My mentor, the priest that taught me the Light, was a human man whose body has become one with the earth and his spirit has left us. He did not follow the traditional human Church of the Light. He taught me of a different branch of the Light. As I grew I learned, I thought, I pondered and spent much time browsing over texts. My mentor told me a story of how the world began and how Belore was born.
In the beginning there was only void and shadow
And in that deep dark there was only silence
No life, no warmth, nothing came from the whispering dark
But there came from the void a soft sigh that echoed forth into creation
And thus the void and shadow began to shift
Light came into existence
It moved, it turned, it twisted
It made a shape
The void recoiled, pulling away as Light spilled forth into creation
As the Light made shape it became the sun
And the sun beheld the void
A soft cry filled the void
Belore’s voice rang out through creation as she spoke
That word echoed
It became azeroth, the earth under out feet, the rocks in the ground
And so it was that Belore made Azeroth
But Azeroth was dark and barren
Belore called out but was met with silence
She wept in her loneliness
Her tears became the seas and rivers and lakes
Azeroth spun before her in all of it’s radiance
But try as she might Belore could surrond Azeroth entirely with her radiance
Within the void another sigh echoed
Silvery light broke forth and from the void came the moon
Belore rejoiced and held hands with Elune
They sighed happily
The sigh became a song of creation
Of earth and sea
Land and sky
Belore danced across the sky
And has done so from that day until now.
I call on you Belore
Sun God and Burning Flame
Magic Giver and Sky Dancer
Give me the strength to adapt to what is around me
To withstand the tough times ahead
Ignite a fire in my soul
Remind me that life is not easy
That I may not grow complacent and weak
Gift me your fire Belore
So that as I leave this place
I can use it to accomplish my goals
I call on you Belore
Guide me with your Light
Lead me home
Grant me your
And if I die before I go home
Wrap me in your burning embrace
That I might never know the cold again
Blazing Belore, Goddess of the Sun
Sky Goddess
Mother of Phoenixes
Goddess of Magic
I call to you from the fire
Praying that you, oh kind Mother
Will deign to give me your blessing
Oh radiant goddess of the blazing sun.
Belore, I present to you this child
May you protect them
With your magic and your sacred fire
Hold them and comfort them bright Belore
And may all of your blessings be upon my child.
The sun rises in the sky as the night flees
Once again Belore has returned to us
Reborn once again
Bear witness to the sun rising
To Belore’s ascent as he rises up in the sky
And then descends
Dying when the night comes
And returning to us in the morning like a phoenix.
Watch Belore, feel his warmth
Know that your soul is cleansed
And you have survived another night
“May Belore rise up in the sky to shine upon you
May the earth rise up to meet you.
May the Goddesses breath be at your back.
And the rain fall softly upon you.
And until we meet again
May Belore hold you safely in her arms.
Belore, I pray for peace
May the wind bring your voice to me
So that the sound of your voice may grant me peace
As you fade into the horizon
May the light you give the stars and moon watch over me
And may the sound of your laughter on the waves bring me sleep
I want a head canon creation of the relationship between Elune, the Moon Goddess; and Belore, the Sun Goddess.
Definiely inspired by Tyleril, whom it won’t let me tag for some reason.
I also fully support the notion of a distinct religion of the sun, away from just The Light as humans worship.
The concept of worshipping Belore as the Sin’dorei Amun-Ra. And the relation between Sun and Moon. Also, the kinship Tauren and Sin’dorei feel as they both revere An’she, Belore.
I would definitely help with that headcanon; I love the idea of two sides of the same coin for one goddess. I could also get behind godesses-as-lovers.
It’s not unusual to see your child going through a phase of wanting to be a Farstrider. There are as many books- fiction and non fiction- as there are Farstriders, or perhaps more depicting Farstriders and their role in our society as well as acts of their heroism. The Farstriders are what we think of when we think of our armed forces. Their uniforms are not as magnificent as the Blood Knights, as flashy and rich as those of the Magistrate. Rather, they inspire a sort of awe.
When I was younger I remember seeing them in the forests. I was always overjoyed to meet the ones that would spend some of their time with a young elf. I do not remember their names but I remember what they taught me. What food was safe to eat in the forest, how to tie knots, the times they would guide me back to a path I could follow home. Their skill with bows is without question something that is always spoken of. Few though talk of their druids and the rare mage that rise up those ranks.
Farstriders know Quel’thalas better than they know themselves. They can follow trails through the darkest forest, fight with unparalled bravery in service to our homeland and many of them have died in service. Their love for Quel’thalas and her people took root deeply in their souls. A Farstrider I know describes Quel’thalas as: “The thing I love more than anything else. I still love, rage, weep, and feel fear. But no other love will ever replace Quel’thalas in my heart.”
We all have had the phase of ‘I wanna be a Farstrider’. Most of us outgrew it by the time we grew old enough to find a trade or be apprenticed. Some of us actually are able to meet the strict requirements set down and start the path to become Farstriders.
Becoming a Farstrider isn’t the romanticized path and lifestyle we think it to be. It is a path of hardship, devotion, and sacrifice where you may be called to sacrifice yourself at a moment’s notice. You become a symbol of Quel’thalas to her people. When you become that symbol you will come to realize and understand that it does not mean you become a hero. It means that you will be called away from your friends and family, train until your fingers bleed and your muscles scream in agony, that you, as a person will sacrifice until you are a Farstrider no longer.
But we know the sacrifices they make and perhaps to try and.somehow repay them for it we romanticize them. We tell our children to look up to them and tell them tales of heroism, of the Farstriders that have made their mark upon history. We offer them gifts, our protectors in the wild. They belong to the forest and for love of us and our home they will serve and die for us.
All these things I know though I am not a Farstrider. All these things I tell my children, that they might understand what they see. So that when a Farstrider shows my child how to tie knots or walks them home from Eversong in the evening they’ll treasure these moments. I know I view them in my own rose colored light, that not all of it is so heroic and so on.
But these things I know as an adult my child will also know as they grow. Right now I want my children to have heroes that are flesh and blood. Heroes to inspire them to reach higher, heroes that fight for home, and heroes that they can imitate.
Tyleril Silversword 
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