Fires of Revenge

[Adam]

The Legend of Smite[/u]
A brief tale of Smite after DF

Smite the mighty was not only a Dragon, but also perhaps the single greatest threat on the world. By the time the Demon forces were destroyed, it was apparent the power the Dragon possessed at his very will, this would soon become too much for the King Dragon, who would grow annoyed, tiresome, and bored of constant pleas for support.

The Darkness cleared in the realm of Cyrax, the host banished, fleeing for his life, believing the Dragon to fall for his little tricks, yet, it was not to be so, victory was always around the corner. Smite was victorious, the master of magic was defeated in a most gruelling defeat for the demon. The Dragon laughed as Cyrax stepped through the portal, and simple sat down and relaxed, not falling for the obvious trick, he always enjoyed making his enemies feel the idiots when their plans failed.

It was a day later when Smite arrived back in the normal realm, he seemed stronger, more confident, and over all greater as he returned to his lands in true noble spirit. A great cheer roared through the fields, the Draconians and the remaining Dragon forces celebrated at the victory, and Smite being their hero. Great flames rose, smoke, steam, and fireworks, all created for the King, and by his people, it was a party surely to outdo that of any of the outside worlds at the time.

Smite sat down in his palace, the great tall roof would be seemingly as tall as the sky to a dwarf, and perhaps as high as the morning clouds to an orc, it was all designed around Dragons, nothing had anything from the outside world, nor did they want anything, they were after all a very proud nation, which many reasons to be so. They created the first flames, they built the first temple, and they fought the first war, yet until now the kingdom was nearly completely forgotten.

A poof of smoke arose from Smite’s nostrils, dancing up to the roof and eventually expanding and mixing with the air into nothing more than a light haze until it reached the windows. The King was contemplating what to do now, Cyrax was after all still about, no doubt causing more horror, and the Demon King could very well still be alive, even thought the Demon Armies had been stopped, it did not mean that they were completely destroyed.

He shifted backwards ever so slightly, staring at a marking on the wall, it was in ancient tongue, telling of the great war, and all in what a Human would think was a few squiggles and a full moon, how common minds can be so un-thoughtful in the ways of old. His mind remembered the times long ago, he wondered what his fathers would do, and if they would be for the best. For a moment he stayed unmoving, in his own dream world of thoughts and contemplations, after the answer to a much needed puzzle.

Finally moving, the large winged beast of terror moved from his fine palace, and into the inner areas, there he would meet with his officers, and tell them what was to happen. Cyrax, The Demon King, and so many other Demons needed destroying, putting into coffins, and forgotten over, and Smite knew all to well this renewal of war would only annoy his fellow men, yet it needed doing, for their safety, as well as the outside world, who Smite still felt a slight bit of debt he owed towards them.

The soldiers learnt the truth, they would once more return to the field, their elite forces were feared deeply by most, be them allied or enemy, their Draconian infantry were the finest beings to ever hold a weapon, and the Dragon warriors were dominating even the Demon Zombie forces. It would be both their victory and defeat as they once more took on the Demon King, yet all saw their victory being assured.

It had been a long siege, the Demon forces without a leader begun to fail in their defence. Already a great crash, as the once magnificent walls came tumbling down from the long assault of the Dragons. Smite saw the battle going fine and left a Draconian officer named Venom in charge, he had been one of the King’s finest warriors for some time, and he was very trustworthy.

Finally the walls crumbled and the Draconian forces charged in cutting down all they came across, the Dragons stayed to the rear, unmoving, hovering about the ground, staring blankly. No one ever found out the cause of this magic. The Dragons attacked, cutting down the Draconians from behind, and quickly making the race extinct, Without Smite’s great counters against magic they were left to die.

Once they were gone the Dragons were let out of the spell, and looked around the graveyard of friendly men, and they wept, only for a moment, before they burst into forgotten fury, and struck down many of the Demon forces. As they came over to the last remaining force, great purple beams shot around the city. One by one the Dragons fell to the powerful beams, until eventually none lasted, all believing their leader to come and save them.

