Mahtan Telemnar

The face of battle is not beautiful, the dead lie scattered over the battlefield and their faces are carved with there final agonizing moments and their unheard screams of agony, yet if the face of the battle was not beautiful, death surely was. Death was a beautiful silence and as Mahtan Telemnar walked the battlefield and knelt before his fallen comrades he knew this.
The order of the Blade had found their fallen and the Bladesingers walked an honor walk towards Whitehaven each humming a song of old times and fallen heroes, this were Whitehaven greatest warriors, they were the ones who took up the sword and wielded their spells in the defense of all witch was elven,

Later that night when the fallen had been buried and songs of sadness filled the air, a door was opened and one of the Bladesingers had found his home again. Mahtan sat down in his library and the moments of the battle slowly filled his mind, the orcs had tried to take them by surprise only to be met by the defenders of Whitehaven, the clash of weapons, whistling sounds of arrows and the screams of agony soon filled the air.
Mahtan went over the battle, every movement, every swing with his sword and every spell he had cast it all went flying through his mind. The faces of the dead were still fresh in his mind.
He looked down his sword that was now laying in his lap, he cleaned the blood of it so the dark metal of the sword was visible. Again the blade was beautiful, the hilt was black and into it was engraved rubies in resemble as fallen tears and the blade was made of black flawless metal and written unto it were the words “you are your sword”.
Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by one of his servants, Iliana
“It’s good to see you again my lord” she said as she bowed before him, he remained silent.
“ your bath is ready, do you need my assistance to take of your armor?”
He looked upon her and slowly shook his head and as she started to walk towards the door he asked her. “have I ever told you the story about how I got this sword?”, surprised and unsettled by her master Iliana stopped and turned quickly around, “No, you haven’t.” and as she says it she finds herself a seat opposite him.
“Although I’m counted as a man from Whitehaven my blood is not of the people of Whitehaven, I am one of the elves of the kingdom of Dark Arrow. I don’t remember anything of my youth not my parents, my friends or my home it is all lost to me” For a moment his voice lowered and great sadness filled his face. “The only link I have with my lineage is this sword and the inscription on it “You are your sword” He stared down at his sword for few moments. Not with the same sadness as before, his face was now filled with determination.
Suddenly he broke the stare and with a smile he said “well Iliana isn’t my bath getting cold?”

As he finished his bath he saw his black dragon scale armor and helmet had been cleaned and taken up to his room.
He had trouble sleeping as nightmares haunted his dreams yet again his mind had not been at ease for few months now, he walked slowly out on the balcony with his sword in hand and for a few seconds his mind felt at ease. He took one step after another as he followed a practice he had been through so often, step and swing, step and swing it was the bladesingers style of battle to the essence and as he flew through a training after a training clearing his head and visualizing his foe before him it resembled more like a dance than a battle stance, he lost all sense of time he was one with his sword and for couple of hours there was nothing else in the world.
The next morning he woke up in his bed with his sword laid carefully within reach and he watched a new sun rise over Whitehaven. Iliana stood in the doorway somehow unable to break her masters moment of peace, after few moments the silence was broken,
“ I do sometimes ask myself if it’s worth it” Mahtan didn’t turn his head as he said it just carried on starring into the distance.
“I sometimes ask myself that question, and every time I come here and look over the city and somehow I can get a glimpse of an answer to the question”
Soon he turned his head towards his confused servant “ forgive me Iliana I’m rambling, what do you need of me?”
“You have been summoned to the Hall of Blade”
A quick nod sent Iliana away and Mahtan watched the red sun rise.

The Hall of Blade was a large structure and within it the training of all Bladesingers took place, their mind and body pushed far beyond any limits. As Mahtan walked those halls he remembered his own days as initiative for the order. But that was many years before and now he was known as one of the mightiest Bladesingers of all, as his skill with a sword could only be matched by the knowledge he had for the arcane.
As he walked towards The Chamber of Swords witch was located in the center of the huge structure he wondered why the council had been called to a meeting.
He soon saw the great door witch led into The Chamber of Swords, six elves stood guard two of each of the singers, at that moment he knew for sure how important this meeting was as every singer had a voice in there.

Later that night an very tired soul came through the door of Mahtan mansion, bloody politics he said to himself as drew his sword from his scabbard and began to focus his feelings towards the deadly weapon, this is a time of actions he thought to himself not endless words. The enemy was at there doorstep, what was thought to be a mere raiding party of orcs and goblins had been a scouting party for a force that outnumbered the ever vigil defenders of Whitehaven 15 to 1 and the worst part was that he was ever growing. How could the elves of Whitehaven think to stand against such a force without allies. But who would come to their aid in these dark times that soon would be upon them? The dwarfes who hid in their holes dreaming of riches or maybe humans, they who are of so feeble mind and weak bodies, no the lesser races would not be able to weather this storm as there kingdoms were surely besieged to, such was the force of evil that was upon them. Mahtans mind went racing through any possible ally and always he came to the same conclusion, the elves of Dark Arrow, his own blood would help them in this time of need. Although a son of Whitehaven he was called his blood was of Dark Arrow, they were the mightiest of the elders, some believed that they were sons of the dragons of old or that there lineage had the blessing of gods but none knew the truth as they had not been out of the mighty city of Dark Arrow so long that her location had been lost in time.