DIE!!
255BC
The Macedonians and the Spartans meet each other opposite to each other, both Nations breathing and fighting for their continued existence. War is just another tool to unite the Greek world.
The Macedonian King Demetrius II rides his horse in front of the left flank, while Prince Damasos and Prince Abreas are on the right flank. Next to Demetrius II is his first born, Aloeus with his little wife wrapped around his back like a backpack.
They are atop horses, staring at the Spartans grimly. The Macedonian phalanx and Legion have sweat on their brows as well. The Spartans are not the same Spartans from 100 years ago, but these people are still formidable.
With the sound of a war horn, the Macedonian Army of 700 march uniformly up the hill where the Spartans are. The three hundred Macedonian Legionnaires grab their javelins and throw them in a volley.
This is a fight for Macedon's continued existence. They must have no fear at this moment. Isn't this an honor? To live and die in battle, Demetrius has a way to prove himself worthy of Achilles.
The Macedonian Cavalry on the right flank, just 50 in number charge headlong into the Spartan formation, with King Demetrius II in the front. The Macedonian Legionnaires follow, and behind them to the left side are the slower Macedonian Phalanx.
No more speeches, no more grandeur, all the soldiers see is Demetrius's unnatural expression on his face, his jaw slack with shouting, his spear pointed forward towards the enemy.
The Spartans are prepared, their men holding their shields up to meet the Cavalry. The King's horse stops in front of the first Spartan and his spearhead smashes through their head, making it burst like a watermelon.
"Send these heathens to Hades! Charge!" with a shout, the rest of the Macedonian Cavalry smash into the Spartans, while the horses were reluctant to smash into their shields, the spears hit hard on the Spartan bronze, causing sparks to fly.
The Spartans not to be outdone, start stabbing into the horse bellies in front of them, the horses whinny as they galop away, their insides, guts and other organs strewn on the grass as they shake their riders away.
The riders that fell get their legs broken, and those that make it on the ground are stabbed to cheese by the Spartan Doru. The Macedonian Legionnaires catch up behind the Cavalry and without a second thought, they throw their second javelin as far as they can.
The Spartans fast enough to react raise their shields to protect themselves, but the slower ones were skewered by the iron pointed javelins, their heads exploding like rotten pomegranates, beautiful flowers of blood emerging from their chests.
The Macedonians then charge headlong against the Spartans, but the longer Doru picks off the Macedonians in front, and some brave ones from their number had to grab the end of the Doru before they can get closer to hack the Spartans with their short swords.
Suddenly a rain of arrows fall on the Macedonians, earning the Spartans some respite. It seems that the Athenians have arrived into the battlefield. Shining to the east is Athena's prize, and Athens have brought with them a thousand more men, and 36 War Chariots.
The Athenian Chariots immediately start their reckless charge into the Macedonian flank, just in time however, the trailing Macedonian Phalanx come to meet them head on.
Hell on earth, as the fast moving Chariots are impaled by the Sarissa, but the Chariots that survived the first clash, circled back and smashed into the flank of the Phalanx. The Athenian archers shoot another volley at the Phalanx, cutting down even more of them.
"Damn you!" Demetrius swears under his breath as he swings his bloodied spear, the sticky blood flowing down the wood into his hands as he swings it some more, digging it into the side of an unfortunate victim before galloping away from another hail of arrows seemingly trailing him.
The Athenian ground Infantry, composed of skirmishers and some Hoplites are adding even more trouble to the battlefield, as the skirmishers throw even more javelins into the already javelin full field.
The Athenian Hoplites steadily march with their blue shields, closing in the left flank of the Macedonian Army. Aloeus is in the rear, fighting but keeping himself safe finds the Macedonian Navy fighting with the Athenian and Spartan Navies near Corinth's port in the long distance as a messenger reaches him.
Aloeus redirects his horse, bringing his aunt Cleopatra and her son Krateros onto another war horse before bringing a few men with him, making a beeline straight to the meeting place.
In the right flank, Abreas and Damasos momentarily retreat from fighting Spartans as they watch the approaching Athenians from their side of the battle.
"Uncle, is this it? So fast, so sudden, I... I haven't even redeemed myself."
Damasos gives no comment to his nephew's musings. Dynasties live and die, what's new? Just as Heracles' line went extinct, it might be Achilles' line next. The era of Gods is done.
"Redeem yourself in battle." Damasos whispers to him, tapping him on the cheek before regrouping his men.
Before they can even regroup completely he bellowed for whoever to hear.
"Damn Greeks, Alexander should have killed you all!"
He turned back to his 150 or so men.
"Send them to the Thebans, charge!"
With a battle cry that seemed to shake the very earth beneath their feet, Prince Damasos and Prince Abreas lead their men in a frenzied charge towards the Athenian Phalanx. The clank of iron and the pounding of hooves filled the air as the two leaders, side by side, hurtled towards the enemy.
The Athenian line didn't waver, their blue shields held firm, a wall of steel and resolve. The Spartans watched with grim satisfaction, the new arrivals had brought a fresh wave of chaos to the already bloody field. The Macedonian horses, eyes wild with fear and bloodlust, smelled the metallic tang of battle and surged forward, eager to taste victory or embrace the embrace of death.
