Human Name: Meg Charles
Human Age: 23
Rider Type: (Death, Famine, ect.) Pestilence
Appearance: (Picture) Average height, about 5'8". Average weight, maybe a little on the skinnier side.
Human Bio: As far as her neighbors know, she's a complete shut-in. She takes college classes for psychology online and rarely leaves her apartment, which who could blame her always seems to have a mild cold of some sort that just never goes away. Leaving her constantly sniffling and looking a mild sickly pale. No one has really been able to get anything out of her about her past, the most they know is she has some distant relatives she hasn't seen in awhile, and that she hates physical contact. Besides the odd aura she gives off, she seems like a nice person.

(Also, sorry if I don't reply for awhile today. I'm busy.)

((I'd like to reserve Death once again please :3))

Human Name: Garry Kurrn

Human Age: 42

Rider Type: Death

Appearance: look in the picture, in his eyes there are Black Cracks around the Iris, he is 1.8 meters tall (6 feet), wears loose Black baggy pants and black steel-capped boots, he keeps gloves on so he doesn't touch people.
His skin is the definition of white, and is smooth to go along with it... This is because his Horseman Form he is a Skeleton.

Human Bio:
Since birth Garry was surrounded by death, anyone he touched, anyone he talked to, all died soon afterwards, whether it be instantly, 2 hours later, or 2 weeks later, they all died. his past was pretty lonely, having to move from home to home, since the owners strangely died, till eventually he begun to live on his own, Garry seems to always be surrounded by an Aura of Death... an Aura that makes everything and anything, want to avoid him.

Thanks for joining! Once we get a couple more people we can start!

Hi, If it'd be okay I'd love to be famine again please. I'm really excited this got rebooted again!

Human Name: Rosie McCallum
Human Age: 24
Rider Type: (Death, Famine, ect.) Famine
Appearance: She's fairly small in size, not exactly too tall standing about 5'3-5'4 and with a petite figure. But her smaller size doesn't stop her.
Human Bio: She had a hard life growing up, spending her life on the streets and facing starvation and death. Over time, she worked her way off of the sidewalks and now she is a successful working woman. She became a lawyer and one day hopes to be a judge, working in the courts to decide what is fair. Somehow this seemed to be the most fitting job for her as anyone in her court feels more wanting and desperation for their dreams and goals. Overall, she is fair and kind but her small and kind stature should not deceive anyone because she will fight for what she believes and is a force to be reckoned with.

((I'm also gunna make an Angel and a Demon :3 this gon' be fun for me))

Name: Nuriel

Human, Angel, or Demon?: Angel

Age: ???

Appearance: Picture.

Bio:
Unlike most of the other Angels, Nuriel was never once human, nor did she die, you could say she is an artificial angel, created by other angels, they copied the essence of Turiel, and used technology to create her, an Angel not made by God, but by other Angels... is her existent justified?

Name: Elana

Human, Angel, or Demon?: Demon

Age: ???

Appearance: Picture.

Bio:
In the days of old, there used to be creatures known as 'vampires', this is actually incorrect, they were Demons, children of Elana, but because their mother never looked after them they required other sustenance to stay alive, so they took human Blood, but one day their mother called them all back into hell, this was in the 14th century, now she is being called to the world to find the four horsemen... the war will be won by the demons, at any and every cost!

(Meh, I was going to wait till another person joined to start but oh well.)

