View source for A thrilling romp through chaos. From the Journals of Milenkko: Occultist, Historian, and Fine Beverage Entrepreneur.

[[Category:Bardic Merit Awards]][[Category:2005 Bardics]]
By: Milenkko
Posted on: March 30, 2005


Sarapin 25th, 388 AF: I write this in the warmth of The Nicator archives this
finely throbbing evening. Im currently nursing quite a bad headache but I feel
I should record this before it gets lost in the sponge of my psyche. I hope you
enjoy this tale as much as I disliked partaking in it.

-From The journals of Milenkko-

A thrilling romp through chaos.

As I stumbled down dockhand square in Ashtan last evening, I paused to
admire the spectacularly fuzzy view I was witnessing in doubles, and triples. A
breathtakingly fiery sunset had reached it's climax of the evening and the
blurry beauty of it seemed to be magnified ten-fold more than usual. Perhaps
this was due to the aid of a small army of absinthe tumblers currently marching
their way through me, but im afraid that may never be known. back to this
sunset.

I stood slack-jawed in awe for a little while, watching the mesmerizingly
curvy sun go skinny dipping into the vast ocean. Soon after I had the brilliant
idea to pop back in for one last tumbler, then promptly retire for the night on
an appealing bit of roadside. As I turned to leave, my attention wavered, and
for a brief moment of clarity, focuse found my eyes. With this newfound sight I
couldnt help but notice the large squirrel, slouching on the rafters of a nearby
building, intently staring at me with wild squinty little eyes. This seems to
standout fairly well in my fuddled memory, seeing as the squirrel in question,
was a rather alarming shade of pink.

Naturally I disregarded this oddity, and procceded to weave my way
through the empty docks, in the general Direction of my beloved Fire and Spice
Pub. However if my memory has decided to serve me correctly on this occasion my
trip was tragically cut short by some sort of
hardend nut-like projectile which firmly tapped me on the back of my head.

It seems that as I spun around doggedly, my balance decided to leave me on my
own and go grab a few by itself. The result of this treachory was that I
promptly lost my footing, fell off the boardwalk with little fuss ,and landed
into a pleasantly muddy ditch near the water.

Sadly for everyone involved, this tale of violent figments of my
imagination fails to end here. Strange in itself, as usually a good nights
sleep is punctuated for me by a healthy fall into a nearby ditch, pit, cliff,
etc. Ah but I digress. please allow me to continue with my ever twisting tale
of ... er, turmoil.

As I lay sprawled on my side I took the time to admire the rather toadly
shaped rock which I had gracefully cracked my head off of. 'lifes about the
simple joys,' I remember musing to myself. Suddenly a voice bubbled up to me
in my mind, promptly queing me to jerk my head into the wonderfully firm
boardwalk stationed above myself. This then allowed me to softly splat back
into the mud, its goal acheived.

Now Im not quite sure exactly how long I lay there before I brought my head
up again, slightly slower and lower this time around. Visions of laughing
scrolls and flies spun momentarily before me. Soon after the scrolls faded away
and it was then I heard the mysterious voice cough, and speak once more. It
spoke in a painfully slow way, and sort of sounded as if it had something large
slippery cought in its throat. The vision of a troll trying to sing while
swallowing a grook comes to mind unnannounced. As it began to speak I
immediatly noticed something odd about it. This was nothing like the usual set
of voices which were regulars in my mind. something was afoot.

"I know what you are Milenkko, and from the smell of you im not suprised
you've come to seek my guidence at this time, of all. You think you have
learned so much dont you? I can see it in your eyes"

"thats just the drink actua-" i began before the voice rudely interrupted
with a croak.

"Have you yet even conceived the slightest concept of what Chaos is to you?"
the curiously curious voice enquired.

