House of Malveaux

House Malveaux of Lordaeron is one of many noble houses, known for their skills in dealing with blacksmithing, combat, and even knowledge of the arcane. While some Malveauxs took to Dalaran to quench a thirst for knowledge of magic, the majority of the bloodline remained in Lordaeron as able-bodied soldiers and smiths of all sorts. Not all Malveauxs were any of the three, some were simply women married into the house. It is generally expected of a Malveaux woman to have learned at least one of the trades, therefore it is easy to distinguish between who had been born into the family and who was simply wed into it. Malveaux men are not terribly muscular, though they are still fit for combat. Malveaux women are short in stature, but by no means fragile. Members of this house are defined by icy blue eyes and light brown hair. Often times the eyes of a Malveaux will appear silver in particular lighting. They have two sigils, one of a golden hawk soaring across a sky of black. This is to honor the memory not only of the first noted Malveaux but also of his faithful companionl; a hawk with brilliant, brown feathers that would appear golden in sunlight. A second sigil that is rarely seen is that of a golden Common letter with a woman holding a sword and shiled. She is blindfolded. This is representing the Malveaux's ideal that the strong must take up arms for the weak, as well as that justice is indifferent to one's physical appearance. Their words are, "On wings of victory".

History
It's unclear how far the Malveaux bloodline goes, but after years of tracing through time and countless drawings of seemingly endless family trees, the earliest record was of a man known simply as the "The Blacksmith" to many of his time period.

Originally, this man was the leader of a tribe of humans that resided in the open hills of what is now Hillsbrad. His exceptional talents in both forging powerful weapons capable of enduring years of battle and actually wielding them are what earned him the right to title of leadership of his people. Other tribes sought him out not only for his combat training but also for blades crafted by his own hand. Aspects of his physical being were also traits that distinguished him from others of his tribe. His eyes were shards of ice, and his hair was a light, delicate brown. His faithful companion always seen on his shoulder or circling the skies above was a hawk with feathers of a brilliant brown that would glow golden in pure sunlight.

The Blacksmith and his tribe were among the first to be approached by the Arathi tribe. After a discussion of diplomatic proportions, the main topic at hand being that of the trolls, he agreed to a merge; handing his leadership to the heads of the Arathi tribe.

Though his tribesmen had new leaders, The Blacksmith was known for returning loyalty and servitude with compassion and gratitude, as well as other rewards. This instilled unwavering loyalty in his men and thus his word was always final law. This impressed the Arathi, but what also caught their attention was his ruthlessness in dealing with his foes. Little had he known, an expertise had been born of the years of interaction with the other tribes. This gave the growing Arathi tribe something of an upperhand in earning friends and forging life-long alliances.

Despite his newfound talent as an 'ambassador,' some tribe leaders simply did not want to merge and threatened the Arathi with bloodshed. If the Blacksmith were allowed to have say, he would offer such men two options: death or friendship in return for a life of loyalty. This was rare, but there came such an incident where the Blacksmith bested a tribe leader in combat. Originally, the self-righteous leader mocked the smith's offer, calling him "weak" and "spineless." Noting his pride, the Blacksmith challenged him to a duel. The leader accepted, confident in his abilities. The Blacksmith held true to his reputation, forcing the leader to submit. The leader knelt before the Blacksmith and swore his allegiance to the Arathi. As he'd promised, the two grew to become close friends, calling each other "Battle Brothers" with a loyalty unmatched.

The nation of Arather was formed. The Blacksmith, along with others talented in his trade, worked within the Capital of the Arathorian empire known as "Strom." It was there that the Blacksmith met his love, an Arathi woman of copper skin and large eyes of a lovely dark blue. She was by no means fit to wield a long sword, but it was her wit and sharp tongue he fell in love with. While words cannot make one bleed, her own could make one feel like they'd been dealt a physical blow. She was hot-blooded with a fiery temper, and initially rejected the Blacksmith's advances. But his constant pursuit finally won she and her amusement over.