The Power of a Name (S2E18)

Names matter. They shape how we see each other, how we fit into the vast world of Mayhaos. It earns us a legacy - one that lingers in the mouths of those who remember us, one that defines us long after we are gone. And while our name can carry the weight of a history we had no say in, forged by the endlessly cruel and brutal choices of those who came before us, it is up to me to decide what Yifeng will mean in the end.
 
At least, that's what I'm trying to convince myself of.
 
This was a day full of names - new and familiar. For one, I finally learned the name of the towering Nusaru who joined our party during that particularly shitty recon mission to the Triad stronghold: Mogg. A short, blunt name, almost comically ill-suited to someone of his sheer size. But nevertheless, I like Mogg. Both the name and its owner.
 
Next, it was Arthom, who we reunited with at our local tavern. He was a bit upset that he wasn't invited to intercept the Triad, but just like the very enunciation of his name - heavy, firm - I knew exactly why we hadn’t brought him along. Arthom didn't have a single stealthy bone in his body. Especially where there would have been so many corrupt Triad members surrounding him, he wouldn’t have been able to resist the urge to draw blood. His right hand itched for a fight even now, twitching toward the hilt of his dagger as he listened to our story-retellings. Of course, his left hand was already occupied, beholding a large tankard of beer - his third drink for the afternoon.
 
My favourite name of the day belonged to Okamwhoworst - a Lupo prisoner we freed from the Triad's trafficking ring. A truly whimsical title for someone who had spent his entire life in shackles. He recalled his experiences, existing as nothing more than a possession, his body commodified and traded for. You could tell he had never seen anything like the city before, his eyes darting from Misfit to Misfit, ears twitching at every unfamiliar clash or clang of city sounds.
 
Pangs of guilt throbbed through my chest. Perhaps it was my family who had stolen Okamwhoworst’s life, but it's the blood in my veins, the very name of the Triad, that tied me to their sins. I was complicit. I wanted to say something - maybe apologise, explain away all of my family's wrongdoings. But I knew no amount of words could make up for the decades of suffering and trauma the Triad had put him through. So I said nothing at all.
 
Okamwhoworst wanted only one thing - to go home, find his people. And maybe by finding those who share his name, he could slowly build himself back together, piece by piece. By almighty Foo (and his god, Skyfather too!), I hope this Lupo finds exactly that. With Talu's connection to the neighbouring Lupo tribes, I remain hopeful that he will get his happy ending.
 
And then there were more names, all which were new to me, but familiar to distinct Misfits: Master Opah, Ko's old Academy teacher; Ilyana, Arthom's druid mentor; and... Mommy, a merchant Nusara, - broad-shouldered, green/moistened skin, and… incredibly blessed. Despite her long linen dress, no amount of fabric could truly hide the... generous proportions nature had gifted her.
 
I saw Lucid slip out the door to make conversation with Mogg, who unfortunately was so big he could not fit inside the tavern. I followed suit, not particularly interested in watching the clear flirtationship occuring between Ilyana and Mommy - they kept mentioning something along the lines of "a business transaction" but the sexual tension was so palpable I knew exactly what was going to transpire, and Great Foo, I did not want to be there when it happened.
 
So there we were, just the three of us, watching the sun set, setting the sky ablaze with hues of red, orange and yellow. It was Lucid who spoke first.
 
"Mogg, now I've been meaning to ask you, what brings you here?"
 
The Nusaru answered calmly, his webbed hands rested on his bloated stomach. "To find an old friend - Gurval."
 
Now that was a name I hadn't heard in a while - and one I'd been actively avoiding.
 
When Gurval suddenly disappeared over a week ago, my heart broke. He left without a word, without even a letter. Just…gone. I never even got to say good bye. And whilst my pride didn't want to even continue this conversation, to rid of the bitter taste of Gurval's name of my tongue, my curiosity was stronger.
 
First, Mogg spoke of Gurval as though they’d once been inseparable friends in the past. Their values, however, had slowly diverged. Mogg confided that he feared Gurval had strayed too far down a path of evil and destruction. Lucid, too, begins recalling Gurval’s strange transformation, who had become strangely eloquent and had awakened from within him new, blood-red lightning powers. They went on and on, hypothesising the root of Gurval's strange turn in behaviour... and I knew it was time to confess and tell them my truth.
 
"Lucid, Mogg, I have a confession. Ever since Gurval and I went to take down the titanic cult outpost, I witnessed his use of corrupt elemental magic - one that twisted my insides, defiling the natural essence of Chi within me... His powers were reminiscent of the old titan Enkelados... and I fear, Mogg, that you are correct and he now serves the evil titans..."
 
I took a deep breath, sweeping away the mist forming in my eyes, before continuing. "I had kept this secret, hoping to...protect him. But now, I have nothing left to lose."
 
Just as I was about to continue further, a large CRASH boomed from inside the tavern. With no time to discuss, Lucid and I rushed in (Mogg waited outside, of course) to find chaos unfolding. The Misfits along with Ilyana, Mommy and Okamwhoworst (all of whom were in the middle of... the Act) were under attack by a handful of masked ninjas. Despite their hidden faces, I knew immediately they were Mokuna... Triad members, seeking retribution.
 
We retaliated without hesitation. My shock at Gurval’s name, however, left me clumsy, my blows ineffective and completing missing as I fought in a disorienting daze. In spite of this, the Misfits surged ahead. Okamwhoworst completed the final blow. After summoning a scorched tree stump (a remnant I later found out resulted from a fire whiskey mishap), the Lupo yelled a shrill battle cry before hurling it with extreme force and precision, crushing the final Triad member into the tavern's wall. It was heart-warming seeing Okamwhoworst deliver his own long-awaited comeuppance, finally crushing the very forces that had imprisoned him for years (literally!)
 
The Misfits cheered and celebrated over drinks, as we always did with victories - the tavern made a convenient location for such a thing. Even Mogg outside, basking in the moonlight, watched us in amusement and joined in the celebrations. Notably, Arthom and Ilyana had finally gotten access to Mommy's home-grown mushrooms - perhaps they could finally work out and ease away the mental blockages that had been perpetuating Arthom's transformative curse.
 
Yet amidst the noise, my thoughts remained with Gurval.
 
I miss him terribly - the manic smile that concealed infinite care; the steady hand that guided me through storms; the words of wisdom that brought me comfort and reassurance. The warmth of his laughter still lingers in the quiet corners of my memory.
 
No matter how far he might have fallen into darkness, he will always be a father to me.
 
And on the day he returns, if he ever returns, my heart gives me no choice - I will greet him with open arms. That is a promise.