Wielder of Names 4-65
Once, on the road, Prim met a mendicant sage. The sage was chewing umbral blossoms and sitting in a ditch, filthy and ragged. Curious, Prim crouched down and asked the man what he was doing, for the day was quite hot, and there were beasts and worse about.
“What makes a man the most powerful?” said the sage. “I’ve wondered about this question for a good three days now. I’ve scarcely drunk a drop, or eaten a morsel, or got a moment’s sleep!” Prim itched to leave and continue her journey, but instead gave the man water and sat beside him, as at one point in her life she had been an excellent daughter, and old habits die exceedingly hard.
“Is is the strength of a man’s arm?” said the sage, “Is it the timbre of his voice? Is it his luminous gaze? Is it the way the light strikes his face?”
Prim was sure it was none of these things, and told the man so. “I thought as much,” said the sage, “so I considered further. Is the root of power buried in the soil of violence? Must it be nourished with blood? But many violent men are overthrown with ease by those who use only words. So it must not be so. Does power lie in the throat, then? Does a truly powerful man keep it in his body like a deep and mighty lake, boiling and bubbling in his guts, only to spill forth when he parts his steaming lips?”
Prim was certain it was none of these things, and told the man so. The sage nodded and continued, chewing on his leaf. “I think so too,” he said. “In truth, my conclusion is that the most powerful of men are neither wholly violent, nor strong of voice. The most powerful of men are radiant. Their power suffuses the air around them, and enslaves the will of others around them, by their own unwilling consent. It is an illusory power, which makes it all the more dangerous, since it feeds off belief. Such a man can kill without thinking, if he so chooses. He is sovereign from the laws of other men.”
“What do you think?” asked the sage, looking equal parts exhausted and pleased. Prim didn’t have an answer. “Well, none of that! I’ve been on this for three days!” sputtered the sage. “Which do you think? The violent man, the vocal man, or the radiant man?”
Prim thought of the violent men who had passed through her father’s house, and the iron rod of her father, with which he had not been sparing. She thought of the silken-voiced men that whispered near her father’s hearth. And she thought of the royal men, who came in processions to consult with her father, carried on their palanquins.
“None of them,” said Prim, at last.
“What?” said the sage, aghast.
“The most powerful man has the capability to be violent, charismatic, or sovereign, all,” said Prim, “but he chooses to be none of them, because if he does, he has become cruel, and a cruel man has lost all claim to power.”
She stood up and dusted herself off. “If God were a mere fisherman, he would earn my respect,” said Prim. She gathered her things and returned to the road, leaving her canteen with the sage, who remained there a day longer. He then gave up on the question, and later abandoned his sage’s rags to become a successful farmer.
– The Song of Maybe
I am relieved! I thought Mottom may react violently, but now I see that she is a forgiving ruler and that no harm will come to the brave King. Although I seem to remember her looking older…
It is possible that I am mistaken.
Many Kings put on a pretty mask when faced with their subjects but their true face is always hideous, always hungry, always duplicitous.
Glamour is a wonderful thing. Do remember that when we last saw our dear 1/7th sovereign she was in a place of power and revelation. She was lain bare by the force of her friend-foes, and perhaps a desire to be frank and open with them.
Here, in the quite literal seat of her power? Masks within masks! All form is falsehood, why settle on one lie for every occasion?
…Blue lipstick was a mistake though. It’s a little gauche.
Dear Worm, you grasp little of the changing mores of fashion.
Orange and blue is -the- look this season.
Ye’re well out of it, ye impostrous plebian. Tenne-by-bleu de ciel is only considered acceptable fashion when one tincture be displayed dominant, wit’er bein’ confined to the purpose of a contrasting accessory worn about th’ waist, neck, or back (usually, but not necessarily, a scarf or piece of jewelery).
T’ deal the role of contrast t’ makeup is a sign that our Glorious Maj, Queen o’ Hags, knows blooded bugger-all on th’ proper form for such things.
I was told ‘Teal and Orange’, though I suppose the difference is largely academic.
Blue lipstick looks amazing on dark skin.
I disagree. Purple I would concede looks good on dark skin, but as for blue (and green for that matter) it makes you look sick… on any skin tone, to be fair. Just something wrong with it, is it like a child trying to draw on their face? or like a cartoon character? Whatever it is, it’s gross and takes a beautiful black woman and makes her something I can’t even look at without feeling uncomfortable. I do like your name though
It’s probably a glamour to deceive everybody around her. Gods do have to keep up appearances don’t they?
The mercy of a quick death, preedo-muchacho. For him and his entire world, I’m sure.
Also, she was in the void then. It shows one for who they truly are.
If Pram’s really won’t be appaearing on more than two pages, then whatever Mottom does is going to involve him being entriely off-screen, or utterly obscured by the radiance of Mottom’s power. Though it’s entirely possible last page’s hovetext was an oversight.
I can’t say I’m so sure. That star on her brow is stirring that last panel, and that seems to be a sign of something drastic about to happen.
Furthermore, I wouldn’t expect “mercy” as we may know it from someone with a moniker like “Blood Flower.”
You are not mistaken she was older (alot older) the last we saw of her. At first I thought it may be due to the location of their meeting that it changed her appearance. Though on further inspection of the others this is wrong, they can merely alter their appearance.
http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z122/Crystal_Milotic/ksbd73_zpsz1fbrl3d.jpg
The Mottom’s mercy is not a thing to be relied upon. Unless you desire a quick death, of course.
This page surprises me on multiple levels. I don’t know what’s what anymore.
Well, you know, she IS a god. If Yisun and Hansa could transform into ladies to participate in an orgy, a little (ie; big) face lift probably isn’t too much for Mottom to handle.
