[b]Name:[/b] Brande Ashbell, "The Vagabond Prince."

[b]Element:[/b] Fire/Heat

[b]Age:[/b] 24

[b]Gender:[/b] Male

[b]Appearance:[/b] Standing at 6'2", with broad, powerful shoulders and an equally powerful gait, Brande Ashbell has spent his life working towards what he perceives to be his profession's perfection. He is toned, but not particularly muscular, and light on his feet: his physique is tailored for quick combat, after all. His features are bold and angular, his cheekbones defined and his jaw pointed, and the same is true of his hair: a finely trimmed, blonde ducktail beard-and-moustache, tailored to a point, and a head of flaxen hair, combed meticulously back. His eyes are cool, and grey, a familial trait for which the Ashbell family were named.

In terms of outfit, Brande wears a banded, tanned leather cuirass, and a pair of complimentary leather wrist braces, over a black ruffled shirt. 
A set of similar leather grieves compliment the ensemble, as does a sterling, silver rapier, which hangs from his belt. His pants are made of a light, baggy material to enable quick lunging movements. When travelling, he conceals most of this beneath a long, black cloak which he binds with a long, copper-coloured thread. On its hind, outlined in silver, a sword faces downwards, its tip piercing an eight-pointed star.

[b]Theme Song:[/b]
[Youtube]v=WCaaJPEdAzQ[/Youtube]

[b]Nature:[/b] Brande is a force of nature, consumed by an obsession to meet and duel his perfect match, driven by his lifelong commitment to live by the sword, and die by the sword. Like his father before him, all Brande aspires to is the final, perfect fight. If you defeat him, his loyalty is yours... [i]if.[/i]
He is the eternal showman, and like the element he's come to serve as avatar of, this beautiful flourish is part of what makes him dangerous: a combination of skill and recklessness.  
Outside of combat, he's sharp-tongued but good-spirited, and once his loyalty is earned it's banked for life. He's a very friendly, very jovial man... until you draw your sword. In which case, "Are you feelin' lucky, amico?"


[b]Backstory:[/b] Brande Ashbell is the son of Fiam Ashbell, who in turn was the son of Aviur Ashbell, one of the last knights to lose his life at Xaviar. 
The Ashbells have a grand legacy, of fighting (and tragically, often perishing), in stupendous battles. For as long as their name has been floating around Coake- since the first of them arrived, from a distant, Mediterranean climate- the Ashbells have always been known for their military service, and their ferocity with a blade. 
It is a long lived family, proud and- before darkness swept over the land- large. But most of them perished in the war, fighting to the last breath... most of the survivors were only children at the time, and many of them didn't start families. His father was the last Ashbell father.

The Ashbell lineage dies with Brande.

This is partly due to a strange, Ashbell tradition: that they should only marry those who can beat them in a fair fight.
But, at least, he will go out with style! Brande is distilled from a long history of swordsmen, all of different styles and disciplines. His father was a saberist, and his grandfather a student of the twin gladius. And Brande among them, a flamboyant disciple of the rapier, as his mother was before him. The Ashbell were once famous for their massive collection of familial blades.
How Brande longs to see that collection again.

Brande is a travelling swordsman. Despite his family's past wealth and prowess, he's a rolling stone, and not by choice. 
Once, he'd been a wealthy youth, without a care in the world: he'd lived on the family estate, [i]Serifina Heights,[/i] an expansive series of luscious courtyards and beautiful, antiquated architecture. It was there his father had taught him the way of the sword. It was an ancient rite of passage, starting when he was seven. To become an Ashbell man, you must pick an Ashbell weapon.
[i]"Pick any blade from my armoury: as an Ashbell, you'll eventually be proficient in them all."[/i]

Serifina Heights is gone, now. A burnt ruin that still smoulders lightly in the hotter months. It had been South of Jeorvo, East of the Wisdom Mountains. 
For fifty years, his father recounted, no element of darkness had ever stepped foot on Ashbell ground: it was as though they'd been granted clemency. 
Five decades, untouched. 

It was destroyed in a night. To this day, Brande doesn't know why: but one night mid-Summer, an army garrison descended from The Wisdom Mountains, and decided that Serifina Heights would be their bounty. The Ashbells and their staff, of course, raised arm against them: and had it been a fair sword fight, they might even have won. But when have goblins and orcs ever played fair?
The main chateau had already caught fire before Brande's father had realised he'd never stood a chance. In the final moments before the whole estate went up in flames, Brande was told to run, with only is mother's sword at his side. 

Brande never stopped running. 

Eleven years have passed, since that day, and the ruins of Serifina Heights are still there. Brande has visited them many times over the years. To meditate, to train. But he hasn't let his past dampen his spirit. Like his father and grandfather before him, his passion is the blade, and with said blade he's still steadily carving his way towards vengeance, and pursuing the glorious final fight his father was denied.
With his family gone, his estate destroyed and his wealth seized, Brande lives his life walking the land, now. Sharpening his skills, and pursuing the fabled "perfect opponent", the battle of his life.
So ill is his fortune, but so unbreakable is his spirit, the people he's passed have even given him a title: [i]The Vagabond Prince.[/i]

During a recent excursion to his old home, however, Brande's sword-fighting dynamic changed somewhat. Whilst camping out under the stars and among the ruins, searching for any remainder of the old sword gallery left un-pillaged, Brande had a most peculiar dream beckoning him Northwards. And when he awoke, he felt a strange kinship with his dwindling campfire, fueled by the burnt beams of his childhood manor. Absentmindedly, he'd reached to prod the ashes with his sword: only to find that when he drew the blade back, the fire came with it. 

Brande was an elementos. Brande controlled [i]fire.[/i]

Flaming blade at his side, Brande departed for Jeorva the next morning: ready to cleave his way to victory.


[b]Goal(s):[/b] To become the greatest swordsman the world has ever known, and carve his way through the forces of evil with his flaming blade, [i]Esmeralda.[/i]

[b]Inventory:[/b] [list]
[*] One rapier, [i]Esmeralda the Flame Cleaver.[/i] When he's near a source of fire, he draws it to this sword's blade.
[*] A tinder box
[*] A set of matches
[*] Handful of cigars (he might be broke, but his tastes are still rich!)
[*] A shaving kit, complete with straight razor
[*] One waterskin, slung from the belt
[*] A messengers bag
[/list]