Author's Note:
I've been playing the Darksiders games pretty much since they came out, and I really love the series. It's just a shame though that we've spent little time really exploring the Darksiders-universe, being stuck on earth in two games. I just kinda want to see the various kingdoms and realms more fleshed out, and while Genesis went the right direction, I'd like to see more.
And a bit more consistency, but that's just what happens when you have so many writers and teams working on a single series.
So, while we're waiting for Darksiders 4, I wanted to expand on lore and characters, especially Strife, who's quickly become my favourite of the Four.
This story is also meant to bridge the time between Genesis and Darksiders 3. This is Strife's story, how he came to be the one Horseman to stand with humanity, willing to sacrifice himself to help them (and his sister).
Some feel that Strife in Genesis doesn't quite match his appearance in Darksiders 3, but personally, I have to disagree. After all, between those two games are millennia, plenty of time for character development; when Fury managed to mature in one game (in like a week or so), why shouldn't Strife in all that time undergo a few changes of his own.
And those two versions aren't too dissimilar. Both have their serious and sincere moments, and both certainly enjoy teasing their siblings. He clearly cares about them as well, with Strife telling War that he'll always has his back, then having Fury's back, by giving her the talking-to she needed and buying her time to escape with the humans.
And remember, Strife was posing as Jones, with Fury not recognizing him or even getting suspicious, so he must have acted somewhat differently in the past, at least around her.
I'm not really counting Lust's illusion, because it just wasn't the real Strife, only the Sin's interpretation, which could have been off. I like to think it was one of the things that tipped Fury off, because even before her brothers kneeled she seemed confused.
Not drawing much from the novel either, since it was written before Darksiders 3 and Genesis; I will treat the basic plot as canon, but not the characterisations, at least for Fury and Strife, except for the latter butting heads with Death over stuff.
Now then, let's begin
Darksiders
Pariahs
Chapter I | The Enclave
The Maker's eyes narrowed. „Those are some nasty dents there, lad."
"What can I say; some demons got thick skulls. Not that there is much they need to protect." Strife, Horseman to the Charred Council, smiled, not that one could see it behind his light grey helmet. He had just finished another mission in the depths of Hell, leaving his already torn up-looking scarf with more holes and his sabres with severe cracks, which was why he had sought out one of the best blacksmiths in creation. A Maker blacksmith.
This one he had found in a realm of the angels, part of a group that was apparently in the middle of raising a new outpost here at the border of Heaven's area of influence. The location was actually nicely hidden at the foot of a mountain range, nestled into vale, though Strife doubted it would remain inconspicuous once they added a fancy spire or two. Angels seemed to love those.
The Maker continued to examine the blades, little more than knives in his large paws. "Gonna need some time to fix them up proper. Otherwise they'll just shatter on the first strike."
"How long you reckon?"
"About a day, another to redo the enchantments."
Strife had feared as much, but there was no way around it, and he didn't want to part with his sabres just yet. He honestly felt a bit attached to them. "Fair enough. My schedule is free anyway." Could be years before the Council assigned him to a new mission, but he was getting used to these lulls. Not that he'd come to like them, far from it.
"Make yourself comfortable; just don't wander off into any construction area."
Strife raised an eyebrow. "Isn't everything here under construction?"
The blacksmith pointed to something outside. "Not around the lake. Just follow the road there, can't miss it."
Giving him his thanks Strife left the forge, squinting as he stepped into the light. The late afternoon sun was just low enough to shine straight into his eyes, but not low enough to have disappeared between the half constructed buildings.
From the corner of his eye he saw Mayhem approach, looking at him expectantly. "Looks like we're gonna be stuck here for a bit," he told his horse.
Mayhem merely nickered and shook her armoured head. After the last mission she was overdue for some grooming, and she knew it. Strife chuckled and took her reins. He led her down the road the Maker had pointed him too, taking in the view of the growing town around them. While clearly angelic in style, most buildings weren't grand spires, but smaller, two storey buildings, far enough apart for lush gardens between them.
