Telah/Writings
Among the scarce belongings of an anchorite rests a mundane shard, a foot long and three inches at its widest point. The crystal is uncut apart from one polished area which forms a small window into its heart. A faint glimmer escapes from the coral-hued shard and daylight passing through can reveal draenic symbols within.
The data crystal has seen thousands of years pass and journeyed across many worlds. Yet within is no odyssey of a hero, no arcane knowledge of power nor any dark secrets that will change the course of history. Recorded within is the struggles, joys and thoughts of a humble father, widower and a man of his people.
Writings of an Anchorite is the journal of anchorite Telah. It's separated into chapters based on different periods in Telah's life.
Characters
| Major | Minor | Mentioned |
|---|---|---|
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Locations
- Draenor/Outland
- Shadowmoon Valley
- Temple of Karabor
- Terokkar Forest
- Allerian Stronghold
- Shattrath
- Zangarmarsh
- Telredor
- Shadowmoon Valley
Text
Death of an ever-shining
With the remains contained we followed Velen across this new land. All were silent during the journey and the wind shrieked and moaned around us, for a moment I thought that the wind too was mourning. I noticed that most of my brothers and sisters kept their eyes locked to the ground half-a-tail ahead. I know that they can become injured, or damaged rather. But I was not prepared at this 'death' that has affected D'ore. Now is a time of mourning for us exiles.
Deep inside a forest we stopped to perform rituals of consecration and preparing a resting place for the fallen naaru. Each day seem to linger longer and it feels like we have been here for several cycles. It is with brother and sister at each side we persevere through this. I think I wept as the sarcophagus was sealed. Once again have the celestials aided in our kind's survival, this time around through a grand sacrifice. The weight of our oath to the Army of Light has increased further.
By the Naaru's embrace.
Circle of children
Tonight was the third eve in a row that I rounded up the young in the lower gardens, to tell them about our past as eredar and our Exodus. Their curiosity and thirst for knowledge put some of my worries at ease. When I described the coming of Sargeras there was this one girl, Otuum's spawn who threw herself into my embrace in fear. I tried to assure her that she was safe but she pleaded that I'd let her sit in my lap, so she did and fell asleep before I was done.
The fragile thing hanging around my neck, soft pulses of her breath on my chest all reminded me of when Ahmat was young. Though she was visibly never this scared, instead she turned stern and almost angry when feared or doubt crept into her heart. Like everytime I am to leave her and Murar.
The idea is nothing but selfish but I wish, no I yearn for another child inspite the knowledge that I as an anchorite cannot be a proper father for it. A primal urge, my body's way of ensuring our survival. As I write this Ahmat stands hovering above me trying to get catch a glance. I read aloud about evening but I don't think I could ever let her see the rest of it. Know that I am grateful, being able to live with my mate and child.
By the Naaru's embrace.
Brilliant Star
The Pale Lady has appeared above the Temple and I recently finished my cleansing. After years of service here at Karabor, caring and tutoring the young I have been honoured with the task of being a carrier in the morrow. I am to bring the Brilliant Star across the temple grounds during the ceremony. It's an indescribable honour that I did not see coming and I can barely fathom it. Just a tails-length from me rests the shard in it's ancient casket beside the ceremonial grab and my staff.
One of the seven shards of the Ata'mal, the first contact between the Naaru and my forefarthers. If I close my eyes I can feel it, emenating a sacred clarity piercing any doubt and lie. In this moment I am truly blessed.
At dawn the rest of the ceremonial escort will arive at my alcove along with Ahmat and Murar, then I'll let them them have a look at the Brilliant Star before we leave. This day will stay with the three of us for eternity and I know anchorite Uleen is proud of me.
By the Naaru's embrace.
Flight to the marshes
I was recently summoned to an emergency council, a messenger had just arrived from the Dwelling of Light. And he carried dire news. In a desperate attempt to foil the Legion a great sacrifice of blood will be made at the city. My protest was purely a reflex and I was not alone in it though we all knew it had to be done.
But how am I to stay here in passivity with the knowledge that my mate shall face the enemy with no intent of survival? I cannot help but imagine what is running through her head at this very moment or in what horrible manner she will meet her death.
A week has passed since we arrived here at Telredor and brethren from all over Our Refuge have flooded to this place, but space is short. This, once a sanctuary of thought and enlightenment was not intended to harbour this many souls and I doubt we can roof many more.
Dawn just broke through the sporeclouds of Zangar and I stand looking out over the trails below, with a youthful and stubborn hope that Murar will come walking along one of them the next time I open my eyes. If she does not come, how will I tell our daughter?
By Naaru's embrace.
Murar, my foundation
Ahmat lie in her pod still sleeping. Furrows of worry arc across her forehead, my frown which she has inherited. I awoke when a marrowdeep pain shot through my spine, it felt as if I was instantly impaled on a lance of ice. I tried to breathe but could not muster strength to draw a single breath. For a moment I thought my time had come but now I realize what it all means.
My mate is dead. Three days since the orcs marched into our sacred city. She is my foundation, the focal point of my life. Now Murar has fallen protecting our race, her daugther. I have pleaded before the exarch to send a scout to the Dwelling, but without effect.
There are more things I should write, but I cannot muster that strength nor find the words. My daugther has just lost her mother, tears will come soon enough.
By the Naaru's embrace.
To grieve and remain (19/7 -11)
Much grief has swept over us, the exiled ones, even more so in recent times. And it is for the sake of survival we remain adamant still, but we are undermined by our hearts in a struggle we cannot win. I have seen mothers giving up hope on a second child only to avenge the loss of the first, turning only to face violence and chaos. I shared the grief of so many that I forgot my own.
To mourn is not loss nor weakness. It is remembering those we have lost and honouring their sacrifice to secure our present. I believe that the harbinger seeking only revenge will only find more despair and his own downfall, never peace or contentment.
With this writing as my testament, I shall lead my kindred back to whatever is left of our beloved Draenor. Together shall we visit what was once our homes, pay our respect to our fallen and remember our past. There shall Ahmat, Murar and myself find solace.
With Naaru's blessing shall I endure.
Dream a little dream, again (23/5 -10)
I am lying on a bundle of carpets and a rolled up tent while writing this, in a quel'dorei tavern within the Allerian Stronghold. We recently ended up here by the Naaru's grace, a week being hid in Terokkar has taken it's toll on all of us. Magi Elina seem to have healed nicely but her arcane arts are still affected by that detonation but Abee's leg was still in bad shape and Umbra despite her denying it is probably the one worse for wear. Perhaps here I can be blessed with some decent rest and then I can pursue my duties as an anchorite and truly aid the others.
By the Naaru's embrace.
Not much time has passed since I wrote, but I just awoke freezing and drenched in sweat. It was a bad dream, a horror. I was standing in a big great dome so vast I could not see it's limitations but still I knew I was enclosed. There was no source of illumination seen but the place was dimly lit and the air was old and dry, like crumbling paper. With a steady pace I headed for one of the walls or edges of the place but it did not seem to change when I moved but suddenly I noticed shadows towering over me, haunting and haunted, arching up ahead of me into the other darkness, intangible limbs reaching towards my form.
It was not fear that made me run, I cannot recall if it was anything at all. I stumbled on something but when I looked for a bump in my path there was nothing but ripped pieces of cloth and even more fell from the sky, sailing back and forth to the ground like leaves at still autumn. All were stained with tears, I knew that each and every of the countless of patches were soiled with tears and some strong emotion washed over me and I awoke.
I do not understand what it means, but it unsettles me nonetheless.
