Who Are You?

The warband had set off, returning home to the encampment with the spoils of their latest raid into the Labyrinth. Earlier that day, they'd taken several prisoners from the Maruk Ghaash'kala, their hated enemies.

Kuugra, the champion of the warband, came up behind Auric and gave him what was probably supposed to be a supportive pat on the back, but the large size difference between them meant that it was delivered with more force than necessary, and Auric stumbled.

"You did well today, Auric"

Auric didn't feel like he'd done well. Someone was dead because of him, someone he'd never met and now never would meet. Another would likely soon follow, as they'd left them strung up on a pole in the Labyrinth, directly in the path of Arrah. If nothing else came along and picked them off, they would die of thirst or heat stroke before long. He felt like he was going to be sick.

He didn't know why this was bothering him so much now, he'd killed plenty of people before, and he hadn't known many of their names either. He'd never thought much of taking a life, it was just an unfortunate reality of life, but this time was different somehow. He couldn't put his finger on it.

What was he going to do?

The Demon Wastes drove any thought of the future from his mind. He didn't need to worry about this, not when he didn't know if he'd even survive the night, or where his next meal would come from. He distracted himself from his own turmoil by thinking practically, they shouldn't have left the soft easterner on that pole, they might need the meat. Kuugra said they needed to send a message, to sow fear amongst the ranks of their enemies, but Auric wasn't so sure the Ghaash'kala would even find the grizzly totem.

His reverie was interrupted by a voice on the wind, faint enough that he wasn't sure he'd even heard it.

"Who are you?"

Auric looked around, to identify who had spoken, but nobody was looking his way. He brushed it off.

He was a murderer, something that had never bothered him before.

Auric and the warband returned to the Razor Wind encampment with their prizes, a group of Ghaash'kala that they had captured in the Labyrinth. The return journey had been plagued with doubts, eating away at him, doubts that he daren't share with his peers for fear of reprisal. Kuugra wouldn't understand, Kuugra had never doubted anything in his life. He was big, strong, and a fierce combatant. He'd even been granted one of the imbued Khyber shards in the form of an axe, a high blessing.

As they did on every return, the warband moved to the chieftain's tent to report the results of their raid. Valkhoth was as intimidating as his legend claimed, and Auric squirmed in his presence. The sakah had taken over the tribe almost a year ago, returning from a pilgrimmage with a gigantic Khyber shard that gave him mastery over the fiends of the Wastes. There were none in the tribe who could even dream of challenging him.

Their trophies were presented, and Auric dared to ask what would be done with them.

"They'll be interrogated, Auric. Your warband have done a great thing for the Razor Wind."

Auric found that he didn't like that the chieftain knew him by name, that could be a good omen or a bad one, but Auric didn't much care to find out which. He made his excuses and extricated himself from the tent. He slipped away into the encampment, feeling strangely out of place in what should feel like home, as much as any of them had a home. The Razor Wind are a nomadic tribe, often splitting into smaller groups and ranging far and wide in search of resources. Recently, the tribe had begun to trade with the other tribes, something Auric had never heard of in his life. Valkhoth was different.

Auric set up a tent on the outskirts of the camp, only realising after he had pitched it that he was near where the prisoners had been strung up. All of them were now hanging from poles, except for the halfling who had been tied to the bottom of one. His arm must be broken, thought Auric, and his guard must've been concerned about him perishing from the pain. They would likely become food eventually, but for now they served a greater purpose for the tribe.

Auric retired to his tent, wrapping himself up in his fur bedroll, but sleep wouldn't come for him. He heard it again, a faint voice, and he shot up, scrambling to his feet and brandishing his spear. Nobody was in the room with him, though. He let out the breath he'd been holding, gently placed the spear back down, and sat on his bedroll on the floor. He looked up and almost jumped to his feet again as a cloaked figure stood above him, their face a mirror reflecting his own.

"Who are you?" his own face said back at him.

