Death is meaningless

Death did not help my situation, only worsened it. After I wrote in this journal last time, I quickly threw myself off a cliff, only to wake up in what I can only call another plane of existence. There were no walls or ceiling, no sky or ground, no here or there. It was a plane of nothing.

The only inhabitants that resided there were the ancestral elders, some of whom seemed to be in a daze, not knowing or caring who comes and goes from their plane of existence. What has struck me as even weirder was that the ancestral elders, though I have spoken to them many times before, this was the first time I had been able to actually see them, took the form of shadows and moved around silently.

This made me think that what if our own shadows are actually our souls? But then, why do my ancestral elders not celebrate, battle one another, drink together, or even acknowledge the existence of those around them? Maybe, the afterlife isn't what the elders back in the tribes tried to sell us, or maybe… maybe something happened and we orcs must pay the price from long ago?

Whatever it is, I'll figure it out. I may be unable to do anything about it at this given moment, but I should be able to do something in the future. There isn't much else to talk about, I will continue to try to end my life, I am thinking of starving myself, my own punishment for abandoning my son. My hope is that whatever is keeping me alive will not be able to revive me if I do not nourish my body, but we will see.

It has been a week since I have stopped eating. At first, hunger pains attacked my body relentlessly, driving me mad and nearly breaking my resolve, but now, a week later, the hunger pains have vanished and my body feels nourished. I cannot explain to you how or why my body feels so… energetic?…. No, that's not the word I am looking for. I feel as though I have never missed a meal in my life.

I ended up visiting the shadow plane, as I found out it was called, one more time while in a drunken stupor. There, for the first time since I was banished, I was able to actually talk to the ancestral elders, my father specifically. He told me that as punishment for betraying my race by going against their customs I am to be not only banished from my tribe, but also doomed to immortality until my successor is born.

I asked a great multitude of questions to which my father refused to answer most. "It is the decree of your ancestral elders, boy, do not question it." He kept saying but what elders? Why do they get to decree that I have to suffer for the choices they forced upon me? Out of anger, and possibly hate, I spat back at my father telling him that if anyone deserved this hell it would be him for always applying such pressure to me and for teaching me to protect the clan. If he had been half the father to me that he was to Grodak, I might have chosen a different path and wouldn't be here now.

My father just bowed his head in defeat. Even as I write this, I am disgusted with that old man, he cannot take responsibility for what he did to me and instead pushed it all on me, forcing me to not only take responsibility for my own actions but that of his, a child should never have to bear the weight of their father's sins and yet, here we stand.

Where do I stand now? I obviously cannot trust the ancestral elders, they proved as much when they banished me for doing what they asked. I do not care if it was done in a way they disapproved of, if I am given the choice of sacrificing many lives just to satisfy some dead men or to complete the task they asked of me without sacrificing any lives on my side, I will always take the road that leads to my men surviving, regardless of the consequences.

I should go, otherwise I may rant even more. The thought of what those bastards did enrages me to the point that joining them in the shadows puts a bad taste in my mouth.

A month has passed since I last wrote here. I know I should be writing more and keeping my thoughts on paper, but not much has happened.

To begin with the latest suicide attempt, I decided that if I cannot die from starvation, I would die of thirst, and yet again, a few days after my thirst vanished. I have found that I can still eat and drink and it would have the same effects as prior to my attempts to die, but it is wasted on me. I have yet to leave the cave that Leah and I called home, even though I know I should, but her scent still lingers here and I find myself unable to leave.

I spoke to my father again, this time however, I was summoned to the shadow plane, or shadow world as I have begun to call it. Once again, my father was sent to talk to me. I begrudgingly listened to him ramble on about the pride of the orc race and how I should honor and respect it. How I am the most dishonorable orc he has ever laid eyes on and how he is ashamed to have been the one to raise me.

I wanted to yell, to scream at him and tell him that if I am so dishonorable it is only because he raised me to be like that and that I had no wish to be "Talengar's chosen who will unite the tribes and lead them out of the scar" but I held my peace. I may not like the old bastards, but they have the wisdom and knowledge to rid me of this blasted curse of immortality, or so I thought. When I asked my father for the fifth time how I would be able to pass on my "gift" as they called it, he informed me that only a full blooded orc born of our blood could receive the gift and until that day came, I was stuck with it.

I assume this means I must either have a child with another orc, the very thought of betraying my wife, even after death, sickens me to my core, or I could possibly transfer this "gift" to my brother. He might even know a way to do so, he was the original successor of this ability to begin with, so my "loving" father may have taught him how, but in order to do so, I must leave this cave, which I am reluctant to do.

I will have to think about it, and I will return to let you know what I have decided. The upside is, after ridding myself of this damn curse, I will be able to return and finally die in peace. I pray to whatever damn God is listening that my soul doesn't end up in the same plane as my father and elders.

It has been… I am unsure how much time has passed since I last wrote in this journal. I had decided to leave the cave, my home, to find my brother…. The journey has been long and fraught with many difficulties, at least for those who were unfortunate enough to be around me.

To begin this entry, I would like to say I was right. My shadow, the very being that has followed me for all my life, is a living substance that I can now control. It took some practice in the beginning but I have managed to tame it, like a farmer taming a wild stallion. How did I find out?

