[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/Svvasvb.png[/img]
[h2]Smoke and Mirrors[/h2]
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Complications on complications built Toun's anxiety. He had spent too long planning and replanning already. All his pieces were in place. All his investigations were close enough to thorough that to pry further would only waste time. Xos' grace period had elapsed. Toun followed his trail like a shark following blood.

And there was blood to follow. The murderer had busied himself with subjugating the djinn that had followed Zephyrion and yet rejected his rule. He traveled across Galbar seemingly at random, confronting any djinni lords that he deemed worthy of attention and then demanding that they swear fealty. There were many that fell by his hand, and yet more that succumbed to his will.

But despite this sudden reign of terror over Galbar's elementals, to mortals and gods there were few signs of Xos' presence. In the wake of his last few explosive confrontations, he evidently kept a low profile. He had for some time.

No matter. False trails, tricks, illusions, and other distractions hardly held Toun back long enough to stop him. The main trail was found fresh and leading up from Galbar's soil. Xos did not have the luxury of time to afford him a retreat to the other side of the universe as Logos did. Toun internally scoffed at the pitiful attempt to escape.

Though such a distance as Logos flew was not traversed in the end. Toun's step traversed not over galaxies, nor even between stars. He halted himself far above the fourth planet from Galbar's sun. A lonely blue sphere neglected by all but the faintest of touches.

Toun squinted his eye. The trail led in towards a source of great power. The sun barely glimmered in its presence, even as its light was but a pin-prick in his vision.

[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"No more do you hide now, murderer?"[/b][/colour]

The words left an ironic aftertaste. The great power must have been Xos' weapon. And yet it bloomed with such a corona that Xos' trail faded near its position. Toun edged toward the light. More around the weapon made itself clear. He drew his fingers out into wicked claws in anticipation for his quarry the shade to stand behind the light.

Toun stopped. Nothing lay near the weapon but stone, air, and what rudimentary lifeforms could survive in its vicinity.

His eye shot left, right, north, south from above. Every direction. He pierced every detail with his gaze. He could see the landscape. He could see the life. As he descended into the atmosphere he saw everything but Xos' trail. Obscured by the weapon's power as it was.

Was it even a weapon? He wondered. It appeared as something alien, a different sort of object for which there was no name. It was a tiny point, so small as to be nearly unseen were it not for the magnificent aura of magic and energy that endlessly emanated from it. There was nothing inherently chaotic or destructive about the Spark; it was a fount of energy as pure and uniform as that blinding white light that it emitted.

Yet its raw power suggested intoxicating potential. Within that tiny pearl was the ability to make or unmake anything imaginable and fulfill one's every desire. The Primordial Spark called to any that looked upon it.

Toun hardened and shook himself free of fascination. He knew from the aura that Kyre's blood fell upon this spark. Xos could not be far. There was no explanation for why the spark lay open and free for the taking but treachery. And yet, Toun's paranoid thoughts had an opponent.

This source of power was all Xos presented as a true threat. To take it now would leave the shade at his mercy. To take it would keep it from being trapped in the Tomb Weaver. And Toun would have no fear of any of his siblings from there onwards. No more appeasing and lying would taint his activities. No more permission for murder would be given by his lack of power.

He reached. He could make his plans come to fruition. There was no more debate over the opportunity.

Toun stepped forward with his clawed fingers outstretched.

The spark's power reached out to meet Toun's touch. His blue eye shone realisation. The power leapt into Toun. Violently.

From behind, Xos' shadowy form manifested from the nothingness of space. He reached out to the tiny spark of magic and completed the circuit. A crackling stream of energy surged forth from the the spark as it transformed from a serene pearl into an erupting geyser of unstable energy. It was all drawn to the shade, and to reach Xos it had but one path to take.

It surged straight in and out of Toun's navel and back and poured into Xos, who devoured its magic with a savage voracity that could only come from one hopelessly addicted to power. Toun threw his fingers down around the bolt impaling him and held it fast as the shaft of a spear. The stream stopped and Toun spun his head around.

A hand of deathly shadows flew forward to seize at his throat. Toun spun and flung up his own hand. The off-white and off-black met at the fingers, each limb pulsating in resistance. Toun's eye bulged.

[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Murderer!"[/b][/colour] Toun's face contorted in pain and sharp-toothed rage. His arm trembled against Xos' strength. The bridge of his nose creased to lift a snarl. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Your sanguine game ends today, kinslayer! Your plan is at an end."[/b][/colour]

Memories of Vestec's narrow escape and his stalemate with Jvan flashed through Xos' mind and pushed away the hubris and sadism that wanted to stand and mock his quarry; he needed to be quick and utterly ruthless.