Auric, for his part, reflected the question back at the strange figure. "Who are you!?"

"You know who I am, but do you know yourself?"

Auric found that he didn't have a satisfying answer to that question, and that disturbed him. He had never doubted his identity before, but now he felt like a stranger in his own skin.

"I...am Auric, of the Razor Wind tribe." he responded, and winced at how weak he sounded.

"Is that so?" the figure responded, before seeming to melt into thin air.

"Is that who you want to be?" came an echo in the wind as it disturbed the flaps of his tent.

Auric spent the next several days in contemplation, and largely avoided the company of his fellows. He didn't feel welcome here anymore, though nobody elses actions contributed to this feeling. He was treated as he was sure he always had been, like a warrior deserving of respect, but it felt hollow. He found that if he stopped thinking and just let his mind, and his body, wander, that he inexplicably found himself by the prisoners.

Seeing them hanging there, starving and in pain, he found a feeling welling in his stomach that wasn't altogether pleasant. Was this guilt? Empathy? He didn't have the words to describe how he felt, and that was frustrating. The more he saw them, the more he noticed things about them. Arvel's intricate facial tattoo, unlike any that Auric had seen among the Razor Wind or the Ghaash'kala that he'd fought. Daruuc's enormous frame, his gangly limbs and the matted fur that clung to his frame. Auric had never seen a bugbear up close before, and he was uncertain if he preferred it this way. Voraash was the most like Auric expected, he was broken by the beating he'd been given and very clearly hated his captors. Arvel's unfaltering optimism disturbed Auric, the halfling had shouted at him once or twice as he passed, stating that someone would come for him, he knew it. That's how these things go.

Maybe he was right. Auric found that he couldn't abide this much longer, this feeling eating away at him inside. And then there was the voice, the mysterious figure that plagued his quiet moments, and posed questions that Auric couldn't answer.

"Is this who you want to be?" the voice came, almost as if Auric had summoned it with his thoughts.

"No" he replied, and found that it was true. This isn't who he wanted to be, but so many things were out of his control. We don't get to be who we want to be.

"Don't we?" came the voice in reply, as if it could read his mind. Could it read his mind? A disturbing possibility. The inscrutable voice didn't react to that, putting Auric further off balance. 

Maybe, sometimes, we can be who we want to be.

Auric had already taken stock of the prisoners injuries, and he knew enough rudimentary medicine to make a decent attempt at triage, enough to get them on their feet at least. He headed to the loot pile to collect some spears, weapons looted off of the tribes enemies, so that he could repurpose them as splints for Arvel's arm and Voraash's leg. After a moment's thought, he grabbed another for Voraash to use as a clutch, he'd need something.

The Plaguebearer's would be arriving at some point today, their chieftain coming to speak to Valkhoth about possibilities of future cooperation. Auric wasn't sure he liked the sound of that, but that was what he was here for, wasn't it? To rise up with his fellows, under the banner of the strongest leader the tribe had ever had, united with their siblings in other tribes; that they might sweep through the Labyrinth, crush the Ghaash'kala beneath their boots and claim the soft lands beyond.

The nations beyond the Labyrinth had never dealt with anything like the Carrion Tribes, and they would not be prepared. It would be a blood path, and their militaries wouldn't be able to react quickly enough to prevent disaster at the hands of the demonic hoards.

That was what he was here for, wasn't it?

Maybe it was what he was supposed to be here for, but it wasn't what he wanted to do. Not anymore. Auric planned the escape in earnest, prepared to execute it the moment the Plaguebearer's arrived and distracted the bulk of the tribe.

When the time arrived, and the opportunity arose, Auric found it was even easier than he expected. The Plaguebearers arrival had the entire tribe's attention, not least because nobody wanted to accidentally get too close to them and contract a disease. Even the prisoners guard had moved to watch the proceedings, making it easy enough for Auric to give them a smack round the back of the head with a club, putting them to sleep (hopefully temporarily, but Auric didn't have time to check).

