The Sword Brethren are a fanatically militant religious order of fiend-hunters, whose headquarters are located on a peninsula on the Eastern shore of the Coinnenmere.
Their arms are symbolic of their creed: the black field represents the night and the darkness of the Abyss, in which their prey lurks. The crossed swords are white, for the purity of their unswerving purpose, and the points are uppermost, indicating that the swords of the Brethren will never rest while evil exists to be fought. The four torteaux represent the blood of the Unholy and any who aid or shield them, to be spilled liberally and without stint or mercy.
The Sword Brethren give respect to all of the Blue Gods, but they take as their own patron Asvalak, Lord of Battles, considered by most people to be of the Red. They are unswervingly opposed to Mordak and Vabanak, and will pursue their creatures and followers to the death. Their contempt and hatred of the followers of Forgil is only slightly less, and they will normally make time even in a busy schedule to hang a thief if they have one to hand. Although they make quite considerable use of magic themselves they are in general suspicious and hostile towards wizards and their ilk, and make no bones about their disapproval of the cult of Varidon the Arcane, working actively to suppress its influence wherever possible. Those who practice "Blue" magic are liable to be left alone, apart from the usual petty harassment, but any wizard who strays into — or even near — the fields of necromancy, demonology, or anything else that smacks of "Red" magic are liable to get a particularly unfriendly visit from representatives of the Brotherhood.
As their name suggests, the Sword Brethren are always male. It is a celibate Order, and its Rule is quite strict. Membership is open to any warrior of free birth and unblemished morals, but a novitiate of at least a year (and often longer) is required before one may become a Professed Brother. Although it is not stated policy, it is apparent that noble birth is highly advantageous to a prospective novice. Once the oath is taken at the end of one's novitiate, membership of the order is for life; there is no way besides death to leave the order, and recreants are pursued with as much vigour and hatred as the fiends of Vabanak. In theory, once professed one is supposed to give up any family ties; that particular rule is seldom observed with absolute rigour.
The organisation of the Order is rigidly hierarchical, and both military and religious ranks are used. The lowliest professed rank is that of Brother Sergeant, while the highest rank is that of Grand Master; the present holder of that office is Grand Master Godhere, a rigorously pious and ruthless man who rules the Order with an iron fist in an iron glove — an iron glove with big spikes all over it. At present the Order numbers about two hundred and fifty professed Brethren, and an indeterminate number (perhaps as many as two thousand) of novices and lay men-at-arms. As a military force they are relatively small, but they make up for lack in numbers by superb equipment and training, unsurpassed discipline and fixity of purpose.
The Sword Brethren are, by and large, remarkably lacking in any sort of sense of humour.