Halo: The story

HALO


Prologue
Approximate year: 100,300 B.C.
Section of Space- Designation: G445T-17
Awaiting transmission from research unit A44 on G617 g1.
Incoming transmission. Urgent... Playing.

“We have encountered something hiding in the rocks. We require military assistance. We fear we have reached the Eternal Light. We have already lost Alpha and Omega. Help is required. The Eternal Light calls our names. We only hope that you can receive this transmission in time. A44, waiting for assistance.”



Chapter one

Approximate year: 97,448 B.C.
Section of Space- Designation, ประภามณฑล
Could his people forgive him for this? Could they forgive him when they reached the Eternal Light? Would the almighty Gods forgive him? He slipped the “T” shaped object into the control panel. Looking up at the hologram, he felt strangely awed by what his people had built. He turned back towards the door. The guards had locked it and the screams of the dead sounded through the sealed door. He was doing this so more didn’t end up like them. The screaming dead. He tapped a button and sighed a heavy sigh. He turned to the guards. “We go, together.” They dropped their weapons and embraced each other for the last time, as a loud whoosh sounded behind them and a flash of light took his eyes before the quiet. The great quiet… peace, after a lifetime of war. And then, the Eternal Light. He bid the Universe goodbye.

Najobi kept a tight grip on his spear as he hid in the grasslands of Africa. More of his Tribesmen were around him too. They were crouched down so they couldn’t be seen by the other Tribe. The unjkeils. Najobi’s Tribe had to fight them if they wanted to leave the North. He listened as they talked to one another. They were walking past him slowly. He heard a shout and a spear flew over his head and out of sight. A loud scream cut through the air and the charge had begun. He stood and jumped onto a startled enemy. He shoved the tip of the spear through the mans stomach and wrenched it out violently before smacking his enemy in the face with the butt of the spear. Blood sprayed over Najobi’s clothes. He turned and saw an enemy staggering around with a spear sticking from his shoulder. Najobi shoved his own spear into his heart before falling backwards to avoid a large man and his spear. He kicked out and heard a crack as he snapped the enemies spear. He crouched and dived into the mans chest and sent him to the ground. He felt pain as he was hit hard in the face and rolled onto the broken spear. He heard the enemy laugh as he picked up an abandoned spear. Najobi grabbed hold of the shaft of the spear and swung it in an arc. Blood sprayed across his face as the shaft cut the enemies throat. The man staggered back clutching at his wound. Najobi inserted the shaft into his guts and left him to die. Pulling his own spear out of the dead body, he turned to find the Unjkeils were routing. He cheered with the rest of his brothers and thanked the Gods who worked in the valley below him. Today’s victory ensured them a safe passage out of where the Gods worked as it was too loud and it was scaring away the animals. He felt bad for abandoning them, but he had a feeling they would be back.



Chapter two

Approximate year: 57,448 B.C.
Section of Space- siggtuar octanius

334897 Individual Octane saw the meteor falling towards the planet. He was alone. None of his creators were left and he couldn’t find any other Monitors. He wished he hadn’t been instructed to remain here. But he had to. He examined the meteor and pulled up a close up of the object. He turned it over and looked at its majestic beauty. Wait. He moved it to the left and saw something, something very familiar. A symbol. A symbol of his creators. Where had this come from? He scanned through it properly and found a lot more of the symbols. He put them in an order and decided they didn’t make sense. He had to decipher them. “We Are The Protectors Of The Universe And We Have Failed Now All There Is Is To Die” A message from his creators predicting their doom. It entered the atmosphere of the planet and streaked down the ground. Individual Octane just wanted to leave this planet. But, protocol ordered him to remain here. If only he could die. And while the Monitor pondered about its fate, the Meteor crashed.




Chapter three

Approximate year: 498 B.C.
Section of Space- Sol.
Third planet from local Star.

