The Order of Chaos

It lingers in the air music from another world, another time, and another place...





He savors the clash of metal and classical as he looks through the walls eyes blind to all he sees.  He stands hands clasp behind his back, turned to look away from the hand of fate spinning the dice of luck for the lives tumbling through misfortune and hardship to stand in his wake...

In the Wake of the God of Chaos.  

Behind him the machine spun, twisted, turned, buckled in on itself, and folded back into place, twisting the eye, lurching the stomach in such a way as to turn your insides out if you tried to watch it's maniacal convulsions and progression of natural dysfunctional rotations.   It spun with his power, with a portion of his Essences intermixed into the very foundations of the machine.  It was as much a part of him as anything he had birthed and spawned without intent through out the years of his other incarnations.  Yet this was something akin to the Hand of a God being placed upon mortal souls.  A machine to bind his Essence to those who chose service to the God of Chaos, an Ordeal that would kill those who would turn away or betray the Order of Chaos.  

He waited in silence knowing the outcome already from years in his past, from a different life, less full of himself, or rather a half life, when he was and wasn't whole.  Convoluted histories, and duality aside he knew what the outcome of this day would be, what many days would bring.  It was why he was here at this place and time especially, in a sense it was fulfilling a self-fulfilling prophecy.  The moment was close and the music of anther world he had lived upon more than once was as soothing a contradiction as the machines bizarre and sickening spinning was peaceful and tortuous to the mind and eyes.

He could feel the machine binding those who chose this life to him, mortal, broken, and yet whole quasi-eternal and determined to serve but one God, and one Order. Both of Chaos.

The lone God time forgot remained only so long as the machine behind him buzzed with power, as it slowed it's twisting and turning upon itself that could be describe as a figure of eight. He listened as the words of the music played through the air, words that echoed his ironic lives... "The beginning at the end of the beginning of the end. Is the twisting and the bend found between one and ten. The puzzle never ends, make your demons your friends. It's the beginning of a road that leads right back to" The puzzle never ends but he had made his demon his friend, to save existence he began a figure of eight for all time.

He was something different, something new, something old, and frankly something unsung. His wars time forgets, his blood bathes time denies, and in the end, he sacrificed everything to ensure the sacrifice of his kind at the dawning, for a continued new tomorrow. This was just one more of those things he had done already, a foregone conclusion of piece of history he had only just begun, the figure of eight his life spiraling around in and back on itself over and over again endlessly... "The beginning at the end of the beginning of the end of the beginning." There would be time for introductions, after all they knew who they served, how, and why, where they had come from, their lives before their vows to serve and of course both who he was now, and who he was now.

He walked away as the machine began to settle its spinning coming to an end behind him a portal through time, space, dimensions, and all forms of reality colliding in a single point flowing through him... a doorway to test those who would serve his cause formed in his wake. As he walked away leaving the chamber in which the trail of Chaos was housed, they came forth survivors those who passed through the soul of Chaos to bind themselves to the God that came for them, the God that gave them a second chance at life far from the lands of their first births. They walked forth through the eye wrenching hole to nowhere and everywhere.

...

One by one the Order of Chaos emerged from darkness and death to join their lord and master Chaos.

Words unspoken hung in their minds as the music played yet another tune aloud throughout the room in which the four now stood. A voice disembodied, without mouth to speak echoed in their minds recalling their passed lives as each came forth. The first Stumbled out from the portals black hole like maw of an entrance. Bare of all clothes, name, mind history, she stood marked only by the collar like scar around her neck. Red hair flopping free gently kiss her neck and ears blowing in the non-existent breeze across her eyes. Blinking, not sleep, but death from her eyes she ran her hands along her near blemish-less body. Her hands ringing her throat and neck where the scars of the last moments of her previous life remained.

She let her hands fall as words seeped into her mind, memories of her previous life flooding the emptiness that existed within her.

Once you were renowned for the god-like speed of your swordsmanship. A blade not in the dark, but in the light of day, swift and unseen, before the eyes all looking on. An assassin, a hitokiri, once a teacher of the sword and more, a military mind capable of leading in the face of the end. Gensai, once and so Gensai again shall you be known. Sentinel Gensai, do you still wish to serve me in this life after death?

