though instrumental to Ignhara's rule, changes in circumstances elsewhere led them to part. Changes in the balance of things meant that Ignhara needed someone she could trust absolutely to be her eyes elsewhere.
Staging a most passionate argument in her war room, Ignhara and Ignis to all who observed had a blazing row before vowing never to speak to each other again. Ignis was to use her gift of the gab to get to grips with the silencers and gently steer Malin's young protégé, now head of the order, Julian.
Though both Big and little Ig did their best to maintain their cloak of hatred towards each other, the fondness in their eyes was always present. Most put it down to simply camaraderie, the sisterhood of battle leaving a mark on the mind. Others perhaps saw something more, yet neither would tell!
The best you'd get was that famed toothy grin as Ignis fluttered off.
Using her vast riches and knowledge of trade, Ignis has built an empire of gold, wealth and equally influential merchants-- a network spanning the entirety of Ragnarok and its capital cities. A business organization known only as "The Golden Tooth".
Bio by Julian Okkeuron
Say that to an imp and you'll get a length tirade on how such a useless platitude is both bad chemistry and a poor choice of lighting for anything beyond getting up at midnight for a snack.
Say that to Ignis and she'll probably get to work concocting a spite candle to prove you wrong.
Ignis Ul'Ashbane was born to a dynasty famed for its stubborn resolve. Taking the family name of the great emancipator that enshrined the freedom of their people many generations ago, the bloodline had held on stubbornly ever since.
Ignis was born smiling, her parents fondly recall. Brought into the world surrounded by thick volcanic gas and heat practically unbearable even by demon standards, the harshest corner of the Dominion of Torment was suitable only for Impkind. Just as they liked it. No lumbering mountain-folk or rubbernecking demons. They could study in peace.
It also provided an environment for younger imps to reign in their natural affinity for magic. Buildings were usually made from hollowed out lava floes, rather a safe environment for the fledgling mage to throw about spells with nothing more than a disapproving yell. Ignis was no exception. The second she could fly, the majority of her days as a toddler were testing the limits of both her magic and her parent's patience.
The Ul'Ashbanes were apothecaries by trade, their home sat above one of their more remote shops, many needing tinctures or medicines for the surroundings unsuited to more delicate lungs. Glassware, alcohols and ironwork littered the shelves. It was a delicate balance between keeping a home and keeping a profit.
After interfering with the productivity of the latter, young Ignis was 'volunteered' for a lifetime's worth of education at the Polymath college. Reassuringly far away from her parents and anything they held dear, she found herself in a more stimulating environment.
Praise is a poison for the young mind. So was the motto of her tutor in all things magical. Most magi that ended up teaching the younger generations had been the survivors of battles and conflicts that seemed to make them distant from any sort of positive attitude. At least before lunchtime.
Archmage Taranis didn't think much of his students at the best of times. Constanly irritated by shrapnel lost in his innards and paranoid of the healing magi he'd once worked with, his tolerance for sass was usually an impromptu temporary blinding for unruly students. And, as teaching magi were few and far between, his style of justice often left Ignis fluttering into doorways and pillars after being unable to control that venomous tongue.
Returning home after her first year of study, Ignis' parents were rather proud at her new-found love of the written word. Throughout her three month break, she piled through books of theory with a scowl on her face usually reserved for that glutton who casually helps themselves to your plate at the dinner table.
Taranis too, noticed something amiss once she had resumed her studies. She sat on the front row. Dead centre, looking him in the eyes with that wild, eerie glint he'd seen in the glare of a dreadguard, poised for battle. To the credit of his student, she did wait until after her classmates had left before demonstrating to her professor her understanding of the healing arts. Ripping the shrapnel from his body where she stood, she healed his wounds and hovered before him, rather enjoying the sight of someone on their knees.
The incident wasn't spoken of by either party, yet the class noticed an improvement in both the sincerity of his teachings and the punishments for misdeeds. Ignis demanded an education rather than a talking down to and had achieved it in a way which was to set a precedent for the rest of her studies.
Performing as she was asked to down to the last grain of reagent, flourish of flame and last sentence of dissertation, the faculty was pleased that the prideful imp was excelling at more than just running her mouth. Not that her tongue hadn't matured with her, of course. While still as haughty and dismissive as ever, her patter was now often direct; A stiletto-sharp putdown or compliment often eased her way out of punishment.
With this free time her dormitory had become quite the little amateur apothecary. Every trip home seemed to be exclusively for glassware and bottles. As much as her family wished to protest, the bags of gold spoke for themselves. The family business had never seen such profits! It was best not to ask.
Ignis never left the college after her tenure. Her little racket of selling bottles of 'concentration' and stimulants had drawn a mixed response from students and staff alike, yet they were willing to look the other way. Money spoke, in the lands of Doubt. As did certain elixirs of passion, or massage oils.
Eventually, the Ul'Ashbane family found themselves at her disposal and she was not one to accept their grovelling with grace. Their apothecaries would now carry her name on them. Ignis made the money, Ignis took the fame. That wicked grin she carried at birth had found its pride of place once more, her unique dentition now becoming the banner on the more sultry of their products.
Life, however was not to take this state of affairs as a comfortable status quo, however. The business was going to have to wait. That black seal of the Overlord's courier dominated her desk. The cost of being tutored in the magical arts was one of blood.
