The Historian's Chronicles
An elf sorcerer who really, really wants to show the world the magic of sandy hats
Mister Sandyhat was not always Mister Sandyhat.
He was born a young Irving Brightwood, a young elven boy with infernal blood coursing through his veins. His parents went to great lengths to hide this fact; it was fairly embarrassing to admit that one of their ancestors had been seduced by a great, firey demon. I mean, he was a really nice, handsome, and charming demon, so it’s understandable, right?
Irving inherited both the firey demon powers and the devilish charm, giving him considerable power. He was always scolded to keep it to himself, but at times he would show off. And eventually, this got him into trouble.
A group of older boys in the village ambushed Irving and bound his limbs and mouth, leaving him helpless. But before they could inflict any real pain, an enigmatic traveler stopped their attacks. As sand fell from his hat, he used magic to force the boys away, commanding them with an unholy power to leave. Against their wills, they retreated. He unbound Irving. “Seek out the Historians and assist them however you can,” he said in a gruff voice. In the next second, he was gone, leaving only a pile of sand in his place.
Irving engaged in a bit of idol-worship and has searched the world for a sandy hat to wear on his head ever since. He preemptively refers to himself as Mister Sandyhat. It is difficult to take him seriously.
Irving is Chaotic Good. He is very interested in making the world a better place, with no regard for rules or order. He is Utilitarian to a fault, willing to make the big sacrifices before it is clear that it is necessary.
He hates snails.
In the conflict against Redwood, the Historians obtained the unholy fire of Zon-Kuthon and used it to light Redwood on fire. Initially, Redwood became more active, growing to a larger size and quickly moving its roots to smash the party. Mister Sandyhat decided to drink some of Zon-Kuthon’s flame in order to replicate these effects.
Two years later, Mister Sandyhat has recovered, slightly worse for the wear. It isn’t clear what those two years were like for him, but he has gained significant resilience and a liking for pain. Pain for evildoers, of course! Of course it is only evildoers who should feel pain.
In the brief moments between his re-employment in the Historian’s Guild and his recovery, he obtained a fairly powerful magical item. He keeps it hidden away on his person and a few opportunistic thieves have found themselves the most painful, firey death imaginable. The rest of the opportunistic thieves find their lives more valuable than whatever magical aura emanates out of Mister Sandyhat’s possessions.