//------------------------------// // 5 - When Battle Calls // Story: The Unlikeliest of Heroes // by TheFullCrumb //------------------------------// In a grand battlefield, scores of soldiers clashed. Heavily clothed peasants collided with the combined military might of the greatest of ancient soldiers, their leader a fearless man beyond compare within their ranks. Light blinked off of his bronze cuirass, his sword still attached to his side. His helmet shifted on his head as he stared forwards. The battle slowed to a standstill as he strode before his own soldiers, staring them down. “The world will know that free men stood against a tyrant, that few stood against many, and before this battle is over, that even a god-king can bleed!” He raised his shield and spear, slamming the two together in a battle call. “Spartans! Ready your breakfast and eat hearty! For tonight!” He pointed at the opposing army, a scowl of anger crossing his countenance. “We dine in hell!” Three hundred heavily armed and angry Spartans stood behind their leader as he lead the charge down the hill, the Persians following suit as the two forces collided once more, blood flying all around. The Spartan leader himself slew many men as he swung and sliced, chopped and lopped, leaping from one enemy to another with a fury unlike any that had come before. His anger flowed in his movements as his combat seemed like a dance, enemies falling before his precise movements. One Spartan stared up at the dark-skinned leader of the enemy they face. “Immortals... we put their name to the test.” Tightening the chin strap on his helmet, he shouted an unintelligible battle cry, flying forwards as he shouted. His leader grinned as they fought side by side. Almost as soon as their army had made their way into the thick of it, right in the center of the valley, arrows darkened the sky. Archers let loose the barbed doom that each carried, arrows crashing down over the Spartans. Many fell to the arrows, the barbs finding the weak parts of their armour and piercing through with a lethality some Spartans had never witnessed. Few remained standing from the onslaught. For the longest time, the Spartans had held back the tide of the enemy, but they found their end that day. Their leader looked at the army in front of him, a look of longing on his face. “My Queen!” An arrow pierced his cuirass. “My wife.” Three more pierced, bringing him to the ground. “My love...” And with a single breath, he was resigned to his fate. The opposing leader laughed, his mirth echoing through the valley. That was, until a bright flash of light appeared from nowhere. The dying, broken body of the leader of the three hundred Spartans disappeared in a brilliant, pulsing blue light. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ An area far from where a storm would take place, a bright blue flash occurred. While one would appear in the midst of no such inhabited area, the other was flat on his face, in the midst of what one would assume was a Lakota hunter camp. A shield flew past, while a sword and a pair of javelins stuck into the ground. A spear embedded itself in a nearby rock. The man rolled over, sitting up. He immediately felt his chest. No arrows, not even a single mark. He stared around as many creatures of a strange shape gathered around him. His vision was blurry from whatever that flash had been. He looked around again, standing up only to encounter a strange feeling from his gut. Muscles were contracting, along with a gurgling. Without even a pause, everything within his stomach spewed forth, covering a small area with chunks of meat and half-digested foodstuffs. He fell over, his vision turning black as he passed out. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hours later, the man awoke in a bed of hay. He glanced around. Against the side of the tent-like object he found himself in, he noticed his sword, javelins, and armour. His shield was laying next to him. He sat up, his vision finally clear. A bowl of water sat next to him. His black hair and beard were still short, but scars sat across his face. Dried blood marked the area where the Immortal he had fought had cut his face. “By the gods themselves, I survived Xerxes. But where have I found myself?” With practiced precision, he swiftly returned his armour to its place upon his person, his sword to his side, and his javelins in his shield. His helmet was not among the armour that he still retained. “My queen, my wife, my love. Without me, she must be worrisome about my well-being.” He stepped out into the bright light, strange quadriped creatures raced around, tearing down the strange tents. He stopped when he felt a tug at his leg. “Mister, where are you going? The Chief wants to speak with you!” The man stared down at the quadriped that tugged on his leg. It was a darker orange, with feathers in a concentric circle on its head. “Your chieftain wishes to parley? With no hostility? What manner of world have I entered?” He followed the little creature to a larger one, who wore a more elaborate feather headdress. He was dark brown in colour, with the look of years upon his countenance. “Ah, little Strongheart. You brought our guest to me before he decided to leave. I am called Thunderhooves, of the Buffalo Tribes. May I ask your name?” The man pulled his sword, keeping it at the ready. “I am Leonidas, King of Sparta, and leader of three hundred Spartan warriors!” His mind returned to the battle. “We were beset by an enemy so insidious in nature that he dared threaten my land, my people, and most horrible of all, my wife and queen. Their messenger I had driven into a well with my heel. My own personal guard entered that battle with Arcadians at our side. Three hundred Spartan warriors, their only profession war, seven hundred other countrymen from the area, three thousand from other areas, and three thousand, four hundred from the rest. The battle of Thermopylae pass was a bloody one. I, with my Spartans, and those that had chosen to remain, fought one, even with the enemy attacking from both front and back. Myself and three other Spartans... we were the last to fall that day.” A single tear escaped his eye as he thought of his queen, of his family, of