Written by: Epicstu Wyyvernwriter
A thin, yet built, Fennec Fox of the Northlands wearing a full set of blackened Fennec Knight armor moved silently through the night. He had orders from House Mountainhiem to collect Edward Michael of House Dimir dead or alive. He knew his mark well and finally had him. “Edward!” It was raining that night in the Southlands.
Edward stopped, he had been on the run for over a year. He looked up at the sky for a moment and let the rain fall on him. “Brother,” he replied.
“Traitor!” The Fennec knight in blackened armor shouted back. “Why?”
Edward turned around to face his brother. “Peace,” he replied with a smile.
“You won’t find that here,” the fennec knight unsheathed his battle axe and let its blade fall to the ground. “I have my orders.”
“Of course you do,” Edward replied to his brother as he readied his great sword. “Dead or alive I assume.”
The black armored knight rushed his mark, swinging his axe hard and fast. Edward blocked and parried, following through with a good hard swing of his own. The black knight blocked and then grabbed Edward’s ears and threw him against a stone wall before swing his axe for a decapitation. Edward ducked, narrowly avoiding the execution, and tackled his brother from below. The black knight dropped his axe as Edward fell upon him, unleashing a flurry of punches. He kneed Edward’s gut and pushed him off, grabbing his axe quickly. The two brothers got up slowly, both of them tired and worn. They charged at each other, their teeth bared at their old rivalry of one another.
That memory, it was all Aleister could think about as he sat alone in death. He was betrayed by Drak of House Mountainhiem and executed after being forced to watch his own brother’s execution. It seemed as though an eternity had passed him by, then suddenly it was cold and all around him was frozen over.
A women, also in blackened armor, wearing a dress and wielding a large scythe appeared before him. Her weapon’s blade was thick, forged of blackened metal, and as long as the elegant staff it was forged to. The weapon glowed with a strange element of gelatinous white. “Aleister Keith of House Dimir,” Said the women. “I am the Wyyvern Knight of Death,” her voice was warm and kind, yet her presence was cold and empty. “It is time, come with me Aleister.”
“No,” Aleister replied after a moment’s hesitation. He took his helmet off and threw it aside. Along each of his ears was a set of weighted silver rings, three on his right ear and four on his left. “Not until you tell me the fate of my brothers’ souls.”
Death nodded and smiled as though in agreement with someone other than him. “Aleister, I want you to kill me.”
Aleister stood up slowly. “What?” he questioned the women in disbelief.
“I am Death, one of four,” Death began. “Famine, Strife, War, and Me. We are the Four Horsemen and we were created to stop an evil beyond reckoning. The Deceiver”
Aleister found himself standing before a being of impossible power. His feet were that of a raptor, he had four arms, and his narrowed snout boasted needle like teeth. His eyes were red as blood and he wore formal vestment armor with a cap, though tattered and torn. Aleister memorized these details in seconds. He watched as the Four Horsemen fought the strange being, whom’s vile grin remained even after his defeat and capture.
The being disappeared and Aleister found himself before Death once more. “We imprisoned the Deceiver in hell, but he will return and if he is not stopped I fear he may hunt my siblings and I, kill us, and take our weapons. If he succeeds, your brother Edward, the Wyyvern Knight of Deceit, will not be able to stop him as he is destined to. You must perform this ritual before the Deceiver returns, so that he cannot. You must become the Wyyvern Knight of the Apocalypse so that no one else can.”
Aleister froze at the name, “Edward.” He unsheathed his axe and looked Death straight in the eye. Without hesitation or warning he struck down Death. “I will do as you ask.” Taking heart to new purpose, Aleister picked up Death’s Scythe and an overwhelming power erupted within him.
“Wow, you really don’t waste your time with mourning, do ya?” said a voice like playful young woman. “Awe, why so serious, fluffykins? Aren’t I what you wanted?” The voice giggled.
“Who are you?” Aleister looked all around him but could not find the voice’s whereabouts.
“I am the weapon you now hold,” the voice replied.
Aleister looked down at the massive scythe in his hands. He could feel her caress the fur all over his body as he began to feel chained down by her. He trembled at the power that was now his.
“I am Chastity, the Wyyvern Scythe of Death.” She explained, “you are my new Master, the Wyyvern Knight of Death. Now come Master, let us go and take Famine.” Chasity giggled with pleasure.