The door of apartment #03 quietly clicked shut, as if to make sure no one else in the small apartment complex could hear that anyone was leaving. Which, actually, was exactly what Meg intended. She slipped her key into the lock and flicked it to the side, locking her human possessions inside the quaint little apartment. Taking in a deep breath, she turned away from her door and started walking down the hallway towards the front entrance. It was an early Saturday afternoon, and as she passed the other apartments she could hear various sounds of activity; a soap opera blaring, kids running around and screeching, muffled pop music. As she walked she thought about how simple all their lives were, and she thought about how she even got this life in the first place, when suddenly a voice pulled her from her thoughts.
"Meg! Hey!" The voice called from behind.
Meg stopped suddenly, and turned towards the voice.
As she suspected, it was her neighbor, Jeremy. Fantastic.
He was a year younger than her and he studied Biology at the college she took classes online for. She could tell he was sweet, but she didn't want to have to deal with what would happen if they were friends. It took her long enough to completely disappear, she didn't need a freak case of a healthy and promising college boy suddenly getting Malaria and dying to attract the wrong attention to the good set up she had going.
"Oh, hey Jeremy." She greeted him shyly, adjusting the bag on her shoulder, and sniffling.
"Actually leaving the hermit hole, huh?" He laughed, and upon realizing Meg wasn't, he cleared his throat and stopped. "Where ya headed to?"
"Oh, uh, just the pharmacy. Getting some cold medicine. Nothing too riveting." She said. It wasn't a lie. Human medicine didn't do much to help her, being the personification of sickness and all, but it made her look more human
"How do you get colds this time of year?" He scoffed, and they started walking towards the door together. Meg kept her distance.
"Weak immune system, I guess." She replied.
"Yeah, I'd say so." He muttered. "Oh, and I just remembered." He stopped her, grabbing her arm which was (thankfully) covered by the sleeve of her hoodie. She still jumped, expecting him to double over with lung cancer or Yellow Fever, before realizing a thin sheet of fabric just saved this mortal's life.
" A friend of mine is having a little get together, and since you never really get out, I was wondering if you'd like to go with me.." He continued like he didn't know he could have almost died, which he didn't.
Meg lightly pulled her arm away. Tucking a lock of silver dyed hair being her ear she looked at the floor. "Damn. I'm sorry but I can't. I, uh, My distant aunt is actually visiting that night and I haven't seen her in awhile." She said. She kind of felt bad, lying and all. He was a mortal, but he was nice.
"Oh! Well that's good! It's totally cool, don't feel bad about it. Maybe some other time?" He proposed.
Jeremy knew more about her than anyone else, mostly because he talked to her the most and actually pestered her about her past. Not being annoying, just trying to be friendly. So, he knew she had little to no family and the fact an aunt was going to visit her was big.
Although in reality she had no family and no one was going to visit her.
"Yeah, definitely." She said, turning to push the entrance door open. Jeremy walked out behind her. "Well, I gotta get to work. See you later!" He said, and then both turned separate ways.
Meg sighed. She hated getting involved with humans in such a high-tension time like this. One slip up and she would be done.
Sighing, she pulled the sleeves of her foodie over her hands and sniffled. Her messy bun of silver hair slightly bobbed as she walked down the side walk towards the nearest pharmacy.

it's a strange location for a Graveyard, so close to residential areas and shopping districts, but this small hill was perfect for burying people... and a perfect place for the usual Gravekeeper, alot of the people in the town knew who Garry was, simply because funerals get known real fast around here, and Garry would become known real fast too, luckily for him people don't talk much to the Gravekeeper, whether it be because they sound and look creepy, whether because people are afraid they might talk alot about death, or simply because they feel as if they should avoid them, these reasons are pretty much what is saving alot of people's lives.

Garry scratched his leg a little, it was becoming numb... 'too much push in the legs, more into the back' he thought to himself, his shovel pierced into the mound of dirt, lifting the dirt with his rusty tool and dumping it over a small almost filled hole... he was almost done Burying a poor dog that licked his hand without his gloves on.
"may the angels take care of your soul, for i hope it does not burn with my hands in hell" he said, continuing to bury the dog.

once he finished, he stood by the entrance to the grave, his trusty rusty tool leaning against his leg, and he rested his body on the stone arch entrance to the Graveyard... he wanted to sleep. he looked out into the streets ahead of him... people weren't around this time of year, they tried to avoid the Graveyard during this time... but strangely a woman walked past, Garry didn't pay her much mind, since you get the occasional odd person here and there... but she had a sort of... familiar feel to her... probably a sibling or spouse of someone Garry had buried.