Athenians, Eretrians and Ionians. A large army marching onto the city of Sardis. Matthias himself was an Athenian Hoplitai. He marched in a phalanx with the Captain Phillip. He was in the front of the line and had to keep a steady pace, which wasn’t easy under 60 pounds of armour. The sweltering Persian heat also didn’t help. He felt as though his head would melt under his steel helmet. The only thing that kept him going was that everyone else suffered the same. A series of shouts broke out across the line. He raised his Hoplon and held his ground. Phillip had commanded them to stop. Phillip listened intently and shouted out the order he heard. “Hoplitai’s! Stand fast! The Persians are retreating! We go in after the rams have battered the walls!” Matthias looked once more upon the walled city of Sardis. He panted and stuck his Doru into the sand. Pulling off his Corinthian helmet and wiping a large quantity of sweat from his face. He shook his hand and made to put his helmet back on when he heard “Hoplitai! Form up left formation Phalanx! The walls are breached! Move forward brave sons of Zeus!” Matthias swore and was pushed from behind as he attempted to put his helmet on, pull out his Doru and raise his Hoplon and Doru in the legendary phalanx formation.

He finally did it and his Doru joined the intimidating spear wall a little late but its effect was no less devastating. He marched for a minute before being able to see the walls clearly. A massive army of 5000 Greeks amassed outside the gates and the hole in the wall was evident. The soldiers around the ram, Eretrian Hermideans (Swordsmen with heavy armour and a xiphos) ran into the hole and a chorus of shouting rang out as well as the clashing of metal. Matthias’ heart raced and the order was heard to quicken pace. He walked a little faster to keep in step with the others in the line. The man next to him, Demetrius, began talking to him. “Hey Matthias, ever wondered why people always come to Athens when they want help?” Matthias cleared his very dry throat.
“Because all other Greeks can’t fight their own battles.” Demetrius gave a wry chuckle
“That’s thinking like a Spartan.”
“It’s a shame that the Spartans declined to fight. I’d love to see those red bastards get slaughtered by these Persians.”

Matthias was finally close enough to the gate to see the bloody battle raging within. A Hermidean stumbled out of the gate with a bloody stomach. He clutched it and his anguished breathing was audible over the clanking of swords, the screaming of dying soldiers and the clank of the Hoplitai’s armour. They stopped just short of the hole. “Hoplitai’s! Into the breach and reform as quick as you can! Don’t give the enemy an advantage over the formation!” Matthias broke from the line of 10, to a line of three. They all marched through the hole and formed up quickly. The Persians wore brightly coloured cloths that covered their whole body. A Hermidean fell with a spear stuck in his guts. Matthias clutched his Hoplon tighter and prayed to Ares. The Hermideans were falling everywhere now. The Persians were suffering light casualties. The Phalanx reformed and Phillip gave the order. The Phalanx lurched forward as one, pointed their Doru’s out towards the enemy as one. And now, they would kill as one.

Matthias managed to keep his Doru leveled as he drew closer. The Persians noticed the Hoplitai closing and tried to maneuver out of the way, but they were falling over each other and the Hermideans (Who cut them to pieces as they fell). Matthias closed with a frightened looking Persian and thrust the Doru into his heart with an over arm stab. He wrenched the Doru out and stepped over the bleeding body. The rest of the Hoplitai’s were thrusting into the ranks of the Persians. Disorder quickly spread through them and they attempted to flee but couldn’t get away in time as Athenian spears bore down on them. Matthias pulled his Doru out of the back of a groaning Persian. The rest of the Persian soldiers fell back to the centre of the city. Matthias’ Phalanx was joined by seven others, and they marched down the street in rows of five towards the 6000 Persians waiting to receive their arms.

The Phalanx had been broken, now it had turned to close quarters fighting with the Xiphos sword. Matthias hefted the heavy weapon and cleaved it through a startled Persians head. Blood sprayed over his shield and covered his coat of arms. He yelled and kicked out at a Persian. He fell and received a cut to the throat. The Persians had broken the Phalanx with sheer numbers. They crashed into the spears, grabbed at them and climbed through them. They had punched through the middle and quickly spread into the Phalanx as conflicting orders got the better of the Athenians. Matthias swung wildly with his Xiphos and felt it hit resistance. It was stuck in a Persians wooden shield. The Persian had been fighting an Ionian when he felt the impact. The Persian looked towards Matthias with wide eyes. Matthias kicked the shield and toppled him. The sword came loose as he fell. Matthias stabbed down into the Persians blue clothing and saw it turn red around his chest. Matthias withdrew the sword and joined in a melee with a group of his own Phalanx.

