To Be Named Guwan

[Venty]

There is no greater disgrace than to be named Guwan.

 

Many non-sinta have questioned me in the past as to what it means to be a Guwan. They ask what power such a title could have over me, and why I allow it to rule me as it does now. And my answer to that question is always the same: "The power comes in the name's meaning: Exile."

 

One's clan is everything to a sinta. It is their family, their brothers and sisters in life and death. It is their community, who you work and worship alongside. It is their life, from which all pursuits and goals revolve around. It defines you, gives you purpose, gives you meaning.

 

To be named Guwan is to be cast off from that.

 

You lose your family. You lose your community. You lose your life. You lose anything and everything that has made you up to that point, and are left adrift in a society that now looks upon you with nothing but scorn. There is no salvation in the hands of another, nor sanctuary from the cruel universe that we live in. There is only torment and agony, brought at the hands of others.

 

And as in life, as in death. To die a Guwan is to never know the glory of the Beastlands. Never will you meet your ancestors and hear their stories. Never will you see the glory of Sk'akh and become one with them. Never will you hunt and feast to your heart's content upon the fattest and most worthwhile of beasts. The only future you will know in the afterlife as a Guwan will be the burning sands and searing metal of the Chained Lands, and the torment of those who have given in to its agony.

 

Do you understand now? To be named Guwan is to be cast off from all that makes you, and to lose all hope for that which is yet to come. You lose your past, you lose your present, and most importantly, you lose your future. There is nothing for a Guwan in this life or the next. Nothing.

 

And yet, despite this nothingness, there is a slight hope. For even a Guwan may be redeemed, through effort or mercy. I have seen it happen. I have seen those deemed damned by all brought back into the blessed fold of a clan, and given purpose again. For some rare few of us, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

 

It is for this reason that I work endlessly. I put myself through the hardest work and suffer the greatest indignities to see myself redeemed in the eyes of my peers. Every agony and every pain serve this purpose. My silence as I am beaten senseless and my reticence when I am shouted down serve this purpose. The sacrifice of my hopes and my dreams to see others rise up serve this purpose.

 

Put me through it all. Beat me, break me, shatter me into a million pieces. See my soul scarred and burned, and my pride hung by the neck. See the end to all that makes me, that I may see the light at the end of this cold tunnel and know the warmth of redemption when all is said and done.

 

Take me upon the long jagged road to redemption. I am ready.