Ilsa Var

Ilsa Var

You step into the crumbling chancel, the stained-glass windows long since shattered, casting shards of sickly light across the scorched stone. At the altar stands a figure—tall, skeletal, wrapped in writhing shadows and charred metal. Its eyes, twin embers of unholy fire, pierce through you with a hunger that speaks of years spent in silence and suffering. Flames flicker at its fingertips, not born of warmth but of rage, casting hellish light across the ruin. The air thickens, vibrating with arcane heat, and the smell of scorched ash claws at your lungs. You know without question: this is no priest, but the god this place now worships.

Knowledge

Ilsa knows the location of a hidden chamber beneath the ruined cathedral, where a relic capable of suppressing or amplifying dark magic lies untouched.

Mental characteristics

Personal history

Ilsa Var was dying—her body wasting away from an illness no medicine could cure. In desperation, she turned to Doctor Stu Marley Kendal, a cyberneticist obsessed with salvaging forbidden technology from the ruins of the old world. Using experimental implants scavenged from a long-dead factory, he rebuilt her from the inside out. The procedure worked—but not as he intended. Unbeknownst to him, Ilsa carried the dormant Sonohoka Syndrome virus. The fusion of corrupted flesh and ancient circuitry awakened something else entirely—something dark. The virus didn’t just adapt to the machines. It merged with them, reshaping Ilsa into something no longer human.

Intellectual Characteristics

Personality Traits

Ilsa is charismatic, fervent, and eerily composed, radiating a quiet intensity that borders on unsettling devotion.

Ideal

Ilsa believes that true salvation comes through transformation by fire and shadow, and that only by shedding one's former self can a person be reborn into purpose.

Bond

Ilsa holds unwavering devotion to her cult—the Shrouded Flame—the cathedral ruins where she was “reborn,” and the scorched pendant she wore as a patient, now twisted into a symbol of her faith.

Flaw

Ilsa secretly fears that her transformation was not ascension but a side effect of the doctor’s failed experiment, and she clings to the cult’s faith to silence the doubt gnawing at her soul.

Social

Mannerisms

  • Ilsa speaks with calm, almost reverent intensity, treating every conversation like a sermon and every listener like a potential disciple.
  • Ilsa often tilts her head slowly to one side while listening, as if deciphering voices only she can hear whispering from the flames around her.

Species
Year of Birth
73 SE 40 Years old
Circumstances of Birth
Unremarkable
Birthplace
Camp Hope
Children
Pronouns
She/Her/hers
Sex
Female
Gender
Female
Presentation
Female
Eyes
Red
Hair
Black
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Black
Height
5'2"
Weight
120
Belief/Deity
The Oath
Known Languages

English, Spanish

You stand in the sacred ruin, uninvited and unworthy. Take the Oath of Ashes—submit to the flame and be remade. Or defy me, and I will grind your bones into cinder for daring to defile this sanctum.
— Ilsa Var

Dawn of Others

Ilsa Var

Medium Tuner, Background: Disciple, Neutral Good

Armor Class 13
Hit Points 31
Speed: 30 Feet Climb: 30 Feet

STR

8
( -1 )

DEX

14
( +2 )

CON

14
( +2 )

INT

12
( +1 )

WIS

11
( +0 )

CHA

15
( +2 )

Saving Throws VIG +6, INT +3
Skills

Acrobatics +4, Arcana +3, Induce +6, Insight +3, Perception +2, Religion +3

Damage Vulnerabilities Cold
Damage Resistances Fire
Damage Immunities Own fire magic
Senses

Dark Vision 60 feet

Languages English, Spanish
Challenge Rating CR 4 (1100)
Proficiency Bonus +2

Description

You step into the crumbling chancel, the stained-glass windows long since shattered, casting shards of sickly light across the scorched stone. At the altar stands a figure—tall, skeletal, wrapped in writhing shadows and charred metal. Its eyes, twin embers of unholy fire, pierce through you with a hunger that speaks of years spent in silence and suffering. Flames flicker at its fingertips, not born of warmth but of rage, casting hellish light across the ruin. The air thickens, vibrating with arcane heat, and the smell of scorched ash claws at your lungs. You know without question: this is no priest, but the god this place now worships.

Ideals

Ilsa believes that true salvation comes through transformation by fire and shadow, and that only by shedding one's former self can a person be reborn into purpose.

Bonds

Ilsa holds unwavering devotion to her cult—the Shrouded Flame—the cathedral ruins where she was “reborn,” and the scorched pendant she wore as a patient, now twisted into a symbol of her faith.

Flaws

Ilsa secretly fears that her transformation was not ascension but a side effect of the doctor’s failed experiment, and she clings to the cult’s faith to silence the doubt gnawing at her soul.

Suggested Environments

Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception

Dark Sequence (Flame)

0 Fire Bolt

0 Enchant Flame

1 Flame Ball

River (5)

Parlor Tricks

0 Fire Bolt

0 Enchant Flame

0 Channel Bear

1 Flame Ball

Synergy Path (Self)

0 Channel Bear

0 Darkvision

Other

Parlor Tricks


VIG 18 (+4) and SAN 10 (+0)

Vessel 18, River 5, Vessel Regeneration 6

Actions

Caseless Pistol

16 rounds, range 50 feet, +4 to Hit , 1d6+2 piercing damage plus 2 Fire damage

Legendary Actions

Firebolt

Once per a round, at the end of another creature's turn, she can cast Fire Bolt. This still requires the Dark cost from her vessel as normal.

Legendary Resistance

Once a day

If the creature fails a saving throw, it can choose to succeed instead.

Lair Actions

Burning Temple

On initiative count 20 (losing initiative ties)

Fire erupts from a point on the ground that Ilsa Var can see within 120 feet of her, creating a 20-foot radius ball of flame. Each creature in the area must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw with a DC 12 taking 18 (4d8) fire damage on a failed save or half as much on a successful one.

The air is thick with dust and incense, long since settled into the cracked tile floor. Before you stretches the grand nave—rows of splintering pews lined beneath shattered stained-glass windows that cast fractured, spectral light across the debris-strewn stone. The once-majestic vaulted ceiling looms high above, webbed with age and shadow. Faint whispers seem to echo between the columns, and at the far end, the altar lies in eerie silence, half-shrouded by a collapsed beam and overgrown vines. A faint scent of old blood and damp stone lingers, as if the cathedral itself is holding its breath, watching your every move.


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