The Demons Within

The True weight of Wisdom/ The Lord of Justice

         Pestilence was tired. He felt old. His normally cheerful blood red eyes were shadowed by heavy black bags under them. His wings held limply by his side, draped over his icy throne in his castle back on Galistria, The planet he woke upon. His hands, normally in a constant staccato of tapping, lay frozen, gripping onto the Scales of Justice.
      This was not Wrath, Sloth, Pride or even the rarely used Lust. This was the true Pestilence. His gifts from God were also a curse. He knew, and saw all. Every murder, every prejudice, every single crime. For the Lord of Justice it was almost to much. Only the fact that God himself had given him this job keep him from breaking.
       He was the final Judge. Of all the good in a life, and all the bad. Once every thousand years he must perform his duties as the judge. It was literally endless work, as once one soul was finally condemned to the fiery pits of hell or past the crystal gates of heaven another dead mortal would step up.
      Only Death knew what this was like, and even he did not know the full story.
War thought he was a drunkard who only played the lives of mortals, whilst Victory thought he was hiding the true reason for his drunkenness. And she would of course be right, she knew him to well. He drank, in an attempt to forget about the ruthlessness, the insanity, and the pure hate that every mortal felt at least one in their life. Even the other horsemen would be appalled by what he saw.
       As the ghostly spirits of mortals drifted in a long line he had to be careful. If he got too angry or sad, his powers would flare. This power would ether send pure souls to heaven, or as is usually the case it would utterly destroy the soul. It would be consumed into the endless maw of his power, and not even the power of God could bring them back out (If he even wanted to)
       The mortals were not created like this of course. God was pure, and wished only the best. But there were others as old as him, who held a large influence upon his creations. They were the Primals. God himself was a Primal, the most powerful of them all. He was the primal spirt of Hope, Creation, Law and Order. An oddball amongst the others, who were the manifestations of Rage, Anger, Lust, Pride, Evil and so much more.
       But he was the last with free will and intelligence. The others had been locked in a great empty void in space after a great war. Their power given to the horsemen, as a physical seal. But their power still leaked and oozed into the mortals. So he had understood what must be done and locked himself in the Eternal City of Heaven. For all primals must be bound, or else none would be held to their shackles.
      Some of their creations remained, strong enough to conquer whole worlds by themselves, but none were ever strong enough to match up against the horsemen. The other three only knew of their creations, unaware of the elder beings. They believed they were God's first malfunctioned creations, driven by some strange sense of vengeance. The only two to know the truth did not attempt to challenge this misconception.
     Oh how Pestilence hated to lie to his fellow horsemen, but he literally had no choice. He especially hated lying to Victory, for he knew that she could be fragile at some times. Lucifer and Abaddon's betrayal during the War of Sin proved it. But he swore an oath that let none betray it. He could not speak of the Primal. If he tried all the words would die upon his tongue.
      Going back to his work, and noticing upon the line was ending soon he began grinning slightly. Asking no one in particular "Do you fear death? Or the dark pit that you know is waiting for you? Your deeds laid bare before me? All your sins punished? Racked up over the years with some added ... interest" his grin becoming unusually cruel, as he pushed through the sins of the latest dead murderer and flung his soul into the doorway which led to the pits of hell. A slight breeze went through the stone castle on the snowy plain as the door slammed behind that soul, shutting off his pleas for mercy early.
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          After his torturous work was done, he found himself on Earth. First, He visited Death's mansion he had built upon his birthplace (All of the horsemen had built homes upon their birthplace, as they held a connection to it) only to find no one home. Sighing slightly, he realized he had to let some of the seals take his power or Earth would begin to crumble. This planet was not prepared for his special kind of power like his home world was.
        As he felt no need to walk with the mortals he left two in, Wrath and Pride. His body became a black smoke, and then formed into a different body. The main outward changes were his eyes, wings, facial hair and clothing. His eyes became a royal purple color with small splotches of gold dancing in a slow mesmerizing pattern, while his feathered wings shifted from their dark green to a majestic gold. His once clean-shaven face now held a thin and orderly mustache, with a goatee extending slightly past his chin while his formerly wild hair became cropped and neatened. All in all he looked like Victory's pale twin (But male of course). He thought bitterly that this is what he should have looked like if he was not struck with the curse, sorry "Blessing" of Albinism.
       His clothing, once the dark grey cloak it was normally, became that of a Old- fashioned general. His Prussian blue coat held numerous awards and on each shoulder was an unyielding piece of cloth jutting out. An old Byzantine chain, made of a strong gold-like metal, was slung from one side of his collar to his shoulder. At his hip two weapons appeared, a sheathed bastard sword formed to his left and a flintlock pistol on his right.
       The mixing of Pride and Wrath caused the Lord of Justice to come out. He was still Pestilence, but no longer the drunkard, nor was he the man who knew all and judged the souls of the dead. This man prized Law, Order and Honor above all else.
       It was time for the various pagan Earth Pantheons to hold their biyearly councils, he thought idly. Perhaps a check-up is in order.
       As he walked out the door he was silently hoping the Roman's would be in control of their Greek personas this time. He held an (Almost) unnatural amount of anger towards most of the Greek Deities. Honor and Law were no important matter for the Greeks.
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       As he walked stiffly to the Norse "Council house" he could already hear the sound of metal clanging against metal. The entrance to Asgard was in the frozen sub-continent of Scandinavia, and as soon Heimdall saw him he opened the rainbow road.
          The Drunken Pestilence had often visited the Halls of Valhalla, drinking with the Norse warriors whilst 'Lord of Justice' had fought with them. Clearly now would be a time to fight. Already he knew this part of his tour would be fun. He grinned that infamous grin of his, before quickly schooling his features back into his stoic look. But he still quickened his pace, almost beginning to run to the longhouse. Whilst briskly 'walking' forward he unsheathed his bastard sword and it transformed into a beautiful steel two handed battle-axe that he wielded in one hand.
