Who: War and Death What: A meeting. Where: Gettysburg When: July 3, 1863
Confederate or Union - the side didn't matter. The purpose even less so when the fighting had started. This new world and its politics had left the Red Rider feeling bogged down. Adaptable as the herald of the apocalypse could be War had chaffed under the constraints of human advancement. Modern man was much too talkative beast and War's blood was at a constant boil.
War would see this land ruined. He would tear it apart with the very ideals that had made it new. He would ride from one side to the other setting brother against brother and standing here now in a field of 50,000 dead War felt something close to content.
He wasn't alone. His brothers were here. They always rode together in some fashion. Pestilence and Famine were distant shadows on the horizon and Death...Death was standing right beside him.