"I do, my sword and my life I swear twice to you."

Stand aside Sentinel for another returns to the Living Realm.

Sentinel Gensai, red haired and scarred around the neck from the beheading which took her previous life walked away from the portals embrace as a second being came through to stand where she had. Blonde hair flowing in that strange unrealized wind, whipping up from the middle of her bare back around her right shoulder, she stood as gloomy, serious, and irritated in new life as she had once been in her previous life. One hand trailed along her throat upon which the only blemish of her skin could been seen, a scar circling her neck, the mark of having been beheaded. Her hand lingered only long enough to trace the scar a grim look of unfulfilled satisfaction crossed her thin sneering lips as she held one finger up before her death weary eyes. With that one finger she charted the curves and crevices of her new body to which her smile almost became real as her finger rested upon the apex of a certain sensitive crevice her body owned.

Again the disembodied voice spoke out.

Once you were known for the speed of your blade, and the loyalty which you gave to the causes which you championed, general, soldier, sword, or rebel, always a steady hand to those you served. Loyal until death, Toshiaki, once and so Toshiaki again shall you be known. Tenacious Toshiaki do you still wish to serve me in this life after death?

"I swore so shall I serve, I am your Tento from this day until I can serve no more!"

Stand beside Sentinel Gensai, fore the next of your dohai approaches.

As Tenacious "Tento" Toshiaki moves to stand beside Sentinel their eyes lock and linger upon one another as they continue to mentally embrace the strange newness of being alive after their deaths, and more so at being the opposite sex as they had been in their past lives. The one who came next stood bare from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, hair shaved so close to the skull it might as well have been bare as well. Muscular and defined, where the first two had been slender and toned to crisp feminine perfection, he was a mass of muscle and a grim scowl of an old friend of the hangman. Until like the women who had come before him, who he shared a circular scar of beheading with, he alone of his peers had the scars upon his stomach and back of the traditional act of seppuku. His eyes raced to make sense of his new surroundings as the voice without body or form, formed once again.

Once you were first and foremost of hitokiri, a blade of unquenchable death, ordered to enact the heavenly punishment upon your masters enemies, a blade always seeking the next body to be sheathed within. Whose end came from your own bloodthirsty hands, but your loyalty was never questioned. Though common born, you became uncommon as a blade, the noose which hung the lives of so many in your wake. Shinbei, once and so Shinbei again shall you be known. Lynch Shinbei do you sill wish to serve me in this life after death?

"Honor and blood! I swear but once to any lord"

Stand aside with Sentinel Gensai and Tenacious "Tento" Toshiaki there is but one more who comes to join you this day from life of yore.

The last came forth as flat of chest as behind as shaved of hair, a scowl of disgust marking an otherwise oddly plain face, slanted eyes accenting the scowl of a mind realizing something of ironic happenstance, she was not the man she had been as images flooded her new bodies mind of the days of yore, before when she had lived and died as a man. Of her contemporaries one laughed aloud at the shapeless female body that she had. It was a laugh that said at least I'm a real woman, little boy. Scorn slithered across Tento's lips as the newest arrival stood bare of everything but the scar around her neck, even of the shapes that defined a woman normally were missing replaced by the marks of beating and torture, her only definition the brutally that preceded her beheading in her previous life. Almost her scowl turned to anger as a voice soothed from somewhere unknown into their minds.

Once you were hitokiri like these three, risen from the streets by skill and determination, a blade as cold and steadfast as any of the three who preceded your arrival. Izo, once an so Izo again shall you be known. Ice Izo do you still wish to serve me in this life after death?

"This body is yours!"

Stand beside your brethren.



A new song began to play in the background underlying the change of mood and pace of the voice which spoke from nowhere to those whose lives had been restored in one form or another.

From Order to Chaos the world will spin around again and again throughout all of time and space, I see all in my own way, knew more and share even less. Each of you swore before your lives came to an end, that service to that which I am would be a choice you could live with if your lives had taken paths that would allow it. In the fall of your previous lives I gathered all that remained of you and spun your lives into my very being. With the help of Nyarlathotep, the living god of mysticism and machinery, the Flux-capacitor which has brought you to this time and place has also spun new life into your cold dead beheaded corpses.