It was a rather small settlement really, more a village at this point, and not the military outpost Strife had expected. But what were they doing out here?
This realm, while under Heaven's control, was far away from the White City itself, mostly untamed wilderness. So, when Vulgrim had told him about a Maker blacksmith that could take care of his damaged weapons, he had presumed to find a little army base to secure this area.
Were the angels settling this place? Usually civilians didn't like to leave the White City as far as he was aware. Still, the few angels he did see around certainly weren't soldiers, and glanced at him warily. Maybe he should ask the Maker, when he picked up his blades. The birds certainly weren't up for a little chat.
It wasn't long until Strife and Mayhem reached the lake at the northern edge of the settlement, where the vale opened up into a wide plain. The mountains continued on to his right, but beyond the lake he saw fields of grass and forests stretching for miles to the horizon. Such a stark contrast to the part of Hell he'd come from.
Well, even if he was going to be bored, at least he would be comfortable for the next two days.
Meanwhile, Mayhem seemed to get excited about the body of water in front of her, Strife needing to pull at her reins to stop her from running in. "Hey, you still got your armour on, girl."
She huffed, but obeyed, nudging him with her snout.
"Yeah, yeah, give me a second."
Many years ago, when he had first tamed Mayhem in the Far Fields, the armour had materialized as she attuned herself to him. While thankfully removable, there were a lot of individual parts. On a very dreary day, Strife had practised for hours getting it on and off as efficiently as possible. He'd gotten pretty good at it, so it only took a few minutes to have every piece removed and sprawled out on the grass.
Strife had been asked why he was called the White Rider, he understood the confusion, but one only needed to look at Mayhem without the protective layers to see why. Her coat was white as snow, if a little damp and dirty looking right now. Only her mane and tail were as grey as her armour.
As soon as she was free, Mayhem rushed into the water, almost splashing her rider, who was searching the saddlebag for her brush. Of course the damn thing was at the very bottom.
When he looked up, Mayhem was trotting through the shallow area, clearly enjoying herself. The smoke her steps always created spreading around her on the water surface like a dark fog, before dissipating into thin air again. Judging by the flitting shapes beneath the surface, the lake was home to a few fish, something Mayhem had noticed as well, as she started to stalk them, purposefully spooking them with deliberate steps.
With no real plans for the rest of the day, Strife decided to let her play for a bit and leaned against a nearby tree, its lush branches shielding his eyes from the sun. After carrying him through literal hell for the past couple months, she more than deserved a little fun.
While the sun was beginning to set outside, Cadan's shop remained warm and well lit, thanks to the ever burning forge. After the Horseman left he returned to his project, and was soon in a comfortable rhythm, humming to himself as he hammered away at the armour he'd been working on all day.
It was noisy, but peaceful work.
But like all good things it didn't last.
He was disturbed again in the early evening, when three angels came into his shop, and even before he turned away from his work he could tell they were tense. Hemera stepped forth, lifting the hem of her fancy, white dress in an attempt to keep it from catching any of the soot covering the floor. She looked rather unhappy.
"Cadan. I've just heard there is an outsider in town." Ah, he should have known. "He was in your shop and accompanied by a Phantom Horse; please, don't tell me he is one of the Four." Hemera was the chief administrator of this newly established enclave, and one of the angels in charge. However, unlike the other two in her company, she was a civilian, which was probably why she was a jittery as a sparrow. He had no idea why she had decided to come out here into the wilderness.
"Actually, he is. Strife, rider of the White Horse."
The four-winged angel by Hemera's side narrowed his silver eyes. "What is he doing here?" Shamsiel all but hissed. "I'm certain no one here has committed actions against the balance. And as far as I'm aware the Riders don't interfere with internal affairs."
Cadan put his hammer down, making sure to do so soundly. "Would you stop with the feather ruffling?" the blacksmith demanded. "He came here for me. He doesn't want anything from you."