The city walls were left with a great hole, several minor breaches and many buildings laid to ruin. However all this was nothing to the fact the Dragons were defeated, their kind would never fight against the Demons again, and this left the Demon Forces the perfect time to take over the world. The only remaining was Smite, and none knew where he was, until he arrived at the city to find out what had happened. That day would make all of the underworld fear him, so much pain, destruction and chaos in such a short space of time, it was unlikely Cyrax or the Demon King could compete with him during that time of rage.

Smite knew more about the Dragons than anyone else, they were not gone forever, yet he could not allow anyone the chance to change that. With much sadness he returned to Hero Mountain, and with a sigh let go of the magic spell, which linked both worlds together. Now he was totally cut off from his realm, but at least his young were safe from attack, they would one day be as mighty as he, and would prove the worth of the Dragons once more, and hopefully with more luck than he had.

Smite watched as time passed, and the Demon forces retreated. If only he had left the outside world alone for this last part of the chapter, it could have been done just as quick, and without the loss of his men. He knew it had to be Cyrax; no one else he knew had such powers of Dragons. So Smite helped the outside world once more, aiding them in the last assault of the Demons, driving them out back to where they belong.

It was not long after the great defeat of the Demon King that once more wars broke out. It seemed likely there would be a divide of three major kingdoms, but also it appeared more were rising to take over smaller areas hoping to be the next hero of the land. Smite watched with interest the rise of the kingdoms and the rise of chaos, more and more he was asked to aid people, and more and more he refused.

Smite grew tired of all the requests for aid, if it were not he had to live here, he would probably have ended up killing more of the messengers that came to his home and constantly asked. By the time the three main kingdoms were already gaining land, and Smite was planning, seemingly against himself. He needed a potent spell, one that would change him, and make him, not he, so that he may slip about unnoticed.

About a month later Smite had the perfect magical ability, and quickly used it on himself. Drowsiness took over him, and soon the Dragon collapsed on the floor and fell into a deep sleep. As he slept for many days his body slowly shrunk, till eventually he was the size of a large adult Tiger. As he woke he noticed the room look so large, the decorations now towered him, and the ceiling appeared unreachable. With a laugh he tested out his next trick.

Children screamed and peasants came rushing out with pitchforks and brooms. A great Wolf ran passed them all, and jumped onto a tall roof with mighty elegance. There was something about this Wolf which struck them with fear, something made them curious, happy and frightened all at the same time, for it was Smite in disguise, and none would tell.

Smite knew how to evade being seen, he had this planned out just right, and set about going into what he called retirement. He found a wood he liked and he stayed there till the time came he must once more return to the name of Smite. Many people saw him, in his other forms, and recently the locals had named him, making him no longer Smite in their eyes, all this suited Smite, at least he would not disturbed.

Time passed sweetly for the Dragon shape shifter, peace, tranquillity, and no more annoying people asking for help, it was as he hoped. The world thought he was dead, many of the world’s greatest warriors, magicians and archers claimed to have been the killer of the Dragon. However it was not to be so, as many years later the Dragon emerged, found by two Elves, and that is where this tale ends, for now. Perhaps more can be told of the legend that is Smite, but that will come later, if ever it does.

[Adam]

Smite's Assault[/u]
A Story of Smite's attack on a great Demon

It was a warm brisk summers day. The sun shone across the grasslands as the bees buzzed around from flower the flower on the borders of the field. A rumbling soon came from the south, like a raging river. The trees shook and swayed as a great gust of wind came passed, following a shadowy figure, and right on it’s tail was Smite, the great king of the Dragons. He had come all this way to take down a most dangerous Demon.

“You won’t get away” Shouted Smite behind the fleeing Demon, who laughed out loud at the Dragon’s words. He spat back quickly whilst increasing his speed. “You old fool, as if I am going to let you get one over me! You got lucky, but never again, this is your last flight Smite!”