The mass of the Persians realized that they were losing fighters fast so they withdrew towards the Citadel in a messy rout. Matthias sat in the square as an infantry column of Pezoi (Light Spearmen) marched towards the Citadel. Matthias knew that the Persians would be able to hold the Citadel. He didn’t mind. They had still dealt them a blow. And they would get to loot the city. He received the order to do as he pleased. He broke down doors, killed civilians, burnt buildings, stole money and was proud of it.

Darius, Emperor of Persia crumpled up the scroll in anger. Throwing it to the ground in a fit of rage he called out. “You there! Slave!” A servant near the door flinched and hurried over to his master.
“Yes your Excellency?”
“Three times a day, every day! I want you to remind me of the Athenians, and remind me that they burnt Sardis to the ground. Do you understand Slave?”
“Yes master, it shall be done.”
“Good, someday I will burn Athens to the ground and then they will regret today.”

Chapter four: The Battle of Ephesus


Approximate year: 428 B.C.
Section of Space, sol
Third Planet from local Star.


Artaphernes emerged from the Citadel of Sardis. The sight that he met took his breath away. Hundreds of embers floated into the darkened sky, blackened buildings lay in heaps or were burnt out of shape, and dead bodies littered the streets, although none of them wore Greek armour. The dead Persian soldiers had been laid in a row outside the Citadel and had been decapitated and their heads placed in the middle of their shields. Artaphernes exhaled a choked gasp, and turned back to his garrison of 3,000 men. “Men, they have… They have burnt Sardis… Come; see for yourself my brave warriors. See what these so called “Cultured men” have done to our people. “It looks as though they have only just left. There are no Carrion birds yet.”
“Sir, we must take action!”
“I know… Can you find any Steeds?”
“I could walk Sir, where do you need me to go?”
“I need you to hurry to Miletus and recall the Army here. We will need Captain Ephiastes if we are to win them.”
”At once Sir.” The soldier walked away through the ruined streets, eventually disappearing through the dismantled gates, and disappearing into the nighttime desert.


Three days later



Matthias looked at the foreign gold he had captured back in Sardis. Inside the settlement of Ephesus, there was an atmosphere of victory. Ionia had become Greek and overthrown its Persian Masters. Winning their first battle was something to be proud of. A good omen. Inside the Barracks, men laughed and joked. Counting the money they had looted and swapping tales of heroism. All was well in the world. Until the battle horn sounded. Matthias, who had been sat back on the chair with his legs on the table, fell backwards and rolled across the floor. A soldier knocked over the table in a hurry to get out; Matthias’ equipment spilled onto the floor. Matthias recovered from the fall and ran over to his stuff. Placing his Helmet on his head, sheathing his Xiphos, strapping on his Hoplon and brandishing his Doru, he ran outside.

Soldiers poured through the sunny city streets. Many Civilians ran into their homes to take shelter from what was happening outside the city walls. Matthias heard the horn sound again, and suddenly, he was pulled into the surge of soldiers pouring through the street. Demetrius’ familiar smile greeted him. Matthias nodded at his friend and concentrated on getting through the crowd. Eventually, they reached the wooden walls and found their Phalanx. Getting in their places, they looked up at the gates. The Generals, Charopinos and Eualcides held up an Athenian and an Eretrian standard.
“I see here before me gathered men. Men from different cultures, different cities and different families. Men, who would, in any other time, be at war with one another. And yet, here you are! Gathered together, putting aside your differences, as the Gods intend, and fighting for something that matters. Freedom. Can we Greeks be free from this ever looming threat of Persian invasion? No, we cannot! Only if brave men stand by and do nothing, can we lose this war! I do not see Athenians; I do not see Eretrians or Ionians. I! SEE! GREEEEEEKS!” After his rousing speech, Eualcides thrust his sword arm in the air with a mighty roar! All other soldiers followed him. Letting out their own personal battle cries and cat calls. The horn sounded louder than ever and silence immediately fell over the crowd.