"Dark past catching up with you?" Artemis, the third of the group, couldn't help but tease, nudging him with her elbow. Like most of the hunters under her command, she had spent a significant amount of her life away from the White City. Perhaps as a result, the Venatores acted noticeably different from any other angels Cadan had met so far, certainly more casual. The Maker hadn't decided yet, if he liked them better or less because of it.
"Nothing so dramatic. I'm a blacksmith, he needed one for repairs. He'll be gone in a few days once I'm done." For him that was the end of the discussion, but of course not for the angels.
"Maybe so, but his presence unsettles our people. They're scared," the administrator noted tensely, arms akimbo.
By now Cadan felt quite annoyed. He offered his services to anyone, always had, like he had to the angels. If they didn't like his client being around that was their problem. "If you want him to leave, you can go tell him yourself."
Hemera's wings twitched, the colour draining from her face at his suggestion.
None of the three seemed eager to kick out a Horseman, which didn't surprise the blacksmith in the slightest. Then he saw Artemis' golden eyes positively light up. "Maybe we don't have to be so direct," she said, turning to Shamsiel. "What if we could take him with us tomorrow?"
The commander gripped the hilt of his sword. "No; that's a terrible idea."
"Azizos, Ishara and Eshmun are still recovering. You can't deny that we could use his help."
He shifted uncomfortably, torn between agreeing with her and his own concerns. "But not from a Horseman. Not a Nephilim."
"I understand your reservation, I'm not too thrilled about the idea myself, but it would solve two problems," the huntress pointed out.
"Provided he even wants to join us. Are Horsemen even available for hire?"
Artemis shrugged. "Doubtful, but Nephilim like a good fight, if I'm not mistaken. Maybe I can get him interested in our venture in another way."
"I would appreciate it, if you could get him out of our town peacefully," Hemera chimed in, placing a hand on Shamsiel's shoulder.
He sighed. "Fine, but if you get him to aid us, you're going to keep an eye on him."
Cadan picked up his hammer again. "Good. Now that all is cleared up, you birds can get out of my shop. I still got work to do." He should probably just get a door. A real heavy one.
Clicking the pieces came back together again, the freshly polished chassis gleaming in the last rays of daylight. Mercy and Redemption looked good as new. No more scorch marks, no more blood.
Satisfied with his work Strife holstered them again and leaned back against the tree. He was still sitting by the lake, Mayhem grassing close by, her coat now clean and groomed. The only things that still required attention were her armour and his own, but those would have to wait until they returned home. At least the rain earlier today, when he had first arrived in this realm, had taken care of the worst.
So, what now?
Maybe he could explore this part of Heaven a little more. He had two days to spend after all. Mayhem would certainly enjoy the fields of grass; right now they were bathed in orange light by the setting sun, looking almost as if they'd been set ablaze. A too famliar sight.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps on the lawn and his horse raising her head, huffing as if to warn him. Strife tore his gaze from the view to see an angel approach, though it was strange that she did so on foot.
And unarmed. He was almost insulted.
Wisely, she kept a respectful distance from Mayhem, her golden eyes briefly examining the horse and the armour sprawled across the grass, before she turned her attention back to Strife.
"Greetings, Horseman. Our smith just informed me that you'll be staying with us for a few days." She had a warm voice, and even though her body seemed a little tense her smile looked earnest.
Strife rolled his eyes and got on his feet. "Ah, let me guess. This is the part where you 'kindly' ask me to leave?" He was only surprised it had taken them so long to send someone and only one.
"Actually, I wanted to ask if you would like to join us this eve for the feast."
For a second the Horseman simply stared at her. This was possible the one thing he had no immediate reply to. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been invited to...well, anything. He was a Nephilim, a Horseman; people were never happy to see him and usually wanted him gone as soon as possible. "Oh?" Admittedly, it wasn't his wittiest response to date.
"Allow me to start again. I'm Artemis, and I was hoping you would partake in our little banquet. Most of the enclave is coming together tonight for a special occasion." While she could not see his frown, his crossed arms were enough to convey that he was sceptical of this kind offer. She clasped her hands and sighed. "The truth is, your unexpected arrival has made many quite nervous, and it would settle some minds, if they could see that you're not here for any of our heads. Besides, it wouldn't be very hospitable of us to simply leave you out here like some vagabond."
