Gods of 40K (2) Tzeentch

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# <font color="White">Gods of 40K</font>
# <font color="White">Tzeentch</font>

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##### <font color="White"> <br><br><br><br> *The Eye watches, all of fate and destiny writ before it. It cackles as it pulls apart the tapestry, laughs as the end is made.<br> There is no life in this void, only death.* </font>

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# Liar, Liar

T*he serpent spoke, and so I listened. It told me of ancient lands and bitter shores, it told of battles vast and romances forgotten. It spoke of truth, and told only lies, no fangs but rather deceit, no venom, only the history it tried to repeat.*
<br><br>
The Warp is a place of magic and madness, of truth perverted into falsehood and reality depraved in its indifference to the order of things. It is chaos, and Chaos, ruled over by flux and enigma.

Chief amongst these is Tzeentch, once Paragon of Impermenance, now the Lunatic Prince of Discord and Arcanum. Master of the eldritch arts, the font of knowledge both profane and profound, the Grey Sage exists to understand the truth... And in doing so, redefine it.

Thus are the servants of Tzeentch so redefined as well. Mutants of body and mind, possessed of prescience that they forever avoid, bound by a thirst for change that can never fade. The one immutable fact of service to the Mad God is that tomorrow must be different, no matter the 
<br>
cost.

This is the Path of Chaos, to seek and never find, to 
<br>
plan but never achieve. The goals obtained but another 
<br>
step forwards along the road that never ends, death the only outcome that can last.

So do we begin this attempt to document what does not exist, to bind in certainty with ink and parchment the very essence of doubt. The crow calls, the raven answers in kind...
<br><br>
**The future relents before this madness of mine.**

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## A Vision in Flux

Where to start with the Master Misconstrue, for the origins of the gods are lost in the mist, and his are hidden further by the lies we tell. Some speak of a war in the cosmos between empires that had devoured the stars, whose weapons were so dark they birthed hell into the Warp.

Others tell of a brief moment in existence before the storm, the very act of creation creating in turn that spirit which would spin progress as its only truth. A few even make mention of Terra, the Age of Information and Knowledge so long ago lost but whose rampant incline towards the future lit the spark and gave thought to a concept beloved.

Regardless, were Tzeentch himself to tell us the answer, there is no way to be sure. So much has myth cloaked the secrets, so much has lie distorted the very fabric of what occurred, that we could never know for certain.

This, in of itself, helps us understand what Tzeentch truly is. He is the knowledge that we thought we knew, the discovery only partly understood that leads to dark and dire mistake. He is the web we see and duck to avoid, without noticing the spiders all around.

The Master of Magic, the Lord of Chaos and Guile, such would perhaps befit the title of most powerful amongst the gods, for they are elements both fundamental and anathema to the Warp. For a while it was true, but so potent was his strength, so unpredictable were his desires, that the others would tear him down and steal from him that which gave dominion.

So instead, Tzeentch plots, winding through his Machiavellian plans as each unfurls into another. Every goal completed, each desire fulfilled, but another failure in his long list of success, for his ambitions are mercurial by nature and impossible by their design.

Such forms the mind of the Many Masques but what then defines his form? A plume of coloured mists from which voices echo eternal, a vast bird with bitter eyes, a sorcerer, thin and lanky. All visions and more make up that being which cannot be affixed.

Most common is a creature of screaming mouths however, tortured faces shifting across a hide of 
<br>
countless colours. All these, like everything 
<br>
about the Liar, is true only 
<br>
for a moment. Once recognised, 
<br>
they die, for no pattern nor 
<br>
cage can bind 
<br>
this God, 
<br>
bar the 
<br>
chains that bind 
<br>
himself.

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