This is my Ultimate Eternal Medieval Battle: Continue the Story.
Rules: I invite all to participate so long as you take your role-play seriously. The content of this continuing story is purely battle so there is no room for funny times or jokes. You can enter your character into the battle as anything you like; warrior, rogue, spell caster, etc. We are not role-playing one character like the other continue the story Role-playing Games that are running, instead your own character will enter the battle.
In this first post under "Scenario" I am going to describe the medieval battle scene and when you make your first post you introduce your character (A short description) and say how you are fighting the battle. After your inital post
Scenario: All the humans, elves, dwarves, hobbits and the halves of those races gather together in an open field to match the invading orcs, goblins and hill giants who have aligned in order to do battle. You are at that battle that never ends because there are thousands on either side.
Start and example of how you start: Zork, a tall muscular human warrior is fully armored in plate, enters the battle field riding a large grey war horse that is equally armored. His helm has horns on the side with large red ribbons coming out of the top. His weapon of choice is a lance which he chooses to go against the hill giants.
Zork spots one on the hill giants, a crazed looking female of the species wielding a large club, on the northern side. Zork moves his horse towards and rides forward first with a gallop and then to full speed. The hill giant tries to raise her club but Zork takes an evasive move to the left while trusting his lance into her side causing blood to spatter on his armor. The hill giant screams from the pain and falls while her mate, an ugly looking male moves in with anger.
A young half elf male on a great war wolf rides in. He is covered in a magical leather hide made from gator skin. He pulls out his bow which flames from the presence of orcs. His skills as an archer are renown some people have even called him "Dead shot" because once his arrows hit you are dead.
Without waiting for a charge the archer thief starts shooting arrows into the crowds of orcs. Every time an arrow hits them, no matter how small the injury, the arrow bursts into flames like a mini explosive causing the orcs to become very confused and fall with charged skin and yells of pain until dead.
Combat with orcs is as usual… It is no different today except that the orcs seem more stupid than normal because even though they see their fellow orcs going up in flames by my flaming arrows they are still coming for more. I am no less relentless it letting the arrows reach their targets. One by one I see them going up in smoke and falling to the ground with a snap, crackle and pop.
After the smoke and flames quiets down - Zork, a fully armored hunk of a man with a [mission], steps forward [wielding] a thick long sword with a soft blue glow around it. The sword, captured during a raid on the dark elven lands, was found to be made to strike great fear and anguish into orcs and goblins. It is destiny that this sword should be used today. He looks for the nearest enemy and charges. He swings in a wide arc as the sword goes through the nearest orc literally like a hot knife to butter.
Dionysios surveys the field alongside his comrades in arms. Standing there overlooking this battlefield wearing a bronze chest plate, bronze cuirasses, bronze leg greaves, and a helmet in the Corinthian style with a horsehair crest of crimson and black going from left to right rather than from front to back, denoting him as an officer. He carries a long Dory spear of 9 foot length and an Aspis shield with a red Lamda painted on it. On his belt he carries a wicked short chopping sword called a kopis. His long, curly black hair glistens in the sun as it was freshly groomed with olive oil in preparation for this battle. He smiles as he sees the battlefield, vaguely hoping that he would meet an enemy worthy of battle and perhaps one worthy to die fighting.
He thinks back to how strange life is. He remembers marching with his mates leading a unit of 500 Spartans towards Plataea. He saw a strange looking man by the track they were on, felt a strange tingling and then he was in a different place… along with his whole unit. The strange man said he opened something called a gate. The man explains that he brought them here to help him fight for his small town and that he would send them back immediately at the battles conclusion. Dionysios thought it strange he could understand them man and his disorientation was extreme, and then there was no time to think as a group of what the man called orcs arrived. They fought hard that day and when it was over Dionysios, as the leader found the strange man, dying on the field. He looked at Dionysios and said, "Go to my village. I have no strength to send you back. Protect them and they will accept you" and then let out his last breath. That night the village celebrated but the Spartans, in their laconic way, barely participated. Those that were left did eventually integrate into the society, and they spread their Spartan ways to the village. Now, as their king, Dionysios leads half his men here, secure in the knowledge that the last six years allowed him to sire three strong sons and one beautiful daughter. Those Spartans remaining at the village will keep it safe and keep Spartan values alive in this world. His wife said, "Come back with it or on it," just as he taught her to say.
Dionysios leads his 200 men towards a group of orc warg riders, changing towards them hard. He smiles as do the men to his left and right. As a unit 40 men across and five men deep he orders his men to lower their spears to killing height. Like an armored moving unit of death with quills sticking out at various distances they move forward and he feels his spear impact on a something alive, although that soon isn't case. They continue marching, clearing a path through the orcs, who soon break ranks and retreat. Death and blood is all about him as he laughs.
Edited: Abnninja on 26th Feb, 2017 - 9:31pm
The falling orc and more importantly the way the orc died makes the other orcs delay their approach towards him but that is soon over when a deep orcish voice commands them to attack. Rushing towards Zork, makes it easy to counter attack and soon each orc that pushes forward falls making a small hill of orcan bodies where he stands.
As the Spartans finish off the few wounded survivors of the broken orc cavalry crawling on ground in front of them Dionysios looks around. He notes that there are only a few cuts and scrapes among his troops, some nice scars to brag about over a dinner of black gruel. Then, he sees his close allies, a group of wood elves, mostly archers and very lightly armored, being pressured by a huge group of goblins backed up by a few giants. These elves are the reason he is here at this battle. They asked for help. They are his allies. They are friends. That is enough for a Spartan.
He bellows his order and his officers and NCOs echo it. The Spartans immediately stop doing what they were doing. He would never try this with a lesser unit, a unit made up of anything other than Spartans. But they are Spartans and they are here, he begins a wheeling movement of the phalanx. He knows this exposes his flank but he will not let his allies bear this attack alone. Like a hinged door, the right side of the phalanx begins to wheel while the left side acts as the hinge. In the middle of a battle the whole phalanx wheels and surges towards the goblins. The goblins didn't expect it nor did they see it coming. The elves rain arrows while the Spartan spears rip into goblin flesh.
Then Dionysios feels a blow like none other in his life. It brings him to his knees and nearly rips the shield from his arm. He looks up and the largest armed living creature he's ever seen is following through with the swing of its club. He sees one of his men halfway down the line crushed by one of these creatures. His spear is useless at this range, although the spear of the men behind him try to drink this giant's blood.
Dionysios remembers early in his relationship with the leader of the elves the elf asked why his sword was so short and said he could have his smiths fashion him a longer one. Dionysios smiled and said, in typical Laconic fashion, "It's so that we may get close to the enemy." Dionysios draws his blade, "Time to bring them in close lads" he yells.
He walks on to the field dress in a dark green cloak that almost looks as though its velvet black. On the skirts of the cloak are dirty gold frills about a half inch long signifying his status in society. Perhaps he is someone of title or been given special status or maybe he stole it. No one is thinking about that right now as he remains unseen for now. He surveys the battle going on. He does not seem to be interested in the orcs or goblins, but he does look at the big creatures coming up from the rear. He smiles and waits a bit before making a move.