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Shelaria

Author: 
Anonymous
Librarian Comment: 

This article was posted on elderscrollsonline.com on February 20th, 2020. 

Few guardians of the Unhallowed Grave are as dutiful or zealous as the Pyre Watch’s Shelaria. Learn about this Redguard warrior in our latest Meet the Character!

Taken from the journal of Keroufeh, Lesser Sentinel of the Pyrewatch

Tall Papa give me strength--my back suffered another meeting with the rod today. I fault myself in part, but honestly Shelaria bears the lion’s share of the blame. Why do I always listen to her? Is it not enough that I still eat nothing but thin broth and unleavened bread from our last transgression? When will she learn to heed the words of our betters?
 
Blademaster Sahmin values secrecy above all things. We all know this. “The Unhallowed Grave’s greatest asset is its obscurity,” he says. It does not appear on any map. No wheezing drunkards utter its name to listening ears. “Our shield is secrecy!” Sahmin cries. Over and over, he growls this admonition: “Do not travel beyond the canyons!” And yet, there we were, saddling our jackals and preparing to ride.
 
“We cannot be caught flat-footed, Keroufeh!” Shelaria hissed. “If we do not patrol our lands, how are we to know when an enemy approaches?” It seemed reasonable at the time. Now--with broad red stripes across my back--it seems less so.
 
Shelaria sees threats everywhere. She barely trusts me, and I count myself as her bosom companion. I tried to tell her that the Grave has gone unnoticed for hundreds of years, but she would hear none of it. She insisted that these were unprecedented times. Dragons rise in the south. Chains fall from the sky. Alliances set Cyrodiil ablaze. “We must be prepared!”
 
The two of us rode the ridge near the Bangkorai Garrison, watching the comings and goings of the Breton traders beyond, then turned south toward Klathzgar to observe the toothless, knife-wielding bandits that often stray too close to the Grave’s hidden entrance. I must admit, it raised my spirits to feel the sweltering wind on my face, and to smell the spices of Hallin’s Stand drift on the breeze. For a moment, the great weight of our oath fell from my shoulders. I felt free. Not Shelaria though. I gazed at her face, hard as flint, and saw nothing but disquiet--like a hound that catches wind of intruder just beyond sight.
 
I’ve not seen her since we received our punishment, but I fear her anxiety has not diminished. I know her fears are baseless. I know the Unhallowed Grave remains safe. Even so, on some dark nights when the lamps burn low, I cannot help but think that maybe Shelaria is right.