Ubarum Xul's Story

The box tore away, by a force unknown to the contents, to reveal something...strange. It was a man, kind of, bony but at the same time muscled. He had an unusual amount of hair, thicker than the average human's, and his face was hidden in his arms. The mess on his head was jet black, and his skin was white as lightning. The man, of sorts, wore only what could of once been a toga. It was stained deep burgundy and brown, perhaps with blood. There the man lay, curled in a ball, he could not have been more than five foot six.

For a moment, he was still as stone. The muscles along his back rippled once, and his head lifted to reveal eyes with no pupils, eyes with no cornea. They were simply black like the night, and those holes bore into the man who had disturbed his slumber.

Slowly, the door creaked open. Out peeked a man, bright eyes gleaming hate from behind a mop of black hair. Opening his mouth, revealing fangs much larger than Daemala's, he let out a feral hiss.

"What use, that?" His accent was thick, ancient Mesopotamian drenching his words.

"When these," He bared his teeth revealing that they were all in fact sharp, "Work more." Retreating from the door and into the darkness of the room, Ubarum left the door ajar. "Enter. I have inquiries."

"Blood," He said, flopping on a dusty bed. The darkness was no bother, he could see perfectly fine.

"Blood, screams. Chaos. Where?"

In a flash, he was nose to nose with the Harlequin. The breath of the archaic creature stank of death, his eyes glowing with the rage of ages.

"Where. Outside," He kicked the knife, sending it to stick in the wall somewhere wth a twanging thud.

"Take me," It was a demand. The man, who was wearing only a strange loincloth, crossed to the wardrobe and threw it on the ground. A large crack formed down the center, into which he stuck his hand. Ripping the thing apart in a swift movement, Ubarum then began flinging clothing left and right.

He seemed to have settled with something, a house robe. Pulling it on and tying the belt, he shot a menacing look at the Harlequin.

"Work?" Could he wear this in public? Was this the way the people dressed nowadays?

Ubarum Xul coursed after the Harlequin, robe fluttering. It didn't take him long to catch up, mere seconds. Truly the child didn't think he could outrun Ubarum?

He smashed open the door to the room, following the scent of the Harlequin as if it were a path of cupcakes.

"I scent you," Ubarum growled, clawing towards the chair, doing his best to tame his inner beast, "Hiding with fear and deception."

Ubarum came upon the chair, gripping the corner and tearing the fabric. At least he didn't break the chair.

Harlequin

Where?

Ubarum roared, his mouth opening larger than seemed possible.

"Putrid maggot, squirming infantile bag of dried blood, Change of the world I slept through, the night is new."

At this Ubarum whirled, whipping his robe rope as an accent. Then he glanced over his shoulder, looking pained, "How they do?"

Ubarum Xul face The Harlequin.

"No. Take me to food."

"No," He could feel the change, but didn't want it. It was from anger, not deliberate, and he wanted to stop this sort of reaction.

"Companion in killing is my wish. You, relentless. Let's go. Now."

Faster than a blink, Ubarum was practically against The Harlequin's back.

"You will bring me to food," he said, reaching within for a power long forgotten.

After a few more silent steps, he activated his hidden power. Reaching out his mind, he willed it into The Harlequins. If his old powers were true, The Harlequin would feel ridiculous pain, stabs of it, to the brain.

"I hunger."

As he spoke, the power slipped, and with a gasp Ubarum lost control of the mental dagger.

"We can fun" It was his last hope.

Glad to have won, and slightly exhausted, Ubarum Xul stalked after The Harlequin.

The silence of the morning was broken by the steady tap, tap, tap of boots on the stone square, the focal point of a great city.  Arriving just before the dawn, a triumvirate of cloaked figures made their way into the Plaza, carrying with them a solemn mood and the stench of death.

The leader dragged behind him a headless body, dirtying the well-kept square as the blood leaked out from the decaying necrose. In the hands of the cloaked fellow to his left was presumably the high cheekboned, full lipped, bronze haired, strong jawlined, and formerly straight-nosed head of the corpse.

"Behold: the cowardly patriarch of the Cullen family." Casren declared, to the amusement of his companions. Nobody else was laughing.

Scaling the statue in a single leap, Ubarum Xul carried the head up to the outstretched sword and slid it down the length of the blade, making a satisfying crunch. In a single peel, he tore the skin and scalp from the decapitated head. With a gruesome slap, the skin was applied to the sculpted head of the statue.  The body was put to use, impaled ifficiently on the statue's sword in honor of the legacy of their forefather and current member, Vlad the Impaler. 

Simultaenously, the female stepped forward. Daemala lifted her arms, taking a parchment and posting it against the now vandalized statue in the center of the square. She receeded to her former position, flanking her leader. The defiler landed on Casren's other side, and all three of them turned their attention to the statue. Casren seemed especially entertained by the creative positioning of Edward Cullen's body. Humiliating, he thought to himself, Perfect.

