//------------------------------//
// Quatuor Equites (Part Two) 
// Story: The Harbingers of the Apocalypse (In Preambulis De Apocalipsi) 
// by Matthebrony 
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The four angels walked out of their cells at nearly the same time. In intrigue and bemusement, they looked around at their environment. Being trapped in a cell of the same complexion as the world around them doesn’t give an area too much ingenuity, so they hardly dwelled on the depressing hell before them and instead focused on each other.

“Did you sleep well my brothers?” Death asked, the others considered this as they turned and stared back at the enormous hallway that stood before them.

“Well enough, all things considered.” Responded War after a few minutes of silence. They all just stood and watched until Pestilence turned to Death.

“We still need to escape,” He wheezed, “There exists to this day the guard on the portal, ever vigilant.” Famine smiled and decided to take his turn to talk.

“Good, we can get a stretch after a hundred millennia of slumber.” The harbingers of the apocalypse spread their wings wide, enjoying the sensation of extension after so many years of motionless slumber. They all soared into the dark sky, War spun around and skimmed the wall, making sure his flying was as deadly precise as always. Death flew monotonously in a perfectly straight line. He only had the ability to fly from a spell cast on his wing-bones, they now trapped air just like regular wings did. Pestilence, who was always feeling a bit weak, kept wobbling and shuddering as he jerked his way across the air. Energetic Famine took off, only behind War, now enjoying the sensation of the wind whipping across his face as he barreled ahead. They soon reached the chasm, an enormous hole going straight up to the portal on the ceiling, as soon as War breached the tunnel entrance he banked upward and took off, flapping his wings and spinning upwards towards freedom. Famine, Death and Pestilence followed soon after, each at their own pace. War slowed down as he noticed the dark shadow of the portal on the ceiling, the other angels saw and slowed also, synchronizing so all of them floated at the exact same level. They all nodded when they were ready and flew up the shaft until they made contact with the great, swirling, purple-and-black portal.

After a few seconds of the world spinning and the draining feeling that came with inter-dimensional travel, the four brothers sped out of the other side, into the underground chamber. They all flew to four different sides of the large metal platform in the center and stared at the guardian of the portal. The mighty Cerberus was a great, jet-black, mastiff-like dog that stood about thirty feet tall. It had a large spiked collar adorning each of it’s necks. The guardian sported three heads, which were now swiveling angrily around, snapping in the direction of the angels and growling in anger at being awoken from it’s nap. Each head lined with a row of enormous, razor-sharp teeth that no pony would dare go near. The odd thing about a guardian so vicious was that it rarely played the part, since no one had ever escaped Tartarus, it did very little fighting and very much sleeping, eating, and generally being quite bored. So when four attackers came out of the dungeon in the middle of it’s sleep, Cerberus was quite surprised.

As if by invisible signal, Famine suddenly dove towards the Cerberus, using magic to elongate it’s fingers and sharpen the tips into claws. He struck it’s side, raking his claws across it’s skin and cackling wickedly as a shower of blood rained off the dog. The blood that came into contact with Famine was instantly vaporized without any being absorbed by the thirsted, sandpapery skin. All three heads turned and glared at Famine, growling in the back of their throats and leaving a chorus of threatening echoes bouncing off the walls. 

With the distraction set, War flew upwards then dove in, aiming for the right head. As he fell, he retracted his wings and continued in a free-fall. As his speed increased and he was almost to the head, he raised his hand up and willed a weapon to him. In a flash of red magic, a long, jagged red sword appeared in his hand, the blade was outlined in a dark ebony color, reflecting the light in the room off the perfectly polished blade. Moments before impact with the dog, War brought the sword down between the eye sockets and used his momentum to draw the sword back and rip it out, flinging himself onto the head. He ran over to the neck and embedded his sword from the tip to the hilt into the flesh. The creature roared and howled in pain as War jumped, still holding onto the embedded sword, and unfurled his wings. He dashed around the head, dragging the sword along until he reached his starting point and roughly ripped the sword out, neatly decapitating the head. As the heavy chunk of flesh fell to the ground with a sloppy, wet crash, the other heads howled to the sky in pain.

On this cue, Pestilence zipped in, his mouth full of corrosive vomit. He magically formed the blob until it was compressed into a perfect sphere of liquid and belched it out as hard as he possibly could. The spherical concoction of chemicals was unstable and exploded with the slightest contact. The bile flew through the air and soared into it’s intended target, the open mouth of the left Cerberus head. As soon as the huge mouth closed around the bile, the corrosion kicked in and melted through it’s tongue, sizzling across a few levels of flesh before the ball violently detonated. The head blew apart in every direction, spraying the entire room with acid, blood and chunks of flesh dyed green from the poison in the bile.

The last head stood it’s ground, scowling, growling and snapping at the horsemen while keeping it’s guard up. Death then leapt forward, raising his arms and making a bright white beam of magic appear in his hands. The light formed and solidified into a long, pitch black scythe. the only breaks in color were smooth, ornate carvings on the blade and shaft, which were white. He landed and dove the tip deeply into the head’s skull until it sank in to the end of the blade. The dog struggled, but Death held on tightly, then violently yanked the scythe in a semicircle, enjoying the loud crack that the dog’s neck breaking made. Once he reached the halfway mark, he dove down and tore the scythe with him, making the loosened head rip straight out of it’s socket. The cavity spewed and spread blood across the entire chamber, painting the walls crimson. Even after the loss of it’s heads, the body refused to give. The now-headless guardian staggered around and attempted to bark, but only succeeded in making gurgles and spurting out more blood. 

Famine then took point, aiming for the center neck, he launched himself forward and dove down the throat, folding his wings slightly to allow entrance to the pipe. He took the canal straight down into the Cerberus’s insides, preparing to cause maximum havoc on the guardian’s organs. He used his claws to rip across the stomach, spilling acid out and onto other organs, he charged and battered skin and bones. He broke off a rib and stabbed a lung, then turned and jammed the jagged bone into the dog’s liver. Outside, the creature lurched around half-consciously, vibrating and shuddering violently. Sometimes, skin stretched out where Famine was attacking or the snap of bones could be heard. Suddenly the Cerberus twitched and froze, only seconds later, Famine charged and burst out of the stomach, trailing blood, gore, organ bits and intestines all over the floor of the platform. The Cerberus’s body was propelled backwards and collapsed on the floor with an earth-shaking crash, lying in a sea of it’s own gore and blood.