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The Great War Begins


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The thundering call of war horns and battle drums made the air tremble in fear. Following each bellow of horn there came a bellow of rage and pride from the men standing before him. They were all loyal to him, each willing to lay his life on the spear to protect their great hero. They looked upon him as if he were a God, as if he was the one who could take away all their fears and all of their troubles. He could not help but smile as he dragged his unflinching gaze across the army that filled the horizons.

The Great Hero of Athens was merely a man, but in the eyes of the people, Fonias was greater than all of them. Fonias was not only one of the most skilled warriors in the world, but he was a cunning strategist as well. His hands could wield any weapon that they could find themselves grasping, whether it be bow, sword, or spear. The strategies he formulated almost always withstood the schemes of enemies and traitors alike. Time and time again his wit and strength had won the great Polis of Athens victories on the fields of battle, and soon they shall triumph again.

Fonias mounted his steed with fluid like swiftness and began to trot down the front line of his mighty army. With banners that adorned his mount flapping in the breeze and the morning sun’s glare adding a glare his impressive ornate armour, Fonias might as well have been a God that morning, for with just his presence on the battlefield he somehow inspired his comrades more than any government body could ever hope to. He hated dressing himself up like a pompous fool, for he preferred his pitch black armour he grew up in, but he knew he must if his comrades were to keep their heads about them. This pending war was attesting the nerves of Fonias, and he knew that if he was in a state of unease then his men would be faring in a much worse state.

A blast of the war horns shook Fonias out of his private thoughts and brought him back to the battlefield and back into his own beloved plate armour again. Upon the darkening horizon he could make out the endless massing shadow of the Persian army with its horde of mindless barbarian soldiers and towering war elephants. His mind kept slipping, for something kept nagging at Fonias’s thoughts, something just wasn’t right at all. He mulled over his thoughts and ideas searching for the missing piece but could find not the slightest sliver of anything wrong. He decided to push the nagging sensation from his mind and set off at a full gallop to his main vanguard, the place where he truly belonged, on the front lines of his heavy cavalry, and that’s where he fully intended to be.

He soon took his position at the head of the vanguard. The spot that used to be reserved for the weaker elements of the army, to be used to slow down cavalry charges, now consists of the Might of Athens along with his three companies of highly dedicated heavy prodromos calvary troops. Fonias signaled to his companies to begin the charge to exchange blows with the Persians, and as soon as the three companies began their trot a series of horns blew to publicize their advance to the rest of the Greeks.

As they cavalry picked up speed the men picked up spirit and began to close in together to maximize their pierce through the Persian mobs. Yard after yard disappeared as they charged onward to meet steel to steel, leather and wood against whicker and silk, the Greeks were confident not only in their capabilities and skills, but their equipment as well. They charged together as one, and braced for impact and melee.
Seconds before the first collision with the enemy, the growing clouds descended upon Fonias and swallowed him whole, along with all three of his companies. This strange event has been recorded time after time and yet it is still almost impossible to believe by most to be much more than a myth. The disappearance of the key troops led to a disastrous defeat for the Greeks, along with enslavement. To this day most of the Greek people have blamed Fonias for deserting them, but others blame the Gods for being cruel monsters. Fonias would not be able to tell his side of the story for another one-hundred thousand years.



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