Thursday, 18 February 2016

The Chaos Ontology

We stand among the stones like broken teeth in the mouths of buried gods.  We hear alien melodies carried on the wind.  Strange glyphs reflected in each other’s eyes.  Geometries and evocations swirling like crossroads-dust all around this gathering.  This gathering of Magi from every edge and hidden place.  Some come with gilded tools, pages of living flame, others come with bone and fetish.  Some of the Magi come with no language.  Some of us are not even flesh. 

But all of us are Ragged, bound by singular purpose.  To heal, protect and defend.  The human-kith will continue to write stories about such gatherings; fable and fairytale, to give and gain succour amid their private agonies.  When the Carrion Angels, the fallen ones, try again to break the spirits of the human-kith their shamans will again tell tales of the Ragged Magi.  And they will be quickened.

Shaping the howling void with flame and knife and whisper, a rebellion. A renaissance.  We can make marks of great power.  A billion angels on a thousand pins, push the spiral until it spins.  And yet many will doubt their own imaginations and ask, “Are these stories real?  Am I more than Carrion?”