Page Four of Five
In the luster of the full moon, a figure mounted on a horse appeared over the crest of the hill overlooking the field. The thoroughbred’s armor reflected brilliantly in the silver moonlight. The warrior dismounted and surveyed the land below. It studied the supernatural formations, intrigued by their meaning.
In the distance, the clatter of more horsemen resonated through the night. Within the few minutes, three more had joined the solitary scout, one by one. They stood vigilantly over the nightscape for hours, never moving or speaking. The horses were just as sullen, and would move for nothing. On each of the horses’ armor, a name in an arcane, ancient script was engraved. On the first horse, the horse of the Warrior, the name WAR was shown. On the horse of the sickly man was the name PESTILENCE. On the armor of the weak man’s horse was the name FAMINE, and on the last horse, belonging to a dark being enshrouded in a runed cloak, the name DEATH.
The four horsemen did not move for the duration of the night, nor all throughout the next day. Nothing within miles came or went, and not an iota of life could be found. The animals knew to stay away, for they could sense the threat that grew stronger with each breath of the wind, and each ray of the sun. The only souls with enough valiance to stay were destined to fight this evil, to rid the area once and for all of the torment in which it has been encircled for so long.
As nightfall came again, the four warriors mounted their beasts again, and started off down the hill. The rocky slopes were more than three hundred meters down, though the grade was far from steep. As they rode down, a chill swept through the air. It was obvious that the time had come. The earth was just a few tense hours away from the Apocalypse.
The Final Battle
The four horsemen now galloped through the tall grass, attempting to slaughter the evil minions which were springing out of the grass. They had successfully rounded up hundreds of small impish figures, who were protesting with fury. One swing after another, War was decapitating and disemboweling the little fiends. The imps were no more than a foot tall, but they had razor-sharp claws, and a tremendously venomous bite. They were dangerous enough on the ground, but when they spread their membranal wings, they were absolutely virulent. luckily, three of the horsemen had thick armor; the fourth needed none, for he was a member of the undead.
The ground shook and palpitated as the area under the core split open. All who were witnessing the event stared in a fearful awe. The imps though, after a moment, realized the ramifications of this sign. They flocked and flew over to an area of grass that was over in the northwestern region of the field. The imps landed synchronous to each other. The moment they made contact with the ground they burst into thousands of individual fiery body parts. These detonations all occurred within a few feet of each other, for the imps were clumped around themselves. Once the pieces were evenly distributed, the dark flames rose gain, and created the fifth and last circle.
Emergence
the core of the pentagon had just shot up a pillar of fire that illuminated the sky. Each of the five circles now had a luminosity that shone with an unprecedented fury. The illusion of a pentagon was forever banished when the streams of fire began to cross the field in between the circles, uniting in an inverted five-point star. After the sign was created, a new flame came from each circle’s counterclockwise-facing direction and completed a circle encompassing the points of the star. Pillars of fire were now erupting through each of the points of the star, then running a circuit through the fiery lanes that made up the pentagram. After random orbits, the pillars finally converged in a pentagon around the center and stood still. At that moment, the deafening roar of the fire was broken with an unearthly scream. The ground in the pit had ruptured, sending fragments of dirt and bedrock in every direction. Then, crawling out of the depths, came the Prince of Darkness.
The four horsemen now sat mounted side by side. War had now wielded his battle-ax, as had Death with is sickle. The other two did not need weaponry, for Famine could weaken and degenerate a victim with a could touch of his hand, and Pestilence could put diseases on them that were so agonizing and virulent, they could not even be described.
Devastation
The evil creature near the fissure stood over twenty meters tall. Its thickly muscled limbs extended into ferociously clawed hands and feet. The head turned around as it stared with a white-hot gaze. The skin of the creature was smoldering, giving off smoke and heat into the cool air of the night. This beast was more diabolical than any human thought possible. Lucifer was a mere shadow of this creature; in comparison, Beelzebub and his ideals were mild. This new creature was the pure embodiment of evil.
The lumbering creature now stepped forward, shuddering the ground, and leaving molten earth in its footprints. It was heading towards the only other souls in the area, the four horsemen. With a nod from War, the warriors evaded the running Archfiend. The apocalyptic horsemen charged back to attack, but it was too late for the Archfiend was already obstructing their path. War was the first to attack. He rode up and slashed continuously at the ankle of the great beast. All of the wounds healed and regenerated within seconds of injury, so his efforts were of little use. He did, however, expose some of the molten blood from the inside of the giant creature, which apparently made his ax sharper and more powerful. It was now shimmering a deep red in the darkness of the night, indicating its extreme temperature. Luckily, the weapon was forged with holy metals, and was completely indestructible. The other horsemen followed suit and attacked. Death jumped off his running horse and onto the foot of the creature. Slowly, he climbed up the enormous leg using his reaping sickle to dig into the rough flesh. Although Pestilence’s hand was singed from touching the Archfiend’s foot, he did manage to distribute his sickness throughout him. Famine accomplished a similar feat, thereby severely weakening the evil being. The Archfiend was less vivacious afterwards, and was much more susceptible to attacks. War kept his melee going with the left foot, though he had to routinely dodge kicks and thrashes from the