Worst of all was the loss of his people. Men and women dedicated to him and others of his kind. Even after the loss of the True God, there had been thousands around the world who aided him with news, information, and advice. Magnus had been his first, there from the time of Nixon’s current sentience. He had taught him all he needed to know about the world and its inhabitants, the Power and the Knowledge, Earth’s two undividable yet infinitely different absolute truths. He taught him his purpose.
And when Magnus was lost, there had been others who served God. Others who heeded the righteous call and let him know the truth of the day.
Even when God was lost, there had been many who had found ways to keep him informed. A vast network of information gatherers who funneled it all back to one or two who stayed by his side for all time. He would awake, gather the information he required, jump to his destination, and let the hunt begin.
Days ago he awoke alone in the body he wore now, more beast than man in appearance. His sword, thank God, was where it always was at his side, ready for service. He would have to question it all later. If he was awake, it meant he had a purpose. Find and destroy the fool, which meant the source of the greatest power had been found. It made him weary to think about it. Always the source was found and always a fool would use it. No rest was likely ever to come to him. He supposed eventually the sun would expand and explode. Then, maybe, he could get some much-needed peace.
The road stretched ahead of him, a long line slicing through dry rolling hills. Large caravans passed him often with many people, racing off for who-knew-where at top speeds. Damn it, he wished he knew what was going on. He wasn't accustomed to being so out of the loop. Something big was in the direction he was going, but he had no idea if it was the Power or something else entirely. The old man in the bar had mentioned something about troubling times coming but refused to go into details with Nix, as it did not pertain to his promised story.
“You’ll get nothing more than what you were promised from me, beast,” he had said. Nixon could be very polite, amazingly charming, and patient like none other. That old bat had seen right through each tactic. He likely knew Nixon was a man out of sorts, and he certainly took great pleasure in seeing him on the ropes.
It wouldn't be easy breaking down someone’s fears in this particular incarnation, but he had great patience. He'd learn it all in time. Until then, he just had to keep walking to his destination. The place the old man had mentioned. The village of Tan Torna Qu-ay.
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He had walked long into the night when he met the scout.
He chose to walk since he was so close, following the road to the Valley of Smoke. He was passed by many people, either on foot or in a caravan, but most either ignored him, running from their own demons, or spotted him only in poor light and gave a wide berth.
It was for the best, at least for the moment. Being so close, Nix was much happier focusing on the task at hand. He could have tried to talk to someone passing by for information as to why they were all so keen on leaving the place he was heading, but someone who can't die has little reason to fear anything. He wondered what made them run more out of curiosity than fear.
After the moon had been high and the night grew shorter, he'd noticed no more passers-by. Whatever they feared, it would soon be apparent.
The first of the larger explosions burst off at a good distance from him on the southwest horizon. A fireball rose into the night like a spark from a distant flame, but fire and Nixon were old friends, and he was certain wherever that had occurred it was likely to have destroyed everything. It was something serious, and also far beyond the capabilities and technology these people possessed. It wasn’t just an explosion; it was a literal pillar of fire, erupting from the ground in a skyward cylinder.
He smirked to himself. No wonder they were scared. Whatever it was, it was big, foreign, and powerful enough to strike the fear of God into these common people. Nixon had served the common people his whole existence, so any threat to them was something to be watchful of. The enemy of his friend was his enemy.
Lost in the thought of the ‘who’s’ and ‘what’s’ of the situation, he was almost oblivious to the eyes that watched him. Only by luck did he catch a glimpse of reflection when another explosion lit up the sky ever so slightly.
He let the observation pass, keeping a good eye and keen ear to its location. As he walked, he sensed it following him. Whatever it was, it certainly didn't walk on the ground. It was far too silent for that. No, he thought as he moved, this lit’l bugger can fly.
Something in this land was advanced enough to fly like a bird yet be silent like a soft wind. Nixon's curiosity continued to grow. This was truly becoming a land of mysteries.
The object (it was certainly just an object. He could feel that it was not alive
