Red Horsemen; Azazel

When 'The Beast,' otherwise known as 'The Creator' was bid to generate its creations endlessly and infinitely, once the criteria for its replication became active, the East Gate that harbored the Red Horsemen would bid another herd of 'Beasts' from out of the generator, allowing them to take on whatever form they should so see fit as they unscrambled themselves out of the giant horde of data that was given to them, known as Prime Chaos.

These 'Beasts' were the 'Beast Of The Earth,' Azazel, the Fallen Angel. They would rush out swiftly into the fields of Pallor Mortis, and quickly populate the land. Whatever came into the area would be copied indefinitely, as they would give up their natural shape and form to take on whatever they needed to be in order to Sacrifice themselves and get another entity to make sacrifices because of them.

They trampled the land, and they all looked at and to each other, knowing they were all the same, yet also anticipating that another one of them become different so another could take on its form, like a sheep. Still, they waited, and did not move, until someone or something else did.

A powerful force spread over the land as a resting presence and a swift pressure. Something in the distance, bright and luminous, like a star, had shot forth from the earth and up into the sky. The clouds rolled through the sky loftily cleared the area, passing on over the horizon.

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As it arced through the sky, the clouds in its path parted, leaving rays of sunshine beaming down from the heavens. Though the land was still 'Hell' and 'Purgatory,' as a clean land, nothing looked any different from paradise.

What was once a sea of billowing vapor perpetual now suddenly faded into clear sky. The brightness of the light which illuminated the air made the once pitch dark sky filled with color and fully visible to those that tread the surface of the mountain.

Lo' a great wall came down from above the land as the shape of a marvelous hoof like that of a goat and in the likeness of a mineral which had just come out of a furnace, still aflame. As it pressed down firmly into the land, its titanic hoof print arced around the entirety of the area where they trod, containing them all in a hemisphere like a fence.

On the other end of the Azazels, the Sacrificial Goats, was their ancestor, of which they had degenerated, whose face was the light of the sun in the sky and the scorching heat of its presence bearing down on them after the sky had cleared of all the clouds. The Red Horsemen would have been roasted in the spot and shoveled into the flames that were the stomach of Aries, the Lord of the Scapegoats. Their sole purpose was to be used as either fodder or as scrap for something else, yet Aries would take care of all of this herd all at once to use as sustenance for itself. The streak of flames at the scorching trail of the hoof consecrated the area clean for Aries to step and rest whilst also disposing of the sacrificial Scapegoats all at once. Aries rested over his land now after having been fed up and lay languorously in the empty pastures; his long neck wrapped around the full span of his legs.

And, the neck of the great beast would bend around to meet the eye of the Pumpkin Head, which was summoned prior to meet with the Ram Spirit face to face. Lord Aries knew about the Primordial events that went on about the mountain of Sin that had long plagued all creation -- contributed to by all parts. There was a single one ruler over it all, and of course the matters about it could only be spoken about to and by those who knew of the Fallen Angel above them all by name. That Fallen Angel was naught but a false image that caused holy angels to copy the essence of the Fallen and degenerate further into lesser slaves of the original from there. "Yea, I Summoned Thee," the great one bleated, "Yet, We Must Not Speak Of Such Matters Out In The Open." A swift turn of the head drew a great wind of change over the land, the vacuum of which yielded the voice of the speaking ancient. "This Way, Where Mine Face Goes." The way the ancestor spoke was in a dialect similar to the speech and thought patterns of those of an era long beyond what only knew of its own language. Thus, when it was spoken, it made sense to the one who could understand as well utilizing the same knowledge. This Pumpkinhead was what had been chosen long ago by the Aries to bear this burden -- Since before time began. "Azza, The Original 'Fallen Angel,' Is What Ophiuchus Was Supposed To Be. Yet, The Fallen Angel Has Not Been Extinguished Of Its Flame." Living on as an aspiring image in the offspring of the Fallen Angels -- the Degenerates -- they would continue to desire to be like the Fallen Angel Azza by default, even without any knowledge of the False Light, itself.

Where the Pumpkin Head's attention was drawn by the length of the neck of the Lord Aries stretched over the span of the sky, drawing forth a vacuous suction whilst in motion that rippled like the searing of intense heat. The land was scorched by this sudden rapid movement, something like friction, and what lived in the land was burnt up at the passing of the arid storm trailing behind the snap of the great ram's neck. "This Fallen Angel Lives On Perpetually By Using Azazel To Sustain Itself As Ruler Through Sacrifice And Reproduction." Farming the compatriot Fallen Angel, Azazel, was to fatten them up with Fruit of Evil whilst the Fallen Angel, Azza, who fed Azazel, partook of the Fruit of Good. "Come Hither That We Speak More Of The False Light." Lo', Aries turned its head fully, after all such time elapsed with the passing of its single motion over the land, and its entire head was taken to a new location by the turning of the long, brachial neck.