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On How To Win Friends and
Enemies, And Then Kill Them
Since this appears to be the moment at which The Chosen One
is gathering her band of stout-hearted, deathwish-possessing colleagues, it might be a good time to talk about alliances.
(How they flock to her now, guided by the reputation of the
sage at her side. It’s very dramatic that they’re all risking death, of
course. On the other hand, in your ordinary medieval-era culture,
the average lifespan is about 40. There’s a reason Beowulf wasn’t
particularly planning on a long retirement.)
Still, who would possibly dare to step forward in front of a multitude and promise that they’ll put their lives on the line to uphold ultimate good? Anyone who likes parades, getting laid, and having drinks bought for them in taverns, that’s who.
It would be cynical to say that the White Wizard gathers allies
because he wants to be surrounded by admirers. It would also
leave out the fact that he likes to be surrounded by an abundance
of meat shields in case something goes wrong.
In contrast to the Wizard’s widespread appeal, it’s sometimes
said that Dark Lords care and are cared about by none but them
selves. That is primarily a discussion for later, but it does open a
few pestiferous questions that the forces of Light tend to leave out
of their calculations on a distressingly regular basis. Starting with:
How in the Eleven Hells would that even work?
