Brandon Buchanan

Background

Brandon is what most call a noble; both his parents serve as council members in Tauros - the Capital of Lorianthil. Because of his family's importance and wealth, he received an expensive, private education that included the war arts such as riding, lancing, and melee. He also had a musical tutor who coached him in a few different instruments such as lute, drums, and the viol de gamba. Though Brandon went on to attend the prestigious Fighters Academy in Careth, he still fosters his musical talents as a means of leisure and social recreation.
Many bards are known for documenting the tales of other legends and heroes, but Brandon has always been content to document his own adventures. His endeavors have taken him far across several terrains of Lorianthil, from the high eastern mountains to the flat western plains. By the age of thirty, he took on a position as Captain of Intelligence in the small outpost town of Danelith - a place known for its mixed cultures and various travelers.

Inspirations

As a youth, Brandon was often expected to court and entertain young women. This, along with his musical skills, shaped him into the traveling musician he is to this day. A true extrovert, he enjoys the attention being on a stage yields him. Many of his songs are reinvented tunes he picked up from places he's worked; he dabbles in a bit of ethnomusicology in that regard. But his most favored subject matter: sexual conquests - especially of one particular elf he attended school with once upon a time. The golden-haired warrior who comes and goes as she pleases.

Significance

Brandon is a side character in the narrative of Lorianthil, but he does play a valuable role in this current story. In the year 482, he finds himself back in his home town of Tauros, serving as the newest Captain of Intelligence there. He leads a rather large team on a mission to help a group of dark elves who are on the brink of starvation. With a harsh winter on the horizon, the dark elves have reached out to the Kingdom of Lorianthil to broker an alliance. This alliance allows them a bountiful caravan of food and supplies that will aid them through winter, allow more time to get back on their feet. However, Brandon and his team run into some bumps along the way; an in-grown crime syndicate known as the Katol Clan. They manage to infiltrate the town of Danelith and capture one of Brandon's team members. Then he finds that the capture has lured his golden-haired warrior into danger.

From the Text

Here is an excerpt from Song of of Ëolnir, a recent WIP. In this passage, we see Brandon socializing with one of the dark elves he's been hired to protect.

Amilié rubbed her aching temples. Going a full night and then some without sleeping had taken its toll. She was tired, but going to bed was still far off. She had volunteered to take the first watch while the others slept.
Beside her, Brandon sat poking at their campfire, his expression more serious than she had seen before. The lines and edges of his face made him bitter, upset.
“So much for getting all this supplies to Ëolnir safely.” Amilié broke the silence, hoping a bit of conversation would ease the man.
After a long bout of nothing, Brandon finally said, “I suppose I should be grateful to know what’s been going on in my town. But still…”
“I know the feeling,” Amilié said, facing forward. “You have to protect them, even at great personal cost.”
“My life’s mission is to keep Lorianthil as free of criminals as possible. And the moment I leave…” he trailed off, stabbing the logs with a rod.
Amilié felt the need to place a hand on his shoulder. “You did what you could, Brandon. That nightmare is over.”
“But for how long? The town remains vulnerable because the King won’t post anyone there.”
“I’ll take it up with my brother,” she said. “You have my word.”
Brandon showed gratitude at that. “I won’t expect the problem to go away quickly, but thank you. This alliance between our kingdoms is already proving beneficial.”
“It’s quite easy to draw lines,” she nodded. “Difficult to draw circles.”
“Especially perfect ones.” Brandon placed the rod down and picked up his lute, strummed a few notes that sang above the sputtering flames. “To beautiful chaos! And big dreams.” Then he began the lyrics to the song, a melancholy tune that was oddly joyful to Amilié’s ears. She knew the song and the words by heart, silently intoned the poem along with him.
I see down to the end of each road/ My story is mine to tell/ I will not let go ‘till I see this home/ 'Till all of my bones are fell
“I know that one.” Amilié smiled when he was finished singing. “My mother used to sing that.”
“I picked it up from a few dark elf travelers passing through.” His fingers kept plucking out the sour, lovely riff. “I don’t know it’s true title; I call it The Song of Ëolnir.”
“I think that’s a good title.”
“You don’t know what’s it’s called either?”
“Well, we dark elves aren’t really known for our songs, and they tend to have awful titles.”
“True that.”
“You have a nice voice,” she said after a moment.
“Do you have any songs to teach me?” he asked.
“No.” She rested her chin in her palm. “I don’t sing. Not even for myself.”
“Have you ever tried?” He smiled, handing her the lute. She laughed and pushed it away. “Alright.” Brandon reclaimed his instrument and began a different riff with a new and pulsing beat. “Just come in when you’re ready to.”
Amilié gave him a pointed look and enunciated clearly. “I don’t sing for people,” she repeated.
“Who’s around to judge?”
She silenced the lute by clamping it. “Everyone is trying to sleep.”
“Psh, we both know you and I aren’t. I get bored without music.”
“Then go play somewhere else.”
“There is no getting past your stubbornness is there?” He pried her fingers off and held onto her thin, bony wrist. She would have pulled away if not for the heat she felt from him. Brandon was an agreeable specimen for a human; not too large, not too lean. Such kind blue eyes held her; the sturdy, gruff shape of his jaw.
Amilié cleared her throat, reclaimed her hand. A new wave of tired swept over, beckoned her to shut her eyes and drift into sleep. Brandon placed his lute down and brought his fingers to her ears. She melted into relaxation as the man massaged the pointed tips. She sensed a moan wanting to escape her, but she held it back.
“You must have magic fingers.”
“I heard elves have sensitive nerves in their ears. Has no one ever done this to you?”
She shook her head in reply because she was too enamored to speak. It was when his lips began brushing along her forehead and temple that she had the better sense to pull away.
“Can you keep watch on your own?” she slurred. “I’m about to pass out.”
The man let her go with a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Get some rest, Amilié. I’ll serenade you another time.”

A formidable fighter, a crafty musician... It's not so often the two come so harmoniously together.

Quick Look for Roleplay

Race: Human male
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Weapons and Equipment: Brandon favors bladed weapons, such as swords and daggers, but he most often wields a steel saber in combat. He has no magic ability of his own and often relies on elves or mages to support him in battles.