Browse wiki

Ira came to the Apothecary College of Tor at the age of sixteen from "somewhere north" after a spot of "financial trouble." Ira soon entered apprenticeship at the college, under the sponsorship of some minor noble courtier. An apt student and a proficient alchemist already, Ira was leading lectures by his third year at the college. Genius was not without its tradeoffs; those who liked Ira well knew him as a quirky young man. Those who did not like him? Well, let's just say that he was one of the more "outstanding" cases of independent study at the academy, and his intelligence was matched only by his ambition and social oddity. Oddities that ranged from attending lectures without any shoes, to wasting College money on experiments involving the effects of major and minor musical scales on the humors of animals. An equal disciple of medicine, anatomy, and music, Ira's more philosophical bent had him breaking from the College and taking employ with House Fidante. And what better place to take employ than Arx, a city plagued by mysteries and the unknown at every interval? Ira set upon a carriage at once, gathered his meager belongings, and travelled to serve Duke Leo Fidante upon the recommendation of the College. Of course, the college may have only been too eager to see him go to Arx. There, his studies of such obscure things as the mind, and the effects of moon phases on the potency of alchemical elements could take flight... and fly well away from their prestigious college. Since arriving, Ira has focused himself quite solely on the interdisciplinary studies of the mind, a subject Ira has dubbed mentalism and has all but pioneered, dubbing himself First Mentalist and founding an asylum for the insane and deranged. Now Doctor Dedalin plies his trade to those poor souls who need him most in the Lower Boroughs.

Ira is a mess of gawky, lithe limbs and curly, untameable hair. His arms are too long, making them perfect for grand sweeping gestures, or manipulating things in high places. His legs are longer, contributing to most of his six hand and a half-finger height, and are usually bent at the knee to provide an easy slouch when he walks. He's got a gaunt, long face with high, flat cheekbones that give him a rather austere appearance -- and one at the risk of looking sickly for malnutrition. This all leads up to those amber eyes; he has a gaze that's the color of a good evening whiskey. An unruly mop of dark brown curls rests on his head, and pours down to his shoulders. In the right light, his his hair turns a shade black, and it's always stuck up in different angles depending on the day he's had.

Ira is possessed of a deep passion, and a manic disposition that rages from illicit levels of excitement, to sickening levels of depression at the drop of a hat. He has a particular knack for pursuing natural philosophy and science as not an intellectual, academic pursuit with which to better mankind -- but as an art form, with which to better the very soul. Keen, intelligent, and liberal in his sexual relations -- Ira possesses an independence of spirit, mind, and soul that only educated commoners might have... until they are slapped down by their noble lords, and reminded that they are, of course, common. Free from the trappings of responsibility, he pursues whatever philosophical fancy catches his mind at the moment -- and they are multitude. Of course, this might often be seen as only petty and selfish narcissism. What honest, good man has no family, no prospects, and occupies himself with funny experiments all day? While other people treat him with a well-earned disdain for his lack of normality, he sees them all as lacking in ambition. An ambition and vision that he's cultivated for years.