"Hrmph. That should be the last of them,"
Death had pierced the construct through the heart- or at least where it's heart should have been-with Harvester. With a sharp tug of the handle, the spear Death wielded slid out of the stone and magic corpse, already beginning to meld into the usual double-scythes for Death to holster at his waist. "So where do you think they came from?"
He indicated the...creatures...with a nod of his head at the newly grounded bodies, and a strand of greasy, jet black hair was dislodged with the motion. It hung gloomily over his emotionless mask, and the bone-white colour contrasted with the black of his hair. Under the skull mask, a face no-one-at least no-one living-had seen before, though doubtless it alone would have wrought terror into the hearts of his enemies. His blazing orange eyes and the shine that reflected off of his armour and Harvester were the only things to be seen clearly, since everything else was doused by the gathering haze, not only from the dust still settling from the fight moments before-Well, if you could call it a fight. It was a mere annoyance for Death, and hardly a challenge-but also there was a mysterious thin fog gathering around them. I say "them", I mean Death and his feathered companion who had just flittered across from his hiding place onto the Horseman's pale shoulder. Dust was never usually much help in a battle, since the most he could probably do was peck their eyes out, but again these creatures lacked anything of the sort. Not only that, Dust was a bit of a coward when it came to combat, so he would usually find a nice spot where he could spectate safely, then soon after he had decided it was safe again, fly back to Death and give a squawk of approval, or something like that. This is exactly what he did.
"Squawk!" Death stood towering over the pile of stone with a bird on his shoulder, his eyes looking down at the mangled thing, burning even more than usual with concentration. Where had these things come from? Death was not sure, but the questions would have to be pushed to the back of his head for now, as a small floating figure appeared on the horizon. To a normal being it wouldn't even have been spotted until later, but Death's senses had been heightened, not only from being one of The Four, but he was on alert from the recent situation. You could never let your guard down in a place like the Forge Lands, despite its pretty scenery, it was a dangerous place. Especially since the newly discovered "constructs" had appeared there.
Death didn't even need to squint his eyes to see the nearing silhouette darting from left to right like it was being bitten by invisible monsters, which only attacked from the side. He couldn't decide whether he should stand and wait until it got close enough for him to see that it was, or walk away in search of something else to amuse him while he was there and completely ignore the upcoming being. Though in the end he decided he would wait, because from the speed of the winged messenger he knew already that it would be important, and the fact he could see it was Panoptos...Well that was never a good sign. As the out of breath Panoptos came into earshot of the Horseman-even though Death sensed and could hear the messenger's wings from many yards away- he took a minute to recover from the trek. Death just stood, looking blankly at him, almost as if already bored.
"Death," Panoptos managed to exhale a second later.
"That's me," was the reply. Although Death's voice was calm and slightly sarcastic-as usual-he was not entirely focused on the words of the panting slave in front of him. He was focused on the slave.
Its spindly body was held aloft in the dusty air with black wings with a silky texture to them. His thin torso and arms were also black, and his hands donned long pokey fingers. The space between the torso and the grassy terrain was filled with wispy smoke coming from the lower part of the torso. It had no legs, basically. The whipping of the ghostly smoke and the irregular beating of his wings were the only sound it made-besides the panting-otherwise it would have been a mute creature. Well, this one wasn't. Even though, like the constructs lying on the grass nearby-that Panoptos hadn't seen, probably because he was either too focused on catching his breath or the fog obscured his view from up there-he had no indication of a mouth. That didn't mean it couldn't talk, unfortunately for Death. He was hovering a bit higher now, since he had regained a bit of strength, but maybe, the Rider wondered, he was intimidated by the Horseman's overwhelming presence. Luckily for him, he's under the Council's protection.
Death studied the messenger impassively, and despite all he had seen, all the terrors of Hell and guardians of Heaven, this one still by far was the most mind boggling-and annoying.
"It's the Council, you're being summoned." Panoptos said, now having gained his strength he had a louder voice. Not that anything else was going to hear though, because the only thing that could hear nearby was lying at Death's feet.
"Of course. I wasn't exactly expecting you to come out all the way over here just for friendly chit chat."
"Hmph," was his only response. Some of the slave's eyes had squinted slightly at the snarky comment, but the rest remained wide open, just in case the most unpredictable of the Four made a dangerous move for the snitch to report.
"Did the Council mention what the reason was?" Death said on a more serious note. Anything including the Council having to summon Death especially was obviously a serious matter.
Panoptos took a breath to speak, but flinched slightly after noticing the Horseman had rest his hand on the hilt of his weapon, although he decided it was not of any importance. "No," he said finally. "Only that it was urgent."
Not long after the last word had been uttered from the messenger's mouth had the ground begun to shake softly, and small pebbles around bounced and shook at the new shift in tranquility. Around Death's feet, not only was there a stone carcass, but a swirling green mist forming from the air. Panoptos spread his arms and looked around, startled by the low, hollow beat emanating from all around. The mist grew, and Death, almost completely forgetting about his acquaintance's existence, turned on his heel and began to run, leaving the bodies and a confused Panoptos behind in the fog. Dust quickly took to the air, hovering close to the Horseman. The beat became louder, and it was clearer to hear that the beat was a regular one-two-three quaver. Soon enough it was obvious the monotonous noise was made by hooves.
Death running, and the mist growing further still, it was a sight to see. The slave of the Charred Council had to flap rapidly to see the newly united trio, as from the grassy land erupted a body of greenish flesh and mist, which the Horseman was sprinting besides with ease. The arrival of Death's deceased steed was enough to make the messenger's eyes widen further still, not only from confusion, but amazement.
The dead mist-cloaked horse was in a gallop, heading straight forward at an impossible speed for a normal being to keep up with, but this was just a leisurely stride across the beach for Death. A saddle of white bone was donned by the steed, and on it a saddle-horn, which was suddenly gripped by the Horseman, and, using a small push of his legs for momentum, he slid perfectly into the seat. Dust still flew easily beside, and the horse didn't even slow from the change of weight given by the newly seated Rider. Hard they galloped, and slowly the air seemed to ripple from the power of the three. Not only that, but they were about to ride through the fabric of the world. The air flowed and seemed to part for the racing Horseman, as he and his companions slowly rippled themselves, and suddenly disappeared into the air, leaving only a few odd black feathers, ethereal green mist, and an utterly dazed Panoptos.