Bran
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Wandering Blademaster
Background
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; this also made the area seem more resistant to change and outside ideas, at least from the young elf's viewpoint. The only feature which redeemed the area in Brenthalion's opinion was the Enclave of Sublime Blades; a gathering place for elven Blademasters, part court, part dojo, part monument, 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 Lance was built, but this is debated among the Sedasi Blademasters even now. The adolescent elf spent a decade or so working as a page of sorts for the masters, as nothing else would hold his attention. 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 looked as typical Sedasi elves, and thus no suffered no shame themselves, and in some other parts of Sedas his slightly swarthy (for an elf!) features would have gone without comment. But here, he would be subjected to whispers and knowing, or worse pitying, looks.
Even within the serene protection of the otherworldly nature of this part of Sedas, stories of turmoil from the Sedasi capital Rhys reached Brenthalion's ears. Shortly before he was born, the elven kingdom was rocked by turmoil as the King fell ill. Princess Yaris accused the Heir of poisoning, resulting in Prince Cir trying her for treason, resulting in the fracturing of orders and her flight from Sedas. Brenthalion's late adolescence, about 70 years old, coincided with the banishment of the Rhys Priesthood and the destruction of their Cathedrals. And dark rumors of necromancy and other disturbing from the elven court. By this point, the young elf was very disillusioned with the state of Sedas.
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.
