I woke, for the first time in my life, on a carriage, headed towards Denerim. The socks on my feet were dirty, but I couldn't know that. I knew nothing. Every sensation was exploding around me, my eyes burned from the wood that surrounded me, unable to understand its being, and my fingers convulsed and contorted as they attempted to realize that they had agency in a world they did not know. My body shook. There was wetness dripping from my mouth. It was my saliva, but in the moment, I was scared of what it could have been. Nothing seemed right, because I had never had the chance to see before.
As my eyes adjusted to their new surroundings, they noticed others like me. Bodies shaking uncontrollably, seizures gripping fantastic creatures, eyes dilating and watering as new information entered them. I looked at my own hand. It was not like the others, there were no harsh edges and sharp claws, no green smoke billowing from the tips. It was what you would describe as Elven, dexterous, lean, thin, small. A small mark, a black stain, a tip of ashen and monstrous skin blemished my knuckle. It was all that ever told me what I was.
To my right, beyond the wood that caged me, was a man. His moustache was well oiled, his eyes burning with arrogance. He looked at me, with what I could even tell was contempt. He spat and laughed.
To my left was another carriage, holding a monstrous creature. He wore a jagged, armoured skin, with horns on his head, and eyes uncountable. He was frothing at the mouth. Tears were welling up in his hundred eyes.
The road was long, and my legs hurt me, even if they did not walk. I began naming things, to pass the time. Using whatever grunts a newborn mind like mine could muster, I started calling out to various objects, hoping that they would react. My cage was Bok, my carriage Tish, my body Mah. I learned English later on, but whenever I see these things, I always try to see if they'll call at me back. Maybe I just haven't got their true name.
The arrogant man on the right would poke a large stick at me when I would vocalize at these objects. He was annoyed, and would shout things I could not understand. His staff had a flame on its end, and it scared me. He knew it did. That's why he poked me. His name was Shik.
We stopped abruptly, and I noticed that there was no light. I wasn't paying attention. I could still see, even without the fire. As I would travel, my companions would remark on how my eyes were bright, how they shone like they knew the way. Maybe it was a truth; maybe I did know the way. I was awful with directions, though.
Shik left my side and went to a large campfire. I felt very alone. But then, the monster to my right called to me. I had not given him a name, yet. He was suffering too much; it wouldn't be appropriate. I guess his hurt had abated though. He started moaning, in a bassy, loud voice, trying to get my attention. It was so low, I could barely hear it. But I came to him.
I named him Nar. He named me Hom. Nar tried to tell me about his leg. He pointed and moaned, and I barely understood. I reached out, trying to get my arm in between the bars, just to get close enough to do… something. I could not reach him. He cried softly, but he thanked me with a pleasant hum.
I heard shouts. Shik had leapt from the campfire, and was running away from the carriages. Some of the other monsters started shrieking. Nar was more confused than scared, but he still made dreadful, low gurgles. I sat and stared. Arrows flew past my face, and one hit me in my arm, I could see black blood bubbling from a skin I did not understand. I was too scared to scream.
Fire began flying, and I saw Shik use his stick to burn a woman. Our cages began burning, and a friend of Shik's let us free. Some of us. I saw a small creature, eyeless, hunched over, be scorched to death as its cage tumbled and crash. He had no legs to kick himself free, and arms to weak to lift himself up.
All of a sudden, I died, and then, I lived again. I remembered the carriage, but not what had made the sky bright after such darkness. Bodies were still scorching, corpses still crying. But the Sun was still there, and I suddenly knew its name. I knew all names; grass, tree, Human, Elf.
My hand was different. The skin was darker, tanned, scarred. But it was still lean, still as small as it was, still broken by the ashen mark of whatever had hurt me. I stood, and understood my legs. My fingers no longer asked for a reason to be. I was free from my confusion. But now, I had a new problem. Who am I?