Bran
|
Wandering Blademaster
The Origin of the Blade
Bran, then responding to his birth name Brenthalion, dwelt on his family's ancestral lands in south central Sedas. For reasons never revealed to him, the forests there seemed a touch more Otherworldly than normal, even for the sylvan groves of Sedasi song. This queer quality seemed to imbue everything that transpired there with a tranquil, dream-like quality. The young elf did not care for it, he for most of his formative years he found it all stifling, and incredibly boring.
The only feature which redeemed the area in Brenthalion's opinion was the Enclave of Sublime Blades, a gathering place for elven Blademasters. The Enclave Compound served as part court, part dojo, part museum, and part retirement estate for the ancient and venerable masters of styles and traditions going back to ancient times. Some styles claim to trace ancestry to times before the elves arrived on this plane, but this is debated among the Sedasi Blademasters even now. The adolescent elf spent a great deal of time working as a page of sorts for the masters, as only swordplay could hold his attention. His family noted his interest and seized on this opportunity to have their scion actually do something honorable for the community, for a change. It was whispered among many that Brenthalion's unseemly impetuousness, along with his dark eyes and hair, hinted at a polluted ancestry, some mingling of human blood with his line far in the past. His parents had no such features, and the apperance of such in Brenthalion was considered ill-fated by the local community. Most of the elves were kind enough to pretend not to notice, but there were certainly enough over the years who would whisper in the ear of another at his approach, perhaps sparing him a pitying glance if they felt at all sorry for the 'poor unfortunate child'.
Even within the serene protection of the otherworldly nature of this part of Sedas, stories of turmoil from the capital Rhys would reach the local's ears. When Brenthalion was but a babe in arms, the entire Kingdom had been rocked by turmoil when the King fell ill and retired from ruling. Princess Yaris accused the Heir Prince Cir of poisoning, resulting in her being tried for treason. This resulted in the fracturing of Elven Orders and the Princesses flight from Sedas. 70 years later, during Brenthalion's late adolescence, about the time he started his Pageship with the Enclave, Crown Price Cir banished the good Priesthood of Rhys and ordered the destruction of their sacred Cathedrals. It was not long after before dark rumors of necromancy where reported occurring in the Royal Court. By this point, the young elf was very disillusioned with the state of Sedas, would have despaired had another event in the Enclave not distracted him.
Varothin's Folly
And so it came to pass, the ancient and venerable master Varothin perceived the end of his long life, and began the traditional process of making peace with his earthly existence and choosing his successor. As keeper of the Way of the Sanctified Blade, it was his duty to appoint and train a new master and curator of the style. The Enclaves other Masters and keepers speculated as to which of the handfull of dutiful and honorable elven warriors would be choosen. The Enclave, and to a more limited extent the local elven community at large, was scandlized when Varothin chose a grizzled human gladitorial veteren and solider of fortune.
It was true, the early middle aged human picked up the style and within two years could demonstrate its forms and movements flawlessly. This did nothing to help, as the other masters now felt embarrassment in addition to horror that such a great unbroken line of elven heritage was sullied by a human. There was little they could do, as Varothin was the eldest living master at the time, and thus beholden to no-one where matters of the Enclave and and the stewardship of his style were concerned. This changed upon Varothin's death. Released from the required deference due a living elder master, the shunning and sneering turned to outright hostility. Varothin's memorial service was held, then as soon as all the proper observances very seen to, mourners turned to lynch mob, and the human was chased out of Sedas with nothing but the clothes on his back. The long illustrious tradition of the Santified Edge style was pronounced dead. Then Enclave only refers to the event as "Varothin's Folly", always with a sad voice.
