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user: juice box || name: roanoke || gender: genderfluid (DMAB)
overall word count: 2042
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- It was always told in the legends of Phiaddesia since the dawn of its creation that one day, the ruler of Ishemorta would be torn from his throne to be defeated by a force far deadlier. This force would be born from that of the middle realm, its heart blackened and shriveled, brain trapped in a cage of greed. The ruler of Ishemorta would then be sealed away in the threads of time and space itself, weakened and dying.
From the defeat of the ruler, the creation of four Viscets would shake Phiaddesia at its roots. These four creations would each bear an item that would create the key to the ruler's seal, each item specialized to that creation's abilities and purpose. Though, they were sparked into existence one by one, roaming the lands of Phiaddesia where ever their paws lead them, their location unknown to anyone but themselves. Once all four were defeated and the items harvested, the one who held these items would then be able to unleash the wrath of the true Ishemorta leader once more. Though, as time went on, no one stepped up. Chaos, destruction, and even death fell in the paths the four Viscets carved across the land. Lives were taken. Lives were destroyed. Fear ate away at the hearts of the innocent. No one knew what would happen next or would be taken next.
These four deadly Viscets would later become to be known as the "The Four Horsemen."
The first of the four to have begun its rain of terror was Pestilence, who would later become uncommonly known as... Roanoke.
Though one may think that the first would not be as difficult or as strong as the others, Roanoke is by far one of the craftiest of the four. With breath meant to harm, this Viscet is one of the hardest to advance on. As the title states, Roanoke is the Horseman of Pestilence. From the depths of their throat, Roanoke can breathe out a sickly mist that will embed into the lungs of the victim, spreading and infecting within.
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- It was a quiet night. The moon hung above the horizon, centered in the beautiful tapestry of the night sky along with the twinkling stars. Clouds, rare in sight this quiet night, hung specifically around the moon, hugging close to its crescent shape. Trees arched high, their branches gingerly grazing each other in a delicate greeting. All seemed at peace. No form crept through the dark. No noise curled through the air.
Until the sound of a branch snapping aroused a nest of ravens. They crowed to the heavens as they took flight, startled by the chill that radiated into the air. Their shrill calls echoed through the area, spreading like a sickly mist.
From the shadows, a form appeared to materialize from nowhere. They stepped from the dark, the moon catching their pale pelt in a radiant glow of soft blues and whites. Hanging from their neck was a scarf, which fluttered in a warm breeze that stirred the leaves above. A low grunt left the throat of this beast, their eyes dragging over the seemingly lifeless landscape with a dead expression. They let out a huff, a mist of frigid air rising from their mouth despite the warmth of the air around. It curled towards the sky. Oh yes, while it appeared harmless from ways away, this mist was nothing you would ever want to inhale.
The Viscet shook their mighty form out and began to trudge on. Beneath their paws, the grass lay clumped and dying, withered away from the once luscious emerald green to a dingy brown. Any wildlife that chose to remain awake steered clear of this creature, ears tucked low as they scampered off into the night.
A sly smirk curled at the lips.
"Oh, such pitiful mortal creatures..." A deep voice shook the air as the Viscet watched a bird swoop away, cawing nervously at the stars. The smirk turned into a satisfied grin, ears twinkling coldly in the gentle caress of the moonlight. Their steps were slow and careful, anything they touched wilting slowly beneath their feet as if severely sickened before finally... dying.
Something in the distance caused the Viscet to suddenly stop. It was distant and quiet, barely audible enough to be carried in the playful breeze that picked up. The Viscet paused. Their ears pinned forward as they strained to pick up the faint whispering, a frown now dominating the grin, curling it down into a slight snarl. Pulling from the planned path, they decided to hunt down the source like a predator would to its helpless prey.
The whispers began to take shape as the Viscet stalked across the land. The soft sounds seemed to take shape... into their name. Halting to a stop in surprise, they perked their ears forward, jaw faintly clenched as they strained to pick up the whispers.
"Roanoke..... Roannnoke...."
Roanoke's jaw clenched tighter as they took note of what the whispers were murmuring into their ears. Shaking their head clear, Roanoke began their advancement on the source, moving quicker as the sounds grew fainter with every step. When they would stumble across the source, Roanoke would tear their heart from their chest with no hesitation. Or even just spew enough of the toxic mist that lingers in their lungs to suffocate and kill the source in the spot.
As they rounded a cluster of trees, a shape took form before them. Roanoke dove behind a tree, squinting into the night as he focused on what was being said. A hooded figure stood before a group of three, a soft white tail peeking beneath the end. A soft voice rang over the clearing, the audience stuck in awe.
As they rounded a cluster of trees, a shape took form before them. Roanoke dove behind a tree, squinting into the night as he focused on what was being said. A hooded figure stood before a group of three, a soft white tail peeking beneath the end. A soft voice rang over the clearing, the audience stuck in awe.
"At the defeat of the lord of Ishemorta, four deadly creatures will be spewed from the depths of the pits of Ishemorta. Each will bring upon a type of devastation in their paws. War... Famine... Pestilence... Death... They will plague the lands of Phiaddesia until they have been brought to their knees in defeat, killing hundreds of innocent souls... One has already appeared on Phiaddesia.. We must work fast to spread the word to the provinces... they must be stopped!"