So he was.

The shade released his pull upon the Spark and its cord of energy evaporated. The power that had already reached him writhed over the rolling shadows of his body, twisting like snakes.

The next moves ran in instants through Toun's prediction.

The snakes of white energy shined their last before being corrupted into a dark magic in Xos. He inhaled the spark's pure power while Toun grew a shape from his palm. Xos breathed out only red chaos and black, streaming decay directed to Toun. It met a blossoming dome of porcelain, pushing back as the ray devoured light and destroyed matter. Toun created in parts less than equal. In the air, he was pushed back further and further.

Xos' power was too much to resist. Toun felt his feet on the earth. He swung an arm in frustration at the Primordial Spark in its resting place. In his effort to protect himself, Toun beat the mote of light from the ground into the distance.

In that moment Xos expended the last of the power that he took from the spark during the brief surge through Toun's body. It was no matter. His own power would be sufficient here. 

Even as he remained suspended in the air, he used his magic to rip at Toun's very substance. The shield crumbled. Toun grimaced. Clay peeled off in flecks from his head and his robe, whilst Xos siphoned with all the voracity of a whirlpool. The divine lifeblood he inhaled was annihilated with the destructive feedback only fueling his might.

Blue light shone a burst from the pocks on Toun's surface. His jaw stretched open. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"You are nothing!"[/b][/colour] Toun screamed. And his arms flicked into a lengthened, sharp curl.

Godly porcelain sliced with perfect alignment. A horrific appendage burst forth from Xos' armor and caught both blades. Xos pressed another appendage into one sickle's point to make a shallow cut into his vaporous being, and from the wound there flowed black blood running down the impromptu sword. One sickle snapped from Toun. His remaining arm stretched and bloated into a fist launching forward. It crunched against whatever otherwordly material with which Baron Slag had wrought the dark god's armor. Its wearer merely grunted. It left a dent. He returned the favor with a blow of his own. Yet his shadows swung at empty air. Toun's fist and sickle fell where before they were attached to a now absent host. The immaculate porcelain sickle, stained with Xos' oily blood, rapidly cracked and collapsed.

Toun rushed through the roaring air. His arms regrew from the stumps he had detached. A sting drew his eye to his shoulder where blood swum down its edge like a malevolent eel. He sliced it away and let it fall.

He needed to get to the spark first.

An inky meteor streaked behind him. Xos surging through the air in chase.

The gods' travel was a blink but for Toun's head start. The blinding light of the spark sat on a thick, swiftly shrivelling, algae. He slowed and pulled at its power to grow a clay spear in his hand. He spun and hurled it back at Xos. It sparked and thrummed.

It exploded in proximity. Shards and lightning flew with the blast.

Toun landed on his feet with a filthy slide through soft mosses. His arm stretched to wrap his fingers in a cage around the spark.

And then his adversary was there, manifested right beside him. A shadowy tendril slashed twice at Toun's hand with vorpal force. He was severed from the spark. The second took off the rest of the arm. Toun reacted just before they spun into a wild flurry of deadly slashes aimed at the torso. Toun's remaining arm split into two, then four, then eight, then sixteen articulating blades as they parried Xos' assault. A choir of dry porcelain on cutting shadows sang a song to the silent planet around them.

Though Zephyrion's Shadow loomed right before Toun, it was not from that armored shade that the next grasping claws came from, but rather from Toun's own shadow. Wind and shadow circled about in wild gales like the frenzied fever-talk of madmen, and from all angles despair pressed down with all its crushing might upon the porcelain lord.

[color=00FF7F]"You cannot win."[/color] For the first time, Toun himself heard the Unmaker speak. [color=00FF7F]"So [b]die![/b]"[/color]

The clutching winds and shadows gnashed and pulled Toun down with the same fury that dripped from every one of Xos' words. Toun's righteousness defied.

[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Not by my oaths, murderer!"[/b][/colour] A sharp [i]cring[/i] snapped Toun's leg at the thigh. The grasping shadows snapped it to the ground just as another leg took its place.

Toun stepped back with another new leg. And again. His discarded limbs clogged the hungry jaws around him. Shards of cleanly cut porcelain rained tinkling onto the moss, steaming acrid black from the battle above.

There was none of the spark in the slashes.

Toun sensed his severed hand still wrapped around the spark, shielding it from consumption.

[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"I shall not fall,"[/b][/colour] Toun growled through his pointed teeth. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Your legacy will be as your visage; nought but smoke!"[/b][/colour]

As if his leg was his punctuation, Toun kicked forward and struck Zephyrion's dark reflection. It created some space, but the mere instant of contact was enough to send a searing heat through Toun's entire body. Toun hissed in pain and rebalanced.