The Demon span around and fired a great ball of darkness at the Dragon, who took the force with his wings, basically nullifying the attack. The Dragon shot forward at great speed, but as he neared his target it disappeared… this was beginning to remind him of a certain pesky Demon, but he would not give this big head the honour of being called the name.

Smite looked around, and as he did a great wall of javelins hit into his chest, back, face and all over his body. He yelped in pain from the ambush, but did not falter, he had spears in him before, back at the Dark Gate he had to take on similar weapons, so he feared not man made weapons such as these.

He rose up onto his rear legs, and with a deep breath, he forced out a massive ball of fire, which ripped a massive hole into the enemy spearwall, which now presented itself from the shelter of the trees. With his first attack complete Smite did not stop, he charged, swiping 65 Demons instantly off their feet and into the sky by a simple tail whip. He then simply stamped his feet down, knocking over the rest and blasted them all with fires they could not possibly enjoy, even after their times in hell.

Soon it was apparent that none would survive or even slay the Dragon so they fled, with their tails between their legs like frightened dogs. Smite gave a roar and called out, beckoning his foe to once more return. “Where do you hide minion of Stratus! Do you fear me so much that even your Demon brain cannot work like it was designed! O how you week do amuse me! Now come out and face me, worm of the underworld!”

With a flash of lightning, and a sudden darkness, which quickly shrouded the bright summers day, the Demon returned. “If that is your final request before your death, so be it, I will look forward to finally destroying you.” The Dragon laughed and came closer, their faces now staring at each other, yet the huge beast that was Smite stood far higher and looked down at it’s enemy like it were his last meal.

“Then come forth, if you are so full of yourself, take your best shot, I will give you a free hit, take it, for it shall be your last.” The Demon gave a laugh and then lunged forward with its dagger, planting it into the right leg of Smite, and the Dragon did nothing, not even flinch. The Dagger came out, blood trickled to the ground like a minor wound, yet the Dagger went fully in and back out again.

“Thanks, you would usually have to pay a fortune for that type of treatment, my muscles feel a lot better now, thanks again.” Smite swatted the Demon across the field like a football using his backhand as his weapon. He then slowly and casually walked after in pursuit, yet the Demon was already back on the offensive as it charged with about 50 replicas of itself.

“So many of you, and only one Smite… o dear, I will just have to pick one… hmm… you!” Smite grabbed one of the attacks and clamped down, instantly all the replicas vanished leaving the real Demon in Smite’s hands. With yawn Smite crushed down harder causing the Demon to yell out for pity. The King laughed and blew flames all over his hand and the Demon causing his victim to be nicely toasted and yelling in pain.

“I love well done Demon.” With that he hurled the Demon up and caught him in his jaws and bit down easily crushing bone, tendon, flesh and fat. The Demon was dead, and now slowly being digested in Smite’s stomach, which could eat anything and live off it. Other beings could bite a Demon and become corrupted by it, but not Smite, it was a Dragon delicacy back at his home realm, and he loved every bit of it.

[Adam]

Celamir’s Capture[/u]
A story of Celamir’s only return to Jericho

“You halt right there, you are not permitted to enter.” The guard spoke as he looked harshly at the Wood Elf in front of him. Celamir was the Elf’s name, born and raised in Jericho, once a fair heir to the throne, but political corruption seemed to get the better of some people and he was forced to banishment. However now after many years he wished to see the lands.

“You have been seen with Damian Thakis, the lord does not permit you access. You are no longer a citizen of Jericho, so please leave peacefully.” Celamir shook his head and turned to walk off, however with a quick twist of the hips and Elfish reflexes he was off into the city, passing the guards by sheer speed. The alarm was rung and the town militia came rushing out, all after Celamir who was now their prime target.

