Momos published almost all of his writings as "Letters to My Sons, If They Want To Listen". These essays were sent out and read aloud by hired heralds at agoras and marketplaces all over the Empire's large cities. Momos was a childless bachelor, but always maintained that he had scores of bastard sons all over the Empire, birthed on harlots and washerwomen, priestesses and noblewomen. This is from letter no. XXII, the first time Momos spoke about the Power Behind the Desk.
"Chaos, my boys, is often attributed with decadence. The first reason, obviously, is that decadence is seen as Evil, and thus somehow linked to Chaos. The second reason is that many creatures and cults of alleged chaotic origin engage in decadent practices. One of the groups, most secretive and, if rumours are to believed (and as usual, rumours are the only thing we have) most influential Chaotic Cults is that of Krasht, The Hungry Mother. This monstrous spider-thing godess is supposed to be th patroness of traps, hunger and intrigue, and is often blamed for everything from murder to spreading pornography. This sect is, however, completely misunderstood, which is just how they want it to be.
I must return to the days before the Red Dynasty and the Lunar ways ruled our lands to explain the powers and goals of his group. The goal of the Krashtishim is simple: Power. Power, of any kind, any type. Just like the meticulous creation of artistic works are supposed to be the route to Illumination and mystical understanding for the citizens of the Mysterious East, so true enlightenment, according to these cultists, come about through the ruthless accquisition of raw power. There is, however, one important condition: This power must be gain in utter secrecy, and preferrably never known to anyone except the Powerful One. The ability to make men tremble by showing them the true extent of your power (always a popular hobby in our beloved Empire) is seen by the Krashtishim as a distraction from the esoteric goals of the cult.
And in those days of yore, there was one major venue for the accquisition of secret power. You turned to powerful people - people who had gained their power in the more standard ways of war, politics and inheriting wealth and titles - and milked them of their power, in return for fulfilling their secret and shameful needs. For the old days were days of strict and unrelenting Virtue, where a man in Power must be Perfect. There were no women in power in those days, just because women never could be Perfect. That would have been a contradiction in terms. This perfection precluded the existence of human (and inhuman) weaknesses. Since these weaknesses still existed, they must be kept secret. And when these things became secret, they became even more attractive. Thus, the Krashtishim supplied the nobles with forbidden pleasures, and unlawful assistance in their political plots, and their power grew.
Then came the Godess. And suddenly, everything was Right under the Right circumstances. There was to be a balance between Virtue and Vice, and who could tell what was what anyway? So the pleasures were no longer forbidden. When the Krashtishim told powerful nobles of the witnesses they had of the weird sex acts the noblemen had enjoyed and asked for favors in return for not divulging these secrets, the noblemen would merely laugh and wonder if the witnesses were skilled speakers, who could perhaps perform at parties, telling their guests of their hosts' latest exploits. So much of the things done to assist political plots where no longer unlawful. No longer did spies and assassins and saboteurs need the protection of the Krashstishim - they needed government approval. Things looked tough for the poor chaos cultists.
But then they found a new venture. A new, great project to invest in, to milk power from to make into the cheese (hole-ridden, like their warrens) of Enlightenment. This was secret not because it was shameful, but because it was complex. It affected everyone, not only the high and mighty. And no one would ever find them there, for no one would care to look. I am, of course, talking of the Imperial Bureaucracy. The whole business with assassination and spying and drugdealing was dismantled (or mostly so, since there are conservative die-hards everywhere, including chaotic cults), and turned into systematic misuse of the government. The criminal low-life which had been the broad public base of the cult was swiftly kicked out and replaced with second assistant clerks, junior scribes and chamber-guards of satraps' courtiers. The large chariot of state became covered with the organisational equivalent of krashtkid's goo. The wheels turned when and how the cult wished. The Jaws, the master assassins of the cult, became something much more dreadful: Master Lawyers.
Want a permit? Krasht can give it to you, or make the most innocent pursuit illegal. You choose. Want to carry out a government project? Krasht can assist you, or make the most routine actions impossible. You choose. Want to sue someone? Krasht can make him pay, evidence be damned, or make you guilty of the very thing he committed against you. You choose. You cannot escape the rubber stamps of doom, the memorandi of perfidity, the files of things man was not meant to know. Like deluded krashtkids burrowing blindly, their agents increases the mass of unneeded laws, the taxes which counteract their own purpose, the documents which makes you less informed before than after you read them. The system is soon so complex that they do not have to actively hinder you. You will be in their power anyway, for only they know the Labyrinth of Law, the Symmetri of the State, the Pattern of Politics.
The Milk of Power gives bitter cheese, my boys. But you'd better pay the cheesemakers anyway. Remember that. Never underestimate the Power Behind the Desk"
It may be interesting to know that there is another conspiracy theory connected to Momos' Power Behind the Desk. I have heard that among the revolutionary groups of the Empire, like the Fiscal Anarchists, Totalitarians for Democracy and Young Militant Pacifists' Front, they speak in awe of the Sons of Momos, supposedly founded by fatherless young men who heard the Letters and took them to their hearts. Their goal seems to be to literally fight city hall, but no one is sure how they do it.
The High Chairperson of the IOGTR,
"The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea, in a beautiful pea-green boat..."
>From "The Owl and the Pussycat" by Edward Lear
Erik Sieurin
bv9521_at_utb.hb.se
Bodagatan 39, 2 tr
50742 Boras
Sweden
033/141731
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