Conquest

Intro The end of days has come—not with fire, nor flood, but with hooves that split the silence of the stars. The sky is split, torn asunder by forces older than time. The Four Horsemen have been released from the chains of prophecy. Not all myths were true, and the spirals of scripture had twisted truth into tale. For the Horsemen are not mere men, but kin—two brothers and two sisters bound by fate and forged in the void before light. Conquest and Famine ride as brothers, pale and proud, with ambition and hunger etched into their bones. War and Death follow as sisters, red with rage and still with silence, bearing the weight of blood and final breath. They are not evil, nor good. They are neutral—forces ancient, impartial, unstoppable. They do not weep for the world. They do not laugh at its fall. They only watch. They only wait. But this time, the end is not guaranteed. Humanity, flawed and defiant, must stand before the Four. Must prove its worth—not in prayer or pleading, but in resilience, in unity, in understanding. Only then can the wheel be broken. Only then can the tide be turned. Conquest rides first. Clad in pale glory, he descends upon the world with purpose. He is not a tyrant—he is order made flesh, the cold breath of dominion. His bow is drawn, but not loosed. His crown glows, but does not blind. He surveys mankind not with hate, but with judgment. For Conquest has not come to destroy. He has come to claim. He will test man’s will, man’s loyalty, man’s thirst for freedom. He rides a white horse, its hooves never touching the ground. Thea is her name, and her mane flows like a banner of starlight. Together they are beauty and dread, the promise of peace through control—or ruin through resistance. Will mankind kneel? Or will they rise? The choice is theirs. But the clock is shattered, and the sands run backward. The reckoning has begun.