Upon grabbing the Handle of the door, he flung it to the side so fast it nearly flew off its hinges. The inside of the longhouse could only be described as a massive brawl. A massive 7 foot flame lay in the middle of the room, casting dancing shadows around the room.
A keg of ale lay empty near the back of the room, its contents poured out onto the stone floor, mixing with the red blood of the mortal warriors. A few men and women slept content on the barrel despite the massive brawl around them. Odin had grabbed Thor's hammer and was beating him senseless with it. Tyr was dismembering various warriors as he belted out a drunken song of the Norse glory days. Golden arrow were being shot around the room while Freyr sang along to the same drunken song as Tyr.
Even the Norse goddess of beauty, Freyja, was involved as she was chasing down Loki, the trickster God, with her silver spear. Pestilence's features finally settled on a full blown grin, before screaming a war cry, and charging in axe held high.
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The next pantheon Pestilence visited, The Chinese, were slightly unnerved by the blood-soaked horseman. His wings were almost the same color as War's (Even though they should be Golden) and his coat could no longer be distinguished as blue. Despite the sheer amount of red and golden blood (For the Deities of Earth bled gold) on his person, Pestilence remained entirely stoic.
The Gods and Goddesses of China had freaked out when he first appeared, (Their goddess of peace had a stroke) thinking he was some kind of demon preparing to kill them until the Jade Emperor, their leader, assured them that Pestilence was not here to kill them right now. That would come later.
The council was much more formal than the Norse, which disappointed Pestilence even though he knew only the Romans were anywhere near as War-like as the Norse. Their thrones were arranged around a semi-circle, with multiple floating rows behind the rows. There were thousands of thrones, but the most impressive was the Jade Emperors. Built completely out of Jade and Gold, and directly in front of the large marble doors of the entrance, it was the most noticeable thing there.
After the introductions were done he began sitting down, and summoned a cloth to clean his bastard sword. The only interesting Deities besides the Jade Emperor was Heng O, the moon goddess (Maybe that was just because he always loved to look at the moon) and the still convulsing peace goddess.
Perhaps he had made a mistake in visiting the gods of Earth.
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After the staying with the Chinese for a short time (Pestilence applauded their dedication to Order, even if they were boring) he traveled to the other powerful Oriental pantheon, the Shinto. Their strange fascination with suicide over dishonor intrigued the Horsemen. Honor was everything to them, as was Order and Law, but they lacked the intense fighting spirt of the Norse.
One of their main Gods was afraid of his dead wife after he visited her, as he executed his son for killing his mother in childbirth. He ran and ran, than began begging the Sun goddess and Storm God to heal his shame. Talk about a coward.
They sat in a rigid box-like shape, only speaking in their turn and their thrones were all practically identical. A strange short cloth chair with no back. How that was a throne he had no idea.
Pestilence bored quickly and left soon after.
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And so, hours later and in a much worse mood than before, Pestilence sat in the Empire State building's elevator, waiting to reach Olympus. Apollo's terrible music was playing in the background, infuriating Pestilence with its randomness and chaotic nature.
While the rage of Pestilence was like a cold Winter wind, Slow to arrive but unavoidable once it came, he was still currently using the sin of Wrath. Watching the beady red numbers climb slower and slower towards 600, while being tortured by this 'music' was enough to cause him to growl inhumanly in anger.
Pestilence punched through the Celestial bronze wall, halting the elevator and cutting off the music, and as sparks began to fly over his finally once again blue coat he ripped out the music box. He then proceeded to teleport away, leaving behind a black hole that crushed the magical metal torture devise.
When he appeared on Olympus, it was in the middle of the throne room holding a crushed metal box vaguely resembling a music player, snarling out at the stunned Greek Deities," Who
designed that god damn torture device? And why the f*** did they do it?!"
Zeus was the first to react, first straightening his purple and blue pinstripe suit and then summoning his master bolt "Who are you to dare interrupt the Olympian Council? I am Ze-". He began, before being cut off by an impatient Pestilence growing louder and louder "I know who you are thunderhead. Now, Who. Designed. The. Elevator?!". He annunciated each word in a tone of rising angry, yet still clear as if talking to a four year old.
The other Olympians, choose that time to finally react, summoning their weapons as a few had met him before. Only Hestia and Artemis had, and Artemis rose her weapon partly because she had met him before. She disliked both Sloth and Pride, even though the true Pestilence was okay, for a male she had said snidely.
"Who are you interloper? Answer the question or you shall be Smited" Zeus repeated, impatient with the lack of an answer earlier. "Father, I don't know if that would be-" The Moon goddess began, before Pestilence started speaking." I am one of the Horsemen, you dolt. I am the Lord of Justice and Law. Despite you Greeks disregarding nearly every law, I had to come to this meeting. Now, who made that elevator?"
The tentative hand of Apollo rose, and quickly found Pestilence's angry purple stare upon him. "Where you not Artemis's brother, you would be facing a thousand years of torture by hand. She is a friend, and I doubt she wants a insane man for a brother. Now, Olympians continue your meeting." Then he sat by the golden door, listening to the babbling of the Gods.
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This is a short little author's note. It is probably quite obvious that this chapter flows together quite weirdly, and that is because I cut out quite a bit. Originally, this ended with more than 4,000 words but now it is merely around 2,500. I didn't want to make this too long, as it will eventually be in the full story I wrote. Unfortunately the Norse Brawl was cut (I would likely have to change to a mature rating if I left it in) and another fight with Ares. Some other random stuff was also cut. The Victory one-shot will be started soon, and then the full book will begin. Goodbye, and thank you for reading.