Ethne the White stood protectively between what remained of her people and the oncoming Grigori army. She would not let the Grigori decimate the last few, faithful Elohim like they had their brothers in fatih, The Hippus and the Amurites. With longing, she thought back on when the Triad of Kilmorph had ruled most of Erebus, the Grigori agnostics limited to their satelite location past the City of Acheron. Now, the land from the Elohim westcoast and all the way to where the Amurites had once settled on the farthest eastern coast was in ruins or led by simple barbarian chieftans. How had this happened? Who or what could have caused this damage? As if to mock her for her naïve question, a single rider rode forth from the Grigori host. It was Branding, the most renowned mortal warrior of all times, some even suggested that he was feared even beyond Yerisinia and Ars Moriendi, the remaining Riders of the Aopcalypse. On his otherwise unhelmeted head was the Crown of the First Rider, in his hand the Blade of the Second Rider, artifacts he had conquered in battle. In his belt hang the heads of Tasunke and Valledia, along with Bambur and Arthendain's. Ethne felt a slight shiver as the Purger of Erebus came closer, at a calm pace, but it was quickly replaced by righteous anger. This was the man who had destroyed the World of Erebus and single-handedly brought the Triad to it's fall and the Apocalypse closer than ever before! She would show no fear of such a villain! Branding's horse stopped, and he stepped down from it, bowing gently when he had both feet on the ground. "Lady Ethne," he hailed her. She almost could not control her anger, and her mouth was a slim line. Branding adressed her again. "I present you with a simple choice, as I have done all my former victims of your caliber: You and Your people renounce the Gods, and I shall show mercy." Ethne was outraged! Was this what the Grigori crusade was about? Ridding Erebus of the believers? No matter, she thought, it was too late, and she would not bow to Cassiel's derailed champion. She started: "I refuse yo-" War sung as Branding swung it, killing Ethne instantly. The broken body of the once so beautiful Elohim ruler fell to the ground like a bundle of rags. Branding felt the earth tremble beneath him as he signaled his forces to advance upon the last of the Elohim. He had felt the same shake when Stephanos had ridden against him, only much weaker. The world was crying in torment at his misdeeds. He shook his head as he begun to advance upon the last believers on the surface of Erebus. Cassiel's wish would come true: never more would the people of Erebus need or heed the Gods! Whatever evils that the Apocalypse would bring, Branding thought, the Grigori would have him as their protector. He had defeated a Rider of the Apocalypse single-handedly, and surely he could do it again, should Yerisinia or Ars decide to attack the marvelleous city of Midgard, the only remaining nexus of civilization and a testiment to what Man could achieve. Like himself, he thought, as he wandered among the dead bodies of the last Elohim. A testiment to what Man could achieve. Had he not slain any champion, the enemy had sent against him? Had his arrows not reached their marks, one and all? Had he not destroyed even the rampant hordes of Tasunke? He left the ruins of the city, War in his hand. Was he not a God among Men?