Sir Delsaran Keir
It is bias to think that the art of war is just for killing people. It is not to kill people, it is to kill evil. It is a stratagem to give life to many people by killing the evil of one person.
Description: This elf is tall and muscular. His auburn hair is around shoulder length and is kept pulled back in a warrior's knot to keep out of the way in case battle calls. His green eyes sweep around looking at everything in almost an accusatory tone.
Personality: Stern and dour would almost perfectly describe Delsaran's personality. He's one that sees the world in black and white now. Evil or Good nothing in between. He's a devout follower of Garwen and takes her teachings to heart in his desire to purge the world of evil.
Background: Those who are old enough to remember the child he was, would, quite likely, look at the elder that Delsaran has become and might find themselves wholly unable to recognize him. The stories they might tell, of a kind child with an open heart and a gentle spirit might seem as though they belonged to an entirely different order of being. Delsaran Keir had been born into a tradition of honour, of warriors, and of martial prowess. Like those of his kin, he excelled in his studies and yet...there was a kindness in him that seemed to battle against the warrior spirit his teachers worked so hard to instill in him.
Other might tell stories of his coming of age, his hopefulness, his wide-eyed dreams of peace and prosperity under the rule of the Ithiriel Elexia. But dreams are never so bright that they cannot fade and the hope they instill turn to nightmare. So were the dreams of the young Delsaran, who looked with hope towards Unification and instead found himself caught up in the nightmare days of what would one day be known as Estril's feast. The time of the Harbingers. A time of war that stole all that remained of his childhood along with his dearest friend, Marnaiel. Always he had known there were such concepts as good, as evil. Such were the teachings of Garwen. But it was another thing entirely to see such evil made manifest.
It was not only Marnaiel who died that day. Some part of Delsaran did as well. Where there had been warmth, now, only cold resided. Where there had been hope, now there was only resolve. A hard, sharp, painful need to exact justice, to eradicate evil, to champion the cause of good at all and any cost. This was the man he was borne from the boy he had been.
This was the Delsaran who, when the Mortal Strife came upon the elves found his own compass, his own mind. The elves had been tainted. Tainted by their softness, by their association with the other races. The Host were their punishment. He fought to save his kinship, of course, for that was his function as a Keir, as a Priest of Garwen, as an Argent Knight. But perhaps there was some small part of him that felt that the Host brought justice in the face of the evil that tainted the elves. When the elves took flight, Delsaran did not see their escape as a respite, but as a repudiation of justice.
Now the Faenor find themselves in new lands and facing new challenges, new enemies. And Delsaran remains. To protect the good, to eradicate evil, and perhaps, in so doing to lead his people towards the justice which evaded by sailing across the seas.