Auric got the prisoners down from the pole, and the little one tried to hit him. He caught their hand in his, and made a shushing motion with his other.

"I am rescuing you, fool, be quiet."

Arvel looked up at him, wide eyed. This was the same man that Arvel had been shouting at days before.

"But why?"

"Pangs of conscience." came the response.

Arvel helped Auric get the others down, and Voraash leaned heavily on Daruuc and Auric. They somehow managed to get outside of the camp without anybody raising the alarm, which seemed to be far too much good luck for Auric's taste, something always went wrong.

Miraculously though, he was wrong. They slipped into the Labyrinth, and as soon as Auric thought it was safe, he treated the prisoners wounds as best he could. It was difficult to get Voraash to trust him enough to let him touch him, but Auric argued that he wouldn't get very far with a broken leg and no mobility aid, he'd need the crutch at least.

Though confused, Voraash allowed this stranger from the carrion tribes to help. Daruuc watched him the whole time, and Auric was sure that the bugbear could likely kill him, even unarmed as he was.

"Who are you?" came the voice, and Voraash, at the same time.

"I am Auric, a coward who couldn't abide his guilt."

The next several days were a difficult blur. Auric traveled with his new, wounded, companions through the Labyrinth. He had no idea how to navigate in this place, he'd spent very little time here. Nevertheless, the Ghaash'kala with him seemed to have some idea of where they were going, and he largely followed Daruuc's lead. The maze of twisting canyons swallowed him, consuming his thoughts and senses, everything looked the same.

Apparitions seemed to flit at the edge of his vision, some combination of the demonic spirits of the Wastes and demons of his own making. When the wind blew through the corridors of stone, he heard the screams of those he had hurt, and those he had killed. Nothing came to harm them, however, they were merely phantoms of his troubled mind.

The voice had become a more constant companion since he had left the encampment, and it now dogged his every choice. Eventually, their ragtag group of wounded were found by another Ghaash'kala, the tracker named Talana'aashta. She snuck upon them, grabbing Auric and putting her sword to his throat as she spoke quickly to the others in Orc. Auric wondered if he should reveal that he understood their tongue, but felt it would be better to keep it to himself.

"What's going on here?" Talana asked, tightening her grip on Auric's neck, pressing the tip of the sword to his adam's apple.

Arvel held up his hands. "Talana, right? I think I recognise you. This man, Auric, rescued us from the tribal encampment! He helped us, we're not prisoners anymore!"

Talana's grip immediately loosened, and Auric found he could breathe again. Talana looked at the other two, and they nodded in confirmation, although Voraash took his time in doing so. Auric predicted this one would be a problem, and decided he would keep an eye on him. Just in case.

"It seems I have misjudged you, Auric. I'm sorry about the sword."

Auric just nodded, rubbing his sore neck with his bandaged hand.

"Is she the only one who has misjudged you?" came the voice.

"I understand, I would not expect me to be anybody's saviour either."

It was the 9th of Eyre, according to Talana, and they'd been walking in the rain for hours now. Auric thought he liked the rain, but even so it was beginning to wear him down. It wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't so damned hot, the rain provided no relief from the heat despite being water literally falling from the sky. Isn't water supposed to be cooling? he thought to himself.

They were being hunted, they'd heard the search parties looking for them. The response was even more intense than if the missing patrol had escaped on their own, because Auric had escaped with them. You can never really leave the Carrion Tribes, and his former friends were determined to make an example of him. How many more would die because of his choices? More of his tribesfolk in the Labyrinth meant that many of them would surely run into Ghaash'kala patrols, and then people would die on both sides. He wondered if it would have been better for him to stay and let the missing patrol die, would that have meant fewer meaningless deaths?

"Is that who you want to be?" came his shadow, and he winced. He wasn't sure of anything anymore, every thought came with a doubt, and every doubt carried an inevitable question. Who did this voice belong to? What entity was taunting him with these unceasing questions? It had yet to identify itself, and every time he asked it, it simply stated he knew the answer already or didn't see fit to give him a response at all.

