"The King has fallen!" came harried shouts down the line of fighting. Sparta turned her head, soaked in the blood of her enemies, sitting atop her war horse slashing with the her sword into the endless horde of Macedonian soldiers who, when they heard the news from the battle field that King Vyakles had been cut down, intensified their aggression. So it was with great force, fueled by the insatiable lust for blood on both sides, the pitch of battle grew into vicious brutality. During the fevered intensity of warfare the King of Macedon's troops, with their deadly sarissa, forced Sparta to divert her steed, Saxet, in a tight turn against battle formation."Follow me!" Sparta cried out to her comrades in arms, who turned post haste along with her in the new plan of attack. Sparta drove her black steed, Saxet, with such unstoppable momentum, a thunderous surge of power, the Macedonians were unprepared for, nor could they push back or resist, as the Royal Daughter of the King urged her mount closer to the body of her father. This is where Sparta's heart stopped for a moment as an icy wave filled her veins, and for a brief few seconds, time appeared to stand still, as she moved through space, the raging battle moving in slow motion as the screams of the horses and dying men came to her numb ears in a low rumble as if she were listening from underwater.
"Father!" Sparta shouted out galloping off through a line of forty enemy soldiers, putting her own life at risk, yet she was well trained, skilled at the Art of War and deadly with her sharpened cyphos as she cut down all those who opposed her amid the bloodshed of her anger and rage. Transforming herself into the personification of desolation and decimation, that fateful day, there in the chaos; which soon erupted thereafter whence her father, the King of Sparta, was slain, along with those thousands, upon thousands, of Souls, from each side, who were dispatched from the Land of the Living, fighting with honor and glory. All while Cavalry Officer Sparta drove her war horse, Saxet, and those troops committed to her noble cause, in a maelstrom of thunder, proceeding forth with the speed of eagles, through bitter weather, as they slammed into the bodies of the enemy with great force, thirty fellow officers stampeding their war horses behind her, hell bent on the destruction of their foes, the fatal blows of the hooves coming down hard, crunching bones and skulls, blood and brains into the cold hard earth; which ran in deep dark waves of scarlet and crimson. Slashing and stabbing Sparta called out "We must protect his body!DO NOT LET OUR NOBLE KING BE DELIVERED INTO THE HANDS OF OUR ENEMY!"
Here General Scotia ordered 100 of her charioteers to drive into the front line from the north. Commanding her troops "We will come upon them like an all consuming fire! Our chariots a whirlwind of destruction. Then we shall all look upon the carcasses of those who have transgressed against us!"
So it came to pass, in a clash of violence and chaos, the Macedon's were utterly crushed by the thundering hooves of the war horses, run down under the wheels of the war machines, the archers of the Themiscyran Division letting out volleys of arrows to blot out the sun. The weapons offered against the finely crafted chariots were weak and ineffective, the sarissa were found to snap in half, leaving the foreign soldiers to fight with their short swords and small shields in close combat. The momentum of the battle shifted leaving the Army of Thebes and the Macedonians outnumbered, and losing ground quickly, whereupon many of Phillips troops became frightened and confused amid the fog of war; which crept into their spirits. So it was hundreds turned and ran trying to flee to the mountainside where they might find shelter and safety, to hide away from the destruction. However, the 4000 support troops yet to be engaged in battle rode off after each and everyone of the enemies, those cowards who would flee from the field of war, in shame. The Athenians and Spartans made sure, good and well, that they all died with arrows and stab wounds in their backs before the winter sun went down that day.