[================================]

"Nuriel..... Nuriel?..... NURIEL!"
Nuriel awoke to one of her Angel Friends standing above her, Nuriel was lying back against a tree in heaven, she was asleep.
"Nuriel... you came here again huh... you really like the Tree of Eden don't you"
Nuriel didn't respond, which was the usual thing for her, she didn't talk much to the Angels, mainly because the Angels knew her better than she knew herself, being created by them, her Angel friend giggled and walked off, as Nuriel stood up and watched her leave.

Nuriel walked to the edge of the clouds, and looked down... the human world below, it looked.... interesting.... she wanted to see what it was like down there, she quickly looked behind her, and around her... no Angels really hang out in the outskirts of Heaven... seizing the opportunity, she jumped down, and carefully begun floating towards Earth.

(I'll do the Demon later))

(Hey set me as war, I'm re-making him now. Thanks for the reboot! :D)

Human Name: Andrew Lich

Human Age: 17

Rider Type: War

Appearance: (pic)

Human Bio: To the world he lives in he is Andrew Lich, a street rat. Someone who survives on the misery of others. That statement cannot be more true for 'Andrew'. It was said that when he was just an infant his parents fought allot, over nearly everything there was to fight over. No one understood why, since before he was born his parents would always agree over every little detail, they were inseparable from one another until Andrew was born. Then one day, Andrew was only five years old, he watched as his farther, filled with rage amid a fight with his wife, took a knife out of a draw and stabbed Andrews mother forty-seven times.

Andrews Farther pleaded to the police over and over, "I didn't do it!" he would scream between sobs, "It wasn't me, I would never hurt her." He eventually went mad from grief, but that is another story. For the next nine years until he was fourteen Andrew was raised by nuns in an orphanage, St Mary's Orphanage was its name. If you asked the nuns that raised him they would tell you he was calm quiet child who never really said or did much, But when he turned fourteen that all changed. On the eve of his fourteenth birthday pandemonium broke out in St Mary's orphanage. The children went made and began to attack and kill nuns as well as fellow orphans alike. The riot eventually ended with four dead children, two dead nuns, dozens more injured, one missing and the orphanage burnt down.

Andrew was the one missing. He went away and left only war in his wake. He spent several years living on the streets, instigating fights and reaping whatever rewards were left over. Now that his powers have grown though he has a plan, an end goal that he will see through to the end. He is war, there is no good in war, there is no evil, there is no mercy and there is no forgiveness.

(Banette thinks my Bio is to long, if you guys think that too tell me so I can shorten it.)

Andrew slowly opened his eyes as he was awoken by sunlight filtering through cheap curtains. He yawned as he arose from the bed he was formerly sleeping in. He slowly made his way through the house in to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He looked over the kitchen counter and saw Jamie the man who had let him stay at his house that night. Jamie was a twitchy drug addict who always wore a red hooded jacket. "Good morning Jamie" Andrew greeted his friend with a flat tone as he took a glass out of a draw and began to pour water into it. "Morning!" Jamie jumped a bit as he said this.
"Oh, yeah, by the way Bruiser wants you to create a distraction on the corner of Seventh st and Grant avenue. Something about a money truck robbery, He want you to meet his boys there by one o'clock"
"Really? Very well then, what time is it?" Andrew said after taking a sip of water while grabbing and apple.
"It's uh, eleven forty-three"
"Good, that leaves me plenty of time then." Andrew regularly accepted jobs like this one from his boss Bruiser, After leaving the orphanage he fell in with a popular gang, he never told anyone about his ability and in truth they never really cared enough to ask. As long as the job was done who cared how it was done? Thanks to this Andrew quickly flew through the ranks and was assigned to bigger jobs early on in his career. Not all jobs went well, some went horribly, but he always managed to slip through the cracks and not get caught. "I will be leaving now, thank you for having me" Andrew told Jamie after about fifteen minutes. "No worries man, You can stop by any time, Oh damn I almost forgot. Bruiser also said that after the job the funeral for Timmy would be going down at the grave yard." Andrew grabbed his book, opened the front door and stopped. "Yes, Timmy, that was truly an unfortunate series of events. I just cant believe that those damn pigs would gun him down like that."
"You know they've been doing shit like that to gang members more and more lately, We should really do something about it."
"I'll tell Bruiser about you'r thoughts, in truth, I agree"
And with that Andrew left on his way to the designated location with his thoughts on Timmy. Timmy was a loyal, well respected member of the Red Fist Gang, of which Andrew was a member of. Officially Timmy was on a walk in his street at night when he was cornered by police and gunned down, without provocation. What really happening was that Andrew had called the cops and told them that a drug deal was happening at the location he knew Timmy would be, When the cops saw Timmy he concentrated his aura to enrage the cops to the point of gunning down Timmy. It was all apart of Andrews plan.