“Greeks, we shall march out on them. No need to wait out a siege. We may as well crush them now. Remember that these baby killers hold nothing you brave warriors have. They have no souls and no hearts. They fight as feebly as an old woman, they can barely lift the wood they call a shield. As if humiliation at Sardis wasn’t enough! Show them the true power of Greek might. Men of Greece! Forward!” The soldiers immediately began marching through the open gates. The Generals clambered down from the walls and returned to their bodyguards. Matthias’ Phalanx (Excluding Phillip, who had been slain in Sardis) came out of the walls and formed a Phalanx where they stood. The battle line of the Greeks was now: 1,500 Archers standing behind the army; 4,000 Phalanx troops making the solid middle of the battle line.4,000 Cavalry on the left wing, 2,000 more Cavalry on the right wing, and 500 of the Generals personal bodyguard.

The Persian Skirmishers began marching towards the weaker right wing. 5,000 of them. Matthias watched in part dread, part excitement towards the outcome of the skirmish. The Cavalry charged forward when the Skirmishers had left the relative safety of the battle line. Matthias watched as the Cavalry smacked into the Persian front. Horses fell in isolated places and a few were even pulled off their Horses. The Skirmishers had taken about 300 losses to the Cavalries 90. Things seemed well. Until a large force of Persian Cavalry joined the melee. The charge broke the Greek Cavalry and they attempted to pull back. They were slaughtered. Matthias’ heart sank. The Persians had begun banging their shields with their weapons and making a tremendous noise. Matthias gulped and tightened his grip on his Doru. The left wing of Cavalry charged to avenge their fallen brothers.

The fight had now become a huge Cavalry supremacy battle. Whichever force came on top, could do as they pleased. The Greeks and the Persians seemed pretty much even at first. But then, the Persians began hitting harder. Matthias felt an utter defeat was imminent. It seemed the Gods placed their blessing upon the Persians this day. They suddenly began fighting better and killing of the Greek Cavalry enough to completely surround them. Three Greek horsemen broke off from the attack and rode back to the army. A pila sailed straight and true and speared through a riders guts. He fell back off the horse, which continued running. The other two were also killed before they could get back to the Army. Unsure mumbles broke out across the line. And then, a voice rang out, clear as day.

“My Greeks, do not falter! This is but a setback! We still have the superior Phalanx and the superior will! As long as we stay together, and do not break, we shall prevail! Archers! Pour on any who stray near a deadly rain!” The mumbles ceased and the soldiers were content enough to fight once again. Persian infantry began running over towards them. The Persian Desert infantry wore bright blue clothes, completely wrapped around their bodies, wielding deadly Scimitars and wooden shields. Behind them, was a large force of Persian Nobles. With round metal shields, similar to a Hoplon and they wielded very long and very sharp Pikes. The Desert Infantry came in range of the Archers, at once, they fired a deadly volley. From where Matthias was stood, he saw the brightly dressed Persians fall from arrow fire. Their wooden shields were too small to protect them.

Soon enough, the Archers had exhausted their arrow supplies and had drawn their Xiphos’ for when the close range fighting came. The depleted Desert Infantry made a run for the middle of the Greek line. Straight at Matthias’ Phalanx. He gripped the Doru tight and straightened his shield. The Persians were close, and they began to yell at the Greeks. Ululating and battle cries filled the air and they leaped onto the Spears of the Greek Phalanx. Matthias stabbed into a wooden shield, it got stuck and before he could pull it out, the shield was thrown to the ground and the Doru twisted out of his hand. Dust from the Desert sand began enveloping the fighters; he could barely see his assailant. Swiftly unsheathing the Xiphos and swiping upward with it at the same time, he slashed the face and left eye of the Persian. Blood sprayed over him and the Persian staggered back through the sand, screaming for his loss of one of his eyes. Matthias drew back into the line, too afraid to retrieve the weapon. Demetrius was striking at a Persian Noble, who was hiding behind his shield. Matthias stabbed him in the side. His arm went limp and his torso was revealed. A quick thrust by Demetrius’ Doru, ended his life. Matthias ventured out and picked up his Doru, plucking it out of the shield; he looked up again to see an exceptionally large Persian trying to ram a Spear into him.

