[ EU ] As Smaug flies overhead , razing Lake-Town to the ground , only one person can stop his wrath . The Dovahkiin readies for battle .

The great red beast soared across the dark lake, flakes of gold fell like snow from his armoured hide and into the cold waters. 
 The dragonborn hurried onwards, the bridge was made from wood and his daedric boots ripped great wounds into the waterlogged planks as he ran. 
 
 Suddenly a gout of bright burning flame erupted from the creature's maw as it passed across the outlying parts of the ramshackle city. The lance of fire illuminated the night sky and washed out the stars. Dragonborn pulled out a bottle of destruction and drank deep as the gates approached him, the bitter taste lingered in his throat but when he reached the gates he felt the familiar tingle of magic beat within him. He stopped in his tracks as the dragon surged overhead, glaring at him from above as it rode the wind. 
 
 Smaug found this meat intriguing. It had two legs like the others, ridiculous little arms and he smelled the blood of man. But there was something else, something new. Lightning tickled his scales as the meat lashed out at him from below, he felt an odd sting with each blast. 
 Was this pain? It had been so long. 
 His wings beat the air into submission as he powered up into the sky. The man shouted in a language even Smaug did not comprehend. 
 No matter, he'd burn with the rest. He decided as his flaming wrath boiled up within him. 
 
 Somewhere far away Durnhevirr heard his friend's call for aid. 
 