Garry scratched his scruffy rough hair, looking at his feet in thought, a few funerals today to do... some people, each with their own name. Carly, Kent, John, Timmy and Jannifer, those were the people who died this week... and thankfully none at the hands of Garry. he stood back into the Graveyard, picking up his old tool with him, piling it into the dirt, might aswell get the first hole ready... the first funeral would be that fella Timmy... poor shmuck got gunned down by somebody, body full of bullet holes... Garry wondered for a moment about that, the feeling of death, of release of the lie known as 'life', a feeling Garry IS...
'when people die they're feeling me' is what he thought, an irritated look on his face, he sighed and continued digging.

'all of humanity is going to feel me huh.... if they knew then everyone would be a pervert'
his mind wondered over to the person who would be buried here... Timmy... when people die, God gives them a vague explanation that they're dead, and who or what killed them.... nothing like 'this person kill you', it's more of 'you were killed by a bus driver' if the bus driver had the intent to do it, if it was accidental then it would be 'you were accidentally killed by a bus'... would God tell Timmy 'you were viciously shot down by a gangster' or 'you were bullet riddled by a crazed man'... or if the bullets were his own that ricocheted it would be 'you killed yourself'... maybe i should ask for myself?'

Garry was quite aware he could talk to those that were dead... he'd only have to find Timmy's corpse... he'd have to wait for them to deliver it though.

Andrew had found his contact easy enough, all he had to do was look for the most intimidating looking car. It turned out to be a big black van with flame decal's going along both of the sides. He knocked on the door and was greeted by a big man who looked to be more muscle than brains. The man gave him his instruction, almost definitely passed down from a high up, and told him to wait. That is what led Andrew to where he was now, It was 12:38 and the cash truck would be passing by in two minutes. Andrew sipped on his coffee at a coffee shop as he read his book, 'The art of war'. At 12:39 his watched beeped, his timer signifying the time for action was drawing near. He finished his coffee and put a book mark in his book, Then he waited. He did not wait long. As soon as he saw the truck he initiated his plan, He made eye contact with some construction workers who were doing maintenance on the side walk. That began a riot that quickly spread to the street, blocking the armored truck in its path, he usually didn't base his plans on luck, but on such short notice it would have to do. When the armored truck the two guards driving it exited to see what the disruption was, that was when the men in the black van jumped out and attacked. That however was none of Andrews concern, all he had to do was stop the truck. So with that done he left the cafe without paying a midst all the panic of the every day civilians. He walked away from the sound of gunfire as he made his way towards the graveyard, you pay his respects to the late Timmy, and to continue on with his plan.

(Hello?)

Rosie had been at the cafe that day too. It was her favorite place to go between work, and it was down the block from her law firm. She had been minding her own business, enjoying the public space for once but careful and quiet. It had been a normal day until she heard the chaos erupting outside. She wasn't a young horseman, she knew how things worked, how their powers worked. And she knew that this was not the ordinary riot. Across the cafe, she saw a man rise too calmly, and proceed in a casual stroll the war zone outside. That had to be him. A part of her knew being this close to another horseman would be bad, but she also knew that at that rate of using his powers, someone was bound to find him and that was the last thing anyone wanted. Rosie pushed up from the table, leaving her book and followed after the man as he walked calmly from the gunfight and to the graveyard. Civilians swarmed in desperation and fear, and her presence did little to calm them at all.