More likely they wanted to keep an eye on him. At least they were making an attempt to be polite about it. And while he didn't know much about angelic cuisine, the prospect of free food was tempting. Maybe he could satisfy his curiosity as well.
"Well, it's not like I have anything better to do, and frankly the dining options in Hell left a lot to be desired."
She seemed relieved by his decision. "I have no trouble believing that. Please, this way."
Mayhem nickered, taking a step forth, but Strife gently petted her snout. "No, stay here, girl. I'll be back," he assured her, and she complied without further protest.
The Horseman followed the angel away from the lake and back into the streets. As he was walking just a step behind her he suddenly noticed something off about her wings. They weren't pearly white on the outside or even seemed to glow softly like most. No, instead they were gold-brown and grey, looking akin to those of a barn owl, making them strangely enough look more natural.
He'd never seen wings like these. Except...no, Fallen Angels were cast out of Heaven's domain entirely, and while this settlement was far removed from the White City, it was hardly a hideout. One more question to add to the list.
The one called Artemis led him a great building at what appeared to be the central plaza, one of the few that was already finished. With the sun all but gone beyond the horizon its white façade was now illuminated by the warm light coming from its interior through tall windows and the wide open gate. As they approached the Horseman could see that the pillars flanking the entry were richly decorated with depictions of angels slaying demons and other beasts. The details of the engravings were impressive.
From inside Strife could already hear a myriad of voices, even laughter, which wasn't something he was used to hear from angels. In his experience each and every one of them had at least one stick up their ass. Just as interesting were the smells. Wine, roasted meat, spices he could not quite identify. It was enough to make one's mouth water.
Upon entering he found himself in a massive room, where more than a hundred angels were comfortably seated at several long tables. Candles and a circular fire place at the centre provided light, while the already star dotted sky was in perfect view, thanks to an open ceiling. Up there a few banners were flying in the breeze as well, Strife not recognizing any of the different emblems upon them, despite having seen them somewhere before.
Turning his attention back to the angels, Strife saw that actually most of them had wings reminiscent of various birds of prey, with only some having pearly white feathers he was used to seeing. This place kept getting stranger. Just who were these angels?
Artemis led him to one of the tables with seats still available, a few of those they passed interrupting their conversations to sneak a peek at the Horseman in their midst. While some seemed curious, most appeared wary and certainly none looked too happy to see him. Strife wondered if this was really going to put minds at ease. He had sincere doubts.
"Have a seat." She pointed at a free spot next to an angel, sturdily built much like War and sporting easily as many scars. Unlike his brother however, he had dark skin and a white beard, short at the side, but long at the chin, weaved into a braid.
He looked up, upon hearing Artemis' voice and to the Horseman's surprise smiled. "Ah, the Rider we've heard about. Marvellous you could join us."
"That's new," replied Strife, taking his seat at the table. "Is this a setup? Should I be worried?"
The angel laughed, with his rich, booming voice. "Oh, we just get very few visitors out here and unlike some I see no reason to be scared, simply because you've come to our little part of Heaven. Actually, I'd be curious to hear more about the exploits of a Horseman, if you feel like sharing a few tales."
"I suppose I could share a few stories." There were of course some he wasn't allowed to share, and other he'd rather not, but there was enough material to fill more than a single night with conversation.
"Excellent. I am Araciel," the angel introduced himself, handing Strife a rather large goblet filled with red wine.
Damn, not even his own siblings greeted him this warmly. Was this one drunk already? Not that he was complaining. "Strife. I got a question for you first, though. What exactly is this place? It doesn't seem military."
"That's a bit of a story," said Artemis, as she sat down across from him.
"Hey, we have an evening to fill, don't we?" Strife pointed out, reaching for his mask.
