Names, Intrigue, and Power

“If you wish to know whom you truly are – you need but ask.” 

There is power in a name, or so many sayings go. This expression has been derived for many things over the years, but it is plausible to trace it back to the theory that all creatures possess a true name. One afforded them either by actions or by destiny; something preordained at birth. But to possess such a name is to possess absolute reign over that individual. To command them as one would a slave – or to the more creative, power to remake them in your image. To craft one as you wish them to be as if a God onto oneself. Not in the traditional sense of course. For obvious reasons you can’t alter a physical appearance any more than you can how something lives and breaths.. But you can change all that comprises it. Remake their mind, instill their actions and habits, craft their future for them. It is a very empowering theory, especially to those whom believe in these truths and seek to hold such dominion over their peers. I imagine it’d be very useful if not for the fact such artifacts that are said exist only reveal the true name of the one making the inquiry rather than the names of those around him.

The Vigil is one such artifact, but it only announces the names of those with substantial power to wake it from it’s slumber. What is this magnificent object. I’ve wondered over it’s origins for so long; ever since I acquired it from Senator Duskmourne. I also wonder why he’d entrust me with such a thing. Was it perhaps out of pity? Out of the trust I placed in him when I spoke to him in confidence? That I didn’t know who or what I was… It seemed to perplex his mind nearly as much as it had my own. This object was his solution and it would not answer my pleas until some time later. Perhaps it is in tune with the flows of ley that comprise all things… as if it can sense whom is worth it’s time. Or perhaps it has more to do with luck – or fate. That a time should pass that one is meant to know the words that potentially bind them

I’m to ponder what one would do with such capacity – what could one do? To what limits does it extend? Can you completely smother what rests in the heart and soul of another? To re imagine them through simple wordplay and work them into completely new entities? The saint becomes a sinner, the whore becomes a chaste noble, and even the mage learns the ways of the sword. Do the possibilities extend as far as the imagination? Is there a means to combat such absolute control? I’ve lost myself in this study for some time and have come to believe that all things do indeed hold a true name and respect the opinion that we simple creatures were not gifted that knowledge or identity at birth because those powers that forged us knew not all of us would be capable of harboring such secrets and that it would destroy us all if such knowledge was present that provided the means to controlling another. There is a wisdom in possessing secrets, but a short-coming in silence.

…Kath’anya…

Such things would be so very useful in this omnipresent affair concerning the Kor’Kron Legion, Vynlarion Highcrest and the lovely game we’ve fallen into. I was to be his scapegoat; A realization made just a little to late I fear. I suspect his plans have come crashing down and he’s shifted the blame in my direction. I’m far from loved as I was in days of old; The people’s ‘hero’ had turned to villainous pursuits to end the Twilight’s Hammer and their efforts within our borders. I will not deny that many innocents were put to death in my blind fury. Nor will I deny that I was careless in many respects to the opinions the masses held and how they may affect me later. A pity, truly. Even so I cannot undo the past, my knowledge of chronomancy extends so far and I have every confidence the Bronze Flight would erase me from existence at the slightest attempt.

Still, I’ve played the game long enough to keep incriminating documents that are exchanged in my possession. I’ve sent the, by means of courier to the head judge we were conspiring against and have gone so far as to offer my every assistance in the matter. I don’t appreciate being stabbed in the back; and I’ll even abide by doctrines I opposed vigorously to make the point clear. If their crimes are excused, then it is truly a small price to be paid on my behalf for the efforts I was manipulated into making and their unraveling. You can twist so much around hatred and deceit, but what greater ally can one have than the truth in his hand? What stronger sword need be forged?

Perhaps there are other means yet in this affair that I may recollect on my losses and even benefit from the charade I was to play. While I’ve few doubts that it will erupt to violence of some sort, I pray that I’m simply allowed to observe as they rip each other asunder. With all that I’m involved now I imagine that this is the last of the political tunes I’d need dance to for a very long time. I’ve made arrangements with the Legislative departments of the city-state to see myself transferred into something of a custodial position. A keeper of archives and semi-important information. What better post could I ask than one that affords me both knowledge and silence?

“Think for a moment on just how this will benefit the Magistrate -and- you.” Anetho whispered into the elderly man’s ear, slipping a sizable pouch of jingling coins into his lap. “…How much quieter will it be without me stirring up a fuss with this and that? We both know it’s well beyond my time, yes?” In reluctance, the Magister sighed and nodded. “…It will certainly be easier to contend with, at least…”

…And with such a convenient position afforded that I may roam freely; what better use of my time than to extend the understanding of what I possess? I know great power flows within me. I know I harbor vast reserves of mana and feel the infernal ley that I have embraced… But I cannot control it entirely. I cannot invoke everything voluntarily. Even as it materializes about me when I find myself excited or in a rage – it does little for me. I’m no better than I was a year ago. This lack of forward progress disturbs me, even if I know that there isn’t any direct need to refine myself further. My enemies no longer exist, my purpose for being has fallen quite empty and the petty pursuits I fill my life with no longer grace me with joy.

What I became of necessity is now all that I know… I’m more the same than ever I was before in the passing of vengeance. This desire to escape my limitations still lingers. The drive to know the thoughts and actions of everything and everyone around me. It’s inescapable. Those that are affluent in the darkness and it’s teachings; those whom cast less from sheer willpower and moments of passion in favor of true knowledge… I’ve watched them for some time in silence out of the corners of my eye and the hunger… No the lust for their arts is nigh insatiable. But what can one learn by simply repeating as they do? What comes without a mentor? For the moment, with thanks to those prior political missteps in my pursuits of petty vengeance, they’ve turned me away. I will portray the inferior for as long as I must with every intention of proving myself. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest to pretend that I’ve not even the slightest understanding of their craft. If anything it will make me look like an eager learner; one worthy of their time.

And if not through Mister Felscythe… Then perhaps at the hands of another that comprehends all that he does. To touch upon those powers I’ve only entreated for aid… To possess what I once begged of… Oh I’ll play the supporting actor until the audience realizes at last – that I was always the lead character.

“What do you desire, Magister Dawnpride? What is you stand to gain from all this?” Anetho turned to address his colleague. “I want it all. I stand to gain everything… And if you’ve learned anything of me Mister Duskmourne… I TAKE WHAT I WANT!” He snarled, drawing a sword in one hand, spellfire materializing at the palm of the other. “AND I WANT IT ALL!” Vaerethian frowned. “…And in the end – it will consume you until there isn’t even a memory left, Anetho.” He replied in a staunch manner, clenching his staff tightly.

-The Game of Intrigue, 2007

((with thanks to <Silvermoon Magister> guildies of ye olden days. ))

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~ by anethodawnpride on October 31, 2013.

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