Matthias ducked under and stabbed the Doru into the Persians groin. He yelped and fell to the ground. Holding on to the wound and curling up in a ball. Matthias left him and ran back to the Phalanx. Looking t the right, he saw the Eretrians collapsing. To his right, the Phalanx held well. The Persians threw more men into the scramble. The left flank of Eretrians fell. Matthias turned to the side and raised his shield just in time to deflect a badly timed blow. It scraped off his shield and he bashed the attacker in the face with it. The Helmet took most of the blow and the Persian was back at him within seconds. Matthias blocked a hit and swung out; the Persian was hit in the throat by the wood of the Doru. He wheezed and doubled over, struggling for breath. Matthias held the Doru up and delivered it down into the Persians Spine.

Eualcides didn’t like this at all. His bodyguard had been reduced to 3o men. But their defense of him was no less fanatical. They hacked away at any foolish enough to come near. One Persian got to Eualcides but was killed by the General himself. He knew he couldn’t last much longer. He had to retreat… Those inspirational words to his soldiers meant nothing. They couldn’t and wouldn’t win. Eualcides struck out at another Persian. He leapt back and thrust his Spear into Eualcides chest. His eyes widened, he groaned, dropped his Xiphos and cried in agony when the Spear was twisted. The Persian was killed swiftly and Eualcides was taken inside the city to die peacefully.

Matthias had seen it. And he was terrified now. Eualcides was dead. Leaving only the Athenian General, Charopinos. He gave the retreat order for all Athenians. The surviving Eretrians and Ionians, of which there weren’t many, stayed and died. While the Athenians quickly ran through Ephesus, and out through the back gate. The Athenian Navy awaited them. They filed onto the boats. And they were sailed away from the city they had fought so hard to defend, never to return.


Chapter five: The Revolt Spreads


Approximate year: 498 B.C.
Section of Space: Sol
Third planet from Local Star.


It was a glorious day in Cyprus. A glorious day. And a few important things would happen this day. The army which defended Cyprus would spread into all important cities. They would burn their Persian flags. They would declare themselves Greek, and then, await a war. Today was a glorious day. For rebellion.

Hellespont. A place very close to Macedon. A place very close to true Greeks. And how they yearned to be like them. No oppression from foreign masters. A place where they could return to their Greek roots. The success of the Ionians at Sardis had spread all over the Persian Empire. Hellespont yearned to be free as they were, so it burnt the flags of its oppressors, it trained its armed forces into defending the borders, and it sat back and waited for the Persian assault.

The city of Propontis watched as the Rebels scored a victory and then a defeat. The Governor Eualteades ordered a massive conscription, paying the current garrison a sizeable amount of money to rebel, and then ordered all Persian flags to be burnt and then the seeds of Rebellion would sow properly. Greek, once again.

Chapter six: Cyprus


Approximate year: 497 B.C.

Section of Space: Sol
Third planet from Local Star



Onesilus was hailed as the leader of the Cyprian Revolt. He had shut his brother out of his city, for not wanting to rebel with him. And he, being the ignorant cad, sailed off to his lover Darius to alert him of this. Onesilus spent the whole afternoon praying for a tragedy to befall him. And he hoped the Gods would abide. All of Cyprus had revolted at his will except for the city of Amathus, which would require besieging. His army had left for the city a week ago. They should have arrived now and begun the assault.

It had been another week, and out on the pier or Salamis, a boat had docked. Demasos clambered off it. Dock workers stared curiously at him as he edged past them. He wrapped his shawl even more tightly around himself and quickened his pace. He had entered the slums of the city now. The poor walked around in droves, carrying water and other things precious to them. He never looked back at the poor souls. Turning a corner, he came into the Merchants quarter. Many Market Stalls were around him, with a large fountain overshadowing everything. A Merchant shouted above the hubbub of the crowd. “Hey you! Would you like some fresh spring water? Courtesy of Darius of course!” He laughed gruffly and shrugged as Demasos walked off with a curious glance at the stall keeper. Demasos looked up, above all the city, the imposing and beautiful Palace stood alone. Demasos readied himself for the trek ahead. It is a long way to the top.

