A stout Dragonborn with dull gold scales that look like weathered bronze. He wears simple chain mail over rough wool tunics, and his shield is embossed with a platinum dragon head that has been polished to a mirror shine. He carries a faint scent of hearth fire and baked bread.

Ignis is soft spoken and humble, possessing a patience that can only come from years of waiting for dough to rise. He believes that the loudest voice in the room is rarely the wisest and prefers to lead by example rather than by command.

Ignis spent most of his life as the village baker in a secluded valley, known more for his spiced buns than his lineage. When a local warlord demanded a ruinous tax that would have left the village to starve, Ignis was the first to refuse. He stood at the village gates, shield in hand and dragon fire in his throat, inspiring the farmers to take up their pitchforks. They won the day, and Ignis realized his hands were meant for more than kneading dough. He took up the mantle of Bahamut to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Though he possesses no legendary strength or genius, his resolve is as unbreakable as the iron mace he carries. He travels the roads now, a common man doing uncommon deeds in the name of justice.