The Dance of the White Lotus
The annals of the Tchamut at Sgàineadh are as deep as the crater itself; and that is no exaggeration. The libraries and climate controlled storerooms wherein lie the collected wisdom of the Bladepriests number in the hundreds. It is part of their charter, after all, taking after Myra in journaling as in all of the things they did, and do to this day. Their veneration for the Traveler has always been as deep as her esteem for the Singers.
When a Tchamut ages out of protecting a tribe at seventy years of age, they return to Sgàineadh to live out the remainder of their days training the up and coming generation of blade priests, and they are expected by tradition to journal their days, including their evolving personal training routines. The threads of changing martial styles can be traced, here, in unique ways, using more than two thousand years of writings replete with artistic renderings and mathematical formulae. In essence, the different steps and movements necessary to fight an army of invisible, imaginary enemies, are gathered together into forms, or (to use Myra's word for them) kata. These all start with the very basic movements, becoming longer and more complex as the years go by. Eventually, the Tchamut's spirit mount is incorporated into the training routine, as well, bringing even more complexity and specialization to the kata. The length, breadth, and storied history of these forms led to them being called (unofficially, of course) "dances" by the elderly masters who were busy documenting their own youth while diligently mentoring someone else's.
The comparison is, of course, perfectly valid. The ballet performances at The Bardic College Campus can last up to four hours, depending on the composer's innate grandiosity; it seems only natural to invite comparison with the works of the Tchamut Masters of old. For the last hundred years or so, however, a militaristic bent to the order has rendered the term "Dance" inappropriate where such training is concerned, and discourage it entirely. The works are named after the Master who created them, and archived under the same, now. All of them have been updated thusly. All of them, that is, except for one.
In the deeps of time, upon the plains of The City of the Lights, a Tchamut found himself amongst a party of adventurers. By the name of Regnòm Raw, this blade priest was special in a few ways, other than being sent outside of the tribes to do the Goddess Myra's Works. He was the seventh son of a seventh son, had striking golden irises, and had a real, flesh and blood warhorse instead of one of the ghostly spirit mounts summoned by most Tchamut. His mount, Ophelia, had been an incredibly intelligent beast, and was capable of learning the Tchamut's training routines. The twain began training together, and invented a form still called the Dance of the White Lotus to this day, despite the increasingly fascist upper priesthood's (unofficial) ban on the term. The kata was a whirl of rider and mount, with Regnum bearing two swords and Ophelia communicating with him telepathically. It is a form that has been emulated using regular spirit mounts, but it is only half effective without the hooves and kicks of the mount being ridden. For, as everybody knows, a Tchamut's spirit mount can do no harm to a living creature. The Dance of the White Lotus is considered the penultimate mounted sword form, and is required learning for all Tchamut.
Despite how old fashioned and matte the form is considered, its naming is considered borderline inappropriate by the ruling caste of priests.
Execution
There are 1,718 movements involved in the Dance of the White Lotus. The all seem to have to do with movement, much of the instruction being to "be like water".
Components and tools
A mount and two katana.
Participants
The priest and their mount.
Observance
This is a training ritual that would have, at one time, been described as a 'dancxe' by the blade priests of Sgàineadh.
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