"Fair enough," she conceded, but paused as he unhooked the piece covering his chin and mouth. He hadn't removed his mask around others, aside from his sibling, since becoming a Horseman. Thankfully, neither she nor Araciel questioned him about it, as Artemis quickly addressed his question instead. "Well, most of us here actually did serve in the army in one form or another; serving in the White Army is considered a civic duty of sorts. Quite a few, the two of us included, belonged to a unit specialized in hunting down and fighting the beasts of Hell. The Venatores."
"Before the pact, we spent a lot of time in contested realms. We harassed demon forces, killing whatever pets their lords brought with them, before the armies ever met on the battlefield," Araciel explained, even as he piled food onto his plate.
Strife grinned. "Sounds fun. Going behind enemy lines, being a pain in the ass." It honestly didn't sound too dissimilar from what he was doing as a Horseman.
"It actually kind of was. But, sadly we also lost some good people over the years. We were operating isolated from the rest of our forces for months or even years at a time."
"But then the pact was made, and we returned to the White City," Artemis chimed in. "We weren't exactly disbanded, but we weren't in active duty." She looked to her fellow angels along the table, none of them paying any attention to them at this point. Or perhaps they just weren't willing to risk making eye contact. "Everyone tried to make a new life within the city, which is remarkably difficult after having spent so much time in the wilderness, separated from the rest of our society for centuries. It's a beautiful place, but stifling. All those laws and regulations, you couldn't help but feel trapped in that gilded cage."
This took the Horseman by surprise. "Thought you angels love that stuff." Speaking of which, they also seemed to love sweet wine; he could almost taste the grapes.
Artemis swayed her head, as if she couldn't quite decide whether to nod or shake her head, some of her long, wavy hair falling off her shoulders. "All angels like order I would say, but to varying degrees. Frankly, we are considered quite free spirited by our standards, which is a quick way to get into trouble."
"What, you guys got arrested or something?" Strife jested, now having his pick from the copiously loaded dishes in front of them.
Araciel chuckled. "A few of us actually did. I may have punched someone I shouldn't have in a heated argument once."
"You're lucky it was Shamsiel. The one with the four wings, short hair and the goatee," Artemis added, pointing at an angel further down the table, who looked as though he was deep in thought, not partaking in any of the conversations around him.
The other angel shrugged. "Outside the White City it would have been fine. We're both Venatores, we know where we stand with each other...unfortunately, the angel who witnessed it only saw a hunter 'assault' his superior officer, and made a report." He shook his head and took another gulp from his goblet. "Shamsiel tried to get me out, but the court ignored him, and so I was punished. Meanwhile, Artemis here only barely escaped a prison sentence herself, simply for improperly 'addressing' someone of noble blood."
"Because you didn't grovel enough? Sounds like an incredibly petty reason to jail someone." Did sound like something angels would do though.
She merely shrugged. "The strict hierarchy of Heaven. It gets worse when you find yourself involved in politics. For the 'Holy City' there is a remarkable amount of scheming and backstabbing going on…if perhaps not as literal as in Hell." Strife chuckled at this and she smiled. "Anyway, it's not like we decided to rebel, but we've all become less strict about following guidelines in general. More willing to bend them."
"The very idea is blasphemy to many," Araciel noted darkly.
"And the more they pushed for us to conform and fall back in line, we found ourselves pushing back," the huntress continued; the Horseman could hear a hint of bitterness in her voice. "So, after some time it became clear to us that aside from the occasional arrest, things were getting more dangerous."
Strife frowned. "How dangerous are we talking?"
The two angels shared a gloomy look, before Artemis answered. "Execution. Banishment to Hell, or someplace else unpleasant. You're supposed to die against the enemies of Heaven, as an act of penance, but some survive and turn fully away from the Light. Fallen Angels." It sounded like she knew some, who had suffered such a fate. Fellow hunters perhaps?
"So, you came out here, as some kind of self-imposed exile?" Get out before they cast you out of Heaven all together. They were outcasts.