Celamir rolled into an alleyway just as a volley of arrows came crashing into the brickwork. With a swipe of his hand Celamir grabbed the unbroken and fallen arrows and added them to his quiver and dashed into the darkness of the alley. He came out the other end only to see archers waiting for him, all soldiers he might have once commanded, they fired and Celamir had no choice but to jump sideways through a window of a house.

He crashed to the ground, his face bloodied and his arrows all over the floor, he quickly grabbed them but soon he had a sword pointing to his face, and feet all about him, he had been caught and he didn’t have the power to take them all on at close range, no matter how strong he was. He was dragged off, after being beaten to near unconsciousness. Pushed inside the throne room, he fell to the ground, his head connecting with the floor, and a tired groan fell from his mouth.

“Get up you pile of trash. I thought you Celamir of all people would know not to try stuff like that, as you once commanded this garrison.” Celamir did not speak; his head was spinning, his nose bled, and drip after drip fell to the floor. “And stop tainting my floor with your filth.” The prefect spat towards the battered Wood Elf, who now only had on him his armour, his bow, arrows and daggers were all taken from his possession and kept by the guards.

“And it should still be my city, I should have all the cities, if it wasn’t for people like you.” Celamir finally spoke as he tried to stand, but a firm boot from a guard easily stopped that and slammed him back to the floor. “Your not an officer of Jericho, you are nothing more than a pathetic rouge who thinks because he has a few guards he is powerful, it is pathetic, look at you, whimpering by your wooden chair, which I guess is meant to be a throne? It’s weak people like you who will destroy Jericho.”

Celamir heard footsteps approach and then a boot hit his forehead hard causing him to roll on his back in pain. “You run your tongue far too much for my liking, perhaps you ought to learn manners master Elf.” The Lord of the city bent down and grabbed the bloody hair of the Elf and dragged him halfway to a sitting position, causing great discomfort to Celamir. “If you wish to die, test me some more” With a firm slam Celamir was knocked out cold, his head crashing with the floor yet again, and his body unable to take anymore abuse.

“Holy fuck…” Celamir awoke finally gripping his head once he found the strength to move. His head was swimming and all he could make out was metal bars and walls around him. He gathered he was locked up again, probably in the same cell, as he was when he was accused of treason, back when he was the heir of Jericho. It was cold, damp and he was aching all over. The floor was stained red from his own blood and it seemed he had been here for some time, as it was dried to the floor pretty well.

A loud clank was heard and he moved to see a tray of food be placed before his eyes and footsteps left, and the same metallic noise happened again. Food had been served, but the Elf did not feel like eating. He quickly travelled back into an uneasy sleep, his exhausted body gagging for some less pain and more energy.

He eventually woke up to the noise of laughing. He opened his eyes to reveal several feet stood next to him. He shifted backwards, much to his own discomfort, yet it had to be done to see well without straining himself. The guards suddenly looked down and smiled as one grabbed him and threw him into the wall. Stunned Celamir had not the awareness to put up a block as another guard send a few punches to his ribs.

The attacks repeated throughout the day, a few puddles of blood were scattered about the cell from where Celamir had coughed up blood or had cut himself somehow. The last few beatings he had been able to get somewhere close to fighting back, he nearly punched one in the face, but the swing was so slow the guard just dodged it in time. However Celamir knew he didn’t have much left in him, and would soon die from all this abuse to his body.

Hours passed without someone hurting or torturing him and he believed they must have been found out and stopped, though soon footsteps were heard coming down the corridor. The Elf ran to the bars and looked down and saw the lord, followed by several guards coming towards him. He walked backwards as they reached his cell door and opened it. Celamir fell backwards onto his bed and sat there as they entered.

“So then Celamir, where did we leave off… ahh yes, why are you here?” Celamir stood up and clenched his fists. With true elfish spirit he ran towards the lord, and swinging he found the target near impossible to miss. However as he neared a guard ran and kicked the Elf in the runs, and grabbed him around the collar of his armour and lifted him into the air. This guard must be mighty strong to life Celamir and full weight armour, but there was more in Celamir’s mind to think of that as he lashed out with his fists once more, hitting the guard around the head, doing little more than irritating the strong man.

