Born in silence, fed on leaves, I am torn from living sleep. Worms die so kings may shine. I crossed empires soaked in blood, passed hand to hand through plague and greed. Roads were named for me, yet I never chose the journey.

Whenever you need me, you don't have me in hand. I am known to be scottish, but I'm also known to pack. I also store memories, find me back in the nineties. Music and movies are my common varieties.

A magazine with a high number of bullets. I am also used to store harmful chemicals. I can often be found in marching bands or be used to intimidate my enemies on the battlefield.

In some lands Im a given right, In some lands Im denied. In my absence few men weave your fate, With me you can decide. Sometimes I can change the world, And sometimes Im a ruse. I merely show the roads ahead, Which direction will you choose?

I start by ruining what already works. My failures are deliberate. I claim to make gold, but my real work is changing the one who tries. What am I?