His words struck a nerve.

The rocky soil crumbling under the shade's withering aura rapidly sublimed to vapour. Xos roared something so slurred as to be unintelligible. The meaning was made clear enough.

His unbound rage exploded outwards. Toun threw up his arms to shield himself. Light and force. It obliterated the landscape. The sheer force kicked Toun into a backwards flight so fast he barely kept the white fire touching his clay robes. Disorientation set in. The ground struck his feet and tossed him into a backwards sumersault. His arm felt soil for an instant. Then he slid.

Gravity lead to his bearings again. He flipped into a crouched stand before stopping. His limbs, elongated and unnaturally jointed, braced against the reacting wind. The smoke and ashes turned back towards the fires at the epicentre in a gale. Toun did not need to breathe. His rapidly rising and falling shoulders were motivated by fight and exertion. And carmine cracks on his forearms and fingers caught his eye.

[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Rrah! No!"[/b][/colour] He smoothed the flaws over in a fluster. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Not today."[/b][/colour]

Then the smoke ahead parted.

Xos' shadowy form surged through the flames and pressed on. Any semblance of restraint was gone. His flurry of swings were wild and poorly controlled, yet relentless. Agility and precision favoured Toun until his parries and dodges were outpaced by one blow that sent him spinning into a stumble. Behind each of Xos' strikes was strength enough to sunder a mountain and scatter its pieces like chaff on the wind. Toun stepped past another, contorted to avoid the next. Swung back into a spark-casting parry. The two creatures white and black thrashed on with impossible strength and anatomy clashing only with greater combat left between their very egos. Toun gave only a step.

And then, faster than any mortal perception, a gap in Toun's guard promised a swing unbidden to the clay one's neck. There was no reflection on the shade's part, merely action. A vorpal tendril made a savage swing in the instant the opening was exposed. Toun's head snapped and flattened out to one side long and grotesquely before it landed. Sparkling air molecules split by the dark blade danced in the nanometres between it and the porcelain. And sooner than regaining shape, Toun shot in the opposite direction of Xos' overswing.

The blade clamped to a stop in the air. Xos found it grasped by an inanimate porcelain hand attached to an arm that stretched into the earth below. It was a ruse. Toun had already shot out for the spark again.

With a furious howl, Xos dissolved the the lifeless porcelain appendage that grasped at him. Then his own body dissolved into the shadows and he manifested himself once more, directly above the the Primordial Spark just as Toun reached it.

Xos met the charge head on and barreled into Toun's own momentum. There had been no time for Toun to slow or change his path. The inevitable collision sent grey ash and smoke up in a shockwave and brought both deities to the ground. A deadly wrestling match began.

A shadowy hand slammed Toun's head into the ground even as he scrambled and reached for the Primordial Spark. It rested mere feet away from their struggle, yet in that moment every inch was a gulf as endless to them as the seas for mortals.

And yet Toun reached. In spite of his safety, he reached.

The Unmaker did not have to reach, for all the world's hunger and power and baleful malevolence was already within him. A long spear coalesced from the trickle of blood that still stemmed from his arm and from the whirling mass of darkness beneath his hollow shell of armor; this spear was like an icicle if sable and palpable death could be called ice, and its touch was colder, agonizing moment by moment, than the most bitter of winter's steely breaths or the most scornful look upon the late Vulamera's face.

For all that imagery, it was not the spear's strange and otherwordly beauty that made an impression upon Toun, but rather its frigid point as Xos thrust it into the porcelain god's back. Toun spread his arms in a frozen shock, eyeing the shifting point protruding his chest. Xos impaled his foe and claimed victory as haughtily as any king drove his banner into the raw earth and claimed dominion.

Toun's senses cringed and shuddered. Even Xos' voice spread as thin black oil branching coniferous shapes over glass.

[center]X̵͉́ô̵̩̈́͜s̴̠̥̿͑ ̴͈͓͌T̴̻̏͛H̵͇̊͊E̵̞̿ ̸̘͝U̷̢̥͌M̵̱͉̐A̴̢͊̔Ķ̶̏Ẽ̸̳̙R̷͈̺͝ ̷̭͂̊

[b]*[/b]

