Post by Donzig on Jul 25, 2024 18:55:20 GMT -5
In the black of night the Scourge sat in an ornate chair, staring into the darkness. He was motionless, he was still.
Sinclair Godfrey opened the door, and she looked around before taking a deep breath. Above all things the Baroness knew that when he was like this, Donzig was extremely dangerous.
Unpredictable at the best of times, he would be like wildfire. She crossed the room slowly, her hands lifted as though to show they were empty. Sinclair made sure she did not move too fast, or make any sudden motions. She knelt down beside the chair never taking her eyes from him, before a hand lifted.
‘Donzig, none of what Fox said matters. You—‘
The head tilted slowly, and the Baroness stared into the eyes behind that mask. They were filled with malice, they were cold and dead, and she flinched backwards as she rose.
She darted from the room, and Donzig hissed as he looked back into the shadows.
Pride.
The fatal flaw at the heart of Donzig was his arrogance, his unyielding hubris, his belief in his own superiority. The Great Dark could tolerate a lot of things, but a blow to his ego? Doubt?
Those things were toxic to him. Could Fox be right? Could his thinking be flawed? Time and time again he had tried to take what should have been his by right, and time and time again he had been denied. Could it be that he was unworthy? That there was some flaw or weakness in him?
His fingers tapped against the table, and he seemed to turn his head as though listening to something far away. It seemed a voice was yelling at him, warning him that this what Fox wanted! Donzig after all had in those defeats sowed the seeds of his own destruction, his pride had gotten the best of him. Or worse he had given into his own rage and bloodlust.
The Scourge was a thing of the pit, of chaos, of pure anger. And everyone knew that during a match Donzig was a barely suppressed thing of fury. He wanted carnage, he wanted blood, he wanted havoc.
Victory? Titles? Those things mattered less and little when he was inside the ring.
He reached inside of his long leather coat, and produced a worn ivory chess piece. His fingers moved over it, turning and twisting it slowly between his digits. His head tilting to stare it, and he tapped it against the surface of the table before he scowled.
Fox had made an error, a mistake.
The fact that he did not have the X-Crown was the sign of not his weakness, or his own flaws. It was an indication that the world was flawed. The world was sick, the world was flawed! It was diseased, and it’s stubborn refusal to yield to his will! To destiny! Was a symptom of it’s sickness.
Control?
Donzig did not desire control, these people were all flawed, they were unfit to serve him. That was why he needed to destroy them, to remake them in his image. And as such control was a means to an end.
His hand tightened on the white king, and he nodded to himself before he leaned back again.
He was an agent of chaos, the vessel of change, he was the dawn of a new order. And the very fact that Fox stood in his way? Well, that would have to be dealt with wouldn’t it? Fox would have to be destroyed.
And then he would have the very prize that Fox in the grips of his own madness had denied him. The prize that was now in the hands of that accursed fop, Lord Dominicus. He would have the WUK Heavyweight Championship.
Then the X-crown.
It was inevitable. He was inevitable.
He would save the world, he would burn its sickness from it! His fingers tightened on the chess piece, balling it into a fist as his eyes narrowed.
‘You almost had me, Fox. Almost. But titles have no meaning, and the love of these vermin? Even less. What are such things to a God?
And when I drag you into the Hell in a Cell, I will show you the cold hard truth of this reality. We are all doomed, and the things you claim to love will drag you into the pit.’
He leaned back again, and the ivory king was lifted again to be held between his fingers. He stared at it for a long moment, and then it disappeared inside of his coat.
But what if he was wrong?
Sinclair Godfrey opened the door, and she looked around before taking a deep breath. Above all things the Baroness knew that when he was like this, Donzig was extremely dangerous.
Unpredictable at the best of times, he would be like wildfire. She crossed the room slowly, her hands lifted as though to show they were empty. Sinclair made sure she did not move too fast, or make any sudden motions. She knelt down beside the chair never taking her eyes from him, before a hand lifted.
‘Donzig, none of what Fox said matters. You—‘
The head tilted slowly, and the Baroness stared into the eyes behind that mask. They were filled with malice, they were cold and dead, and she flinched backwards as she rose.
She darted from the room, and Donzig hissed as he looked back into the shadows.
Pride.
The fatal flaw at the heart of Donzig was his arrogance, his unyielding hubris, his belief in his own superiority. The Great Dark could tolerate a lot of things, but a blow to his ego? Doubt?
Those things were toxic to him. Could Fox be right? Could his thinking be flawed? Time and time again he had tried to take what should have been his by right, and time and time again he had been denied. Could it be that he was unworthy? That there was some flaw or weakness in him?
His fingers tapped against the table, and he seemed to turn his head as though listening to something far away. It seemed a voice was yelling at him, warning him that this what Fox wanted! Donzig after all had in those defeats sowed the seeds of his own destruction, his pride had gotten the best of him. Or worse he had given into his own rage and bloodlust.
The Scourge was a thing of the pit, of chaos, of pure anger. And everyone knew that during a match Donzig was a barely suppressed thing of fury. He wanted carnage, he wanted blood, he wanted havoc.
Victory? Titles? Those things mattered less and little when he was inside the ring.
He reached inside of his long leather coat, and produced a worn ivory chess piece. His fingers moved over it, turning and twisting it slowly between his digits. His head tilting to stare it, and he tapped it against the surface of the table before he scowled.
Fox had made an error, a mistake.
The fact that he did not have the X-Crown was the sign of not his weakness, or his own flaws. It was an indication that the world was flawed. The world was sick, the world was flawed! It was diseased, and it’s stubborn refusal to yield to his will! To destiny! Was a symptom of it’s sickness.
Control?
Donzig did not desire control, these people were all flawed, they were unfit to serve him. That was why he needed to destroy them, to remake them in his image. And as such control was a means to an end.
His hand tightened on the white king, and he nodded to himself before he leaned back again.
He was an agent of chaos, the vessel of change, he was the dawn of a new order. And the very fact that Fox stood in his way? Well, that would have to be dealt with wouldn’t it? Fox would have to be destroyed.
And then he would have the very prize that Fox in the grips of his own madness had denied him. The prize that was now in the hands of that accursed fop, Lord Dominicus. He would have the WUK Heavyweight Championship.
Then the X-crown.
It was inevitable. He was inevitable.
He would save the world, he would burn its sickness from it! His fingers tightened on the chess piece, balling it into a fist as his eyes narrowed.
‘You almost had me, Fox. Almost. But titles have no meaning, and the love of these vermin? Even less. What are such things to a God?
And when I drag you into the Hell in a Cell, I will show you the cold hard truth of this reality. We are all doomed, and the things you claim to love will drag you into the pit.’
He leaned back again, and the ivory king was lifted again to be held between his fingers. He stared at it for a long moment, and then it disappeared inside of his coat.
But what if he was wrong?