Enlightenment can only be reached through disregarding of the pestilential construct called Reality.
It goes without saying that Mottom’s mercy is probably going to be as cruel as everything else about her.
I suspect that mercy is the worst thing she could grant.
It’s probably the nickname she has for the “detonate planet” button.
I fear greatly for the poor king Pryam Sor. Much as weakness in the hands of the wise is the deadliest weapon of all, mercy may break a man unlike anything else.
So cynical, Lady of Owls! I, for one, have faith in our sovereigns’ ability to rule heaven in a just and peaceful manner.
A beautiful flower can cast a horrid shadow, it seems. Nice reveal, Abbadon.
Of course, we don’t know that this isn’t merely one of Mottom’s servitors that happens to be playing her role. Time will tell.
I’m with this, or the theory that she’s pulling some Elizabeth Báthory shit to maintain that lovely appearance.
Except instead of bathing in the the blood of maidens, she consumes…uh…everything?
Which is the shadow though, I wonder?
Mayhaps the good queen is merely presenting a glamour.
A blade is mercy to the diseased Mottom.
You posturing bores me and your deceiting facade insulting.
This intrigues me.
The art of illusion is a trifle thing to one so schooled in the Art.
No one should be surprised that the living embodiment of Greed would covet the beauty of a time long gone. The petty will always covet the power of Radiance, yet fail to learn the lessons of Prim.
Additionally, the definition of “Mercy” is most probably foreign to a being such as the dear Mother. I expect a hearty attempt to reach heaven in the very near future. Possibly committed on everyone in the vicinity of king Pryan Sur.
But oh Mendicant knight, is Mother Om not the very image of Gluttony itself? Look at how she feasts on the toils of the worlds under her care. One would think that Greed would lend more to development and growth in order to reap larger profits. The Grand Dragon would be insulted to hear his divine nature be projected upon one with such poor business sense.
It was merely a comment on great Oms physical appearance, and I would expect that the lands of the Grand Dragon are levied in a similar fashion. Greed driven to the point of divinity is not a rational or forgiving thing.
But i will concede that I misspoke, the Mother embodies Gluttony, not Greed. I hope you will excuse me, it had been some time since my last meal.
Once, as I sojourned to mend my blindness, I lodged in the house of a farmer of melons. Being newly arrived to his country, the farmer took upon himself the task of informing me of the cruelty and excess on his king.
For hours the list of offenses unfurled, and each moment found me more and more astonished at such heinous abuse of authority, such that, by the end, my burned eyes were flooded with the effluent of sorrow, and my whole body trembled with utter despair and empathetic angst.
As I wept and groaned in misery, the farmer and his wife set about preparing a meal, and whistled and sang merrily as they worked their tasks.
My astonishment renewed, I begged the simple folk to explain their joy. How could anyone continue in the face of such uncaring evil, when their influence is so dwarfed by it? How could they sing and dance under the bitter heel of such an insurmountable cruelty, when their power seemed so small?
The farmer looked at me with a solemn smile, and said, “It is true that the king’s reach is great. His trespasses distort the lives of countless thousands, while our joy can only reach those few with which we take supper and among whom we live. But do not think this conflict so one-sided. For there is only one king, but many farmers.”
Still have my bet placed firmly on
HE GON’ DIE
Also Mottom has a key, whats a little magical botox for an evening?
lol politics
Let it be said that mercy is the greatest of all weapons!
The Blade of Steel makes naught but corpses, but the Blade of Mercy makes slaves of all!
Ah, a double. Indeed, the Queen herself is not here. And the double is merciful, or the special kind of cruel that is sometimes called “merciful”. We shall see.
And as for the question of power- it is belief that one is powerful that makes one truly powerful. Violence, charisma, and radiance all contribute, but no amount of the three can replace quite belief by others.
Power is just another lie~
I think she just likes the offering of human bones, makes good broth.
It’s rather more likely Mottom will resent not getting them whole.
Nadia finally got out the right side of the bed today it seems.
Let us all take a lesson on pre-judgement, the injudicious use of which has brought down empires. There is depth here that we have only begun to plumb
Yaaaay a prim story
And oh, mottom is vain as well as gluttonous, to hide her shape so. Or is this just a stand in..?
personality is amplified by showmanship, vanity is the least of her sins.
=//=
WHY SHARE THE TRUTH WHEN A LIE WILL SUFFICE?
There should be no surprise in this revelation.
The meeting of the demiurges was in the Void. Any body projected there is a reflection of the heart. And the heart of Mottom is a wretched, withered thing.
This one doubts the small king desires mercy. Justice, perhaps. But like so many imagined things, justice can be elusive where Ought finds itself swallowed up by Is.
Did you get your hair done, Mottom?
Oh wretched and ill-fated King. That beautiful mercy is terribly likely to be mere radiant wrapping paper for a most fearsome and all consuming malice for you and your people. For a Mottom who wishes to be adored has so many many way to coerce it. May you not need to thank her for the mercy of being the last of your world to be consumed in the fire of her wrath. Or the joy of knowing your flame will be slowly drawn over a thousand years to replenish her youthful shade.
Oh what a most terrible doom.
…AH. AHAHAHA.
HAHAHAHAHA.
THIS IS VERY FUNNY.
Het, Prim and Aesma are really my favorite characters and they are not even in the main story line.
We don’t really know that, perhaps they will be.
Is it because we saw their “souls” and not their bodies during the meeting?
I wonder if we what we are seeing is an illusion or if she does indeed look like that, and what we saw previously was her true spiritual form. The body does not have the mimic the soul after all.
It’s probably just an illusion though.