̷̖͈̐s̸̳̿͛̒̚͜ṁ̷̬͗̀õ̶̧̼̚k̶̛͕̔e̴̿͛̒͜ ̴̹̘̳̖̏̊̊Ṣ̸̢̩͌ͅH̸͖̳̃̔̔͜͝A̸̼̹̙̜̋͠D̸̯̤̰̀O̸̯̹̾͑̏͠W̵̰̖̗͒̑ ̴̙͈̊̀́͘ͅa̵̠͔̪̔̉̌͆s̶͔̣͉̻̽ḧ̷̤̘̣ ̵͔̮̊̂b̶̲̼̖͘u̵͕͉̽͑͐̂r̵͉͔͓̩͊̀̊̆ṉ̴͖̯͈̾̓i̵̳͝n̸̜͐̍̅g̶̕͜ ̴̳͂̉̓C̷͓̤̖̉̓̌H̷̭̦̳̘͊͑͋̚Å̵ͅO̶̮̺̗͍̽͐̔S̵͍͙̅̑͜

[b]*[/b]

w̵h̶o̵ ̷r̸a̴g̴e̶ ̷d̸e̴v̷o̷u̵r̷s̵ ̶i̷t̸s̷e̴l̴f̶,̶ ̴o̸u̴r̵o̷b̴o̴r̷o̵s̶

[b]*[/b]

Z̴̡͎̰̝͔̻̝͚̬͍̱̝̦̲̮͉̔̐̅͜͠ͅY̶͚̻͕̪̬̘̩̥̲̓̅͝U̷̧̡̯̭̭͇͊́̏̂̌͂̄̅͑̂̈́͘̕͜S̸͍̣͖͉͉͓̖̑͊̅̋ͅ[/center]
[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Z-..."[/b][/colour]

Toun's silent, shivering head twisted too far around until his eye bulged to Xos' wispy silhouette. All the pocks and chips taken from his arms, head, and body audibly crackled to reveal bright red flaws brimming with primal reaction.

Toun's words were a breathless croak. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"You have not won."[/b][/colour]

Every exposed inch of Toun's body grew white, rib-like clay shards that sprang up with a curl as they bent inwards upon Xos, pushing him as much as slamming with breaking force against his dark armour. Xos' own form reacted as a violent fountain of explosive force. The snapped clay points forked into two more porcelain ribs each and by the repulsive power of their magics colliding, Xos was carried up in its thick reed-like canopy. The spear pulled away from Toun to leave a hole exuding black smoke. It too was obscured by clay points in an instant.

It was time to end this.

Battering aside the shattered ribs that had hinged about him like some sort of trap, he pulled the Primordial Spark into his grasp and readied himself to channel its full might, but then the smoke cleared and Toun was gone.

Dead?

[i]No.[/i]

Escaped.

With a frustrated roar, he clenched his fist and squeezed the tiniest drop of power from his prized weapon and watched as the ground below was shattered. 

What had been mossy plains with rolling hills was now a scarred field flattened by Xos' explosive rage. The countless rocks strewn across the landscape were scorched barren by magic, and the second explosion that came as a result of that mere moment in which he lost his control over the Primordial Spark had gouged chasms and ravines to spindle across the ground like cracks in a windowpane. Small pools of blood sizzled and broiled like the tar pits and strange green pools of Galbar's Venomweald, but there was nobody to behold the blood's corrupting effects.

Xos had already left.

[hr]
An injured god stood in the dotted black of space. He stared at a small blue planet past the gap between his shivering, tensed claws. All his clear white body was laced with dull, thin, forking cracks from something red forcing its way through. Merely looking upon the wounds with his blue eye forced a nausea as if every one was a wretched, bile-filled marr bloated by the filthiest plague.

He dared not look at the still smoking hole in his chest for fear of clawing it like an empty tumor.

Disgust made his blue eye shine. The cause of the cracks made him feel fear. Not because they were caused by injury. That was not the whole truth.

With one finger, he shakily scratched calligraphy of a more vivid red hue on his skin. Each one repaired a flaw and faded. He made progress towards the main wound. The first symbol was scribed with such a shiver that his finger curled sharp in a reflex, ruining the text.

He slammed his fist on the wasted ink and cringed his head and shoulders. He never ruined a character. He failed idiotically. He remained holding himself back against a burst of useless rage for as long as Xos' wound taunted him.

Shaking. Furious. Flagellating his mind. He uncurled his ink-scrawling finger and resumed his calligraphy until all evidence was removed. The hole healed and closed into smooth porcelain.

Then he went still. He forced himself still. Even the strange fabric-like waves of his robe halted.

[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"I took an oath."[/b][/colour] His shaking voice murmured.

As graceful as a dancer free from all noise in his muscles, Toun lifted his hands above his head to join his fingers. His eye closed. Carefully, his arms spread far either side, but his fingers remained joined, stretching into a smooth cylinder. A soundless snap separated his fingers from each end of the rod. He grasped the rod's middle in one hand, let his other arm float to his side, and willed the ends of the rod to shape into a blunt shod and sharp spear head.