“Go ahead soldier, don’t stand for that.” The Lord spoke with a smirk and suddenly the head of the guard came crashing into Celamir’s nose and mouth, causing his head to fly backwards and an agonising groan come from his throat. The Guard pushed him, sending Celamir to his seemingly new home, the ground.

“I will say this again shall I? What are you doing here?” Celamir turned over and rubbed the blood off his face and slowly got up once more. Eventually he faced the lord, and spoke. His voice was battered and painful, the constant attacks taking its toll on him. “I came to see old friends, your guards did not allow me access so I just tried to run in.” Celamir took a deep breath as his hand traced over his ribs and chest, which took most of the beatings that day.

“You’re lucky I am in a good mood today… I am going to let you live, and even be free! You’re a lucky Elf; I don’t want to ever see your face here again, nor even hear of you. From now on you are an enemy of this land, be gone or be killed.” With that the lord left the Cell under escort, the cell was left open for Celamir to go when he wanted. “Since when did you control this land?” Celamir snorted as he was escorted out of the cell by new guards.

Several minutes later he was at the gates, they were recently locked down, and now with Celamir caught and being let go, they were being opened. Once open the guards pushed the Elf hard out, causing him to trip and fall on the ground, his weakness still showing from all the injuries he had sustained. As he begun to get up he was hit in the face by his sheathed long dagger, and then by his bow and finally by a shower of arrows from his own quiver. He quickly grabbed them and walked away, the door slamming behind him.

[Adam]

Celamir’s Defence[/u]
Celamir stands up to a vastly outnumbering force

“Ready! Aim! Fire!” The arrows were sent flying through the air, and fell upon the Demon forces, one by one they fell down from the Volleys. The Demons kept coming, pouring through the break in the wall, the ally’s defences were quickly breaking and so Celamir shouted a different command this time. “Fall back to the church!” and with that the archers turned and fled down the streets towards the large building.

“Barricade the doors! Quickly!” They ran into the building and slammed the doors shut and quickly put up wooden wedges and holds, and around 15 of the stockiest humans leaned hard on the door keeping it shut. Meanwhile the elite archers were climbing the stairs and getting on top of the roof, and using the wall slits, they rained more arrows down on the enemy in continuous firing.

“Celamir! Zombies!” Celamir looked at his captain, and then ran and looked over the wall of the roof he had just arrived to. He swore then drew an arrow. Aiming he fired, and an arrow struck the monster square in the throat causing the thing to whine and stumble, knocking over a few Demons in the process. However it did not last long as it charged for the main door, knocking the Humans back, but they quickly got up and returned to the defence.

Clash after clash of the doors and they luckily did not break. The archers still killed the Demons off, and Celamir had run back downstairs to check on the doors. Another smash and some of the wood splintered leaving a gaping hole which Celamir quickly fired at with great accuracy and killed a crossbowman who was most likely about to fire himself. “To the roof all of you!”

The Human ran and just as they moved the doors smashed and opened up, Demons ran at the withdrawing Humans, killing a few as they caught up. The Humans ran up the stairs with Celamir the last man there, and he did not flee so quickly. He kept his front facing the Demons and fought on the stairs with a long sword he picked up from a fallen Demon. He killed about 5 and knocked the rest back down with a final kick, which he used to retreat and lock the door to the roof.

“Quick take off your vests, you need them more now. Follow me.” With that he ripped the bowstring off his bow and jumped off the roof, however quickly he shifted his grip and planted the bow on a metal wire connecting two buildings and flew down onto a nearby roof. One after another the small force moved over. The archers aimed at the door as they arrived and as the door smashed open they fired killing many of the Demon attackers who still outnumbered them about 12 men to every 1 of Celamir’s.

