SAMMAEL

Without a doubt Sammael fell in love with war, and very likely with the honors and privileges that went with being one of the best-known and highest-ranking generals.

- excerpt from 'The Forsaken'

A dull hush had permeated the entire arena as the spectators held their collective breaths, waiting to see which of the two competitors would make the first move. With all the attention focused on him, Tel Janin Aellinsar felt like a god. All of these people who had come to watch knew that this was a momentous occasion, and he was at the heart of it… they were all just waiting on him.

It was moments like this that he lived for.

Well, these people would just have to wait. Tel Janin only had one aspiration in his life, and that was to be the very best at whatever he chose to do. Strategy, skill, ability – no one was simply born with these things. He had had to work hard to get them, learn from everyone willing to teach him, attune his state of mind to the point that tactics and insight came as naturally to him as breathing. This he had done. And he had come here, once again, to prove it.

The two men raised their swords and bowed to one another, then slowly started to move towards one another. The contest had begun.

Tel Janin's style of tactics was based on one crucial principle; that the competitor who made the first mistake would certainly lose. As a result, he was almost interested more in what his opponent did than what he himself was doing. He would defend himself and almost wait until that critical error was made – then he would strike, instinctively knowing exactly where to inflict the most damage and bring himself victory.

Many people called it unorthodox, but they couldn't argue with its success. Tel Janin had never been defeated at this particular sport, and was widely regarded as one of the very best at it to ever live. Now he was required to defend his title as world champion once again, an opportunity he always relished. Being the best in the world was pointless unless you could prove it, after all. He would rather lose than be champion in name only.

There was no longer any doubt in his mind, either. Everything he chose to do, he worked at harder and with more determination than anyone until he could do it as well as anyone. Some critics had even claimed that he had been unfairly using the One Power to boost his abilities as the only way to explain his dominance. It didn't faze him, though. Such claims were easily disproved, and besides, he knew that they only thought that way because he had trained every day of his life as they had never trained a day in theirs. He would fight exactly how he wanted to, not how anyone told him to. That was a right awarded only to the very best.

Other spectators preferred to speculate as to what would happen if Tel Janin ever faced off against Lews Therin Telamon. That didn't bother him, either. Lews Therin was one of his best friends, after all, and his duties in the Hall of Servants prevented him from being an active competitor. Admittedly his skill with the blade was superb, and he had certainly never lost a match, but Tel Janin didn't feel he had anything to prove. He was confident that they both knew how a contest between them would go.

And besides, while he loved the spirit of competition more than anything, he was still unwilling to risk his reputation needlessly. To tell the truth, he was almost a little fearful of losing; he didn't know what he would do if he was no longer the best in the world. It had almost become how he defined himself as a person. The honours and glory afforded to him by his position were everything to him. That was the reward for all the hard work, all the training, all the effort he put in. That was what he got out of it. And without that, where would he be? He couldn't afford to risk it, and he never did. That was why he always fought strategically, defensively, never giving away more than he needed to; it was integral to how he functioned.

His opponent continued to circle him, still not making his first move. What was wrong with him? Perhaps he was nervous. After all, Tel Janin was almost legendary, and had blown through most of the competition thus far. For a moment he considered giving the man the courtesy of a sporting chance, but then dismissed it. He wasn't here to give out charity, he was here to win.

So when the opponent lowered his sword and placed it behind his back, Tel Janin smiled to himself. The mistake had been made. He lunged forward to finish things there and then – and stumbled when the man sidestepped and spun at the same time, so that the sword behind his back now pointed straight at Tel Janin. The blade bounced harmlessly off him, of course – this wasn't supposed to be a violent sport, after all – but the psychological effects were far more devastating on him. He didn't know what had happened, but he was suddenly put in mind of something Lews Therin had said to him; "You know, Tel Janin, you have one great strength and one great weakness, and they're both the same thing. It's that you don't think like other people do."

At the time, Tel Janin hadn't understood, and was still confident that he in fact had no weaknesses. Was this what he was talking about, though? It hadn't been overconfidence that had drawn him into such a simple trap, nor had it been doubt. He just hadn't thought about it the same way his opponent had. But he was certain of one thing; they weren't going to get another opportunity.

And so, for the first time in a long time, Tel Janin Aellinsar attacked. And now his opponent found out exactly what Tel Janin had always claimed, and would always claim; that he could not be defeated; he was impossible to stop; he was the best.

In the fourth year of the war Sammael suddenly went over to the Shadow… he believed that he was a better general than Lews Therin and deserved the overall command that had been given to the other man.

- excerpt from 'The Forsaken'