How vexing.

They'd been walking for hours now in the rain, and some of the others were beginning to flag. Talana suggested they find shelter, any cave that isn't flooded, and so Auric began looking for one. Infuriatingly, the rain stopped while they were looking, but they were wet and exhausted and needed to rest regardless. They found a cave with a bend in the entrance which hopefully meant it wouldn't be full of water. Talana sent him in to check if it was safe, while she stayed with her clan. Even now, Auric was still the outcast, even after risking everything for these people he hardly knew.

Why did he do it? What was he thinking?

He pushed into the cave, muttering under his breath as he rounded the bend, and came face to face with a Ghaash'kala patrol. He froze, unsure what to do in this situation, as he took them all in.

A short person, stockier than Arvel and possibly female, reaching for a longhammer. A skinny half-orc dipping behind a tall, winged figure in full plate armour. A rat-like man wearing a cloak like a poncho, swearing under their breath in Common. A humanoid figure that seemed to be made of animate plant matter, dropping a heap of chainmail they'd been holding, and a tall orc reaching for their weapon. Auric's eyes settled on the Khyber shard head of the axe clipped to the orc's back. He knew this weapon, he had been following the one who carried it only days before.

He made eye contact with his own reflection in the surface of the axe head. His reflection spoke in his own voice, but he knew it was his mysterious narrator.

"Drop your weapon, and they won't do you harm. These are warriors of the Ghaash'kala, they are not your enemy."

It was the first time that the voice had spoken to him directly like this, rather than asking a question, and it shook him. Nevertheless, he did what it commanded and dropped his weapon.

"Wait! Kalok Shash!" he shouted. He wasn't sure where that name had come from, maybe Talana had mentioned it at some point over the last few days. It seemed to have the desired effect, however, as the others stopped. The orc spoke to him, and when they did, his reflection asked the same questions.

"Are you alone?" the voices asked in unison.

"No" 

"Who's out there?" asked the orc, but Auric didn't answer that question.

"Your tattoos, you are Ghaash'kala? You should come outside."

"Why?"

"I have Ghaash'kala. With me. Wounded."

"How many?"

"Four"

"Describe them"

"A small person, halfling they said. A bugbear, a half-orc with a glowing blue tattoo, and an orc like you."

"Okay, step outside. If this is a trick, I'll kill you"

Auric nodded. That was fair, and he wasn't sure he wouldn't deserve it.

They followed him outside, and he stood aside while they had their reunion. They all knew each other, and Auric felt even more that he didn't belong here, among these people.

"Who are you?" came the voice, and Auric found that he didn't know how to answer that question in this moment.

"Who do you want to be?" came another question, and Auric found that he couldn't answer that one either.

"Why are you here?"

"What do you want to happen?"

"Did you make the right choice?"

"Who are you?"

Auric muttered his name under his breath, "Auric" and then was jolted back to the present moment by the rat-faced man, Warren, speaking to him. He hadn't even noticed that the plant-person, Bhaltair, had been staring at him.

"Sooo, is it just you? or is there someone else?"

"Is what just me?"

"You seem like you're talking to someone."

Auric was taken aback, but answered the question.

"Yes. I am. I was part of the group that captured these people, and on the way back to the encampment, I began hearing a voice. It asks me questions, who I am, who I want to be. I realised I wasn't who I wanted to be, that I couldn't leave these people, so I saved them. I'm not sure which thoughts are mine anymore."

"We can help you" came the voice of the orc, Valaari. "I think you are hearing the voice of Kalok Shash, we have people who can help you back at Maruk Dar. Do you want to come back with us?"

Like many questions recently, Auric didn't know the answer to that.

"You can't return to your tribe, they'll kill you" said Warren, and that was true enough.

