Page 39 - SMITE Official Magazine Issue 20

“Very good, Kumbha,” she said. weakly, “will I get better this year?”
“Nice Job!” Ymir added, ruffling the kid’s hair Nu Wa and Ymir just glanced at each other,
and moustache. “Be careful!” he added, as young
Kumbha slid the tray of cookies into the oven. and tried to hide the shadows on their faces.
“They don’t have anything,” Apollo said “I’m sure you will, my little Demon King,” Nu Wa
dejectedly, frowning over their meager food.
“It doesn’t look like anything to you,” told him. She affectionately stroked his luxurious hair
the ghost said, “but to them, it’s a feast. and squeezed his tiny red cheek. “Just you watch.”
Ymir’s been saving up all year, with the help
of his family, to be able to afford it.” “This is Tiny Ravana,” the ghost said, turning to
“All year...” Apollo said. Suddenly, he Apollo. “He is weak and infirm, sickly as of late and
rounded on the ghost. “But how can this be?!” he born without high base stats like the rest of us. I’m
demanded. “We do good business, we’re always afraid that he’s UP right now... and if nothing changes,
winning lane, we’re always farming so well.” he will die, and be cast out of the meta forever.”
“And you benefit from it.”
“I’m sorry?” Apollo said. “He’ll... die?”
“And you should be... but regardless,” the fat But the ghost would say no more. And on
ghost said, standing and moving to the side, “you hearing a distant clock chiming, Apollo knew why. It
take the farm, you take the gold. You hog the kills was time for the final of the three spirits, and as he
and take whatever you can. And since you don’t buy turned and saw the last visitor coming, Apollo fell
wards, that comes out of Ymir’s gold, as well.” to his knees, for it was a terrible reaper indeed. ■
Apollo thought back to all of the minions
they had taken, all of the fallen towers. But he By Devon Boyette
guessed it just wasn’t enough. And he realized
with a start that the night was not yet over, The GameOn Magazine 39
for the great Ghost of Christmas Present had
parted to grant him vision of someone else.
He was tiny, his frail form red and drooping
as he limped out of some back room. He took a
few slow, hitching steps, then coughed violently
into his free hand before resuming his journey.
“And what is this pathetic creature?”
Apollo asked, his voice laced with emotion.
He watched as the short red toddler,
muscular and virile, limped over to Ymir.
Ymir turned to his son, his face iced over with
concern, and lifted the boy into his arms.
“Mama, papa,” Ravana said, coughing

The Official SMITE Magazine Issue #20