The Poet and the Muse

Author's Note:
 Just so everybody is up to speed with everything, this thing is more or less an experiment I do at the end/beginning of each year. I just write a mad flurry stream of consciousness through the Yuletide/Winter Solstice. We're here at the end of it and thus this will be the last chapter. The story is nowhere near done but it has served its purpose all the same. Out of this mess I've identified the threads that I could turn into proper stories on their own.

One such tale will be a straight-forward Arcane story, no crossover. I might also actually write that whole "what if a Jedi got stranded in Westeros" story. I think I'll leave the whole Tzeentch's Totally Trippin' Telestial Troll Tour to these experiments. They make a good framing device for them. So long as omicron don't ruin, I'm gonna make a two person play for this year's local festival. *Sigh* but most disappointingly, I think I got to put the published series in the trunk indefinitely. I got the outline for the entire series and I'm two hundred pages into the sequel, but the hysterically awful ROI of the launch just proved there's no market for it. If it catches on later I can always pull it out of the trunk or pass it off for somebody else to finish. I'm at peace with it now…but that don't mean it don't sting like a motherfucker.

To all of you who stuck it out this far, thank you. Keep an eye out and I promise I'll be coming at this for real. Happy Yuletide, Winter Solstice, and New Year to you. May the gods shine their favor upon you and remember…all your shit is in Tzeentch's library. If you ever feel lost or uncertain in your creative efforts, that chatty-ass son-of-bitch is more than happy to help.

"Awwww!" Tzeentch cooed, "I love you too…but you a bitch for saddling me with 'cooed' as a goddamn dialogue tag. Oh! It's obvious you started with scripts cause your dialogue tags ain't shit!"

He turns his attention towards you.

"Hello my little birds. This whole mess has been but a pathway to communion. A chance for me to speak to you through the writer speaking through me. 'Hope' is the most insane thing ever and that makes it the purest magic one can know. Keep striving, keep flying. You're gonna fuck up and it'll be hysterical to me, but never stop. Keep the madness turning. Keep the infinite magic of creation alive with your inane blatherings, epic tomes, fetish fueled rampages, and all the other insane shit that flows out of your existentialist monkey brains. Such madness be but the domain of magic. The writer never quite found the opportunity to tell you this so I will; magic is like jazz, man. Keep making that sweet jazz and let it rise in the wondrous cacophony of cosmic Chaos that is life."

"Lastly…but never finally…fuck Nurgle and his shit!" Tzeentch shouts as he vanishes into a cackling Cheshire grin.

Chapter 6: Vengeance Ascendant

Lucien flew about the Tzeentch's library attending to his task. Unbeknownst to him a book shrouded in dark fog jittered on one the shelves. It grew increasingly violent in it's thrashing, with light shining out of the pages as they flickered open. The book rattled, shook inch by inch closer the edge. Then at last it tumbled to the ground. It bounced off the corner of its spine, rolled, and fell open.

Lights shimmered off the pages. Then a shadow fell across them. It grew larger and larger till the whole of the page subsumed in it. Then a hand shot forth out of the page. It was followed by a shoulder, then a head, and eventually the full body of a young woman. Her short black was drenched with sweat, clinging to her skin. She snarled like a beast as she glared at her surroundings. Wet leather armor squeaked as she lurched about.

"Intruder!" Lucien cawed as he flew towards the culprit, "Be gone!"

The young woman stood her ground as the rainbow raven librarian drew closer and closer to her. She snatched him out of the air once he was within her arm's reach. Lucien cried out as she tightened her grip and his fragile bones cracked.

"Where is he?" she howled at the bird.
"Who's asking?" Tzeentch called from within the Dreaming.

The young stared with great trepidation at the shimmering portal. She looked to the bird in her hand as it writhed in pain. She loosened her grip and allowed the poor beast to roll of her fingers. He fell with a terrible thud on the floor. She cautiously stepped through the portal which closed behind her. Lucien wheezed in agony as he sat on the floor unable to move.

In the materium, aka real space…
The combined forces of the Thousand Sons and the Black Legion gathered onboard the Vengeful Spirit. Having licked his wounds from his defeat on Vigilus, arguably this is his most natural state, Abaddon of the Black Legion has prepared a new incursion into Ultramar. For reasons I don't care to understand. Magnus and his boys got roped into it as well.

If I had to venture a guess, I'd say this has something to do with Chaos politics. Abaddon doesn't have a good record…by my count it stands at 1-13, so actually quite terrible…but that one victory was the fall of Cadia. In that affair the Death Guard of Nurgle played a pivotal role. Abaddon and his legion represent "Chaos Undivided".