Onesilus had received word from a messenger. His most trusted General, Antiganus claimed the siege of Amathus was running well, and their siege weapons were almost ready. Onesilus smiled, and imagined the glorious sight of soldiers, fighting and dying in his name. A Servant emerged through the gargantuan, golden doors; and bowed deep, before clearing his throat. “My most gracious King, a man by the name of Demasos, has come. Claiming he has valuable information that could determine the course of the Rebellion.”
“Send him in Mathos. And don’t come back in, this is a private matter.”
“Of course my Lord.” Mathos bowed low, and walked briskly out of the door, his robes flowing behind him. The doors closed, only to open again a second later. A man in a brown robe, covering his entire body, and a shawl wrapped around his head, walked to the centre of the spacious Throne Room. He undid the shawl, and spoke in a loud and clear voice.
“Great King Onesilus. I come bearing news that would be most welcome to you, lest you be caught unaware, and undefended by the enemy.”
“Continue… Demasos, was it? As I said, continue.” He tilted his head, and bowed very slightly.
“Of course, and without delay, as the enemy draws nearer with every passing second. Your brother, I dare not speak the Man-Lovers name, has alerted Darius of your revolt, and has sent him information about you. Darius has been well informed, and has gathered enough information for a very swift takeover of Cyprus.” The Kings face turned pale, then pink and eventually red. He grabbed a goblet of wine seated on the arm of his marble throne, and threw it towards Demasos. Demasos ducked, and felt the cold spray of wine against his cheek. The goblet soared over him, and clattered against the stone floor.

“WHAT!? I will have his head! I dare the BASTARD! To come back here, what else Demasos!”
“They have sent forth a Navy, and a massive Army. There is no tolerance of Rebels. Especially in lands close to the centre of the Empire. They will be here in three weeks time my King, if all goes to plan. I suggest putting off the siege of Amathus and recalling the army to defend the port.”
“Yes, yes. That makes sense, I shall recall him immediately. As for you, stay here. Your information will surely be valuable when they land… What do you propose we do until then? You know the size of the enemy, come on! SPEAK!”
“Well good King, they number roughly 5,000 in size. We should bolster defences of the city until then, and take a few garrisons from Cyprus. We will have a victory. We should. A few of the soldiers are professionals, but some are Levy troops. Do not worry.”
“For your sake, Demasos, for your sake, you had better be right!”



Chapter Seven: Ionian Reinforcements


Approximate Year: 497 BC

Section of Space: Sol
Third Planet from local Star


Onesilus had grown impatient and had sent a messenger by boat, to sail to the Ionian forces and asked for a fleet to aid him in his defence. The messenger sailed back a week later, with a huge Ionian fleet at his heels. The Ionians had opted to fight at Sea, while the Cypriot army would defend the port. Soon, war would come and the Gods would look down on this battle and decide which nation to give their blessing upon. The Gods weren’t very friendly towards Onesilus. Or at least, he feared. He now prayed day and night, begging them for a sign that they will help him. He was outside one day, when he saw a Hawk circle the city three times, before flying away. This was his sign, and the Gods had chosen to love him for this battle.

The army had gathered on the edge of the docks. Out in the distance, a large fleet could be seen. It was steadily moving towards them. The men would be fighting for control of the city here. If this city falls, the Rebellion stands no chance. Cartharus is waiting in the local tavern, with his closest mates. The highest ranking would be Sherda. He was a Colour Sergeant and held a large throwing spear, a Javelin, a large shield, a very finely crafted short sword and a few daggers. He had no beard, which wasn’t very common among men. The other two, were Scurthis and Ageamnon. They were of the more common look. Unkempt beards, black hair and a muscled build. They were the stereotype of the Persian soldier. Cartharus spun a Greek coin on the table, before slamming his palm down on it and trying again. Cartharus eventually pocketed the coin and focused on his friends. They all bore looks of solemnity with the occasional glance outside the open door, towards the Pier and the almost infinite Persian fleet sailing towards them.