Will, shortly after I left my home, I was captured and tortured by some humans in black cloaks. The pain was excruciating but I did not fight back, I wanted to feel the pain and prayed they would end my life. They were unable to and, I guess out of frustration, began to insult me, my brother, my father, and worse of all, my child and wife. I cannot give you the exact details of what happened, but when they mentioned my wife and child, anger consumed me.

As the anger began to burn white hot, I wished for nothing short of killing these men, taking their heads and mounting them on stakes before finding their families and doing the same to them. Just as quickly as the thought appeared in my mind, a shadow, my shadow, began to move, unsheathing its sword and plunging the blade into the gut of one of my assailants. It did not stop there, it quickly moved from assailant to assailant, killing each and everyone of them before mounting their heads on shadowy pikes inches from their bodies.

I was shocked at first but tried to play it off as though I had known all along that my shadow was a warrior just like myself. Though, that isn't entirely the truth, nor is it false. The shadow, as I have found out in the recent weeks, is actually an extension of myself, one could even go as far as to say, my shadow is my soul. I do not know if this applies to all races, the orcs, or just myself, nor do I plan to find out.

Shortly after the beheading of my assailants, I was left alone, tied and gagged to a table. The wounds inflicted on me by my assailants soon began to fester and puss began to form all over my body. However, we have seen this song and dance before, just as my body was on the brink of death, my wounds began to heal. It was an odd feeling, the same feeling I get when my father summoned me to the shadow world and it made me think, maybe it isn't the ancestral elders who are constantly reviving and healing me, maybe they cannot control it and the reason they banished me wasn't because they couldn't kill me since the "gift" they so generously thrusted upon me would vanish, maybe it was because they couldn't kill me at all.

Just then, everything clicked. It was never that they didn't want to kill me but that they could not kill me because the shadow world itself refused to let me die so they had no choice but to banish me. I cannot tell you how long I was stuck in that room, strapped to that table before realizing just how much my ancestral elders fucked up.

They had chosen me to wield this curse, to lead their children, my brothers and sisters, out of the scar. To become an all powerful being that was chosen by their fable "God" and to sacrifice whatever it took to do what they wanted. They wanted a play thing, a puppet that would throw away their feelings for the sake of their honor and pride.

I felt dejected and disgusted at this realization, but it all made sense. My father had always favored my brother and would let him do as he pleased, but I was expected to be his obedient puppet, someone he could control at all times. Someone he was priming to become the ancestral elders' very own tool to use and throw away when convenient.

Anger, my only friend that has stuck by my side even after being thrown away by those bastards, burned ever so hot in my veins and my shadow began to stir. It reached up and cut my binds away, freeing me from the table at last. I wanted to confront the ancestral elders, to confront my father about how they had tried to control me, how they failed to turn me into their puppet, but I had no means of entering the shadow world to confront them. I deliberated if I should get drunk since it worked last time, but decided against it.

If I confront them while not in my right mind, they would just dismiss all I had to say. So, with this in mind, I waited for them to summon me and I did not have to wait long.

When they summoned me, they immediately demanded that I was to find my brother and aid him in his quest for they believe him to be the true Talengar's chosen. I'll be honest, I was hurt by those words yet relieved. I no longer had the burden of Talengar's chosen thrusted onto me, and yet, what was I without that title? An orc who devoted himself to a cause that he had no part in.

I pushed the conflicted feelings to the back of my mind and confronted them with my accusations, to which they of course denied. I wasn't having it and pushed the issue, questioning them as to why they would send my clan out to attack another, more powerful tribe, if they had not desired to test the strength of their strings they had placed on me from birth. I even went as far to say that maybe they did so because they knew no matter what I did, I would end up clanless.

The ancestral elders remained silent, refusing to refute, deny, or admit to my claim or answer my question. At this point, I am starting to believe that they are just as much in the dark on their decisions as I am, but how? I doubt there is someone above them forcing their hands and mouth to move the way they tried to do to me.

At first, I wanted to put a stop to my travels and return to my home, but nothing waited for me there. Death had not come for me even though I begged for it to take me away and return me to my wife's side. The only thing I could do was obey the ancestral elders for now and pray that death finds me along the way.

Of course, I knew it was foolish to wish for such, but I had nothing else going for me. I trekked through the familiar landscape without food or water, I had no such needs for those things. The one time I stopped to rest I found myself falling into the shadow world where I stayed for several days.

During my time in the shadow world, I was ignored by all the citizens and treated as an outcast, which only further strengthened my belief that they only wanted a puppet and now that I have cut the strings that held me, I was nothing short of an eye sore to them. Good. As long as breath remains in my body, I do not want them to forget what they have done.

When I finally was able to leave the shadow world, I refused to rest anymore and continued my journey. It was difficult at first, sleep almost took hold of me on several occasions, but in the end, just as the shadow world took away my hunger and thirst, it took away my need for sleep.

As I write this, I am nearing the end of my journey. Whitewater, a neighboring town that has prospered since the second War of Races, is an hour away and will be my final stop. I plan to stop in and purchase new clothes, the ones I am wearing now are disheveled and torn from the long journey. If I am to return to my clan and speak with my brother, I do not wish to do so while looking disheveled.