Post by Oblivion Death Squad on Nov 20, 2021 13:00:02 GMT -5
Beneath a towering gothic cathedral, with stained glass windows casting dim light across an empty square. In the shadow of a statue of a man on horseback, who glanced back over his shoulder with a hand near his sword at his hip. Stood three figures silently, and then the smallest of the figures stepped forward to push back her hood. Revealing the pale, pretty features of the Lady Sinclair Godfrey. She sniffed, glancing at the statue of the handsome young man before she shrugged.
'Esmeralda. It has been a minute hasn't it?'
A pause.
'I am glad you remembered us, I am glad you could take time out of whatever.' She waved a hand absently, dismissively with a shrug before she shook her head. 'Whatever it is that is occupying your time now, which I imagine is much more interesting than what you were doing the last time I laid my eyes on you. Which is turning your husband into a cuckold, and pursuing Steve Awesome of all people like a dog in heat!'
Sinclair fumed, her lips twisted into a frown.
'But you see the Children of the Void? We are doing what we always have done, and always will do. The work of Oblivion, the culling of the weak. The purging of the unfit, and our every movement makes this world more fit for the Empty Night, Esmeralda. And so it shall be here in Darby, despite your pronouncements.'
A pause, and she turned to slowly pace much like her master and mentor would often do. But Sinclair didn't seem to realize she was mirroring him, and she walked back and forth before the hulking forms of the Death Squad. A hand lifting to brush across the huge shoulder and chest of the glowering Moloch before she shrugged, looking up as she continued.
'I never liked you, Esmeralda. I tolerated you because the Scourge commanded it, I endured your antics because it served the Lord of Chaos. But we were never friends were we? No, people like us don't have friends do they? And so if you think our past association will earn you any mercy? Well, you're married to Armand so I am sure you are used to being disappointed.'
The Ninth Baroness snorted a laugh, a hand lifting to cover her mouth. Then she licked her lips absently, and continued to speak as the grim figures of the Death Squad stood behind her. 'So Armand is a visigoth? And you're a Roman Courtier assassin? Is that it?'
Sinclair's smile flickered, and died as she lifted her chin.
'We are the Huns. We ride where we wish, we spread terror and destruction in our wake. We are ruin, death, and war. No one not barbarian, nor proud roman can stand before the oncoming wrath of the Horde. The Scourge of God, Esmeralda.' A hand lifted, and Sinclair gestured towards the lights of the nearby city before lips quirked in a smile. 'Even here, even in my very own homeland stands the shadow of Empire. And it too was swept away, cast down and conquered by the Vikings. Thrown down by the fury of the Northmen, and so did the proud town of Derventio become one of the boroughs of the Danelaw. Because you see--'
Sinclair turned back, and her eyes narrowed as she lifted a hand to brush back her hair. 'We are the future. We are inevitable. We are desolation.'
A sniff, and her lips quirked.
'You should get out of the way, or you will be swept aside. Every empire ends, Esmeralda. Every empire falls.'
Her gaze drifted to stare at the statue, and she shrugged before she turned back to the Death Squad. The pair followed her every movement, standing silent in their black fatigues as they waited. And she lifted her head again, and then shrugged.
'Do you think you and Jennings can stand before the fury of the Oblivion Death Squad? Is that it? That you can defeat 620 pounds of fury?' Sinclair sniffed, and she lifted a hand to rest on Mormo's shoulder as she shrugged. 'Look at them, these are killers. These men were plucked off the streets of some nowhere nothing town in Armenia, and they were trained to the merciless engines of destruction you see now. They were trained, forged in the shadow of the Apocalypse to serve the will of the Oblivion. And you think some of your little tricks? Some of your little games will defeat them? Is that it? You and Cross will what? Beat them?'
A roll of her eyes, and Sinclair licked her lips before she waved a hand absently.
'That plate is coming home with us, Esmeralda. You see the Death Squad much like your partner lost at End of Days this year? But the difference is? They lost the people who won, they lost to the victors. Meanwhile, your partner and her team scraped by, dragging themselves into a mercy killing! Because frankly, if not for a trick of fate? Well, you would have faced us in the finals anyhow.'
Sinclair leaned forward, dropping to a crouch as she rested her elbows on her knees as she shrugged.
'Besides, nothing and I mean nothing would make us happier then bringing home a piece of last year's End of Days winner. You see since his defeat at End of Days? Donzig has been most angry with anything and everything that even reminds him of End of Days, Dakota. And the Death Squad is ever eager to please their master. And so the pair of you should be ready for a beating, for a war, to be devastated.'
Sinclair slid back to her feet, and she tapped a hand to Moloch's shoulder. He snarled something, fuming it seemed as his hands curled into fists. His fingers flexing and curling, and he shook his head before spitting something else. He turned, and hammered a fist into Mormo's shoulder. The smaller of the two brutes, growled something as well, pointing angrily at the camera before hissing.
Sinclair shrugged, and she tilted her head before her hand lifted to tap the base of the statue.
'Do either of you know who this is?' The Death Squad turned to stare at the statue, and Mormo started to speak before falling silent at a wave of her hand. It seemed the Baroness didn't mean them. And she shrugged, and continued. 'This is Bonnie Prince Charlie, he led an army to restore his father to the throne of England. And it was here in Derby that his officers abandoned his cause, and he was forced to turn back from his quest. He was forced to abandon his claim, and he returned to Scotland in defeat. But you see? The Death Squad will not, our cause is destruction. And we don't care what fate awaits us if we fail, so long as you are made to suffer.'
