Dr. Ibott is a professor specializing in monstrous war beasts. He was challenged to do something different.


A genius can still be pathetic. Though his talents and discipline have gained him respect he has not adaquetly made use of it. While highly intelligent in biology and the sciences he lacks emotional intelligence.[1]


Project GalateaEdit

Was anything but fatherly toward her.[2]


a respected man, at the very least in redham.[3]


Keeps a controlled and cultivated appearance, passably good looking.[3]


His direct mentor made the largest sea beast of the day, though it was later outstripped in size. Ibott himself also focused on making gargantuan war beasts, like giants. Then he was challenged to do something differently.

Said to have specialist knowledge usually seen in whole teams of doctors. When designing Helen he tried to cover every possible angle of attack.[4]



Likely met or was influenced by Professor Ferres early in his career.[5]

Story StartEdit

Created project galatea




He misunderstood the emotional turmoil that Galatea was going through.

Increasingly involved in politics and neglected Galatea.[1]

It is unknown how he reacted to the reports of her death.


Was captured by his creation and her friends.


He was kept at what he was best at.


  • The surname is likely a matronomic from Ibbotta, a form of Isabela, linguistically related with Elizabeth, which goes back to the name Elisheba literally "god is my oath".
  • Though his surname has been spelled variously, likely due to Sylvester's faulty memory,[6] Ibott is the most common spelling and thus the one used here.

References Edit

  1. 1.0 1.1 “Duncan reported to Professor Hayle early on that your Helen was becoming emotionally disturbed. I’ve had other sources say that Ibbot is neglecting her as a project. He invests too much energy into the political side of things, when his talent is solely limited to the art of biology. She’ll soon reach a point where she requires more upkeep than he is willing to provide while he is so eager to seize greater opportunities, and the idea of a custom wife, pillow companion and personal weapon that he grew in a vat will lose out in the end.”
    But the Infante kept talking on the subject. “She will go to his lab for a standard appointment, bubbly, smiling and laughing. That preferred personality is in her records. She’ll be nonetheless obedient as he asks her to lay down across the counter and opens her up to examine her organs. And I can assure you, that spiteful, vitriolic little man will be in the midst of palpating her insides with a scalpel lying within arm’s reach, and he will find his way to the decision that frees him to pursue his politics. That is, if she doesn’t break before then, slip up, and lead him to the conclusion herself. Whatever the case, he will make a single small cut, deep inside her, and she will go quiet and cold.” - Excerpt from Black Sheep 13.4
  2. But for this, for this moment, she could put the eagerness away and be dead. She could delay the gratification.

    An idle part of her wondered if Ibbot ached. If he experienced this.

    She was his Galatea. The woman carved according to his design. She was to be the woman that would serve him and be his, in a way that an ordinary woman could never be. Child and wife and partner and yet neither. Impermanent. He delayed his gratification by nearly twenty years. She would become the woman he had wanted, and she would die a few years later.

    She hated him and loved him, for that, as she lay dead on the street - Excerpt from Black Sheep 13.5
  3. 3.0 3.1 Ibott. He was someone who had been elevated to a position in society that didn’t suit him in the slightest. He was among the most brilliant minds at Radham, clever, not bad looking on the surface, he had the veneer of the upper class and none of the follow-through. His hair was neatly parted, set firmly in place by something that had a way of smelling rancid at the end of the day, leaving his hair locked into hard strings that crossed one corner of his forehead. His round eyeglasses were gold-rimmed, but so smudged I could barely see the eyes on the other side of the glass.

    A name that might not have been known by every household, but was known to most. - Excerpt from Taking Root 1.12
  4. Helen had been been made to do this. Ibbot wasn’t a stupid man. He knew victims would scratch. They would gouge at eyes and search out weak points, try to strangle her or beat her until she was forced to let go.

    He had made her so that the damage she dealt would far outpace what little damage they could do to her in turn. - Excerpt from Black Sheep 13.5
  5. It was a beautiful thing, from a certain perspective. I’d grown up around Helen, and I was strongly suspicious that Ibbot had been inspired by Professor Ferres when he had designed our winsome, woesome Lamb. Long exposure to Helen, years of my own earnest attempts at acting and being up against some of the best around gave me a deep appreciation for Ferres’ act. The face that betrayed nothing, the fact that she could smile and act as though nothing was wrong when she was battered, bruised, and tired? - Excerpt from Dog Eat Dog 18.5
  6. Survey done by a fan
Community content is available under CC-BY-SA unless otherwise noted.