History gives a prime example in the one once called Kesia the Corrupter by those who knew any truth about her. She called herself Kesia Shadesilk the Eternal, as did those who worshiped her. By worship, it is not to say that they merely admired her; they considered her a budding goddess, as she considered herself.

To be fair, she did give the wayward and the agnostic some fairly good reasons to believe she was a growing goddess, if one so chose. She was orphaned as a child from a mother who never spoke to anyone of her father, so there were none to contradict her claim that he was one of the divine. She had a charming voice and an almost unnatural grace, which she claimed were gifts of her heritage.

To be honest, however, most of the scurrilous scoundrels who followed her did so because of her seemingly ageless youth and beauty. Thanks to secrets she never shared, for several years she led her followers along, growing in power while never seeming to grow in age. Her skin was flawless, her lips rosy and poutish, and her hair silken and smooth, always held back by a thin black ribbon that matched her shade-black dress that gave her the name Shadesilk.

Unfortunately, Kesia was as beautiful as she was arrogant, and as arrogant as she was foolish. The time came when she was no longer content to be worshiped only by the lawless and the heathen, and decided it was time to claim her rightful place among the gods. At midnight under the light of a full blue moon, she ascended one of the tallest towers and stood with her arms raised to the stars.

"Hear me!" she exclaimed, to all who would listen. "I am Kesia the Eternal! I declare myself divine, and I demand the divine to answer!"

Answer, they did.

The bolt shot down from the cloudless sky so quickly as to give only the impression of being seen, rather than a clear memory of seeing it. When the light blindness cleared from their eyes, those gathered below could see only an empty parapet. A few witnesses who hadn't fled ran up the tower steps, hoping to find a trace of their would-be goddess.

A trace is all they found upon the fire-scarred stone. A few scattered spills of ash, a melted delicate link of gold, and charred scraps of shade-black silk. Moving quickly, they scooped up what they could before retreating far into a dark corner of the world.

That is, such is the way some will tell it. They say that what was left of her followers took to carrying small portraits of Kesia, some merely for the memory of a would-be goddess, and others as an icon of their belief that she met not destruction, but apotheosis. They took to wearing or carrying small black ribbons as well, usually made of silk far finer than anything else they owned.

As is true with most customs, their practice long survives the earlier tales of their origins. Today's bandits and boneblades are likely never to have heard of Kesia or her wayward followers. What they do know is that carrying a small black ribbon or picture of a young-looking girl is considered good luck. Some say the black ribbon may act as a charm to hide them from those who hunt them. Others say that the picture will grant them kind forgiveness for their transgressions.

What none may say is what became of the soul of Kesia, and whether she was truly a Corrupter, Eternal, or both.

~ For Jayaha, who told me there had to be a good reason bandits and such always had small black ribbons, and wouldn't accept "to keep their hair back" as an answer...