[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"I can take revenge as well."[/b][/colour]

Even in the depths of space where Toun rested in suspension, a light breeze brushed his back. The wind had a familiar golden hue to it. A warmth appeared behind Toun, and then a divine presence to accompany it.

[colour=goldenrod][i]"Hail Toun, simulacrum pure
solemn, perfect god.
I bid thee remain stoic!

After all, fortune favored thee."[/i][/colour]

Toun did not turn. The silence following allowed the counting of three slow heartbeats.

Then a movement of clay to shock the senses blinked Toun's face as close as a thumbnail to Aihtiraq's eye; the golden one's other eye saw the impossibly sharp point of Toun's new spear, a hair from piercing him. His body felt a strangling clamp where Toun's inhumanly long fingers had wrapped around his gaseous form. And Aihtiraq felt frighteningly solid.

Toun's blue eye, black in sclera, bloodshot and wide, was so crazed that a window to the Gap itself could settle one's nerves in comparison. Anyone elses nerves.

Soft flakes of dust and snow and sand and frozen time and stranger things too all wafted from the golden djinni. They landed gently upon Toun's face, and Aihtiraq met the god's gaze with the overpowering indifference of one who knew no such thing as fear.

[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Fortune...favoured me, elemental?"[/b][/colour] Toun slowly and agonisingly breathed. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"I beg you to clarify your...earnesty. I myself have a [i]pointedely[/i] different opinion on where fortune placed her hand just now."[/b][/colour]

[colour=goldenrod][i]"Find peace; your rage is like
soft breaths in a storm.
Your life is a victory.

This one does not weave the strands
of Fate, but sees them.
Survival was fortunate

for the Unmaker is not done.
He will slay one more;
I have seen it on the threads.

In truth, I expect 'tis thee.
The pearl's great power
though misused, can shatter worlds.

As he wields it, you are doomed."[/i][/colour]

Toun shoved Aihtiraq back by way of releasing him. His spear lowered. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Expect?"[/b][/colour] Toun demanded cynically. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Or know? And how do you know these things? You, impotent thing, if you [i]know[/i] any great mystery and choose not to act upon it until the tragedy is inevitable, why shall I suffer your presence?"[/b][/colour] Toun tilted his head and hissed. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Rephrase yourself, elemental. Try again. Speak, or submit that the games of the gods are not within your fitness."[/b][/colour]

[colour=goldenrod][i]"But I do act, oh blind Toun,
for what else is this?
'tis mine to warn all others

and theirs to ignore and fall."[/i][/colour]

[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"It is yours to taunt and condemn, elemental!"[/b][/colour] Toun retorted. He jabbed a finger in Aihtiraq's direction. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Warnings ignored!? How could I ignore my personal safety and the safety of my family? This whole quest is for that purpose! And yet you [i]warn[/i] another will fall should I ignore your warning? My mission is to see that warning through tacit from your blubbering warning! And yet you still see it and request that I know, as if there is a missing effort I have not invested. As if there is a will yet I can take to prevent such a future!"[/b][/colour] Toun shouted out. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"I cannot know how to prevent a tragic fate without understanding it, golden creature! And thus your warning is doomed to be ignored if it is not given to me with intent to allow me to change my fate! Yours is an empty purpose."[/b][/colour]

[colour=goldenrod][i]"Yours is action without thought.
In hubris you deign
to know my intention, but fail.

You will witness my warning
and act regardless,
knowing your plan to be flawed, doomed.

My words fall like desert rain:
hopeless, meek, futile.
But as Fate wills it, I came,

this warning a passing thought."[/i][/colour]

Toun's brow lifted uncomfortably. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Oho!"[/b][/colour] He spoke in long, booming syllables. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Bold, creature! Very bold!"[/b][/colour] He shook his head and gave a condescending applause between the back of his spear hand and his palm. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"It was not your will, was it!? You had no choice? You run from your action like a gazelle from a lion. Yet you brush off the panicked flight as a passing fancy."[/b][/colour] Toun lowered his arms and levelled his eye, cross once again at Aihtiraq. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Unless you can prove to me any veracity of your 'premonition' -- any explanation to your story -- I see this as a waste of time and you as a deliberate fraud. I ask you again, Aihtiraq: Do you expect or do your know? And [i]how[/i] do you know?"[/b][/colour]

The vitriol parted like wind meeting a mountain, breaking without effect. The pressure of Toun's accusations, the venom in his words, and the spittle of implied insult meant nothing to Aihtiraq. If the golden djinni actually felt emotion, it hardly ever seemed to show.

[colour=goldenrod][i]"The leaves fall, and so men know
'tis must be autumn.
Gold threads shine, and I see death.

