The Ministry of Darkness

'And I beheld a red horse, whose rider was War, and carnage followed him.'



The Red Horseman
When a man kills, it is called murder, but when a government kills, it is called war. The carnage of war creates nothing but misery, trauma and destruction, and this pleases The Red Horseman greatly, for he is War, and he takes pleasure in the dead that are piled at his feet.

In the name of God or Crown men have always sought to come together and then kill other groups of people, crusades, genocide, territory disputes, call it what you may, War cares not for morality or justification after the fact.

He cares not from where the blood flows, so long as it flows.

The Red Sword

An ornate scabbard of red copper, bearing the image of a barbaric beast of a man holding the blade before hi bull-like head. The hilt of the blade is red, and it's pommel bears the image of a horned, barbaric helmet.

Where the blade is hidden now is a mystery, it's quite possible that The Red Blade is still buried with some great general who's doom came at it's machinations. Wherever it is now, the living are fortunate that it is not yet active, perhaps the other three blades must first find their bearers before it's power can be awoken.

The Brazen Bull

Deep within a volcano the fiery steed of War slumbers. It's every stirring creates a great eruption, and when it is time for the beast to awaken, the devastation it leaves in it's wake will be most terrible.

It's form is like a great metal Bull, four horns on it's wide brow and eyes of molten metal. The thing breathes fire that causes anarchy and conflict wherever it spreads, and as the world burns it's people will fight for the joy of it.

You have been dying since the day
You were born
You know it has all been planned
The quartet of deliverance rides
A sinner once a sinner twice
No need for confession now
Cause now you have got the fight of your life.

'And I beheld a white horse whose rider was Strife, and discord followed him.'

The White Horseman


When chaos runs rampant, when political discord costs people their lives, this is when The White Horseman is most pleased.

Chaos is his force, and he knows more ways of unleashing it than can be conceived of by the minds of mortals. He rules the darker emotions, lust, greed, desire.

For these cause more discord than anything, and Strife takes joy in the weakness of mortals.

The Gold Sword

The greedy blade is encased in a lavish golden scabbard, it's surface engraved with the image of a Adonis, statuesque man. Mischief shines on his dark face, as the blade is held before it. It's pommel bears the head of a handsome, proud man.

This sword has passed into the hands of the wraith Lazarus, it is the blades greatest desire to tempt him into wielding it, for he knows he has not the subtlety or charisma to properly control it.

The Golden Serpent

A beast made from golden coins with gemstones for eyes. It is buried deep within the earth, captured alive in the catacombs of a great explorer. A earthquake shook the ground above it recently, for it knows The Golden Blade has been found.

'And I beheld a black horse, whose rider was Pestilence, and plague followed him.'

The Black Horseman

When the life of a mortal is claimed not by destruction, but by a wasting plague, this is when The Black horseman is pleased.

Disease uncounted are created by him each day, these poxes waiting in turn to be unleashed upon the world of the living where they might grow and evolve into something even more horrible.

Sudden death gives him no gratification. He is only given pleasure by the slow, agonizing death that robs of strength and leaves behind a corpse unfit for looking upon.

The Green Sword

A thing of sickness, the rusted green surface of it's scabbard is engraved with the image of a sickly, withered man without hair. He is almost pathetic, but the manner in which the sword is held before his face chills the blood. A decrepit, ancient man's head is the pommel of this blade, made of smoothed stone of pale green.

This foul weapon is hidden deep within the bowels of hell itself. It has been gifted to a greedy demon who has no conception of it's power.
Still, it thirsts for mortal blood, and it calls out to the one who might wield it. One who knows despair and grief, a mourner who can become a herald.

The Lord of the Flies

What better steed for Pestilence than a great bloated fly? It's eyes can see the weaknesses and fragility of all those it looks upon. Currently, it waits in the depths of a ancient, undisturbed jungle. Rot has taken control of wherever it dwells, and it stirs now that the four blades have begun the process of awakening.

'And I beheld a pale horse, whose name was Death, and Hell followed him.'



The Pale Horseman

Lord of all of creation, the thing by which all things are defined and made material. Even those who claim to be free of his grasp are his chill made solid.

All death is it's domain, and all life too. The more that die, the greater his power grows, and the less the power of the gods who have so long claimed to have ruler-ship of him.

All things die, and Death is lord of all things.

The White Sword

The White Sword is a relic of the grave, it's pewter scabbard is engraved with the iconic image of a cloaked reaper, who holds the sword before his skeletal face. It's pommel is a white skull, eye-sockets empty.

This blade has been promised, the wraith called Lazarus must first prove himself worthy of it before it, and the other two blades, will at last awaken and claim their heralds.

The Vulture King

A being that has haunted mortal fear since time immemorial, a great skeletal avian whose hooked beak picks the guts from the victims of it's master. It has never slept, always it waits upon the pale side of the moon, in silence it shudders as the four blades finally begin to find their wielders.

It knows the end of the world will be not in millennia, but in centuries. To it's immortal and ancient eyes, the time is short indeed.