The Kingdom of Smosh

Chapter 8

The thick, smoke riddled air choked the soldiers which intermixed with the bitterness of dripping sweat. The deafening sounds of the heavy impacts of cascading rocks were barely enough to obscure the cries of men, the screams of firing bows, and the whizzing of arrows impaling the encroaching army. Shayne suddenly found himself on his side, pain from a dozen wounds barely registered, being drowned out by the heightened, throbbing ache from the shattered hand which hung trembling on the right side as he was struck with hurtling, burning shrapnel. Unbeknownst to his friends, Shayne made his way to a nearby house for shelter – seeing if he could continue the fight.

The town was slowly being surrounded, with the opposing army's numbers slowly equalling theirs as the soldiers were picked off one by one with superb archery skills. The second assault came as men tried to scale the wall. Their only defence was to push the ladders down and pour scolding liquids over the edge. Despite his physical prowess, Damien never really liked injuring people, let alone killing them, so he left Wes to deal with the stragglers until their next phase and went to find Shayne.

Pulling away from the fight, Damien saw the carnage in full. A long draw out and quick attack had caused this much damage, which was truly frightening. Houses of fire, cobblestone obliterated, glass shattered, trees burnt and pathways destroyed. It was a nightmarish sight to behold. Damien began his worrying search for Shayne around the main square. His eyes darted rapidly, scanning for his friend, looking over the injured bodies strewn on the land; he spots Shayne nursing his hand nearby a house. Assessing the scene around him, Wes was holding his own with the soldiers, and decided to see to Shayne.

Seeing Damien's face was a tremendous relief to Shayne, as he rushed to his side. "Hey there stranger," Shayne said playfully, trying to mask his pain, "you look like you've seen some stuff." He said referring to Damien's newly acquired gash to his head that had seemed to just stop pouring out blood. Damien could only scald Shayne for his manner, and forgive his just as quickly when he saw his best friends' condition. "Son of a Goose Shayne! Is your hand broken?!" Damien exclaimed. Shayne confirmed his suspicions by attempting to wave with his limp hand for comedic effect. "Shit man, could you hang here until we clean these guys up?" Damien queried, hoping his friend wouldn't do anything rash. "I can hold my own man, I've been doing that ever since you left." Shayne responded dryly.

Those words stung Damien's heart. It wasn't like he had a choice in the matter, he was just taken from all that he knew and loved. So instead of throwing his anger at Shayne, he forced it into his psyche and returned to the battle ahead. Seeing that their forces were not being used to their full potential, Damien pulled the gears suspending the gate and stormed outside the town toward the enemy troops further away. Wes saw Damien's figure fly outside the battlement and chose a handful of his best knights to accompany them while the rest dealt with stragglers. Wes and his knights charged forth and cut down many unsuspecting soldiers and cavalry with their maces and broadswords.

Damien however traversed the trees silently, using nature as his guard. Any suspecting soul he came upon was quickly met with a silenced blow to the head and soon found themselves unconscious and on the ground. His quick method of attack meant the troops were being picked off one by one, dropping like flies. Amongst the nearing sounds of clashing metal, Damien spotted an unusual figure mingled amongst the combined armies. Seeing the man, he deduced that he was of more importance than the other enemy soldiers around him; wearing a more spectacular armour set that was embellished with crests and the Aveilian colours, and was topped off by a golden helm.

Damien thought he could be their captain, but Wes' attire was vastly different, so if he wasn't a captain, who was he? As Damien re-joined the fight with Wes beside him, a distant voice called out "Protect the King!" and simultaneously, the opposing soldiers formed a protective barrier around the helmed man. Damien was astounded. The man that had ordered his capture was mere feet away from him, and he felt a roaring rage surge within him. If Damien was to take him down, he needed help.

Shoving Wes to one side, he explained a simple plan. "Okay, all I need is an opening to the King. Once he's taken care of the others won't have any motive to fight, they might just stop." Damien rushed. Wes nodded in agreement and ordered their men to divide and conquer, flanking the two sides and pulling the enemy warriors away, giving Damien just enough room to weasel his way into the King's vicinity.

Clearly not recognising his face, Damien took this opportunity to announce himself and his troubles, before beating the life out of him. "Sir," He began, and the golden helmet shot around to reveal the King's glowing eyes, "Many years ago, you took al that I held dear, despite your plans for me, I persevered and escaped, yet fate has brought us together, and for all the pain and anguish you have caused me shall be reciprocated in my duel with you." Damien said seething with anger. The King laughed at this accusation, but agreed the smaller man to a fight, assuming he would be dealt with quickly.

Removing his helm for a fair fight, Damien finally saw his captors face. A rugged man stood before him weary with age and neglect. Something was missing from his eyes, hope, Damien assumed, and continued gazing at the older man. His skin was becoming leathery and had palms that had seen no physical work other than the hilt of a sword. Despite all he saw, there was no sympathy to be had, and Damien charged with all his anger toward the steel-clad man. Being lightly armoured himself gave to his swift actions, but the steel breastplate worn by the King was impenetrable. Not willing to give up over something as simple as armour, he invited the King to take a few hits. A giant two-handed broadsword was unsheathed as the opposing King swung violently around him, harming anything in his way. Damien at first coped a blow to his back ducking down to avoid the hit, with the searing pain registering moments later. Despite the pain inflicted, Damien planned to use his time wisely and attempted a series of calculated blows.

He dodged the sword once more, and body slammed the older man in an attempt to throw off his balance, seeing that his armour would weigh him down greatly. As the King stumbled back as a result, Damien threw and uppercut to his jaw and jabbed rapidly at his gut, causing him to keel over in pain. Darting around the man to his rear, he kicked vehemently into the man's lower back, causing him to collapse to the ground. Damien then pulled the sword from the man's hands as he steadied himself, making way for a final hand-to-hand mêlée.

Out of sheer confidence, the Avelian King removed his breastplate and readied his fists for the bout. In response, as any gentleman would, Damien removed his cestus' and stuffed them into his belt to keep them safe, now fighting with bare knuckles. In his peripherals, Damien could see that Wes had mostly decimated the opposing soldiers, with only a few left, apart from the handful in front of him. Damien quickly pulled a dagger from his hip as the man slowly jerked to his feet, latching onto his neck and holding the sharp object across his throat.

"Surrender, thief." Damien demanded. The King spat at his feet, commanding that he be released, "You know who I am yes, then do your kingdom a favour and not upset mine any further." The King reasoned, but he wasn't buying any of it. "Then why, your highness, would you dare to put yourself in harms way, say as a way to upset your people?" Damien interrogated. "All this to destroy my town and what, take me back? What use did I serve you, what was my purpose?" The King laughed as he flung questions into the air, "It didn't matter if you were a stranger or my own kin – you were a toy for me to play with." The King replied bluntly.

With all the affirmation he needed, Damien turned away from the man, and quickly dragged his hand as he ended the King's life. His body fell limply to the forest floor, covered in cruises and welts and bleeding from the neck. A few enemy soldiers remained, to which Damien called out a proposal. "Your King is dead, here beneath my feet. We shall spare your lives if you take his body and possessions back to Aveil for a burial, and never return here again." With weapons dropping to the ground with muted thuds of metal, men slowly gathered the man and his belongings and left the sight of the Smosh residents.

Damien and Wes regrouped and made their way back with their men to the town to go collect Ian and the evacuated townspeople and return home.