Easily Led, Easily Controlled

Those of my race have a special word for humans. We call them "gwan," the original meaning of which was "weak". And it is particularly apt to think of them as weak, for the gwan are more easily manipulated than any other race. They thirst for power, knowledge, love, and distinction, and a minuscule taste of any of the above ignites within them a powerful craving that eventually overtakes them. This is the principal charm of gwan — they are easily enticed, easily kept, easily led. Best of all, after they have outlived their usefulness, they are even more easily disposed of and replaced.

When I was younger, perhaps twenty, I attracted numerous suiters. Obviously, such bondage as marriage was never a consideration for me. Why deliberately limit my own realms of possibility? However, the dozen or so virile, red-blooded gwan men who pursued me were an asset that should not be shaken aside carelessly (or brutally slaughtered for sport, as I am certain Finnias would advocate). I bestowed little attentions upon the suiters; a coy wink here, a girlish blush there, perhaps even a moonlit tryst where necessary. It was a delicate matter, stringing along so many men whilst keeping each unaware of the others, but I skillfully led my besotted cattle along.

After a time, my gwan suiters were completely within my power, without even the slightest drop of a love potion (I find such means lazy in general, though there is an appropriate time and place for them). It took very little cajoling on my part to inspire any sort of behavior I liked from my suiters; eventually they were my twelve dumbly driven minions. When I tired of them, it took only a few strategically employed tears to convince each of some grievous insult toward me from another, and the fools began challenging one another to duels. When only three remained, I grew bored and poisoned them.

Love and poison. The two are so inextricably intertwined amongst the feeble gwan. When they learn of one who has powers beyond their own, the total of their requests can be summarized as one of two desires: the elixir of love or the draught of poison. They either long for the consummation of their romantic longings or they seek to eliminate a rival, often a rival in love, interestingly. Through the promise of either of these potions, I have incited gwan to mindlessly perform acts which their race would deem horrific. And mind you, this is only in exchange for a promise.

In the end, the poor simpletons never realize that the potion I give them is always the latter, the drought of poison. After all, of what use are they to me after they have served their purpose?

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