Excerpts from the work of Guildergrance, self-appointed biographer of

Sanjuro

T'skrang of Legend, Swordmaster of Renown and occasional Poet of Epics

Trilfin Guildergrance is an elven scribe whose only other noteworthy work was the ill-conceived "A Day in the Life of a Mucker". The story goes that Guildergrance was present for Sanjuro's infamous Sermon on the Mast. So inspired was the scribe that he swore a blood oath to chronicle the life of this obviously Passion-blessed t'skrang. Although the Bearers and their associates have taken great pains to ignore and avoid Guildergrance, his persistence and diligence have led to early versions of a biography which he readily donated to the library "for the sake of posterity". This selection covers the Bearers' arrival at Triumph after their defeat of the Corinthian, on 10 Sollus 1508.

Vardin Silvertongue

The airship glided gracefully through the skies. As the wind currents washed over the deck, it almost made the stone vessel seem like it belonged among the birds and clouds. Almost. Never was Sanjuro more aware of that than now. It was powerful magic that caused the vessel to float. Not nature, not the Passions but magic harnesse dand controlled by Name-givers.

When scholars examine the t'skrang, they eventually raise the question about why there was never a single nation, like most other Name-giver races excluding, of course, the indlings, obsdimen and dragons (although who can truly say with dragons). Among the t'skrang, there is an ancient legend of such a nation. No one knows what became of it, but the popular t'skrang phrase "Absolute Power corrupts Absolutely" is attributed to it.

With such reminders swirling in his mind like the wind around him, Sanjuro looked with dismay over the side of the ship. Before him lay what was once the most holy of sites for both t'skrang and obsidimen - Ayhoda. Now it was the resting place for the Theran behomoth, an abonimation of nature whose presence brought a sickening truth to the old t'skrang proverb. The Therans were mad with power and reveling in such a manifest destiny that they would crush the faith of thousands for their own glory.

Sanjuro pounded his fist against the stone sides. He had walked the pilgramage route innumerable times. He never completed it, but promised himself he would. Now his promises sat buried beneath countless tons of rock and metal. The helplessness of it all threatened to overwhelm him, sending him into an all-consuming depression. At the very brink of the abyss, as he found himself staring deeper and deeper into the mountain, a flash of pain seared through him.

Startled back into reality, he found himself clutching his left hand in pain. He slowly drew the hand away from his chest and stared at it. It was the hand upon which he cut his blood oath to Rokk Krinn. Despite his situation, Sanjuro could not stop himself from laughing. For the first time in a great while, he understood his place and purpose.

Sanjuro knew that he could not do anything about the Behomoth. Great sacrifices and great numbers would be needed to do so. Unity does not mean absolute power. When power corrupts the few, the many must step up and change their fates. The Theran War many years ago was the first glimmer of that truth. Now, the vision of King Varulus needed to come true. Races must unite like they never had before. Feuding Houses must become brothers and together fight side by side with the other Name-givers. United by blood and by Name, all Barsaivians must fight as one. In every town, on every mountain pass and with every weapon, the Therans must pay dearly for every innocent death they cause or every person driven into slavery.

Sanjuro knew what leaders would say. They would refuse to look past their own petty interests. They were too locked in their ways. Sanjuro knew that Barsaive could unite. His own friends were proof of that. For years, people read his poetry and reveled in the myth. Now, Sanjuro would have to lead, not by words but by example. He could not defeat the behomoth, but he could save his friend Rokk. He must finish the journey he started first before beginning a new one. By reconciling the promises and passions of his past, he would be ready for the future. Clutching the part of Rokk's clothing that bound his cut, Sanjuro swore again to fulfill his quest.

Having found direction once again, Sanjuro was able to divert his eyes. Looking across the deck, he saw his companions. This was a turning point for all of them, and he took a moment to think about his feelings for each of them.

Maxwell: For a year, Sanjuro travelled with this eccentric human, sharing misadventures and simple times with him. They were never in any real danger or quest. In the past month, that changed drastically and dramatically. Although Maxwell has acquitted himself as well as a wizard can, Sanjuro does not see that. Now, his vision of Maxwell is the untouched human who stood there bemused while the valiant Briana lay dying on the stairwell. Being a man of action and rooted in legends and heroes, this made a negative impression on Sanjuro. As Sanjuro becomes more and more focused on Rokk, his association with Maxwell grows dimmer and dimmer. Although Sanjuro does not realize it, his friendship with the misunderstood human was a casualty in the war with the Corinthian.

Akasha: Sanjuro grew an attachment to this elf as he would guard her defenseless, sleeping body all those nights. Now that he has met the awake version, Sanjuro is even more impressed. She has the spirit of a fire cannon and the drive of a well-oiled riverboat engine. She is reserved, speaking only when necessary. When she does, her words carry wisdom and weight. Sanjuro respects her and values her counsel.

Briana: Sanjuro prides himself at being the one to invite Briana into the group. Although she was stand-offish at first, Sanjuro has liked the elf from the first. He finds comfort in her worldly innocence and admires her drive to discover more about herself and her people. In danger, she has an undaunted courage that Sanjuro has drawn from in moments of great doubt. When he saw her lying on the stairs, the horrible visions of his dying friend, K'geoffrem, flooded back into his mind. It was the measure of Briana's courage that evoked such powerful reactions from Sanjuro. Now, Sanjuro sees the looks that pass between Briana and the Theran elf, Sonorious. Although losing Briana would cause him great regret, Sanjuro knows that what is growing between the two elves is what makes life worth living and heroics worth achieving.

Garnel: Although Sanjuro does not have a particularly close relationship with Garnel, they do share one strong bond - their drive to find Rokk Krinn. As the partner of Rokk, Garnel has shown a quiet, relentless dedication to finding his old friend. Those passions, so well guarded, came out gloriously in the final battle with the Corinthian. No one acquitted themselves better than Garnel did. As much as Sanjuro respects Garnel, the windling remains an enigma to him. Content to let the windling reveal himself as he is willing, Sanjuro has no problem trusting Garnel in any situation. The t'skrang takes comfort that, for the present, their patterns are tied together.

Midnight Blue: From the start, Sanjuro has understood and watched this independent elf. Blue is one of those minds who is rooted as much in conception and theory as he is in reality. Because of this, Blue finds it necessary to follow his own lead at times. Sanjuro sees that Blue respects and, in his own ways, cares for Rokk Krinn and Garnel. Although Sanjuro cannot figure out Blue's motivations, he trusts the elf because of his relatioship with Rokk. Realizing that he will never fully know the mysterious nethermancer, he is willing to settile for a companion he can trust.

Tural: Sanjuro appreciates the fact that Tural is a fellow swordmaster. Although he is disappointed that he cannot convince Tural that the Theran is above a petty mercinary life, he is still determined to forge a friendship with this intriguing human. With each battle, Sanjuro comes to respect the Theran more and more. As war approaches, Sanjuro fears that long-dormant nationalism may rise up in the human. Sanjuro hopes that he can convince Tural to join them, but the symbol of the behomoth is a difficult one to counter. Then again, so is bringing someone back to life after they've been killed. When it comes time for battle, where will this wild card land?

As the ship moves into a landing pattern, Sanjuro prepares to take his first step into the future. He will step boldly because he knows he is not alone in these dark days.

Introduction to Sanjuro

Commentary on the works of Sanjuro

The Sermon on the Mast

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