After some back and forth, Auric verbalising his doubts, he conceded it was likely the best course of action. He didn't belong among these people, he wasn't sure he belonged anywhere, but it was better than dying, alone, in the Wastes.

"Who am I?" he thought to himself, and thought for the moment, maybe just being Auric was enough.

As was customary for a new recruit of the Maruk Ghaash'kala, Auric had been assigned an existing member of the Ghaash'kala to teach him their ways, and the ways of Kalok Shash. He followed his instructor and listened to their lectures dutifully, even though he knew many of the things they were preaching already. He didn't believe it, though, not really. Even with the voice in his head, the voice that Valaari had theorised was Kalok Shash speaking to him, Auric wasn't sure.

Why would Kalok Shash speak to him, of all people? Could there be anyone who deserved less to hear the words?

The voice asked him who he was, who he wanted to be. Was this mere curiosity, or did the voice know him? What did it know about him, what did it see?

These questions plagued Auric, and had been his constant companions since he first heard the words in his mind.

His initiation would be in a couple of days, and before it he would need to spend a day in contemplation, to commune with Kalok Shash. Auric, if Valaari was correct, had been communing with Kalok Shash nearly constantly for days now. He wasn't sure what he could gain from this period of contemplation, but if he had to do it, he would. If anything, he was frightened that the quiet, in this place, would encourage the voice further in its questioning.

He sat cross legged in front of a candle, watching the flame dance in front of him, almost mesmerised.

"Who are you?" came the voice from behind him, though he didn't need to turn around to know that nobody was truly there.

"Auric" he answered, still not sure what the voice was looking for. "Formerly of the Razor Wind carrion tribe. I'm about to join the Ghaash'kala, because the alternative is death and I am a coward. A coward and a travesty of a-"

"Is that who you are?"

Auric had had enough of this question, no answer he provided seemed to satisfy the voice.

"I don't know. I'm not sure that I care anymore. I'm dead."

Auric shook his head, trying to banish the doubt and the frustration, and breathed in deeply, the smell of smoke from the candle filling his nostrils. It burned slightly, though not unbearably. The voice had not responded to his outburst, and now he felt embarrassed that it had happened, even though nobody had been around to witness it. He closed his eyes, tried to clear his head and reflect on what he'd been taught, and then fell asleep.

"Deep in meditation, I see."

Auric jolted awake, panic filling his chest. He was disoriented, and it took a moment for him to get his bearings and remember where he was. He put a hand up to his face, feeling out his features to ground himself, and then looked for the source of the voice that had startled him awake. Lharc Suusha, the clan's Sar'malaan, was stood over him, a grin on her face.

Auric studied her expression, but she didn't seem angry with him, more amused than anything else. 

"I'm sorry, it's been a long few days" he explained, though he wasn't sure why he felt the need to.

"Did you know that you talk in your sleep?" Lharc asked, and Auric's eyes widened in panic as he looked up at her again.

"I do?" he asked cautiously, cursing himself for his carelessness, as if he could control what happened when he slept.

Lharc nodded in response, and then continued.

"Whilst you have been in here, Auric, I have seen into your heart. Kalok Shash has laid bare your soul to me."

Panic filled his chest again, reaching all the way to his throat, something that was becoming far too common an occurence lately, as he made eye contact with the Sar'malaan again.

"I know who you are."

Everyone that was currently in Maruk Dar had gathered in the central hall, arrayed on tiered benches all facing the center. The immense chamber was lit by silver everburning torches, the flickering light reflecting off of the myriad of bells hanging from the chamber's ceiling. Auric had never seen anything like it, and made a mental note to ask about the bells later.

Torgaan and Lharc stood waiting in the center of the room, watching as Auric, Arvel, and Denzel made their way down the stairs. Arvel seemed to be loving the attention, whilst Denzel held himself like he'd just graduated from the Academy. Auric squirmed under the attention, it was not good for so many eyes to be on him, he thought to himself. He hated it, he always had.