Alas, sage wisdom fell mute.
Mine purpose past this
was another caution to give.

Know this: when the time is nigh,
a golden storm comes.
Fear not my hand; it will take

what the Unmaker stole from I."[/i][/colour]

Toun lifted his chin. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"While I look forward to you breaking your demonstrated impotence, Xos shall suffer consequences for killing a god whether you reclaim anything or not. Without regard of your little bluster, now, that is no answer to my questions."[/b][/colour]

[colour=goldenrod][i]"Generosity is fruit
of goodwill and love.
Yet no tree bears endless fruit.

I offered thee one favor
which you took: vision
of a brother's forlorn Fate.

You ask again for favor
yet what will you give?
This one could show much to thee

but you would invoke a debt."[/i][/colour]

Aihtiraq stood regarded by Toun. The ripples of Toun's robes flowed curiously, slowing and speeding. Though quivering, Toun's words could all of a sudden be considered calm. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Now there is the courage I thought devoid in you,"[/b][/colour] he said. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"A debt, you say? Could I owe you for one...singular wish, Aihtiraq?"[/b][/colour] The stony smooth mask offered. Some repressed emotion twitched on his cheekbones. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Such a wish must fall short of my existing oaths, yet my oath to one wish should be binding enough. I am curious to see how you would depend on it."[/b][/colour]

[colour=goldenrod][i]"Though heeding my words is not
past your mind's limits,
understanding may well be.

I would show what words cannot.
Steel yourself, loosen.
Embrace the warmth of my flame,

and let Chaos stream through you."[/i][/colour]

Without menacing effect, Aihtiraq approached with an outstretched hand. His palm was made of burning water, so his touch was icy fire. With it came an otherworldly celerity of mind as well as strange visions.

Toun no longer existed, had never existed. Neither had time or space or anything else. There was only Aihtiraq and the golden storm.

Awash in a maelstrom of primordial energy, there was fire and pain and endless suffering for a literal sort of eternity; after all, this place was not constrained by time. There were patterns to the Chaos and magic. Without conscious effort, one eventually saw those patterns and learned to recognize them, for the mind was a wondrous thing, and even in a tortured and base state it strived to learn.

The visions retreated back somewhat, and memory of the outside world began to seep back in. With it came sense and a logical order to the otherwise nigh unintelligble dreams.

Aihtiraq was in a refreshing spring. It cooled and healed his soul, but memory of the firestorm remained yet, and signs of its presence were everywhere. Tiny golden threads ran through all things and golden winds billowed, and his mind retained its ability to predict their paths. Aihtiraq once witnessed a tree's leaf fall and foresaw that Ventus would die. The patterns were everywhere, inescapable, and though it took concentrated effort to read them, it similarly took an almost inhuman effort to suppress their sight in his mind. In a way Aihtiraq saw everything, all at once, and so was blinded. Of course, not every vision came to pass.

Even for his mind, there were sometimes flaws. The colors did not always match, but the shapes did.

The visions retreated back further; Toun was almost himself once more. Or was he? These visions were grounded in reality, not abstract as the others had been. Aihtiraq showed him something as it happened in that very moment, or at least portraying an image of it so lifelike and compelling as to be the perfect lie.

There was the Unmaker. The great shadow. Xos.

He was looming over a planet cracked and scarred by [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/3381375]some past storm[/url], long ago, whose echoes rippled still through the tapestry of golden threads. The Primordial Spark rested in his hands, and a dark glower in his eyes looked down upon the innocent world as he sized its strength.

There was only the briefest pause of reflection before Xos laid down the Primordial Spark upon the planet and used the world as an anvil with which to craft the instrument of its own destruction. He bent the Primordial Spark, twisting the energy that cascading out of it. The Spark was malleable to Xos' will. He hammered it into the shape of an axe colossal beyond mortal comprehension.

And then Xos himself grew in stature, for a shadow's size meant little and was ever capable of changing.

With one mighty swing he cleaved the world in two. Magma and fire erupted into the heavens as the dark god sated his bloodlust, but the planet's burning blood was not the only life essence that dripped from the axe.

Swirls of magical wind and massed of woven threads surged everywhere; it was clear that Aihtiraq looked upon that scene and accoutned for a nigh infinite number of variables. Still, it lead him to the conclusion that Xos would kill yet one more god.

Some factors pointed towards Toun falling victim to the Spark. Still, there was little true "logic" behind the calculation. Aihtiraq dealed in uncertainty, and quick as his mind might be, it could hardly make certainties. Yet even though full extent of the arcane reasoning was impossible to show, much less explain, it was easy enough to see that Aihtiraq truly believed in the veracity of his clairvoyance. He had faith in his predictions.