Artemis nodded. "You could say that. The First Kingdom's borders and unsettled lands must be looked after, pact or no pact, and this place is probably the furthest off. Not even the army has a proper post here. The next is more than a day's flight away. So, the Venatores, as well as a few others with similar problems, decided to start a new life here, serving our people, without having to deal with all the restrictions of the White City. And the City turns a blind eye, as long as we don't step too far over the line. If we do, well..."
Off to hell. Strife finished in his mind. Did that mean someone was keeping an eye on them, or did the army do regular inspections? It was probably still the best arrangement they could have hoped for.
"Otherwise, we are essentially free to do as we please, by heavenly standards anyway," added Araciel. "The Makers are helping us set this place up, but that will take some time. So, for the foreseeable future, we all call this place home."
Strife had spotted about a dozen Makers at another table, one that was more accommodating to their size, among them the blacksmith. With their help this enclave would have their new home in no time. Admittedly, he was a bit jealous; his own place seemed doomed to remain a 'work in progress'. He just couldn't make it feel... well, homey. Big and empty was more like it. But this wasn't the time to think about that. "Sounds like you guys really made the most of your situation. So, what do you do around here? Patrols?"
"That's certainly a part of what we do. Make sure no demons or other unwelcomed guests slip through. But we are still hunters and actually have a fair number of scholars in our midst, so we also study the region and its fauna. And of course hunt down dangerous beasts on occasion. Speaking of which." Her eyes suddenly lit up. "If you are staying around for a few days, your aid would actually be most welcome on our next hunt."
"Really? What beast are you after that you need a Horseman?" While denizens of Heaven and Hell were occasionally interested in hiring him for a job, Samael came to mind, direct collaboration was usually not what they had in mind.
"Not necessarily a Horseman, but an extra pair of hands, and guns, certainly wouldn't hurt," Artemis explained. "There has been an old wyvern tearing up the valleys to the east. He lost territory to a younger rival and has moved in, looking for easy prey. Problem is he's getting ever closer to Sunspire, the nearest proper citadel, home to a few hundred civilians and an outpost of the army. We'd like to deal with him before he can make a mess. He has already injured a few of our hunters, who were keeping an eye on him, which is why we are a few angels short. And numbers are our greatest advantage against such a great beast."
A wyvern? They were ferocious predators, similar to dragons, but bipedal, with powerful wings instead of forelegs. "I've heard stories, but never brought one down myself. Does it have a breath?"
"The regional wyverns spit acid. Eats through metal and flesh alike; one of our injured hunters had her wings all but melted away," Araciel told him grimly, clearly riled by what had happened to his fellow angel.
"Whoa; that sounds nasty." The image of feathers, flesh and bone getting eaten away was hardly appetizing, but he'd seen plenty of gruesome things in his life. "If its acid is really that strong, I can see why their glands are worth a small fortune to some." Strife could think of a few, who would pay him well. It would certainly be enough to pay off his debts to Vulgrim. That stingy bastard traded in souls, but he and Dis weren't above accepting more exotic goods.
The huntress could probably see that she had his interest, as there was smile on her lips now. "The same is true for its scales and bones. Help us and you get a cut."
Even if this felt a bit manipulative to him, this opportunity was too good to pass up. Being a Horseman didn't exactly pay well. "I'm in. When do we start?"
Artemis appeared pleased by his decision, relieved even, as far as he could tell. Was the wyvern that dangerous? "We're heading out first thing tomorrow. That's what this feast is all about. A tradition to see off the hunters, to wish them luck, or to have one last get together if things go ill."
"It takes about a day to reach eastern valleys, where we shouldn't have any trouble picking up its trail," the other angel elaborated. "Wyverns have no natural enemies except others of their kind; when they are not hunting or resting, they're showing off to intimidate any potential rivals. They want to be seen, which makes it easy for us. Bringing it down,...that's going to be the interesting part." And Araciel was obviously looking forward to the fight.
Strife too grinned in eager anticipation. This promised to be fun. "And here I was worried my stay was gonna be boring."