"Chaos Undivided? More like Chaos Undecided!" Tzeentch yelled from offscreen.

This who mess may amount to nothing more than a profusely wasteful expenditure of valuable resources to reaffirm Abaddon's credentials as "Switzerland" in the Great Game. If it wasn't apparent, I'm not fan of the plan. All these Chaos Space Marines are still very much Space Marines in all the pomp and circumstance they carry themselves with. Even though they are traitors to it, they are still Imperials to their core.

Also me and Jinx are here and I have no clue why. Okay, that's not at a true. Jinx is here because I'm here and I never want to be from her side a minute longer than I have to. I'm here because it is strongly suspected that Celestine will make an appearance and I'm the guy who sold himself as "the architect of the lasting death of the Living Saint". The Emperor's favorite daughter has a profoundly annoying habit of not staying dead when you kill her. I think I've solved the riddle. As a reward for my services, I now get to stand around on the deck of Abaddon's flagship and let him proclaim his "military brilliance" with all the subtlety and tact of a rapid chainsaw.

"That is when we rain hellfire upon them! Those Imperium fools shall scatter before my might! Ultramar shall burn and the Lord Commander will cower before us!"

The eight-foot-tall sycophants in their obscenely obtuse armors all mindlessly congratulated him for the sheer volume of hot air he could exhaust with his lungs. Then a blue-haired woman leaned her head in over the war table.

"Hey Kyle!" Jinx shouted.

All the bluster and bravado instantly faded from Abaddon as he is tormented by the truncation of his first name, Ezekyle.

"My name isn't Kyle!" he pouted loudly.
"Whatever you say Kyle."

Sweet Chaos bless you Jinx. If I have to be stuck with all these bioengineered divas with no sense of self-awareness or humor, then thank the stars for allowing to have someone else who can see the absurdity and laugh at the darkness with me.

"I am the Warmaster you ignorant slut! I should have you…"

But our dear friend Kyle stopped himself in his tracks. I wish I could tell you it was because he was frightened by the waves of sorcerous lightning that had begun to emanate off my staff in response to his words. No. Magnus' affection for Jinx was well known among Chaos' ranks by this point. Considering this whole damn affair was an overly dramatic fig leaf to Magnus, doing to harm Jinx would entirely defeat the purpose of us even being here.

"…duh, um…I am the death of Cadia!"
"Awww! You're doing great Kyle!" Jinx mockingly cooed.

Restrained snickers begun echoing from inside the helmets of those marines standing around the table. Kyle gritted his teeth in a frown, and he glared at each and every one of those who had been snickering. One by one they all fell silent…save for Jinx who maintained who infectious giggle as she bit her lower lip. Here this towering, hulking, demon possessed monster of a fascist super-soldier is completely undone by a girl ever so slightly challenging the absurdity of his persona. She is perfect.

So they have their little war. Valliant stands are made against the undying hordes, noble heroes cut swaths with impossible odds, and blah da blah da blah…you fucking get it. Then on some stupidly named planet (goddamn it Bobby!), the undying daughter of the Emperor makes her appearance my moment has come. I looked out across the war-torn waste, knowing destiny had found me. Then I looked back at the beautiful girl maniacally laughing in the face of the Abyss.

"Kiss her now!" Tzeentch hissed in my ear, "There won't be another chance."

He's right. This is where it ends. I walked up to Jinx, we looked into each other's eyes, and I headbut my third-eye chakra into hers. Our minds meddle together as one. I bare my soul to her. Not the soul of the facsimile of myself you've reading about. My soul: my tribulations with severe mental illness, my "brother's" betrayal, my abandonment and loneliness, my fear that I ruined everything in my life, of the loved ones I've lost, and the hard choices life put on me that I had to answer even though most people will never understand them. Sometimes the path to better ain't pretty and the cold cruel truth is that most people would prefer you remain pretty than get better. I impart all my hard-earned wisdom to this beautiful broken girl in the hopes she'll get there too.

We stood there tenderly embracing one another as the bloody symphony of war played out around us but we were to blind, deaf, and dumb to it all. In that moment there was only the two of us, and that was perfect. We kiss and it made every single stupid sentence, even Bobby Boy Blue's utter asininities, goddamn worth it. She meekly smiled with a faint giggle. She's going to be okay. I gently held the side of her face in my right hand and wiped my thumb over her cheek.

"Here's to looking at you, kid," I said in my best Boggie.
"We'll always have Mordian," she replied.

