Page 33 - SMITE Official Magazine Issue 20

half of the day building towers. No one cared who The GameOn Magazine 33
had to march to war every day, fight friends and
brothers and die, constantly, repeatedly... just to
come back again minutes later and do it again.

A lone minion walked down the halls of
the dormitories, his slick black armor marking
him as one of the desperadoes of the field, a
member of the God body retrieval teams of the
Pit. No one ever saw them come or go, except the
other minions; they nodded at him as he passed,
friendly. But none of them saw the vicious hatred
in his eyes, or the grim cast of his smile.

With one last glance around, he eased open
the door to his small room--no, his private cell
really--and slipped inside. The door was locked,
bolted, and barred behind him. Finally, he was
alone. He turned to his wall, draped in stitched-
together cloth, and unfurled the Spirit Robe
from the recesses of his own darkened cloak.

He held it up, blue and glowing with the force
of powerful, deific magic. With one swift pull, the
cloth came free, and the wall was exposed; relics
and trinkets filled it from corner to corner, hanging
from bolts or swinging on loose chains. Armor sets,
helmets, rods and staves... even the Titan’s Bane was
here. Even the Stone of Gaia. And now a Spirit Robe.
And one day soon, he would finally have enough.

“For too long you’ve lived carefree,” he said,
addressing the Gods that were not there to hear
him. “For too long you’ve made us suffer.”

“Well,” he added, stringing the Robe up alongside
the rest of his collection, “you’re nothing without
these. And when I have all of them, I’ll be everything.”
Laughing, the nameless, forgotten minion covered his
wall of secrets back up and went to bed. Tomorrow
was another day of being just another face in the
crowd; he planned to make the most of it. ■

By Devon Boyette

The Official SMITE Magazine Issue #20