—(POV, none)—
A single man walks towards the reinforced castle within the capital of Yakyakistan called Yakville. The entire army of the country descends upon him, all five hundred. They were not prepared for this war.
The Yak commander marches forth from his army. He stops when in talking distance, “Turn around, and we won’t kill you.”
The man smiles, looking past his round glasses to the Yak, “Funny, I was going to say the same thing. Turn around, and you might survive. Face me, and I will get many paintings out of you.”
The Yak scoffs, “As if one creature could defeat an entire army.”
He laughs, his grey beard moving with his mouth, “That’s your mistake. You assume I am alone.”
A fog descends upon the town, “What is this!?”
Jim taps his foot impatiently, “They better not be searching for frogs.”
Then, stepping out of the fog, are more figures wearing white robes. They all carry daggers, and cut a intimidating visage with the fog blocking out their faces. They all walk up next to Jim. One of them speaks in a strange, echoing voice, “We are ready to serve, Lord Pickens.”
He smiles, and points at two Yaks. They catch on fire, and a bolt of lighting travels out to them. Jim waves his hand around as buildings around them start to collapse. He nods, “Bring them down.”
The Cult nods, and hold out their daggers as one. Fire and lighting fill the air as they aim toward the Yaks.
The Yaks rally, and try to charge at the Cult. Jim simply raises his hands, and commands the buildings around them. The Yaks are stopped in their tracks as they are trapped within four walls. The building now around them is unbroken, no matter how hard they try.
Jim turns to one of the Cult, “Bring me Jog Manson, Grognak, Human Racket, and Seven Tails. Introduce them to the Yaks. I hear they haven’t eaten in a while.”
They nod, “At once, Lord Pickens.”
He nods back, “Thank you, Grim.”
The walls constructed around the army is see through, and the Yak Commanded shouts at Jim, “What are you!? What kind of powers are these!?”
He smiles, and walks up to the Yak, “I am Jim Pickens. My power is my friend. Call him Kevin.”
Then, the people requested show up. They walk through the wall, and into the Yak army. They start to laugh maniacally, and the Yaks cower.
Jim turns to Grim, and the Cult, “Make sure none leave. I have given them a meal. Make them enjoy it, and clean their plate.”
Grim nods, “My pleasure, Lord Pickens.”
With another wave of his hand, Jim turns into a bat. He flies up to a balcony, leading into the throne room.
He turns back into his human self, and walks in. The throne room is filled with twelve Yaks. Two rulers, ten guards.
Slipping his own dagger out, Pickens waits for the guards to approach.
The first one has his charge cut short when his throat is slashed out. Another is set on fire to burn alive, and yet another is electrocuted.
Pivoting on his feet, Pickens impales the head of a guard, throwing the body into the spear of another. The dead guards body still carries a spear, and the one stopped by the dead one impales himself upon that spear.
One gets close enough to stab, but is stopped when he is frozen solid and broken into shards. Another approaches, but steps back when Pickens screams at him. The scream is scary enough that the guard dies from a heart attack.
The remaining three step back in fear. Jim takes out a drink and splashes it on one of them. The guard collapses from the poison within the drink.
Jim rushes the last two, and stabs one in the heart with his dagger. He vaults over the dead body, and lands behind the final one. With hands around head, and a bit of vampiric strength, he breaks the neck of the guard.
Summoning his dagger from the body of the guard, he turns to face the two rulers. Licking the blood from his blade, he smiles at the two, “Hello there, King and Prince. Oh, what am I to do with you?”
’Lock them up.’
Pickens scratches his beard, “Lock them up? Eh, I don’t think these two can pant. Maybe something else?”
’Then do with them as you shall.’
The King shudders at the voice speaking, “Who is that!?”
Pickens turns to face him, “Oh, him? Call him Kevin. Well, you can’t call him Kevin. Soon, you won’t be able to call anything.”
He approaches the King, running his tongue against his canines. The King shakes, “What are you going to do?”
Pickens holds his face within his hands, “Something you won’t like. Feel free to scream. It fills me with satisfaction to hear my works products.”
Decending onto the Kings neck, Jim bites in deeply. He feels the blood rush, and takes a deep drink of the sweet nectar of life. The King tries to scream, but all that comes up is more blood.
Not that it matters, his son makes up for it, “Ahhhhh!”
In fact, his son actually did something smart for once. He tried to run toward the exit. Tried, being the main word. He runs into a wall constructed from nothing, as Pickens stops him without even looking.
He throws down the King’s lifeless body, and looks toward the Prince. Wiping the blood from his beard and mouth. He twirls his dagger around, “Long live the King, am I right?”
Reaching the Prince, he grabs hold of his head, and forces him forward. Pushing his dagger forward, and slowly moving around the eye of the young Prince. Then, stabbing forward, and taking it out like a meatball. Tossing it to the side, he goes wild with his dagger stabs, looking like Pagen Min with his dagger.
After he is done, he stands up, and walks out to the balcony.
In the street building made for the army, all that’s left are four people and Yak bones.
The Cult walk through the street, right below the balcony. They cheer a single crescendo, “Dear Leader Jim Pickens!”