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The First Faith

  • Forgotten

    How tragic that the oldest of beliefs have so long been lost to us. How unforgivable that the servants of light have sought to hide the truth from those who serve them.

    But I have been illuminated, not by light, but by the shadow of flame, in the darkness I have seen the oldest of gods, the most powerful of beings, and the greatest of lords.

    The Four have been worshipped by every culture known to man and all those which are not known to him; the Romans called Death, Pluto. The Mesopotamians called Pestilence, Nergal. The Greeks called War, Aries. And the Norse called Strife, Loki.

    In their purest form, worship of the four is the only genuine faith. For it is they who rule supreme over all that is, all that was, and all that yet shall be. Every god claims their domains as his or her own, but they dare not challenge them.

    These pitiful pretenders mean nothing to The Horsemen, they are confident in their supremacy, and care not if worship is given to them.

    But, those who do serve them well, are rewarded beyond what any false deity could provide. Death is eternal life, War is eternal peace, Strife is eternal wealth, and Pestilence is eternal wellness.

    Let those who worship the true masters rejoice, for their faith has become known to me, and in the darkness of my tower, a great shrine to their power has been erected.

  • Incantation

    Anál nathrach, orth’ bháis’s bethad, do chél dénmha.

  • The Discovery

    My mind has been preoccupied with the going-ons of mortals as of late. Often paranoia and dread creeps into a mind that has long ago forgotten the meaning of these emotions.

    Nowhere could I find peace, and nowhere was I offered anything by hatred and disobedience. Only one's company does not cause me displeasure, but she is but a student, and although her potential is great, she has much yet to overcome.

    It was concern for her that made me travel to the underworld itself, in those ancient tunnels and hidden catacombs I sought my former teacher, The Black Horseman, Pestilence.

    It was he that first opened my eyes. He spoke of the most ancient of religions, and how for a age uncounted him and his brothers have sought to find the messiah that may bring their faith once more to the living and the dead.

    I am to be this messiah, it is not prophecy, for The Four do not believe in choosing for us. It was offered to me, all that was offered was a chance; a chance to prove my worth, and a chance to become something more than I am.

    To me he has gifted the golden blade, and I am to find the one who can wield it. This too, is but a chance. If I choose poorly, I will suffer for it. But if I choose well, I have been promised my own blade.

    Then my role as Dark Messiah shall be cemented, I will become the wielder of the white blade, and herald of death.

    Soon I will tell the only one I trust of this, and perhaps she will steer me in the direction of the greedy sword's rightful wielder.

    The Four may not believe in fate, but I do.

  • The Will of The Four

    In three places they are buried, three islands that surround the one that I know find myself on.

    One is in hell, one is in the underworld, and one is on the earth. The location of the white blade will be known to me as soon as I can find the golden blade's wielder. As soon as I can find the herald of Strife.

    It is their will that I posses a blade that I cannot use, and I understand why. The temptation of this blade is unlike anything a mortal object can ever inspire, and many will seek to steal it for themselves.

    But I must protect it, and resist the urge to take it for myself. I am not fit to wield strife, greed and manipulation have been foreign to me for so long.

    It is my belief that the den of slavery will provide the wielder of each sword, and this, I believe, is why I have not yet destroyed it.

    Their purposes are still a mystery to me, but I know enough of their plans to feel something I have not felt in an age. Excitement.

    As a sign of good faith, Death has promised me three lives, three mortals that might be spared when the century is right for the apocalypse.

    I know already who will receive one, but are any others fit to have them? I will ask her, she will know.

    If I am indeed to become Christ, I will make her my Mary Magdalene. I must watch her closely, although she denies it, I know that many wish to steal her from me.

    This must not be allowed to happen.