To Kill and Revel

I killed. But I didn't just kill fifty, I didn't kill a hundred. I killed a thousand. I killed TEN thousand! And I was good at it. And it wasn't for vengeance, it wasn't for greed. It was because...I liked it. Cassandra was nothing. Her village was nothing. Do you know who I was? I was Death. Death – Death on a horse. When mothers warned their children that the monster would get them, that monster was me. I was the nightmare that kept them awake at night. ~ Methos, in 'Comes a Horseman'

Usually, they would assess a village and find out whether there were any serious obstacles. Though it was rare, there was the odd capable guard or an immortal.

But sometimes, they simply attacked. No preparation, no knowledge of what might await them, no plan. Just the thrill of throwing themselves into a fight that they were not guaranteed to win.

They wouldn't loose – they couldn't loose. If the first try didn't force the village to its knees, the second would leave no survivors.

It was intoxicating to know that nothing could stand against them. That neither gods nor weapons could stop them. That no prayer could save those they wanted to take. That they were a scourge like none that had ever existed before.

.

Hot air blew around them as they spurred their steeds into gallop in broad daylight without bothering to formulate a plan or even exchange a word or glance.

Hooves thudded onto sand and threw it into the air, naked blades shone in the sunlight as the horsemen rode into the town, leaving a red trail from the moment they passed the first guards.

Death's mouth stretched into a feral grin, a savage expression that bared his teeth and froze their victim's blood.

The sound of metal whistling through the air, then slicing flesh and bone, of hooves on fallen bodies, the cries of his brothers and the screams of their prey combined to form a symphony that he knew well, that he enjoyed and loved. Cold golden eyes glittered with bloodlust and cruel amusement as Death urged his horse onward, riding down a woman holding a little child and forcing his way through the street full of panicking people.

Uncaring of the carnage that he left in his wake, he emerged onto the marketplace, where he felt his true quarry.

Pulling the reins with one hand he made his horse rear up on its hind legs and lifted his bloodstained blade.

From behind the skull-mask he scanned the frightened crowd and searched for the one that was not quite as scared and bore a sword. His gaze locked onto a young looking, muscular man with bronze toned skin and black hair.

Eyes lighting up with eagerness, Death brought his blade down to point at the one he had identified as immortal.

"I challenge you!"

For a moment the other seemed to contemplate doing something like talking or running, but then he squared his shoulders and pulled his sword out of his cloak.

If he had assumed that Death would bother with a fair fight, he was proven wrong. Death spurred his horse and attacked from its back, his higher position and secure seat giving him a great advantage. He didn't bother acknowledging the deep slash the other inflicted on his leg and hip and brought his full power to bear in a single strike.

The blade sang, then in tasted blood once more, biting into the other's neck.

The headless corpse fell down; the head thudded on the ground a few feet away.

Slowly, blue mist began to rise.

Then, it seemed as though all the gods of the nether world had broken loose.