Every time someone possessed it for purposes unbecoming in nature, Nixon of the Great Fire and Ash was there, bringing about the true balance of things, not the balance the false god swore to uphold. That bastard was always one tiny slip from becoming another of Nixon’s clean-up duties. It's just for the best, though. Had that day ever come, Nix was certain their battle would have just gone on forever. Neither could die in the traditional sense, and neither would give quarter.
Nixon had better things to do than battle a fool until the world fell apart at its seams.
But still, he was dead now, finally gone despite Death and its idiocy in delaying his final verdict. Nixon wasn't sure who was more to blame for the catastrophic disaster that little episode created. The false god should have known that Death hated following the rules. And Death should have known that ‘God’ would never just accept a cruel fate. Death should have known no meager mountain could hold him.
It was a mountain that was not far from where he was currently. Odd how the world always seemed to spin him back here.
Death had been a fool, and the two fools together made for a terrible end. If only Nixon had been there. Stop the madness in one swoop. But by the time the false god had let the wicked evil sweep through him enough to awaken Nixon, the deed was done. The world was destroyed, the power of the ages released, and Nixon was left with the god-damned clean-up job.
He smirked at the thought of the moment the false god was allowed to die. “It should ‘ave been me t’ deal the killin' blow. I would ‘ave enjoyed it so much more.” But he knew it never could have been. The false god was too damned egotistical to allow anyone but himself to end it.
This left one rather large question in his mind: what the hell was he, Nixon of the Great Fire and Ash, doing back here? In this part of the world, the Power had been lost and the people had been cast into fear at the mere mention of it. Even those that had once followed the same path of power had abandoned it, choosing instead the life of either solitude or the always refreshingly ridiculous path of false prophecy. Years ago, a man whose life’s ambition was to entertain the foolish masses had said something so apt in every age, Nixon was likely never to forget it.
There's a sucker born every minute. Amen, good sir. Amen.
Many of the people who once embraced the life of the Power were now scattered across the world. Some believed themselves seers of the Divine, but all they saw were self-indulgent lies and hubris. Some remained hidden from the eyes of the world, safe from its horrors. However, if they didn't foolishly seek out more power than they should, they'd get no trouble from Nixon Ash.
Nixon Ash. What a stupid name it was. He thought he might as well have been called Big Fire Man if he was to be named so obviously. He was, in his heart, nameless, a vessel for God’s will, and as such, no name was ever required. The people of this world would have none of it. Things must be named, lest they even exist.
Magnus, his first and most trusted guide and friend, now dead longer than Nix chose to dwell on, had told him he needed a title to simply fit in, as there would be times he would have to spend months, possibly years walking the earth for his target. His appearance, although always different, would also always be strange. He had been small, big, dark, light, man and woman. He'd been old, young, and all points therein.
He had not, to the best of his memory, ever been anything like he was now. That was his first sign when he awoke that something was different. Never had a foe required such a large and powerful appearance. He was very curious to see whom it was he was chasing.
Nix passed beyond the outer border of the town and set off down the road. Although he did possess the ability to fly, his trained senses couldn't track his target when he was this close. Flying only got him great distances quickly, but once the gap was shortened, walking and investigation were the best options. Besides, for all the time he slept, it was often quite nice to stroll for a while. He had nothing but time. He'd catch up to his prey when he had to and not a moment sooner. Other than that nasty little hiccup with the foolish (and alas, cunning) Man-God, that was the way it always was. When Nixon of the Great Fire and Ash arrived before you, you had gone too far down the dark path, and now your time was up.
This time was certainly different. Although he had his great tracking skills, ones attuned to the rise of the Power as well as his sword, his constant companions were all absent. There had once been a worldwide network of people, places, and things dedicated to the old God and His Word. Now they were all gone. Where once he could jump from place to place, fly even closer and then track the Power, this time it was just his home. He had looked for the other places, the pockets outside of time that only the wisest (or craziest) of the Embracers inhabited. All but one (a place he had no desire to ever return to) were lost or closed against him.
The items that would guide him such as maps or symbols hidden