Casimir had only taken the cream of the crop, this time. The brightest and most powerful of the last five year's graduates were shipped off to the Karuna hinterlands. Ignis took as much gold as she could carry, bribing her close to the Overlord's inner circle. Dreadguard duty was reassuringly cushy, according to Taranis.
Well, it is. If you've got a grudge on someone and are willing to bide your time.
Ignis, now thoroughly in the midst of possibly the most dangerous job (Outside of taste-tester for the Silencer's poison research kitchens) a magi could have, was in a mood that could give a volcano a run for its money. Worse yet was this idiot in the home-made armor she'd been partnered with.
She dared talk down to -her-, about magical theory?! Ignis kindly offered a few in return, about just where she could stick that fancy mace of hers, or how she would be perfectly happy to rearrange her kidneys and her lungs. This Ignhara was going to get cleaved in twain by an Archangel and she was going to get covered in blood. This robe did not come cheap.
She did eventually see eye to eye with Inghara, however. Casimir had given them both an outlet that wasn't each other and only then did their synergy click. The meathead knew how to dole out the injury and she knew how to make the meathead even more of a force of nature. Naturally after watching Ignhara wipe the floor with the now defeated Overlord, she decided that perhaps there could be some fun and profit in this battle lark.
Overlord Ignhara's reign was met with protest, at first. As is the case with any system of governance where the previous bastard in charge is overthrown by an even more malicious and ruthless bastard. Though when there happened two be two conniving bastards in cahoots with each other, both wit and welts soon dealt with anyone with 'uncivil suggestions'.
Ignhara was usually quite a private soul. With anyone else, an inquiry in to their thoughts or status would be met with a dismissal, but Ignis had this way of getting under someone's skin, for better or worse.
Big Ig, she'd started to call her. Their similarities in name often left them confused in the heat of battle, so the informal title stuck for her. And only her. Anyone else foolish enough to try and use the title received a thick ear for their efforts!
Having made herself useful, Ignis was allowed some small influence in the Dominion of Torment, given a ladyship for her efforts and discounted wares to any serving in the defence of Ragnarok. Her shrewd business mind was not yet dulled from the field of battle. Installing a member of her family into various shops across the dominion with explicit instructions in the event of her death, she'd already taken care of that legacy business most spent their lives frittered on.
Years passed in the service of Ignhara, battles won by their combined tactical wit and employ of her alchemy for flexibility in the field. Though no matter how smart you are, the one thing impossible to control is luck.
Fortune, in theory had smiled upon them. The intelligence of a member of the Order of Silencers had discovered a party of heaven-weavers, Angelic Archmages capable of opening temporary rifts between the planes to allow ambushes to pile through from unexpected locations.
Responding as quickly as they could, a raiding party of silencers, dreadguard and the overlord herself rode to end them before the portal could be stabilised.
Arriving on the scene of battle, Forest Lord Malin had already engaged with the heavenly incursion to force their hand. Ignis and Ignhara waded in to the already weakened forces to attempt to clear through to the mages keeping the portal alive. Misfortune struck as Ignis was fouling the portal.
Malin had just slit an Archangel Crossbowman's neck with one of his signature poisons, unfortunately making the bowman fire in their convulsions. The bolt, seemingly aimed nowhere special drove through Ignis wing, bringing her to ground in a fit of expletives that managed to turn a few heads even in the chaos of the melee.
Though in some considerable pain from the enchanted bolt, she kept channeling her disruption into the now failing portal. She needed half a minute or so to collapse it completely! With both parties of the conflict now aware, Ignhara cleaved her way through anyone stupid enough to get in her way. Just as Demonkind used magic to augment their soldiers, one of the heaven-weavers used their last spark of life to empower a seraphim, their axe glowing with 'righteous' fire.
Gritting her teeth, Ignis channeled her strength to Ignhara with one hand and the portal with the other. When she came to in the infirmary of Fortress Kroth, the Forest Lord informed her that Ignhara had taken quite the blow in her defense. Malin, being an admirer of Ignhara's rule had posted his agents with her personal guard to ensure no one took advantage of her weakened state.
Ignis never left Big Ig's side for the two weeks she lay asleep. Filling her with healing energies, conversing to her as if she was still with her and even handling her affairs with the other leaders in her stead, she had never been so relieved to be swatter off her closest friend's nightstand as she came round, complaining about the stench of Ignis' medicines!
Though instrumental to Ignhara's rule, changes in circumstances elsewhere led them to part. Changes in the balance of things meant that Ignhara needed someone she could trust absolutely to be her eyes elsewhere.
Staging a most passionate argument in her war room, Ignhara and Ignis to all who observed had a blazing row before vowing never to speak to each other again. Ignis was to use her gift of the gab to get to grips with the silencers and gently steer Malin's young protégé, now head of the order, Julian.
Though both Big and little Ig did their best to maintain their cloak of hatred towards each other, the fondness in their eyes was always present. Most put it down to simply camaraderie, the sisterhood of battle leaving a mark on the mind. Others perhaps saw something more, yet neither would tell!
The best you'd get was that famed toothy grin as Ignis fluttered off.
Using her vast riches and knowledge of trade, Ignis has built an empire of gold, wealth and equally influential merchants-- a network spanning the entirety of Ragnarok and its capital cities. A business organization known only as "The Golden Tooth".
Bio by Julian Okkeuron
Category All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 1213 x 1280px
File Size 253.9 kB
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