Moloch growled something in his native tongue, gesturing angrily as he slammed a fist to his chest. And Mormo nodded in agreement, and Sinclair smiled slowly.
'Dakota. Esmeralda. There is no hope for you here, only suffering. Only pain. Only defeat.'
'Esmeralda. It has been a minute hasn't it?'
A pause.
'I am glad you remembered us, I am glad you could take time out of whatever.' She waved a hand absently, dismissively with a shrug before she shook her head. 'Whatever it is that is occupying your time now, which I imagine is much more interesting than what you were doing the last time I laid my eyes on you. Which is turning your husband into a cuckold, and pursuing Steve Awesome of all people like a dog in heat!'
Sinclair fumed, her lips twisted into a frown.
'But you see the Children of the Void? We are doing what we always have done, and always will do. The work of Oblivion, the culling of the weak. The purging of the unfit, and our every movement makes this world more fit for the Empty Night, Esmeralda. And so it shall be here in Darby, despite your pronouncements.'
A pause, and she turned to slowly pace much like her master and mentor would often do. But Sinclair didn't seem to realize she was mirroring him, and she walked back and forth before the hulking forms of the Death Squad. A hand lifting to brush across the huge shoulder and chest of the glowering Moloch before she shrugged, looking up as she continued.
'I never liked you, Esmeralda. I tolerated you because the Scourge commanded it, I endured your antics because it served the Lord of Chaos. But we were never friends were we? No, people like us don't have friends do they? And so if you think our past association will earn you any mercy? Well, you're married to Armand so I am sure you are used to being disappointed.'
The Ninth Baroness snorted a laugh, a hand lifting to cover her mouth. Then she licked her lips absently, and continued to speak as the grim figures of the Death Squad stood behind her. 'So Armand is a visigoth? And you're a Roman Courtier assassin? Is that it?'
Sinclair's smile flickered, and died as she lifted her chin.
'We are the Huns. We ride where we wish, we spread terror and destruction in our wake. We are ruin, death, and war. No one not barbarian, nor proud roman can stand before the oncoming wrath of the Horde. The Scourge of God, Esmeralda.' A hand lifted, and Sinclair gestured towards the lights of the nearby city before lips quirked in a smile. 'Even here, even in my very own homeland stands the shadow of Empire. And it too was swept away, cast down and conquered by the Vikings. Thrown down by the fury of the Northmen, and so did the proud town of Derventio become one of the boroughs of the Danelaw. Because you see--'
Sinclair turned back, and her eyes narrowed as she lifted a hand to brush back her hair. 'We are the future. We are inevitable. We are desolation.'
A sniff, and her lips quirked.
'You should get out of the way, or you will be swept aside. Every empire ends, Esmeralda. Every empire falls.'
Her gaze drifted to stare at the statue, and she shrugged before she turned back to the Death Squad. The pair followed her every movement, standing silent in their black fatigues as they waited. And she lifted her head again, and then shrugged.
'Do you think you and Jennings can stand before the fury of the Oblivion Death Squad? Is that it? That you can defeat 620 pounds of fury?' Sinclair sniffed, and she lifted a hand to rest on Mormo's shoulder as she shrugged. 'Look at them, these are killers. These men were plucked off the streets of some nowhere nothing town in Armenia, and they were trained to the merciless engines of destruction you see now. They were trained, forged in the shadow of the Apocalypse to serve the will of the Oblivion. And you think some of your little tricks? Some of your little games will defeat them? Is that it? You and Cross will what? Beat them?'
A roll of her eyes, and Sinclair licked her lips before she waved a hand absently.
'That plate is coming home with us, Esmeralda. You see the Death Squad much like your partner lost at End of Days this year? But the difference is? They lost the people who won, they lost to the victors. Meanwhile, your partner and her team scraped by, dragging themselves into a mercy killing! Because frankly, if not for a trick of fate? Well, you would have faced us in the finals anyhow.'
Sinclair leaned forward, dropping to a crouch as she rested her elbows on her knees as she shrugged.
'Besides, nothing and I mean nothing would make us happier then bringing home a piece of last year's End of Days winner. You see since his defeat at End of Days? Donzig has been most angry with anything and everything that even reminds him of End of Days, Dakota. And the Death Squad is ever eager to please their master. And so the pair of you should be ready for a beating, for a war, to be devastated.'
Sinclair slid back to her feet, and she tapped a hand to Moloch's shoulder. He snarled something, fuming it seemed as his hands curled into fists. His fingers flexing and curling, and he shook his head before spitting something else. He turned, and hammered a fist into Mormo's shoulder. The smaller of the two brutes, growled something as well, pointing angrily at the camera before hissing.
Sinclair shrugged, and she tilted her head before her hand lifted to tap the base of the statue.
'Do either of you know who this is?' The Death Squad turned to stare at the statue, and Mormo started to speak before falling silent at a wave of her hand. It seemed the Baroness didn't mean them. And she shrugged, and continued. 'This is Bonnie Prince Charlie, he led an army to restore his father to the throne of England. And it was here in Derby that his officers abandoned his cause, and he was forced to turn back from his quest. He was forced to abandon his claim, and he returned to Scotland in defeat. But you see? The Death Squad will not, our cause is destruction. And we don't care what fate awaits us if we fail, so long as you are made to suffer.'
Moloch growled something in his native tongue, gesturing angrily as he slammed a fist to his chest. And Mormo nodded in agreement, and Sinclair smiled slowly.
'Dakota. Esmeralda. There is no hope for you here, only suffering. Only pain. Only defeat.'