Roanoke felt a deadly grin pull at the lips, hunching down as he eyed the Viscet who spoke the sight. The audience gasped faintly, murmuring amid themselves in horror, ears pinned back.
The hooded figure went stiff, ears back as a low chuckle filled the air.
"Pestilence is here! Go, my messengers! Spread the word!"
With startled cries as Roanoke sprung from the shadows, the three messengers took off in separate directions. Roanoke pounced upon the smaller form of the Viscet, the sickly mist wafting from their nostrils as they tore the hood from the Viscet. An expression of pure fear stared in Roanoke's cold, dead eyes. A grin pulled their lips as a snicker rumbled in their chest.
"Oh, how interesting it will be to kill you and your little group, seer. Though... to find them, I must have you." Roanoke growled out slowly before they hoisted the female into the air by the throat. She squealed in pain, thrashing desperately to tear herself from the hard grasp. She wheeled back as best she could when the scent of Pestilence's putrid breath hit her nostrils, struggling to hold a gag as her eyes filled with bitter tears.
Roanoke's sickly grin grew as they watched her struggle. They tightened their grasp on the female's throat, watching her slowly give in, falling limp in the steel trap like hold. As she gave in, the large male dragged her off, preparing to question her to find where exactly her little messengers had run off to spew the words.
Roanoke returned her to their home, throwing her limp form into a cage to await the moment she awoke. They growled, shaking their head as they remembered the messengers, hate sinking in their heart.
"How the hell do I hunt down three separate Viscets before they can spread the word of my arrival?" Roanoke snapped at the air, slamming a paw against the wall as they hissed to themself. A deep growl shook the floor as Roanoke stalked in a circle, debating ideas. An idea stopped them in their tracks. Tearing the scarf from their throat, Roanoke stormed back outside with hate boiling in every vein.
Focusing in on their magic, Roanoke summoned forth three familiars that could hunt down those messengers and return them to their grasp.
"Go." Roanoke commanded, eyes dark as he stared at each of the ghostly figures. With low rattling growls, they bounded off one by one to hunt down their prey. Roanoke watched until they vanished into the night. Huffing, they promptly turned and stormed back into the lair that had become home.
The seer had already awoken when Roanoke stepped in. She shot up, wincing as the cage they had set her in was far too small for her to do so. She scrambled backward, kicking at the ground to curl in on herself. Roanoke sneered, roughly dragging the scarf back into their grasp, throwing it around their scarred neck.
"Tell me when the others shall appear." They growled as they stopped outside of the cell. The young seer flinched away, ears pinning back as she averted her gaze from Roanoke's cold one. A deep growl radiated from the form of the larger Viscet as they moved closer.
"Speak, dammit!" Roanoke roared, paws clenching the bars of the cage. The seer gave a startled cry, flinching away.
"I-I do not know when your brothers shall arrive! I-I just know that they will and when they do, Phiaddesia will tremble at your paws!" She sobbed, hunching over herself as she cowered beneath the deadly gaze of Pestilence. The stench that rolled off their form was... terrible.
Roanoke smirked.
"Good. That's exactly what's going to happen. Now... what is the plan with your messengers?" They hissed, lowering their head to meet her eye to eye. The seer gulped.
"...They are meant to seek out the savior of Ishemorta..." She whispered, voice cracking. Roanoke clenched their jaw.
"Savior?" They hissed the word out, voice dripping with venom as they stared her down. The seer nodded, still refusing to meet Roanoke's gaze.
"Y-Yes... the savior. The Viscet that would defeat the four of you and return the true ruler of Ishemorta back to his throne," She croaked out, head dipping down to avoid the daggers that Roanoke was glaring.
"I wish your little savior good luck then." Roanoke hissed, a puff of the sickly mist being exhaled. The seer screamed shrilly, throwing herself backward as it drifted towards her. She sobbed, frantically trying to escape its touch. An amused cackle left Roanoke's form as they watched with delighted eyes.
"You are so pathetic! How in hell's name do you plan to find a so-called savior to defeat the four horsemen of the apocalypse?!" Roanoke bellowed suddenly, spit flying from their maw.
"The savior will! I know it! We all know it! I have seen the prophecy and they will kill you!" The seer screeched, hugging herself. Roanoke stopped in their spot. They stared down at her with such rage boiling in their cold, heartless eyes before they lashed out. Their claws struck her across the face, tearing at her eyes. The young seer screamed in pain, hunching over as she desperately latched onto her face as blood stained her light-colored fur. Neither of them knew that the last thing that the seer would ever see would be the deathly cold expression of Pestilence.
"I will end you and that savior before they even have a chance to look at me." Roanoke snarled slowly through the bars, spit dribbling from their chin. The seer sobbed, tears mixing with the droplets of blood. Roanoke sneered as they watched before stepping back.
"Now... let us go find those little messengers of yours, shall we?" A grin pulled their lips up.
"They have quite the fate in store for them." They whispered through the shrill sobs of pain coming from the seer. Roanoke turned from her cage and snaked their way outside, eyes glistening smugly.
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credits wrote:xxheader pixel art and skull art by Unknown-Artist99
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thank you to D-Send and G1 Sunstreaker for reading this over!<3
wraith and osiris {both not mentioned by name}, hajnalka, and all mentions of my characters for horsemen belong to me