"DON'T STOP !"
Damasos' voice echoed through the din of battle as he and his men barreled into the Athenian Phalanx. The impact was tremendous, a clash of iron and flesh that sent a shudder down the spine of every warrior present. The Athenian line buckled under the sudden onslaught, their blue shields flashing in the sun as they struggled to hold their ground against the maddened Macedonian cavalry.
The Athenian spears met the Macedonian charge with a series of crunches and snaps, as bones and armor alike gave way under the brutal force. Horses reared and screamed as they were skewered, their riders tumbling to the ground to be swiftly dispatched by the Spartan allies who had moved to bolster the line.
The other Macedonians in the center and left seeing this, started charging in the same direction. Seeing the momentum created by his younger brother, Demetrius II followed. All in all nearly 500 Macedonians are charging at the Athenian line, disregarding the Chariots that are now going out of control.
The Athenian Phalanx was well-trained and disciplined, but they hadn't anticipated this sudden and ferocious charge. They tightened their formation, trying to hold the line as the cavalry smashed into them.
Not only Cavalry, but the Macedonian Phalanx and Legionnaires are smashing into their line, their longer Sarissa picking off the Athenians, their heads and shoulders bashed in by the spearheads.
Damasos's horse gets skewered by an Athenian spear and he goes flying into the air, landing with a wet thud on the ground. He stands up, sword drawn, ready to fight on foot. The Athenians come for him, but he fends them off with surprising agility for his size, his sword flashing like a silver serpent in the sunlight.
"I am a true son of Achilles! My sword desires blood!" He jabs his sword quickly, smashing an opponent's jaw before he punches them hard on the face.
The Athenians are taken aback by the fury of the Macedonian princes, their disciplined ranks fracturing as they're met with a rabid frenzy. Damasos's men follow his lead, hacking and slashing with a ferocity that would make Alexander proud.
Abreas's eyes are alight with the thrill of battle, his spear cutting through the Athenian line like a hot knife through butter. He's everywhere at once, a whirlwind of death that leaves a trail of limp bodies in his wake.
For two years straight Abreas has beaten his body day and night for the spear, the only weapon worthy of Achilles, and he has used all of it for offense, the ironhead for cutting, the handle for bashing, his hands for punching, his entire body is supposed to be a weapon!
Power!
The battlefield was a canvas of crimson and steel, where every stroke painted a grisly scene of death and dismemberment. The Macedonian cavalry crashed into the Athenian line with a ferocity that seemed to defy the very laws of war. The Spartan Phalanx watched with grim respect as the Athenians held firm, their shields a bastion against the chaos that sought to consume them.
The horses foam white on the mouth, their sweat also turning white as the gallop like zombies, smashing into men without even feeling the collision. The Athens swallow their saliva, looking at the frenzied black and bronze Macedonians, as if they're possessed by Aries themselves.
The Macedonian Phalanx now reaches the Spartan flank, their Sarissae stabbing downward, impaling Spartan soldiers through their shields, sending them to the ground, their eyes wide open in shock and pain. The Spartans fight back fiercely, their short swords and Doru slashing and stabbing with precision, but the Macedonian numbers are overwhelming.
Despite being outnumbered 4 to 1, the Macedonian soldier cling to their existence like a troubling roach, like, why don't you just fucking die already!
DIE!!
King Demetrius II, seeing the tide of battle turning, rallies his remaining cavalry and leads a renewed charge into the Spartan ranks.
This new Alliance Army of Greek Cities are getting beat in detail!
The Spartans are taking a beating, but they hold firm, their discipline unbroken even as the Macedonian cavalry cuts through them like a hot knife through butter. King Demetrius II's face is a mask of fury and determination, his eyes burning with the fire of a thousand suns as he charges into the Spartan ranks, his spear flashing in an arc of death.
Demetrius' face isn't even that of a human anymore, his eyes are bulging unnaturally, his mouth is agape and salivating, the face of inhuman fury, determination, and it looks kinda funny hahahahaha
ehhem
The face of inhuman fury, determination, he can't even control his voice as animalistic sounds escape from his mouth as he has bordered into insanity, all his grievances in his life pouring into the swift swing and stab of his spear.
The Spartan's shields are shattered, and their bodies are pierced through by the iron tips of the Macedonian javelins, their blood painting the ground a deep, dark red. The Spartan King, Areus I, watches as his men fall around him, his own sword arm growing weary from the endless parries and strikes.
But the Spartans are not easily broken. They fight with the tenacity of cornered lions, each blow met with equal ferocity. The sound of clanging metal fills the air, a symphony of brutality that echoes across the battlefield. The Spartans may be outmatched in numbers, but they are not outmatched in spirit.
"If we kill them all here, we will turn around and kill all the Corinthians! Move, we haven't slain enough!"
Demetrius shouts.
The Spartan line is breached! The Macedonian Phalanx presses in, their long spears reaching over the Spartan shields and into their hearts. The Spartan's bronze shields are dented, cracked, and slippery with the gore of their comrades as they fight tooth and nail against the relentless Macedonian tide.