Her smile veils tears. She held tenderly to my hand. We both want this moment to last forever, and it can…but it can't. I know I'll return to it time and time again. You, dear reader, could stop reading here and it would last forever. I could stop writing…but neither of us will. Lucien the rainbow raven keeper of Tzeentch's library fluttered onto Jinx's shoulder. Now is not the time to say goodbye, it is goodbye, and like that…the both of them are gone.

The crimson red dust of the planet Ultramudde' (seriously! Goddamn it Guilliman!) swirled about me in a stinging vortex. Then the winds abated, the dust settled, and there came the sound of mighty wings flapping. I turned my head towards the sound to find her. In the orange haze of the planet's atmosphere, the golden plates of her armor radiate glorious, luminous beauty. Her face illuminated in the golden aurora of her halo. Though she be but the warrior-messenger-servant of a baleful god, there is no denying one simple fact: truly Celestine is an angel.

She starred down at me in trepidation. My wicked whispers had done their work. As long as I'm her sights, she can't escape the doubt. The brilliance of her radiance faded with every passing second. If she fell here, she would not rise again. For the first time in ages, Celestine trembled I fear. Though as her angelic radiance diminished, her human beauty shined through. She resolved herself, drew her sword, planted her feet on the ground, and pointed the tip of her blade my way as a challenge.

A man can't help but smile at such. I drew my blade, the one that has served me through so many lives. Our weapons' metal sings in the wind, simultaneously eager and anxious for the fateful conclusion.

Then a black blade pulsating with white energy erupted through Celestine's chest. She stared down at the horrendous wound that had felled her. She pawed at it with her mailed glove, staring at the blood staining the gold. Then the blade is pulled free of her body and Celestine the undying fell over dead to never rise again.

Standing over corpse is a person I know all too well. A young woman with short black hair and creaking leather armor. Behind her is the whirling rainbow of the Gate formed into a hendecagon. She is the one I threw into the void to win or duel. The one carved the left eye of my face with a starlight dagger. She leered at me, hunched over and ready to pounce like some manner of beast.

"Long time no see Ari," I said to her.
"Hello master," she replied, "surprised to see me?"
"I should have guessed. Alas, I'm none-the-less shocked by your presence here."
"Well you definitely taught me a thing or two more than you should have," she snickered.
"Can't argue with you there. My more pressing question is uh, how did you survive the cold vacuum of space?"
"Come now, master. You of all people should know what horrendous powers can found in the cold darkness of space."

As she spoke, a skull half black and half white manifested over her. It is unmistakably the symbol of the unofficial fifth Chaos god, Malal: god of terror and vengeance.

"It's a good fit for you," I told her.
"I know you'd rather talk until the universe collapses in on itself, but if it's all the same, I'd rather get on with this," she shot back.
"So be it."

I raised my sword in front of my face, igniting it in flame and drawing the fire inward into the blade until it burned white hot as a star, and flared it out off to my right side; the "duelist salute". Ari answered in kind. So it begins, so it ends. We fly at one another…

And I close the book at put it back the shelf. Lucien fluttered over and landed on my shoulder.

"I see a few new entries gathering dust," he told me.

I glanced toward the shelf of the untold and indeed there were a handful of entries.

"Don't fret. They won't be there long" I told him.
"Where have I heard that before?" he chided me.
"Who gives a shit if he does or doesn't finish them!" Tzeentch shouted from withing the dreaming, "do you have the faintest clue how many universe are born, forgotten, and left idle in the minds of mortal man?"

I strolled through the portal into the Dreaming. There was Tzeentch in his form in his way.

"Anything else before I go, boss?" I asked him.
"Yeah!" his chuckling eyes face snapped, "Fakespeare, you called this catastrophe 'The Poet and the Muse'. The muse proved worthy of her moniker. Now what of yours?"

I cleared my thoughts and let rhythm of sweet creative Chaos flow through me.

"'Born to die, born to die, born to die',
Is the despondent soul's seething lie.
Always and forever the infinite
shall prove victor over the definite;
sing thy songs of creation, wandring bards
and rejoice in Chaos' shuffling cards.
For thy fate is not set as long as thou hast wings
to soar onward to see what tomorrow brings.
Rhythms of space and time turn the universe
in its own timing to be sung in verse
on lips of those who cry "hallelujah!"
and by whisperers trying to fool ya.
Sing! Sing along with the sweet serenade
of cosmic orchestra and Chaos' jazz."

Tzeentch smiled proudly.

"That'll do."

Fin.