That Damn Role Player

My first sight of the Temple of Karabor took my breath away. As we crested the wall of Shadowmoon Valley and began the journey to where the Temple was nestled against the white stone, I could see it in the distance shining in the sun. Polished marble steps and balustrades blended with crystals harvested nearby and lush garden courtyards. Even at this distance I could tell that, like many of our cities, this great temple lived in harmony with the surrounding land. Rather than forcing itself into the landscape, it melded with it, flowed with it, and it added to the natural beauty of the valley.

As we followed the road it disappeared on occasion behind the surrounding rocks and mountains of earth, yet each time it reappeared like a beacon of beauty to welcome us. Never in our travels through the many worlds my people had seen had I felt so much like I was going home as I did at that moment. My heart sang for Karabor; it yearned for it. Something deep within, buried for many long centuries, awoke and reached for the promise it could feel within that temple.

I hold to myself that vision of the temple. That first, beautiful view of one of our most sacred sites. The shining structure, so large, yet not dominating the stone at its back or the rolling hills of golden grasses stretching out before it. I longed to see the sun rising against its face or setting at its back. I could hear the promise of tranquility carried on the breeze from it. As our elekks entered the main courtyard I felt shrouded in peace and Light. This truly was a temple fit for the lessons taught to us by the Naaru. More than anything I had ever seen, Karabor was a true home of the Light.

Eyes closed, face turned up to the sun, Nauloera sat upon the bench with the gentle rustle of trees from the temple garden surrounding her. Colorful birds who made their homes in the trees and bushes sang through the morning. Nauloera could feel the life of the garden, could feel the flow of the Light as it brushed everything there, kissed it with its gentle touch. Often she spent her meditations within the gardens rather than in the closed walls of the temple. The Light was strong where ever one stepped in this place, but only in the gardens could she feel it mingle with life itself.

“Acolyte Nauloera.”

Nauloera knew that voice. Every Draenei did. No other among them was so easily recognized by the slightest word or glimpse. Her eyes snapped open and she scrambled to her hooves to drop into a clumsy bow before Prophet Velen.

“Prophet Velen,” she stammered, not daring to look up. “My apologies. I did not realize you were in the garden.”

She felt him touch her shoulder, his signal that she should rise, and looked up nervously at him smiling at her. She had seen Velen before at ceremonies in her small town, but not very often. It was not until she came to Karabor that she could see him well. One had but to look in his eyes and see his age worn over him like a thick cloak. The oldest of all their people, the time could be read upon his face, in his stature, in the glow of his eyes. If one looked close enough the sorrow and trials that had faced their people from the time they fled Argus were etched into the lines of his face.

“I often come to the gardens to meditate. I see you have discovered the same peace here.”

She smiled and looked around at the surrounding trees. “Here I can feel life and Light mingle.”

Velen nodded and motioned her to walk with him as he began a stroll through the garden. Sunlight dappled the white paving stones along the path, the pattern of light and shadow shifting before them as the wind stirred the branches of the trees.

“You have not been at the temple long.” He said. It seemed more of a question than a statement.

“I have not, Prophet. I am Nauloera from Anlenor.”

He smiled and nodded slowly. “Anlenor. A small, quiet place. I have enjoyed my visits there in the past.”

Despite her nervousness, Nauloera smiled proudly. “It is small, yes, but tranquil. I could hear the waters of the Crystal River from my bed at night. It would sing me to sleep.”

“Do you find the same tranquility here at the Temple?”

She frowned in thought for a moment over the question, unsure what answer he wanted to hear. “I find tranquility here, and knowledge. I have learned much in the short time I have studied here. But it is… different. The Light is strong here. Everywhere one goes you feel it, taste it, breathe it from the very air. The gifts I never knew I possessed grow stronger each day and seem more natural, more a part of me than I ever imagined.”

Velen nodded carefully again as they rounded a bend in the path and stepped into the deeper shadows of the garden. “Did you think the Light’s gifts would come to one who they were not a part of?”

She looked up and studied his ancient features for a moment, wondering if there were some sort of silent chide hidden within his question but all she saw on his face was the same serenity he often expressed underscored with his deep scars of sorrow. “I do not know,” she said finally. She struggled to explain when he turned his gaze fully upon her. “I never felt like I was missing anything. I have never been adept at the arcane arts like so many of our people are. I have never felt as close to the Light as so many others, yet I was content. I was complete and happy. But… when I felt that first brush of healing light pass through me into my sister, suddenly there was a great emptiness that needed to be filled. As if I were a vessel that had sat on display and suddenly was put to service holding water. Though I never missed not having such a close tie to the Light, suddenly I knew… I could not live without it. I could not dwell in darkness any longer.”

She sighed and looked up at him again. “I cannot explain it any better than that. I know it may not make sense to you, but that is the only way I know how to put it in words.”

Velen smiled and took her hand in his, patting it paternally. “I understand quite well.” He released her hand and they continued their walk in silence for several moments before he spoke again. “What do you see before you?” He waved his arm indicating the path ahead.

She frowned, curious about the question and a bit confused. She looked ahead at the path noting the trees and leaves about her, the small animals skittering in the underbrush, the white stones littered with fallen leaves and somehow she knew that was not what he meant. She looked more at what lay ahead of them, at what others might not see. Streamers of light, with particles of dust shining in them like tiny stars, caught her eye and she smiled, taking a moment to relish their beauty. “I see light. Ribbons of light shining through the trees chasing away shadow and revealing the beauty hidden within.”

“You speak true, for it is there to see,” he said, nodding as if satisfied with the answer. “Look again, though. There is more.”

She stared at the path once more, the stones, the leaves… and the lines of shadow. “The light never truly chases away the shadow, does it?”

He smiled and looked ahead at the path. “It does not. There is a balance that must be maintained. One cannot exist without the other. By your first answer I know which path your heart will follow. Which path in the balance you will tread. But always remember the need for balance.”

She frowned again, a thought jumping to the forefront of her mind and she wondered if she dared voice it. “I.. Prophet Velen, I mean no disrespect, I only seek to understand. But… the… man’ari. Do they not wield shadow? I have heard that some of the advanced Anchorites work with shadow but considering what it has done in the past…”

She expected a sharp rebuke, or something for her audacity but it never came. A shadow of pain crossed Velen’s face before he answered. “They draw their power from fel magics. A darkness that knows nothing of balance, it only knows destruction, consumption, subjugation. Light and Shadow have a relationship of give and take, but fel only takes… and devours. It breeds a hunger for power, it is greedy for death and decay, is sucks life from all it touches. That is the difference.”

Fel magic. Nauloera mouthed the words silently and shivered, a feeling of dread coming over her. Even the very word seemed ominous and evil.

“I must take my leave, Acolyte Nauloera.” He patted her hand once more and inclined his head to her. “I have no doubt you will make a fine Anchorite when you have taken on your robes of healing.”

She smiled and bowed to him. “Blessings of the Naaru to you, Prophet Velen.”

“Blessings of the Naaru,” he said, and slowly walked away through the light and shadows of the garden.
I thought about that conversation many times. I still do when I rest in my room at night after spending the day healing or training. I do not feel like an Anchorite worthy of such praise, yet the power still comes to me. It still flows through me; into the vessel waiting for it. Yet am I deserving of such praise when I hold such feelings of hatred, despair, and fear?

Try as I can, I am unable to shed these feelings. Had I known they would cling to me long afterwards, perhaps I would not have struggled so hard to escape what happened at Karabor.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, September 9th, 2008 at 8:00 am and is filed under IC: Nauloera, In Character.You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.