Irgir Dun

The disheveled and wild-eyed priest of Kossuth that the party met during the brief raid by the flame-crazed cultists. A cloud of ash seems to follow his every movement. He speaks with a strong, deliberate tone, and never seems pressed to elaborate on anything.
He has little knowledge of, or desire to learn, the ways of society or the people who have made the Plaguelands their home. He is wholly and fanatically dedicated to what he claims is the "Cleansing Flame" of his God, Kossuth.
Irgir Dun emerges from the shadows of Stonewood, an unexpected figure amidst the town’s vibrant life. His brown hair, matted and tangled, seems to have absorbed the very essence of smoke and ash. Deep lines etch his weathered face, hinting at years spent in fervent prayer and perilous journeys, searching for truth in the flames.
His tattered brown robes, once a symbol of his devotion to Kossuth, now hang loosely from his lean frame. The fabric is a patchwork of singed patches and faded embroidery, depicting the sacred flame of his deity. Each thread tells a story of trials faced and battles fought, the wear and tear a testament to his unwavering faith. As he moves, the robes rustle softly, a whisper of the fires he commands.
The staff he carries is simple yet profound—a sturdy wooden implement that has seen better days. However, one side is perpetually engulfed in fire, a blazing reminder of Kossuth’s dominion over flames. The flames flicker with a life of their own, casting a warm glow that dances across Irgir’s features, illuminating his deep-set eyes, which burn with an intensity that reflects both his devotion and his concern.
Irgir’s presence commands attention; the air around him feels charged, as if the very elements respond to his will. The townsfolk regard him with a mix of awe and trepidation, sensing the power he carries within him. He approaches each person with an earnestness that reveals his urgency, questioning them about signs of Imix’s influence, his voice a blend of authority and concern.
As he moves through the town, he often pauses, kneeling to touch the ground or place a hand on a wall, murmuring prayers that summon the warmth of Kossuth’s flames to reveal the truth hidden in shadows. His goal is clear: to extinguish the whispers of a cult that threatens to consume Stonewood in chaos and fire.
Beneath his shabby exterior lies a heart ablaze with purpose, ready to confront any darkness that dares challenge his faith.