Garry felt uneasy... a feeling he knew very well... Garry was the oldest of the Horsemen, and the older the Horseman, the stronger they attract angels and demons, Garry was able to stay under the radar quite easily, but if another Horseman comes too close, it will all be for naught, it's easier for the other horsemen to get the mythicals to lose their scent, but not so for Garry. he tried to scan the crowd of Gangsters, attempting to see for any signs of sickness or starvation, those would tell him if they were Famine or Pestilence... none so far... and no angry people, so it might not be war.... Garry was worried now, he was hoping the horseman nearby would realize and feel him being here, and walk away.... he hoped.

[===================]

Nuriel's nose begun to smell something... it wasn't something sweet... nor spicy, nor sour.... it smells like.... water?.... is that a smell?.... whatever it was, it was very weak, and she couldn't find the source... but it was getting stronger.... Nuriel was confused... what was this smell?

[===================]

Elana grinned... that smell... the smell she hadn't smelt for centuries... one or more of the Horsemen weren't being cautious enough, she giggled... it was probably one of the young horsemen being stupid, awell...
"more fun for us, eheheh~"

Rosie slowed as the man got closer to the graveyard, the distance between her and the strange and potential horseman growing. Something wasn't right in the air to her, a kind of presence, older. She knew she had to leave, turn around and return to her apartment and her careful life. After all, she spent probably the most time with mortals out of the horsemen. But this was the right thing to do. She needed to warn that man, war she thinks, that what he's doing will get not only dozens of mortals killed but also himself.

'Something is wrong' those were the thoughts going through the head of War as he continued towards the graveyard front gates. He had found the graveyard and was walking on the sidewalk around the grave to find the front gate. He had walked here straight from the last job and something had followed him. He had been careful, like usual, to not be followed. Yet it did not seem to be the cops or a rival gang following him, whatever was following him seemed to feel like a looming presence, a hunger of sorts. As he got closer to the graveyard the feeling changed, it coalesced with a feeling of coldness, of absolute nothingness the promised nothing but demise. Strangely enough the feeling felt familiar, in two senses. The first was how similar the feeling felt to when he manipulated someone through an aura. War had found early on that his powers were most effective as well as being the easiest to use when he used skin on skin contact to initiate the anger, But of course his power caused almost blind anger and when he touched someone their anger was generally directed at him. War also learnt that he could not control his power when it came to skin on skin contact, so he began to wear gloves. After a while he learnt to control his power at a range when he made direct eye contact with a target, this was more difficult and required a bit of focus but he could still use it in combat. Finally he learnt that he could create an aura that he could use to manipulate people in a short radius of him, without eye contact. This required the most concentration for War and he could only do this if he had enough time. These aura's he felt right now felt similar to that, but instead of the roaring fire he felt from his aura, he felt a hollow emptiness from one, and cold nothingness from the other. The hollow emptiness had followed him from the cafe, bu the cold nothingness seemed to belong to the graveyard. 'Perhaps these are the others, two of the for horsemen. Perhaps, if so this is interesting.' War though to himself. He was young, and while he had received some trouble from angels and demons, he was still smart enough to know how to kill them. It always helped to be apart of a gang, the extra muscle could usually ward off attackers. Even if the only one who could see angels and demons were followers of either God or Satan. War finally reached the front gate, where he saw high ranking members of the Red Fist gang. With there leader stand strong and tall closest to the gates. As War approached the men this leader who was known only as Bruiser turned to address War. "Andrew, you finally arrive." The talk black man said in a deep voice.
"Yes sir, the mission was completed with any interruptions." War replied, expecting his boss to want to know the details of the mission.
"That is very good Andrew, that mission meant to avenge Timmy, But at the moment lets not talk business and instead pay our respects." Bruiser said. Surprising war with his reverence of the dead.
"Of course Sir, but I think I might have been followed. Will that be a problem Sir?" War asked, weary of the presence that followed him. His hand moved to the gun he kept inside his trench-coat, near the inside pocket he kept his book in.
"No, if they want watch let them, this is a funeral not a drug deal. If the pigs that protect the legal system can't even let us pay respect to our dead after they were so mercilessly gunned down then that is their problem" Bruiser replied, anger rising in his voice.
"Of course Sir." War did not want to correct his boss by telling him he believed he was followed by something that was not a cop. But the more anger towards the police, the easier his final goal would be.
"Let us continue with the ceremony, we need to take the casket to the graveyard." With Bruisers final words the mob of high ranking gangsters, all wearing black suits except War who wore his usual red trench-coat, walked into the grave, with a somber mood in the air as the carried the casket and the dead body inside it, to its final resting place.