With the Tavern almost completely empty besides the Bar keep and a few drunkards, they would have privacy. Cartharus went deep into thought about his home life. His life before the Rebellion. When he served under the God kings of Asia and he didn’t have to worry about war, being far off in Cyprus. He jumped in his chair, as a fist slammed down on their table, toppling a jug of Wine. It was Ageamnon. “Who’s idea was this massive bung f*ck?! We are going to die, because one man thinks he is above his King. What kind of man is that for a leader? We should have run back to Persian lands. Cyprus can burn for all the s*it it has and will cost me.” Sherda sat up and looked towards his comrade.
“Maybe you have problems with loyalty Ageamnon, but it doesn’t mean the rest of the Cypriots share your view. We pledged allegiance to Persia, but we also pledged allegiance to the Throne of Cyprus. Do you forget that Oath? Shut the f*ck up and drink. Drink while you can.”

“Sherda, I guarantee you, that we will lose this battle. Morale is low among the Infantry, and the Cavalry? What good is a tired man riding an eager horse? They lose the power of a charge. The rider must pull his own weight; it is no longer a spear driving into the hearts of our enemies. It is a pebble hitting a heavily armoured chest. The charge loses the devastation effect.”

“I will kill you if I must Ageamnon, don’t make me do it. You will fight just like every man today. You will pull your weight, and you will kill those dogs.” Ageamnon glared daggers at his superior before rising and storming out of the doorway. The rest of the soldiers continued to drink.

After a while, a cry rang out from the sailors, and the small Cypriot fleet sailed off to intercept the Persian navy. They joined with the Ionian’s equally massive fleet and began ramming. A ship came within throwing distance of docking at the port, before a Bireme bearing the flag of Cyprus slammed into the side of it. The metal plated ram tore the ship in half. Splintered wood fell into the ocean, and men scrambled for the shore as Cypriot archers finished them off. The two halves of the boat began to sink, and the screams of sailors carried on into the Evening. Cheers erupted along the soldiers stationed on the shore. An Ionian vessel poured archer fire (The arrows were set alight by Naphtha) onto a large troop carrying boat of the Persian’s. They hit something crucial, with an explosion ripping through the ship, bow to stern. Men cried as they were burnt alive or killed in the explosion. The ship slowly began to sink. Unfortunately, some Persian boats unloaded their troops, and turned to engage in the naval fight.

Cartharus raised his shield towards the looming spear point. He jarred the blow, but fell flat on his back. Scurthis suddenly charged into the Persian. Raising his sword high, he delivered it down into his victim’s throat, with a guttural croak and a spray of blood, the Persian died. Scurthis grabbed hold of Cartharus’ hand and lifted him back up. “I can’t be watching your ass all day!” Cartharus clapped his ally on the shoulder.

“Nor shall you, you fight like a woman… With leprosy!” Scurthis playfully pushed him back. The two men guffawed their way back down to the front. The arrived in time to see the last of the Persians attempt to surrender.

“Please! Don’t kill us, we surrender!”

“Will we listen to them lads?” Cries rose from the army. All of them baying for blood.
“Ah well, I tried mates. HAVE AT ‘EM!” The men cheered as the defenceless Persians were put to the sword and looted. Cartharus tramped through the lines of the dead and wounded. Looking out to Sea, he saw a dreadful sight. The Ionian fleet had turned back towards their country. They were at full sail away from Cyprus. Men soon began to see this, and many cried in despair. The small craft of the Cypriots continued to fight, but they were no match alone. Swiftly, they were sank, and the Persians were docked. The fighting was fierce at the Docks, but the Persians were more numerous, and soon overwhelmed the defenders, taking no prisoners, they pushed on. Cartharus ducked under a sword strike, twisted to the left and jabbed his sword through the ribs of his assailant. The Persian fell to his knees. Cartharus ripped the sword from the ribs and kicked the Persian to the ground. He saw more running at him. He raised his shield in preparation. He felt a blow deflect off his massive, Bronze saviour. Moving the shield, he saw a Persian stumbling back, his blue and green robes swaying in the breeze and the movement. Cartharus struck out, and heard a ripping sound. Looking at his enemy, he saw the robes were cut. The Persian took a step forward, but gave a cry. Opening his robes, he looked at his chest. A dark stain was seen to be spreading down his robes. Looking at the ugly wound, he collapsed.

