|Unit Class:|| Mounted Unit|
Armageddon Counter at 70
|Starts With:|| Does Not Receive Defensive Bonuses|
Spawns a Wraith after each combat
|Info:|| 13 +6 Death +5 Unholy +2 Death Affinity|
Parih stood unmoving, surrounded by the chaos of the battlefield. The screams and clash of weapons were only distant echoes to him. Soldiers fought and died for the ground he stood on, but he did not budge. They pushed through him, and he could not feel it.
His broken body lay before him, covered with blood and indistinguishable from the corpses of enemies that lay around him. The Hippus had appeared so different to him, like another breed of men, before now. A lifetime of stories meant to turn hearts against them, extolling the differences in their culture and history. But now they looked the same, battered and bloody.
The world faded around him, it would be as if Parih's vision grew worse except he felt so real and the world seemed to be nothing but a dream. The sounds of battle were replaced by the whispered prayers of the soldiers. A few requesting protection, most asking for the death of their enemies, all scared.
"Are you prepared for death?"
The words reached into Parih, seeking the answer, touching every dark thought he maintained. A man on a pale horse rode toward him and though Parih felt evil from the man he was unable to lie.
"Do not be afraid of death, you have been dead before. Do you believe that time began when you were born? Do you believe your soul to be immortal?" Parih was unable to answer. The demon smirked.
"You are not the catalyst of creation, flesh is an unfit and temporary vessel for a soul. If you know that your soul exists after your life ends, shouldn't you believe that it existed before your birth? And if your soul existed in a place before your birth, why would it not return there after your death?"
The demon paused, reading Parih's thoughts, making sure this was the correct moment.
"Take my hand mortal and I will lead you to the afterlife."
Parih reached out and took Ars skeletal hand. In that instant the memories of his life were lost and he was reborn as one of the mindless Mane legions of hell.
"That soul was not yours to claim demon!"
Ars turned to see a Valkyrie with her weapon drawn. She paled when she recognized him, instinctively stepping back even though he hadn't made any move towards her.
"I am unbound, and claim any I choose."
He rode forward and the Valkyrie moved out of his way.
...and the last of the four shall be called Ars Morendi; not to be known by any other name by mortals, as none will know him and live...
...he shall be the most cruel and powerful of the horsemen, dousing the spark of life in mortal souls through his presence alone, yet many shall come to greet him with longing rather than despair…
...his shall be the final embrace, as countless souls will fall to his blade, only to rise again to join his dark retinue of wailing spirits; yearning now to consume the souls of their former families, friends and neighbours…
..he shall leave in his wake an empty world; once proud cities fallen into ruin, marketplaces once filled with laughter and conversation now desolate and abandoned, the only voices heard the rushing of dead leaves in the cold wind...