Faith to a terrifying degree.

Space felt even emptier than before now. Even more distant. Toun brushed a chill from his body before he realised he was perceiving where he was before. The chaotic pain that lead to the future made just enough sense that he gave Aihtiraq a knowing look.

[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"I am satisfied with your answer, Aihtiraq,"[/b][/colour] Toun intoned. He lifted his free hand to show in it held a small porcelain disk. On its faces were inscribed bright red runes pertaining to a promise. An oath limited by Toun's principles to grant a boon. He released the disc and let it float to Aihtiraq. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Redeem your wish at your will. I shall fulfill my end of the bargain."[/b][/colour]

The mote of clay drifted through space towards Aihtiraq. The great djinni made no outward effort to capture it; it flew until it came into contact with the god, and then it was lost in the vaporous mass of burning gold, one of a million diamonds hidden within a sea of broken glass.

Toun drifted to half-turn, but stopped and eyed the golden spirit again. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"If it is generosity to you, hear me. Your warning could apply to you in the end, should you yearn too much for your stolen quarry. But you know this already, elemental."[/b][/colour]

Though neither form nor quicksilver visage expressed so, Aihtiraq projected bemusement all the same.

[colour=goldenrod][i]"Aihtiraq does one day end
as everything must.
He burns, but a mere candle

fading unto nothingness
racing swifter still
purpose and joy abounding.

The Unmaker shan't slay me!
It is destiny
that flame extinguish itself.

The end is his clearest sight.
His own ashen form
will be the willful fuel

catalyzing new dawning."[/i][/colour]

And then a soft eddy blew through the emptiness of space, and upon its back Aihtiraq was gone.

Toun blinked at the remaining empty space. Aihtiraq's parting verse left more to interpret than before. Not in his metaphor but in the consequences of their meanings. He felt one last growl creep up his throat, almost immediately drowned out by the futility of rejecting it. In the end, Toun lowered his tensed shoulders.

[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Your end is the future you choose, elemental?"[/b][/colour] he said quietly to the nothingness around him. [colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"If that ultimate fate is your wish, I can only assume you gazed upon atrocious alternatives."[/b][/colour]

The reflection iterated on. However, priorities were just that. And the hunt was still on. Toun prepared to project his voice to find his siblings and put an end to the shade.

Yet another voice found him first.

[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b][i]Father.[/i][/b][/colour]

A deep robotic intonation delayed Toun's communications. He responded.

[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"Report, Majus."[/b][/colour]

[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b][i]Minus objective secured in Cornerstone.[/i][/b][/colour]

[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b]"...And?"[/b][/colour] Toun's avatar was not meant to make contact solely for such thing.

[colour=PaleGoldenrod][b][i]A message from Jvan awaits in Cornerstone. Memories for your eye.[/i][/b][/colour]

Toun turned his upper body towards the distant speck of Galbar, staring with one half of his brow lifted.

[hider=Burning]
So there Toun was, strolling around looking for Xos. He notices that Xos has been up to no good with the local djinni population, but he doesn't care so much. It appears that Xos jumped into outer space!

Toun follows Xos to find his trail fading around the fourth planet from Galbar's sun, the spongy-covered planet known to the space-dwarf-furries as Soul Aonair. (God damn celtic word origins being un-freakin'-pronouncable grumble grumble).

From an orbit altitude above Aonair, Toun notices a bright source of power. He recognises it as Xos' powerful weapon. Just sitting there in the open! How convenient! But he can't see Xos' trail anywhere. Hmmm. Probably a trap, he thinks.

But if he can yoink the spark, then Xos is all over, right? He just has to reach out and...WHOOPS there's Xos! Come to beat him up with chaos from the spark.

Toun defends himself just enough to t-ball the spark far enough away that Xos can't draw from it.

Cue a godly chase/fight whereby Toun and Xos struggle over the spark. Xos seems more interested in nomming Toun, though.

At one point, Xos intentionally cuts himself and starts trying to get the blood onto Toun. Turns out that Xos' black blood has a malevolent will of its own and is potent enough to destroy about anything it touches. Toun has to cut his own limb off to stop the blood from swimming all over him.

Toun makes an off-hand comment about how Xos is an uggo 'cos he's made of smoke.

Xos: "Fuckin' EXCUSE me!? I'll cause a nuke-sized explosion now, just for that!"

A nuke-sized explosion occurs. It probably looks pretty to the astronomers that see a glint of bright light from Galbar marking the event.

Toun is swept back, but he has these very specifically coloured cracks on his perfect skin! What could it mean, dear reader!? He covers them up and keeps fighting Xos.