It should be noted at this point that none of the usuals(voices that is)
ever ask me these sort of questions. In fact they rarely question me at all now
that I think about it. They usually just advise me on which note to hum here and
which poisons to avoid purposly ingesting there. So this was all and all
genuinely original to me, and therefore cought my attention quite rapidly
(seeing as violent pink squirrels and treacherous equilibriums fall far within
the norm. of the avid absinthe connoisseur and should under usuall
circumstances be pointedly ignored). This, I would think, would be the cause of
my following retrospection and current recording. Why this should be noted has
currently slipped this humble historians mind.

<nowiki>*</nowiki>cough<nowiki>*</nowiki> anyways...

I handsomly boggled around myself for a few minutes before deciding to go
along with my newfound mental condition. Not to be bested by something as
trivial as madness I replied with with my razor sharp wit. "well Erm... I dont
believe chaos relates shpecifically to me you see, And im a bit stuck. would
you mind lending me a-"

"yes yes, be quiet and listen will you" the voice cut in irritably. "how can
chaos be nothing to you? you claim to be one of its studants do you not?"

"well yesh" I slurred in response before composing myself for the follow
through. "however Chaos could'nt be specific to myself. Chaos is all
encompessing. It is neither the specific nor the geneal. It simply is you see."
I followed this with an elegant head nod to myself as I puncuated my following
hiccup.

"expand further. What exactly is Chaos and how does it come to us in this
world then?" it haughtily replied

"Chaos manifests itself In movement and change does it not?. It is a primal
force in which all things are effected. It acts with its own
unique set of laws and encompesses all things". I thought this was terribly
clever shortly before It occured to me exactly I was doing.

A few moments passed in relative silence, as the visions of flies continued
to drone about my head. Oddly they still persisted and I wondered how hard I
had hit my head breifly before piping up again.

"Without Chaos I think things would be terribly boring I stated brightly.
Stagnation would certainly run rampant..." I then added to nothing in
particular. "If stagnation can in fact run rampantly that is"

Another pause followed for an undetermined time before my thoughts of perhaps
finding someplace warm, with some decently expensive counselling and ginsing
followed by a little cactusweed to help me along the way, were interrupted.

"That cant be true" the croaky voice chirped, "what about the church for
example? they pride themselves on order among other things. How can there be
Order within Chaos!"

Put off my pleasent thoughts for the moment I hotly replied, "Dont be thick."
<nowiki>*</nowiki>hic<nowiki>*</nowiki>. "They simply have the illusion of order and stability. We of finite life
couldnt possibly see the whole set of greater workings you know. Simply due to
the fact we live and die tends to promote a sense of stability. If you've grow
up in a small or even inbred town for instance, which I wouldnt be suprised you
have, it could be easy to think that things will always be the same. It's not
hard to get trapped in the moment, or so it currently seems. However I would
think, and my teachings all point to the legitimacy of this, that when looked
over a broader view those moments of stability become only small blips in the
ever moving, ever changing chaotic nature of things. Personally I think most
just trick themselves into believing there is such a thing as order without
chaos. Some prefer ignorance you know." which I then followed up with the
wisest sagenod I could manage, into the mud.

Silence again. The moment stretched on and I began seriously questioning my
sanity, not for the first time that hour either. Had I blacked out? Overwhelmed
my mind with teachings of chaos? The horrific thought even crossed my mind that
I may have drunk from one of dagons infamous unwashed glasses. (I knew this to
be particularly lethel according to a few stories in the Fire'n'Spice I have
heard. Carried out in dark corners behind Dagons back of course) all of these
thoughts were cut short however, by the voice of mystery. The world around me
seemed to hush expectantly as it croaked one final time in answer to my
previous statments. even the mud dripping from my horns paused in
contemplation.

"rubbish" said the rock that had earlier broken my fall, before promptly
hopped away.

Well thats a wrap for tonight, for any of you future readers which have found
some sort of lesson or moral from this I ask you to re-examine yourself
carefully, and if it all checks out drop me a line because I do think the point
passed me by. Im content to settle and leave you with the simple warning to keep
an eye out for disturbingly pink squirrels. Or at the very least dont pointedly
ignore them as they have clearly gone to the trouble of dressing themselves up.

-Penned by the hand Of Milenkko