Rosie ducked behind the corner as the red trench coat she had followed met with other men at the front gate. She couldn't go further as the presence of the other horseman was too strong and with her being there it would mean trouble for them all. Careful not to be spotted, she looked at the men and slowly realized just who the young horseman was working with. The lower levels of the Red Fist had more than once washed up in her courts, and she could easily pick out the same markings of the gang. Rosie wanted nothing more than to tug the red trench coat aside and explain to him how this was going to get him killed. She knew she could easily handle the gang members, but her using her powers openly around two other horseman would only bring more attention to them, which is the last thing they needed. Instead, she kept walking out and around the corner as the gang wakes into the graveyard an kept going for a while, until settling back into a cafe nearby; close enough to watch for trouble that could come up in the graveyard but far enough that it wouldn't get to her, she hoped.

Garry watched as they brought the casket of Timmy to him. they looked at him, as if to ask what to do now... Garry didn't want to talk to them, they'd die within a month or so if he did, all he did was motion his head to the grave he had dug for Timmy, then one of them would only need to say a speech or something like that for Timmy, then Garry would fill in the grave.... but the problem here, is that not both Horsemen seemed to have left.... one still remained... it was a feeling of anger... of hate, not just a mixture like before.....

[i should've guessed so... the youngest always seems to be the stupidest]

[=============================]

Nuriel.... could smell that smell so EASILY now, it was like being slapped in the face with a cement truck! she turned to look where that smell was coming from.... should she go look? see what it is?... she decided to go that... little did she notice, as a group of MORE angels burst out from the heavens at full speed, towards the same smell

[=============================]

"c͢͢͡ome̴ ̸m͢͡y̸҉ ̡̢̕c̨̧h͡͞i̸l̨͞d̛re̸͜n, ̨i̡t ̨i̢s͢ ̵t͘i҉m͟e̷͘͟.҉̡
̸
̴͜Í̕͜ Ç̛ĄN̢ SM͠E̛L̶͜L ̵͟D̸̨͝EAT͘H̢,̷̢ ̕Ą͟N͟D ͠I̵F̸̀ ̨̛͘W̴͞E̴̛̕ ̧͘C͝͏͟L̵A̕҉IM ̛D̷E͏A͢͞T҉̷H̡,̀͠ M̧O̴ŔE̢͏ ̸̕͡H͠ǪRS̡E̸͞M̸E̷͡͠N͞ ̨́W̵I̵̧͢L̸L͘͡͡ ̵͜F̸O̶̢L̛LO̷͠͝W ͟͞E͜͏̧ÁS҉̴̛I̷LÝ͟͡!̨̀́

Elana called to thousands of demons in hell, as they all cheered, and begun ascending to earth in bulkloads

The Red Fist gang placed Timmy's casket in the grave that had been dug out by the grave keeper. The further into the graveyard that War got, the worse the sense got stronger. War's train of thought was derailed when bruiser stood in front of the gang and began a speech. "Timmy was a friend to us all. I remember when I first met him. He was just a kid, fresh of the streets looking to make an easy buck. From the moment I met him I knew Timmy was different. He had an unwavering moral compass, but he never let that interfere with a job. I don't know how he did it, but he managed to be the best of us. Let us not forget him, or his sacrifice. Timmy was a good man who did not deserve to die, but he does deserve to be avenged." He walked over to the grave and looked down at the casket. "We will not forget you Timmy." He said, shedding a single tear before walking to War. "Andrew come with me, we need to talk." And with that War followed Bruiser to a limo that was waiting at the graveyard gates, then they drove off.