Azathoth is but one name by which you will come to know me, many label me a god, some even the God, I take no such name but many have been gifted to me throughout the course of my existence. But here and know you four shall constitute the founding, and the foundation upon which the Order of Chaos shall rise, and spread across this world to serve and protect the balance of all things. The name to which you rise this banner is Chaos, god if must, harbinger of balance. In these days you are to serve as my prophets and knights. Once you have been visited by Nyarlathotep, you will journey in search of my younger self. In these days and times, you shall seek my incarnation known as the Lord and God of Rage, I chose for myself the matronymic Crisis Rocan for everywhere I went in this world either crisis followed or met me face to face at every turn.

There is much to be done and little time as mortals will see it to prepare for the wars which will ravage this world in the near future. You must seek out my younger incarnation for guidance and leadership, in the wars to come. For now though Nyarlathotep will see to you and prepare you for this new life as my knights... The Knights of Chaos, the Prophets of Rage, and the Order of Chaos

Nyarlathotep was the single thought shared between them as they stood naked, hungry, and reborn.  Sentinel stretched out raising her arms fully above her head as every red hair upon her head and body was politely exposed, including strands of hair forming a cross shape upon her left check for the briefest of moments.  

Lynch grinned wickedly a manner of mixed pleasures in his past lifetime, he enjoy the stark truth of the moment with his new yet old companions.

Ice stood scolding her blonde companion who held her gaze with a look of quiet amusement and frank superiority.

Tento, smug though she was in her new body with all of it's curves and hidden potential she was as insecure as each of her contemporaries, they were after all out of their depths and in far over their heads in a strange new world that looked like nothing from their former home and world.

The voice of Choas, of Azathoth, the voice of the voiceless, boomed inside their minds.

Nyarlathotep awaits you one and all.  It is time to gird thy-selves in the garb of your new life and world. Go forth and follow the light until you hear the music of the Maker God amid his toiling.

Sentinel yawned worn from passing through time and death, as she shrugged marching off to follow the only lights her eyes could see.  Behind her each of the former Hitokiri trailed along at their own pace, until all four were following the light.  As they near the light it would dim and a further light would brighten to guide their way.  Soon the light was not the only thing guiding them again music began to fill the air softly at first gaining in volume as they neared their destination.



Finally they came upon him amid his work, bending metal and reshaping stone, fixing a gem here and shattering a jewel into dust there.  The Maker God, the ancient dwarven smith, the one the only Toefor.  Hard at work and blind to the four naked quasi-mortals now standing behind him as he continued pounding away at a fresh sheet of metal.  Round and round he went from table to wall, sword to shield, chest piece, to footwear, non-stop in a blur of motion at dizzying sickening pace while the still naked but speechless Knights of Chaos gaped in awe and wonder.  Open mouthed they were not but astonished they could not help but be.  In the span of minutes the short master smith had forged, sharped, hammered, shattered, broken, and remade a vast number of weapons and pieces of armor each more elegant and diverse than those before.  

Pardon me, but would happen to be Nyarlathotep...?  

...

Excuse me, are you Nyarlathotep...?

...

Nyarla.

Toefor, don't like made up rubbish of that kind.  Dwarf, you four look like you could use something to cover those small parts.  I have armor a plenty and weapons the likes of which mortal kind has little knowledge.  We'll see to your armaments, but I don't do under garments...

You chaff that's your problem, and your problem alone...  

Now then first we'll start with the little gentleman.

Sadly I'm no gentleman, I'm a.

Little boy right right my mistake good sir, about your vestments... I suggest something light and agile, your small under-developed childish body probably won't hold up to well with full plate, like this grim looking Ox.  Even the ginger has more meat on her bones then you boy.  Must make you feel horrible to see a woman twice your size.  And even the full figured one here can probably sport some heavier metal on her armor.  Well young man light arm of leather and yes yes that'll do.

I'm not a man...

Is he even listening.

Toefor ever the oblivious master of his craft ahd noticed only bits and pieces of the four he was soon fitting with armor more akin to their new bodies than the ones of their old lives.