DjinnTheBinding:Antagonists:Sorcerers

Jaffar, Legendary Sorcerer

Quote: I am honoured by the presence of a mighty Djinn. I presume you have questions, there is little else a humble scholar of the Occult can offer.

Virtue Prudence Vice Envy Morality 4

Intelligence 4 Wits 5 Resolve 5 Strength 2 Dexterity 3 Stamina 2 Presence 3 Manipulation 5 Composure 4

Academics 5 (research, Arabic history) Computer 1 Investigation 3 Medicine 1 Occult 5 (Djinn, Spirits, alchemy, Ceremonial Magic) Politics 4 Science 2 Brawl 1 Drive 1 Firearms 2 Larceny 4 (pickpocket, slight of hand) Stealth 3 (notice my liege not me) Survival 2 Weaponry 2 Empathy 1 Expression 3 Intimidation 3 Persuasion 4 (Spirits, deals) Socialise 2 Streetwise 1 Subterfuge 4 (fake emotions, I am your humble servant, lies).

Allies 5 (Spirits) Encyclopaedic Knowledge 4 Resources 4 Language 3 (Arabic) Language 3 (Latin) Language 3 (Traditional Chinese) Language 3 (Ancient Greek) Djinn Tongue ? Rituals of Solomon ? Contacts 2 (occultists, academics) Danger Sense 2

Luck Magic 4 Curse of Ill Fortune 3 Evocation (Spirits) 4 External Alchemy 2 Favourable Fortune 3 Scrying 3 Countermagic 4 Library 3 (Djinn, Spirits, Ceremonial Magic) Warding 3

Artefact 7 Casts the spell Telepathic Control (see Mage the Awakening page 216). This Artefact looks like a snake headed staff and requires eye contact between the staff and its target to work.

Special: Jaffar is functionally immortal and surprisingly tough to hurt. He has 2/2 armour at all times as well as complete immunity to diseases and toxins.

Any Djinn who believes himself to be immune the best efforts of “powerless short lived humans” need only meet Jaffar to cure himself of the delusion. Starting life as a starving thief Jaffar grew into a man who would steal a kingdom and his own mortality from Death’s cold hands. Though nowadays he has little cause to use them he’s forgotten none of his magic and none of his skills. If a Djinn pushes him hard enough he just might steal their freedom.

Born into abject poverty in Bagdad, 913 AD, Jaffar was a weak child with a keen intellect and a habit of correcting anyone who he thought was wrong, a habit that earned him many beatings and few friends.

Determined to rise Jaffar turned his wits and slight stature to pickpocketing, within a month he had paid some of the bigger street rats to teach a lesson to his tormentors. Within a year he was running his own gang. Within five he had saved enough to buy some stock and redefine himself as an honest law-abiding merchant. At trade Jaffar's quick mind again served him well, he quickly mastered the merchants arts and won the respect of his peers. For a while Jaffar was content.

It was during this time that Jaffar first noticed the Occult, while importing books from China Jaffar came across several tomes on Ceremonial Magic. Far from being consumed with a new passion he merely dabbled. Intellectual exercise for his formidable mind that would remain a constant hobby.

Eventually Jaffar's moods soured, he had a comfortable life and was well regarded as a successful and honest merchant by his peers, but to those born with privilege in their veins, well that was another story. Envy grew in Jaffar's heart and turning to magic he grew his business tenfold, he began to attend court crushing his opponents with a fast wit and inconvenient truths he bargained from spirits. Jaffar was so successful that he earned the eye of the Sultan and was appointed the title of Grand Vizier. Those who once looked down upon him for his common roots would flatter and praise for his favour, with his advice the Sultan's rule was wise and just. For a while Jaffar was content.

Once again envy crept into Jaffar's heart. The Sultan was well loved by his people yet outside the court few knew he existed, Jaffar coveted this fame and adoration yet he knew his magic could not hope to usurp the throne. Taking leave for a while he retreated into the desert to seek a Ifrit which he may bind with the rituals of king Salomon. A daunting task but one in which history records Jaffar as successful.

With his new-found power he returned and seized the throne. An event which changed surprisingly little: Jaffar was neither a cruel man nor a foolish one, it was he who had unofficially run the kingdom and his skills served him just as well as its official ruler. During this time Jaffar used his Ifrit to increase his magical skills rising to mastery of his tradition, both his immortality and his staff came from these days. In time his theft of the throne was forgotten and he gained the love of his people that he craved. For a time Jaffar was content.

No man can possess power without others desiring to take it from him and Jaffar was no different, with his Ifrit's aid and the service of the guard he easily foiled plots from ambitious magicians and cunning thieves. It was in fact an unknown jailer serving in the palace dungeon who would succeed where greater men had failed. Hearing of Jaffar's Ifrit and the lamp it was anchored too from the many prisoners who had failed to claim it the guard decided he would quite like the lamp for himself. He cleaned his uniform, which was the same as the palace guard, polished his weapon until it shone, took a dutiful expression and began to patrol the corridors. When the opportunity arose he darted into Jaffar's bedchamber and snatched the lamp.

Immediately three spirits, servants of Jaffar leapt at the guard. “Save me” he cried to the Ifrit who immediately sealed him in iron. With the guard terrified beyond thought the Ifrit took his chance. “Wish for my freedom and I give you my Oath, you will escape this day unharmed”. Now free the Ifrit's rage knew no bounds, he tore through the palace in search of his former master.

Jaffar had prepared for this, he sprinted down secret corridors warded with his magic and guarded by powerful spirits, his escaped slave followed ripping wards to shreds and burning guardians to ash. This path led Jaffar to the palace docks where he dived into the water. Immediately the spirit of a fish carried him into the depths and far away while a spirit of air filled his lungs. The Ifrit's fury raged but it was powerless beneath the waters.

When he arrived on foreign shores Jaffar decided he had quite enough of rulership, it was hard ceaseless work and the adoration of faceless crowds and two-faced courtiers had grown stale. Looking around he saw the sun was shining and a fresh sea breeze soothed his nerves, smiling to himself Jaffar set off. There was a city nearby that he fondly remembered from his days as a merchant, simply having the time to stretch his legs and see a few sights felt divine.

And so began the first day of Jaffar’s new life, when tourism grows tiring he’d settle down to the life of a scholar, winning respect with his keen mind and contributions to knowledge. When scholarly pursuits grow dull and repetitive he packs his bags and walks off to some far away place with strange sights and rich culture.

Jaffar has been content ever since.