Inscribed purposefully in a handwritten declaration, the edict read as follows:

The Blood Edict

Let it be known, to all that concern themselves with the goings on of Wing City and surrounding districts, that VANKORYTH DÉTENTE will henceforth be enforcing a strict policie of control over all VAMPYREKIND.  No vampyre is to be seen in or around the territory without bidding their full allegiance and commitment to the DÉTENTE by way of deed and action.

FAILURE TO COMPLY will result in DEATH, enforced IMMEDIATELY and with the due judication granted by this decree.

FURTHERMORE, a semi-negociable reward of  10,000 standard will be granted for the delivery of each LIVE VAMPYRE to the gates of the CASTLE VANKORYTH.  

CLEMENCY is offered to the former enemies  of the DÉTENTE should they wish to align themselves towards this effort, but NONE shall be granted to those who work against it.

SO IT WAS WRITTEN.

   

With that, the letter fluttered softly in the morning wind, standing alone as a sole remnant of the momentous occasion. The party who had delivered it disappeared as swiftly as they had arrived, moments before the sun cast its light onto the square, lighting up the plaza's newest decoration.

It shone.  Oh, how brilliantly it shone.  The disembodied head lit up, sparkling radiantly in the rays of the sun, providing the square with an illuminating beacon.

No matter the daylight.  Never mind throngs of citizens milling about without a worry for their throats, the suits parading from here to there. Forget the mothers in swishy skirts, clenching young offspring in their harried hands. Through the morn, to the horror of most, the corpse of Edward Cullen was displayed. 

The Vankoryth Detente was not to be messed with. 

The creature appeared in the twilight before dawn. The morning folk were milling about, taking care of business, they never saw him coming.

He was an abomination so nightmarish that his very existence, his form, had been baished from even the most traumatizing of horrors.
A low growl bubbled in the depths of Ubarum's throat.

Eighty vampyric soldiers stepped from the shadows, weapons bared. They were here with the monster, to assist whatever cause he was here on.

A disgrace. A Provocation, the beast thought to himself, That's what this was. The red L was blazen mockery, mockery that wouldn't go tolerated or unpunished.

Ubarum turned to a man cowering, grabbed him by the shirt and ripped his esophogas out. A bloody tendril of throat followd, head dangling limp with lolling eyes. Ubarum threw the corpse at the statue, lurching for another victim. This one, a woman who wouldn't stop shrieking madnees, he was glad to add to the monument. This was, he thought,[i] afterall, tearing the throat of another screaming lady, a retaliation. Ubarum threw her aside, grabbing people as they streamed chaos through the square. His claws were out now, as the beast tore through flesh like soft sweet grass.

He had been provoked, Ubarum thought to himself, foam gathering around his maw. Time slipped from him, death was caked beneath his fingernails and dripping from his teeth. How dare they disgrace him as such? The corpses began to gather in an unruly pile, climbing the statue in a grotesque display of slaughter. Ubarum's vision began to clear, the red aura dissipating, the hate faltering for but one moment. To not take this seriously? His men had followed suit, the reason the tower of bodies was so high.

Enough.

If there was anyone left alive, they heard the word as it bore into their minds. The vampyric soldiers stopped, swiftly standing in formation in a circle around the mess.

How dare these maggots dare assume they can even come close to touch upon the legacy that is..

Ripping a limb from someone in the pile, he crudely turned the sprayed red "L" into a bloody, right triangle of a "D". Above it, he scribbled a V, and flopped the arm over the top of the statue. From within his garments, he pawed out a parchment, and skewered it on the blade of the monument. It bore the same message as the one before, but one would have to either climb the bodies or remove them to discover this.

He left as swiftly as he came, disappearing into the clouds of the setting Moon. The small army, too, disappeared into the shadows.

The message he left behind was as clear as the pile of mutilated corpses on Wing City's precious monument.

The Vankoryth Detente was not going away, and was not to be messed with.

Ubarum Xul prowled around, before scaling a building and returning to his hiding places in the obscure shadows.

There was one bang, a solid bang, on the notorious door of Gambit's bar. This happened quite often, and it would not be unusual if none paid attention. Silence followed the bang for long enough: the noise slipped from the conscious of most patrons of the bar.

There was a second bang, a shaking and ominous bang, that rattled the very frame of the Gambit's Bar door. It was at just the right frequency, the same frequency in fact, as the bang before. Perhaps some would take notice of the mysterious bang the second time it rang through Gambit's bar.

Perhaps the bang would be waved off, as many bangs had before. After all, was this not the very bar which was exploded once, twice, thrice was it now? Invincible and ominous, surely it would take more than two spooky ba-

BANG BANGBANGBANG BANG. BANG BANG.

There was most certainly someone out there banging obnoxiously on the door.