Torgaan gestured for them to kneel, and then after a moment, asked Arvel to stand back up again. If he wasn't so stressed, Auric would've chuckled, but all he could manage was a slight smile. Torgaan couldn't comfortable get low to perform the initiation if Arvel was kneeling.

"Listen well. Arvel, Denzel, the day that we found you in the Wastes, you died. Auric, the day that you made the decision to come here, you died. You are ghosts now, privileged to spend your last, fleeting days on this world serving Kalok Shash; proving yourselves worthy to join its holy flame. You are already dead, so when the Carrion Tribes impale you on a pole and leave you for carrion, or a demon incinerates you, that will merely be the completion of your spirit's journey. You have given your lives to Kalok Shash, and you will never live again."

Lharc then turned away from the gathered initiates and addressed the rest of the clan.

"Maruk Ghaash'kala! We gather today to witness the vows of these three and welcome them among our ranks! Hearing their vows, we will remember our own! Our promises to serve Kalok Shash and do its holy work. Many of our clan have fallen in recent weeks, losses that weigh heavily on us all, but today we do not mourn for the dead, but celebrate those who pick up the torch in their stead!"

Arvel was the first to be initiated, and Auric did his best to observe the ceremony despite the pounding of his blood in his ears, and the bead of sweat travelling mercilessly down his forehead and towards his eye. Arvel seemed almost giddy in this moment, something completely alien to Auric. Denzel was next, repeating the oath stoically, though Auric noticed a quiver in his lips as he did so. This ceremony wasn't a happy one for Denzel, it confirmed that he likely would never see his family again.

Auric was next, and the colour drained from his face as Torgaan stood over him and anxiety filled him.

"Auric, today you die. As a ghost, you will fight the demons of the Wastes and their servants. You will fight until you have proven yourself worthy of joining Kalok Shash. Are you ready?"

What's one more broken oath, Auric thought to himself. He was definitely going to be sick. Nevertheless, he nodded.

"Do you swear, before Kalok Shash and all the Maruk Ghaash'kala, to fight against evil in all its forms?"

"I do." he stated, keeping his head down and doing his best to keep the last meal he ate down as well.

"Do you swear to permit nothing, living or dead, to pass through the Labyrinth, either to leave the Wastes or enter them?"

"I do."

"Do you swear to fight with courage, until your foes are dead or you join Kalok Shash?"

"I do" he responded again, and then scrunched up his face in surprise. He found that he actually meant it. Torgaan clearly noticed the expression on Auric's face, causing Auric to curse himself again for his carelessness, but Torgaan didn't mention it.

Lharc turned to Torgaan.

"Torgaan Shashaarat, do you swear to guide Auric in our ways, and to ensure they do not join Kalok Shash before their time?"

Torgaan affirmed his oath, and then brought his sword down towards Auric's neck. Even though he'd seen this happen twice already, Auric couldn't help but flinch. He was thankful he'd managed to stop his arm before it intercepted the blade, a mistake that likely would've cost him the limb if Torgaan hadn't noticed in time. A few days ago, a Ghaash'kala swinging a sword at him would have meant death if he didn't block, and it was hard to break that habit.

"Ghost of Auric, rise, and join the Maruk Ghaash'kala"

He did as he was instructed, and a wave of nausea and dizziness assaulted him. He swayed on his feet and almost doubled over, barely noticing how quiet the hall had gone through the pressure in his head. Torgaan placed a hand on Auric's shoulder, steadying him and giving him a knowing wink. This was always hard on those who had left the Carrion Tribes.

Lharc startled Auric out of his reverie with the next part of the ceremony.

"Kalok Shash burns brighter, and the Maruk Ghaash'kala grow! Go now, Ghaash'kala, and meet your new family."

Guilt and shame flooded Auric as he turned to his new "family". How many of these people had lost people because of him? How many would lose people in the future because of him?

"Is this who you are?" came the voice, and Auric wished desperately that he could strangle it.

"I'm a Ghost" was the best he could manage.