Xos gets the upper hand, grappling Toun in spite of his Bohdisattva-anatomy boxing style. In desperation, Toun reaches for the spark and Xos pins him and sticks him with a chaos [s]spear[/s] icicle made out of frozen blood.

Toun realises he's out of his depth. He springs up loads of clay porcelain tentacles to push Xos away before getting the hell out of Dodge.

Xos is disappointed.

Cue next scene.

Toun sooks in space for a bit, properly taking the time to heal yet more of those wierd cracks on his skin and the hole in his chest from the spear.

And who should arrive but everyone's favourite friendly ghost Aihtiraq!

Aihtiraq: "Good job m8! You didn't die!"

Toun: "u fkn wot!?"

Aihtiraq, despite Toun's taking out of anger upon him, lets Toun know that one more is going to die by Xos' hands. He assumed it was Toun but he can't say for sure.

Toun, being the zenith of all tact, shouts down Aihtiraq because it's a warning he has no idea how to act upon. Aihtiraq tries to deflect Toun's questioning by mentioning that he wants something back that Xos stole, so he implicitly might be around for the showdown, yada yada. Eventually, Toun convinces Aihtiraq to show him this future via showing him how he even knows the future.

Aihtiraq: "I'll tell but you owe me one, k m9?"
Toun: "You want a wish from me? lolsure"

Aihtiraq demonstrates that his premonitions are fueled by roofies and basically due to a mix of stalking Fate/supposedly being able to perceive and know Fate's dealings as well as running hardcore statistical mathemagics. Toun is satisfied.

Toun flicks Aihtiraq a coupon for one boon, by his sworn oath, redeemable on condition that Toun doesn't have to break his existing oaths to fulfil his obligation.

Before he turns around, Toun mentions that Aihtiraq should heed his own warning, too. He might be the one that Xos kills before the end.

The fat controller Aihtiraq laughed: "You are wrong"

Turns out Aihtiraq knows that his final fate is to kill himself. Then he poofs away with that last word taken.

Toun honestly doesn't know what to say to that. Eventually he concludes that, because Aihtiraq can, like, see futures and all, he probably explored the possibilities of him [i]not[/i] killing himself and didn't like it. So he sadly shrugs and moves on.

It's no time to mope, though! Majus telepathically informs Toun that Jvan left a message for him. Toun wonders why Jvan refuses to get her head around modern technology such as long distance telepathy.

[i]Toun's Might Summary[/i]
[i]Before:[/i] Toun - L8 - 33 MP (+22mpt) - 4 FP - 8C/8D <Holy site turn counter 1/4>

-2 MP: Weakly repel Xos' initial blast empowered by the Primordial Spark
-2 MP: Survive Xos' rage-induced explosion response to being called a smoki boi
-1 MP: To regenerate to recoup the essence Xos drained
-2 MP: To zoop away and not die from being impaled

[i]After:[/i] Toun - L8 - 26 MP (+22mpt) - 4 FP - 8C/8D <Holy site turn counter 1/4>

[i]Zephyrean Pantheon[/i]
Start: L9 - 13MP - 4FP

-1 MP lost from Xos' bleeding essence
-2 MP expended on the explosion
-1 MP for the move where he drained at Toun's essence
-2 MP for the move in which he impaled Toun

-1 FP used to hook up Toun with a psychedelic trip

End: L9 - 7MP - 3FP

[hider=Regarding run-on sentences]
Cyclone:
Let me try to find the excerpt that made me die of laughter and inspired this nonsense

“Yes,  for them: of that day and time, of a dead time; people too as we are  and victims too as we are, but victims of different circumstance,  simpler and therefore, integer for integer, larger, more heroic and the  figures more heroic too...”

^that's  like, the first half of a sentence. It rambles for an eternity to  describe how some guy's grandparents seemed larger than life because  they lived in the mythical civil war times xd

Mutton:
Was said person a broken cassette player? 

Cyclone: 
No, just a very wealthy southern gentleman that inherited enough money  to make his lifetime's work sitting on an old rocking chair, drinking  tea, and philosophizing and analyzing the most pointless of stories to  come to the strangest conclusions you could possibly ascertain from the  repeated overthinking that mundane man would think impossible.

*once you're in ramble mode, you're in ramble mode, I tell you*

Mutton:
Just warning you now. If I get a headache reading stuff like this, I might have to edit a passage or two XP.

Cyclone:
I can bypass this by posting it before you get to post, because  presumably fixing these gigantic sentences would take you time. After  all, you'd have to translate them xd
>Le Evil Cyclone strikes again! (Stars Wars IX)

Mutton:
...fuc

Cyclone:
Luke can't save you
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