Bran
Profile
Basic Information
Name:
Bran
Nickname(s):
Wheat-head, Bran flakes
Age:
Birth Date:
Height:
4' 11" / 151 cm
Gender:
Male
Race:
Earth Oriad
Class:
Scout
Occupation:
Wandering sentry
Guild(s):
Enhancement(s):
Likes
Animals, nice old people, bards, rock climbing, sentimental hoarding, sharp knives, his hair intact
Dislikes
Thieves, mossy cliffs, smoke, bugs, his hair/skin sheddings, his hair getting eaten, Aurea
Personality
Faithful, Caring | Dependent, Sentimental | Gullible, Unrestrained
Standing next to a child, Bran possess a formidable pose that assured that he is steadfast and trustworthy, a reliable figure or otherwise a diligent errant boy. As Bran is just adjusting to his body like many other Oriads, his sturdy quality prevents him from properly convey his emotions— the truth that beneath the perpetual stern expression, Bran in fact, has a gentle heart. The lack of memories gave desire to cultivate as many experiences as possible, however most of the time it led him to hold everything to a sentimental degree, going as far as to relating them to his personal experiences.
Where he is inclined to react, he is also the least mentally equipped to handle nuances and changes. Subtlety is yet to be a concept that exists in his book and the young man is bound to honesty and duty. Bran accepts everything face value, as they were presented to him. Swamped with pressure in the face of dilemma Bran would gravitate towards the next radical option for his peace of mind: he would invest all of his strength and ability to pursue it, regardless of thought and consequences.
History
His earliest recollection was being in a sea of gold.
Vast, as far as the eyes can see, and a sight to behold in the daylight. In the wheat field stood a lone tree of what would expect from a picturesque farm, and from the divergene of its giant roots, a crusty earth Oriad blinked himself awake.
He would watch the golden field sway, listen to the rush of leaves above him and feel the warm breeze on his face lull him back to sleep. For a while, the cycle repeats- for every time he wakes, he took notice of the gradual change in the sky’s colours, how there was a brief period where the sun shone brilliantly through the golden fields and made it glitter, and how quickly the darkness swallowed everything in sight and Bran panicked.
For the first time ever, the young Oriad was fully awake. The rush of energy coursing through his body was energizing and unpleasant all at the same time. Where did the golden fields go? Did the sun took the golden fields with it? He wanted to reach out to the remaining sunlight, and it only occurred to him the crusty limbs that he had not only been detached, it was far heftier than it looks. What was a comforting spot for him became a cage, the possible prospect of being rooted to it forever terrified him.
His desire to remove himself was one of desperation. The Earth Oriad screamed as he ripped himself from the tree roots, plunging to the dirt. He hugged himself where he was hurt, but there was no time for relief. He frantically climbed to stand on his knees to get his bearings, but most importantly he wanted to track down the last rays of the sunlight.
The weight on his body and the horrible feeling and the growing darkness beats down on him- but he refused to be dragged down. His persistence eventually rewarded him as he saw a stream of flickering light around the edges of the field. It had the same color as the field. That was a distance he hasn’t considered before, but if he could move himself to there.. Maybe he will be rewarded.
For better or worse, he dragged himself through the wheat field to reach the distant stream of gold in the horizon, anxious of what he will find.
Current Story
Rather than joining the quest for Tharoneos fully, Bran pulled away from hung out with the civilian stragglers in underground Telurea. He remained with the farmers, acting as their bodyguard against bandits, helping them sherpherd and tracking down their stubborn farm animals for the most part. He took the opportunity to scale and admire the ancient architecture scattered underground, far impressive civilization than the Cantor farms he was used to, mournful for what could have been.
After being uprooted above ground against his will by Therras' awakening, Bran followed the farmers to survey the new Cantor with caution. He didn't take well to the horrifying sight, but he steels himself for his peers' sake. Watching the gods active at work restoring the lands does give him some semblance of hope for things to improve.
Additional Info
His hair, while not much produces edible wheat stalks. He's wary of horses eating his hair for this reason but offers them to hungry children to nibble on.
All of his life's belongings from the moment he woke up in Cantor Bran carries with him.
A light sleeper, Bran lies with his knives out so thieves won't steal the random junk he holds sentimental value.
Since regaining his nimble reflexes Bran spends most of his free time scaling the ruins of Telurea.
Whether its the husks in his wheat hair or the splinters in his skin, Bran constantly sheds. The fact that he leaves a trail behind makes him uncomfortable the most.