The Demons unaware of their movements looked on the roof, and continued to be slaughtered, that was until they saw how they passed and attempted the same manoeuvre. However just as the first few were nearly there Celamir cut the wire with a shot from his bow, the Demons fell to the ground and instantly died, but now the Demons surrounded the building, and with no lower defence they looked trapped.

“Sir, they have surrounded us!” Celamir looked down, noticing the enemy forces, and sighed, realising this battle was nearly over by numbers alone, but he refused to give up. “They are full of themselves, we ought to use this.” Celamir ran at the roof and jumped over, falling into a large swordsman rank of Demons, and quickly getting up and fighting for his life. The army on the roof watched and followed suite, knowing their end was near anyway, and after the glory of death in battle.

Elves and Humans stood shoulder to shoulder in the middle of a large Demon army and fought bravely, but one after another Celamir’s allies fell to arrows and swords. He was already fighting an entire company of Demons all by himself, and as he thought he could not handle more of this, the formation opened and the fighting stopped. A huge roar sounded all around as a giant Zombie Warrior filled up the hole in the ranks, and brought its flail down towards Celamir.

Celamir jumped and rolled to his right as it came down, and evaded it reasonably easily. He hopped back as another attack came down, and with his hand he threw his own dagger towards the Zombie’s head, which hit into its eye. It retaliated by charging at Celamir, but the Elf charged to and jumped through the massive monsters legs.

Celamir ran and jumped up the back of the Zombie and grabbed on its shoulders, with his right hand he grabbed an arrow from his quiver and stabbed it into the head of the Zombie. It did nothing but cause the Zombie to moan and fling the Elf off its back and into the formation of Demons. He fell and the Demons once more made room. Celamir quickly got up off the floor and looked at the monster, and looked around for some sort of way to win.

The Zombie charged once more and Celamir fled away, running towards a group of spearmen who held their points out to try and stop their entertainment from escaping. Celamir jumped over one of the spears and kicked the Demon in the face, and with a masterful flick of his hand he disarmed the spear and stabbed the owner in the chest and charged with the corpse still on the end towards the church he once garrisoned.

He neared it with a full Demon army after him and slashed at the air, sending the corpse of the Demon flying into the side of the Church and landing at the entrance. The Elf ran over the body, crushing the broken bones and ran towards the stairs and climbed them once more with a hot pursuit after him. He reached the top but turned and fought once more on the stairs. He killed about 30 before getting tired and locking the door once more with a few pieces of wood for support.

He looked around and saw nowhere to run, so he decided to try and surprise them rather than run. He climbed up further to the top of the door and waited there as the Demons crashed into the door, trying to break it open once more that day. As they broke through and charged Celamir jumped and took down 4 or them as he landed. He turned to and stabbed another but got a crossbow bolt to his shoulder.

The Elf fell backwards as the shot hit him. A Demon went to grab him, but Celamir quickly made short work of that decision and slashed the arm clean off his elbow. Now with only one working arm Celamir could not fight well enough and was soon overcome by the Demons and fell over to the ground. Just as he was about to be killed, the Demon was shot through the neck and fell on top of Celamir.

“Sir!” An Elf ran towards Celamir and threw the body off him and quickly tended to his wounds, after that was blackness for Celamir who fell into unconsciousness.

“Sir…” Celamir’s eyes slowly opened to reveal the face of an Elf soldier. He was in some sort of military hospital, his arm was completely bandaged, blood stained the medical cloth, and he felt weaker than he ever had. “Sir, I can’t believe you survived all that. You fought an entire Demon army, you were shot in the arm, and you even survived a Zombie Warrior. You nearly died, it was a good job I shot that Demon when I did.”

Celamir finally realised who this man must be and smiled. He breathed deeply getting oxygen to his brain so that he could think more straight and talk. “I thank you for saving my life. But please do not speak to me as a hero; I did my duty and nothing else. I was willing to die for our people if it meant that the enemy could be defeated.” The Elf smiled and walked away leaving Celamir resting on the bed, mending from his injuries.