Wanderer
I move quickly, the ground blurring beneath my feet as I take to the streets. I would not travel at such a speed unless there was an emergency, and it seems it is so, tonight. From what I have seen my brother, the oldest of us all, born at the start of all things, rides tonight. Earlier, I saw a rider cloaked in green flame, a trademark sign of my brother - if it is truly him, I will have no choice but to ride with him. A fight between us, of all the four, would bring this city to its knees merely from the presence of our true forms. Though I, and many others, consider myself dangerous - and rightly so - my brother is by far the most powerful of us all. The fact that he is here is not a good sign. It might even signal the start of our Ride.
At that thought my pace doubles.
The people, the few that walk the streets at this hour, become blurs to my sight, lines of color as tunnel vision takes over. Though they register my passing, they will soon forget it, I'm sure. The residents of this city are hardy people. I can scarcely see my passage effecting them- ah, I am close. I can feel it.
My feet hit the concrete and I leap with just enough force to clear the roof of the building in front of me, landing lightly on its surface. From here I see the horseman and his companion, a strange, wingless dragon. I watch as the rider unleashes a wave of flame at their enemy, a blond-haired man and self-proclaimed immortal. I seem to feel what has been described to me by Lacie as a "feeling of relief". This horseman, while he feels similar to my brothers and myself, is not one of us. In that regard, it seems that this horseman is similar to myself, a preserver of the Law.
Such a thing sounds contradictory to my nature as War, the incarnation of chaos, but as a Horseman I have duties which I cannot ignore. Something stirs within me, as I watch this demon - for I see him for what he truly is, now - continue to speak. The fire that burns within me is beginning to rise to the surface. I want to test his mettle, his resolve, his strength. As something born from us, the rider is, in a sense, an offspring of our legend. Interesting.
It is time to begin. I will not have much time to act, and so I begin to countdown inside of myself as the fire rises up, up, burning through me as I stride forwards upon the roof tiles. Flames begin to cover me, shadows writhing and merging with them, bubbling up to cover me, to expose me for what I really am. I open my mouth and laugh as the fire burns me away, burning as hot as a furnace, sparks flying up into the night air from my white-hot mouth and glowing eyes, two perfect holes against the writhing shadows of my body. I call out to the demon below me, both his companion and enemy hearing my words.
"Ho there, Rider! It seems you claim a mantle held in part by the Four!"
The laughter in my voice is bubbling through - I'm enjoying myself, as humans would understand it. I call down to the demon again, my words echoing with the crackle of a mighty flame, the heat scorching the building beneath my feet.
"I would test your mettle, Rider! Such a thing does not go unnoticed!"
I pull a sword out of thin air in front of me. It is not that sword; no, such a thing would be too much. It is merely a sword, once famed, that will serve its intended purpose for me tonight. As I touch it, it changes, blackening as flame dance along its slender edge. I walk further towards the edge of the roof. What I am about to do next will leave me with limited time - already, my presence presses down upon this city and the combatants below, a heavy, cloying thing that chokes the air with the stench of the battlefield, inciting anger and fear, calling forth the promises of glory yet bringing only death. I had forgotten the feeling of my true form; to take it again after so long feels almost liberating.
I raise my head to the sky and let out a cry of exhilaration that stirs the blood in men's hearts. There will be battle tonight, as my voice rings over the city. An answering cry calls back, and the ground beneath me begins to crack. I run forward, into the now hot night air, and jump. Beneath me, my horse, Ruin, The Red Horse of War, the reason I am known as the Red Rider, bursts forth, rising up to meet me.
For a moment, we are suspended, hanging in the air, cutting a fearful picture against the moon of a black rider atop a flaming horse. Then we are falling, and Ruin's hooves pound against the side of the building as we break into a gallop, searing the stone beneath us. We seek only to test the rider that sits opposite us, but the exhilaration of taking our true form is too great to ignore. I push Ruin forward, sword in hand, and we leap, laughing. Ruin's hooves pound into the ground and we circle around the downed opponent for a moment, before facing the rider, burning with excitement.
At this range, my presence and the heat it generates is stifling, choking down on those around us like a tangible thing. I call out to the rider before us, that same slightly mocking laughter rising through my speech.
"Perhaps you did not expect this, Rider, but it is good that you did not - challenges are at their best when unexpected."
I laugh again, beholding the form of his enemy near Ruin's feet.
"War is many things, immortal - I am many things. It is not wrong to one, but wrong to another? I have seen this conflict, and it amuses me. War is not wrong, or right - it merely exists, as you exist. War is merely a fact of life that began with Heaven and Hell. Such a thing is inescapable. Now, personal wrong and right? That amuses me greatly. I saw the Fall, the great tragedy that befell those who marched against the Lord. Was the Morningstar wrong to rebel as he did? He desired the freedom to act as he wished... Milton was not so far from the truth, you know, but neither was he correct... Rider, prepare yourself!"
I point my sword at the demon in front of me.
"If you are in a shape to discuss afterwards, perhaps we might continue."