"Father!" Sparta shouted out galloping off through a line of forty enemy soldiers, putting her own life at risk, yet she was well trained, skilled at the Art of War and deadly with her sharpened cyphos as she cut down all those who opposed her amid the bloodshed of her anger and rage. Transforming herself into the personification of desolation and decimation, that fateful day, there in the chaos; which soon erupted thereafter whence her father, the King of Sparta, was slain, along with those thousands, upon thousands, of Souls, from each side, who were dispatched from the Land of the Living, fighting with honor and glory. All while Cavalry Officer Sparta drove her war horse, Saxet, and those troops committed to her noble cause, in a maelstrom of thunder, proceeding forth with the speed of eagles, through bitter weather, as they slammed into the bodies of the enemy with great force, thirty fellow officers stampeding their war horses behind her, hell bent on the destruction of their foes, the fatal blows of the hooves coming down hard, crunching bones and skulls, blood and brains into the cold hard earth; which ran in deep dark waves of scarlet and crimson. Slashing and stabbing Sparta called out "We must protect his body!DO NOT LET OUR NOBLE KING BE DELIVERED INTO THE HANDS OF OUR ENEMY!"
Here General Scotia ordered 100 of her charioteers to drive into the front line from the north. Commanding her troops "We will come upon them like an all consuming fire! Our chariots a whirlwind of destruction. Then we shall all look upon the carcasses of those who have transgressed against us!"
So it came to pass, in a clash of violence and chaos, the Macedon's were utterly crushed by the thundering hooves of the war horses, run down under the wheels of the war machines, the archers of the Themiscyran Division letting out volleys of arrows to blot out the sun. The weapons offered against the finely crafted chariots were weak and ineffective, the sarissa were found to snap in half, leaving the foreign soldiers to fight with their short swords and small shields in close combat. The momentum of the battle shifted leaving the Army of Thebes and the Macedonians outnumbered, and losing ground quickly, whereupon many of Phillips troops became frightened and confused amid the fog of war; which crept into their spirits. So it was hundreds turned and ran trying to flee to the mountainside where they might find shelter and safety, to hide away from the destruction. However, the 4000 support troops yet to be engaged in battle rode off after each and everyone of the enemies, those cowards who would flee from the field of war, in shame. The Athenians and Spartans made sure, good and well, that they all died with arrows and stab wounds in their backs before the winter sun went down that day.
"Sparta!" her brother, Therakles exclaimed grabbing her hand as he and 5 other soldiers slung the body of their dead king upon her mounts saddle. The lifeless body of Vyakles, her beloved father, draped across her legs as she used all her strength to keep him from falling down to the cold hard ground stained in vast streaks of scarlet and crimson, as she was escorted by six chariots from the Themiscyran Division their brave archers keeping up a deadly volley against the pursuing enemy troops. As Officer Sparta proceeded south, back towards her native land, tears streaming down her cheeks, she was quite unable to shake this shock though she was well trained in the Art of War, her mind was unable to comprehend, nor conceive, what had transpired that fatal day never knowing the ill will of the Fates; whom had conspired against her, her nation and her family. Sparta tried to breath as she prayed this was all just a terrible nightmare of a dream. Yet the smell of blood, sweat and death, the lifeless body of her father across her lap, the throbbing in her head, the pain in her stomach, was all too real. So she drew up all her courage and committed herself to the mission of hurrying the corpse of her father King Vyakles back to the palace where the Priests of the Temple of Hades would anoint his body for his sacred, restful death and everlasting entombment. Sparta felt a pain in her heart where Despair and Misery curled up together in close company, and she knew, alas forever more, no longer would her father be there to bind up the pieces of her broken heart with Love and Protection. Her soul sank deep into sadness that Winter's day as the cold snows blew in upon the north winds streaming off the mountain as she hurried forth, her body ached, the frigid air biting deep into her lungs, chilling her flesh to the bone, and she was sore unaccustomed to fighting in Wintertime. She was exhausted and many thougts raced through her mind as she rode at the speed of eagles, as her brother remained fighting on the plain of war. Yet not once did she realize that with the death of her father the responsibility of running the Empire and Nation would fall squarely upon the shoulders of her and her brother, for they would be the new face of the Ancient Monarchy. Officer Sparta, Royal Daughter of the House of Themiscyra, along side her beloved twin brother, Captain Therakles Legitimate Heir to the Spartan Throne, would soon be crowned as the new Queen and King of Sparta, to rule jointly as the Supreme Commanders of the Imperial Armies and Navies and they would soon pose a new threat to the region.
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