Sherda and Ageamnon were holding their own at the front. Many spears broke and men died under them. A thunderous roar was heard, and the Cavalry charged in. Spears drove into flesh; horses cracked the fallen skulls of the Persians. Men were being mown down left and right. Sherda slapped Ageamnon around the back of the head.
“I f*cking told you!” Ageamnon only righted his helmet and grumbled in reply. The Persians had been routed. But more were coming. The Cavalry began taking heavy missile fire as they stumbled too close to the Docks. Men and horse were drowned in arrow shafts. Soon, out of the Cavalry force of 1,000; only 230 came back up the slope to the City.

Cartharus wheezed as fatigue took its toll. He had seen Scurthis slain by seven spears and a battleaxe as he tried to rally back. In a blind rage, he had charged them. Slashing and stabbing wildly, he had took all of their lives. His face was crusted dirt and blood. His once clean arms were now a shadow of their former selves. Skin ripped from the bodies of Persians as he cut them were flaked all over his arms, dirt blood and a mass of scratches made him look as though he had been fighting for a week solid. P*ss dirt and blood stained his legs, and his uniform? Before the battle his magnitude of armour would have been worth a fortune to a trader, now he would be lucky if he received one drachma for it. He swept his sword along the bowels of a stunned Persian; guts tumbled onto the floor in a steaming pile. He roared as he slashed into the heart of another, and grunted as his blow sent a headless body tumbling down a flight of once white stairs. He swung out at an approaching enemy, but being the tired man he was, he missed. He could barely hold onto his heavy weapon, and so it carried him forward. He stumbled and fell, smashing his jaw on the edge of some steps. A searing pain climbed up his face, and he spat out a tooth or two, but he couldn’t rise. Propping himself up on an elbow, he tried to stand, but his body would not allow him. Collapsing back down, he felt a heavily armoured foot slam down on his back. Grunting, he awaited his death. And as sure as the Gods had abandoned him, it came. In the form of a Persian spear.

Onesilus stared dumbstruck as his City was razed as the Persian horde climbed towards his Palace. Turning to the statue of Hermes, he screamed at it. “YOU DELIVERED ME A FALSE OMEN! IS THIS YOUR TRICKERY!?” He could hear screams as his Royal Guard outside of his Throne room began fighting. The doors thumped as a body slammed against it. The doors barged open, and a guard’s body tumbled through, a spear in his guts. Onesilus fell to his knees, clasping his hands together in a pose as if he was begging. “No! Leave me be, please!” The Persians surrounded him as he sat there, frightened as a Hare singled out for the hunt. His pleading eyes stared into the bloodthirsty eyes of his enemies, and a Captain of theirs stepped forward. Clutching a Longsword, he crouched next to the King of Cyprus.

“May the Gods have mercy on your soul.” The Persian raised his sword and brought it down into the throat of the King, as he cried out: “NO! PLEASE!” The body of the King fell to the marble floor of the magnificent Throne Room. His blood stained the floor, and his royal purple robes. The Rebellion was over.

Note: Any historical parts of the FF, (Of which there are a few) are accurate down to the letter, after ample research, I have recreated the events of the real Ionain Revolt as best I could. I have tried to keep it to the actualy events of the battle, and I hope you enjoy.

hey meng, i think i lile this more

I like this one too. I wish more people would actually read it though. I guess I built my hopes up too much thinking Aardvark would...

Wow dont tell me you just wrote this? That's alot for one day

Offensive Bias wrote:I like this one too. I wish more people would actually read it though. I guess I built my hopes up too much thinking Aardvark would...

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