Sparta. Leonidas composed himself, a steel eye focused on the buffalo in front of him. They were unsuited for any war that even the gods of Olympus could dream for him. He lowered his gaze, his hands coming into view. Scars adorned them, Scars from battles long past, battles that he, as the king of great Sparta, had fought in personally. “You are a brave creature, Leonidas of the Spartans. We would be honoured if you would join us for our meal. It is... a custom of ours to allow guests to eat alongside, as if they were one of our own.” Leonidas looked at the buffalo with a confused look crossing his countenance. This... beast, it would offer food that it might require for its own survival to him, without him offering something in return? Leonidas shook his head from side to side, indicating his decision. “I cannot accept this. Without proper recompense, it would not be honourable for myself to partake of your meal without offering something in return.” Thunderhooves looked down at the ground. He did not know of anything the proud warrior king could offer them. Then it struck him like a train. He had a single idea. “Train a small amount of my fellow buffalo. They will be your own guard, King Leonidas. That will be the greatest recompense you can offer me at this time.” Leonidas stared down at his sword, glancing at his large round shield. Spying a rock not far from where he stood, he realized where his spear had landed. Striding over, with a single motion, he tore the spear clear from the stone, breaking it apart with the action. Thunderhooves' eyes became as saucers, his surprise evident. “Then I shall teach your buffalo the ways of a Spartan. There can be no greater honour than to become a Spartan warrior!” He shouted into the sky a single cheer, for his homeland, for his people. “For Sparta! For all free Greeks! May the gods smile on us today!” He looked down, and frowned. He was not sure how he would teach any older buffalo, especially if they could not effectively hold a spear or shield. Nevertheless, he would try. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The measly two that stood before him appeared no more than young adults, barely in their prime. Leonidas knelt down, staring them down. “I am King Leonidas. From this point forward, you are not buffalo. You are not of your tribe.” Leonidas stood up, raising his shield. “You are honorary Spartans, bound to heed the call of battle wherever it happens!” He raised his spear, slamming it into the ground with ferocity. The buffalo stepped back, wide-eyed. “You will not fear the spear, nor will you fear death. You will not fear. If you are hurt, injury is only a setback.” A young buffalo stepped out from behind them. “I want to fight as well!” Leonidas knelt down. He smiled at the young one. “Ah, Little Strongheart. You have the spirit of a Spartan woman. But you lack the skill and tenacity. However, I would rather you stay with your chief than become scarred by the deeds of war.” With a sniffle, and a little sob, Little Strongheart bolted away. Leonidas shook his head. “I don't understand it at all.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The training would go on for weeks. With access to materials, Leonidas himself forged shields and armour for the buffalo. Two shields for either side, with a front chestplate, and a Spartan-style helmet. The sword... that was more complicated. As they had no hands, they could not even grasp the sword. The spear was simpler. A small bow-like device was constructed on their backs by the other buffalo, holding each a spear of their highest quality. The two buffalo that stood before him charged each other every day, fighting with ferocity, and without fear. Whenever one would attempt to spar with him, Leonidas would charge into them, knocking them over. “You are still not ready for the rage of the true war that can be had by Spartans!” Leonidas stood off to one side, Chief Thunderhooves by his side. “They are most... interesting, now. You have instilled in them a spirit which not even I could.” He nodded to Leonidas before moving away from their part of the camp. Leonidas nodded. Turning to the buffalo he was training, he smiled. “Always use everything at your disposal to defeat your enemy!” Training dummies were destroyed, countless hours spent drilling them in the art of war, the way that Spartans saw it. They fought, bled, and bonded. Their minds were sharpened to warfare, and dulled to fear and pain. Leonidas stood back from his new warriors. They stood proud and strong. Although they may be buffalo, to him, they were new Spartans. Their faces were steeled and angry. Leonidas strode before them, staring them down. “What is our mission!” “War! War! War!” Leonidas pulled his sword. “What is our profession!” “War! War! War!” Leonidas stood before Chief Thunderhooves, staring him down. “This is what we trained for in Sparta. Not life, not love, but war. War is a Spartan's profession, and by the gods, we will die honourably in battle!” He raised his spear, to which the two buffalo behind him stomped their hooves. Thunderhooves nodded to Leonidas. “There is a train... it will be coming to a nearby town called Appleloosa. I advise you to hurry. There have been talks of... unrest amongst several areas. You would do best to have council with the pony leaders, the Princesses.” Leonidas nodded. “Then I shall, with my new honour guard, find them, and know where I am, and why I am here.” He watched the sand blow around the camp. He stepped to the edge. It was wide, and empty. He lifted his new bronze helmet. Adjusting it to his head, he stared out across the rock, dust and sand. “To me, Spartans!” The two buffalo stood by his sides. “Today, we march!” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ In another part of the land, two trains arrived at their destination. Two men stood across the platform from each other. John Raimi, of CR-2, and the Courier, of the Mojave. With a silent step, they approached each other. The Courier stuck out his hand, smiling. “I'm the Courier, or Courier Six. Some people hear have taken to calling me Six.” Raimi nodded, shaking the Courier's hand. Holding out a piece of paper that he had hastily scribbled on, he let the Courier know who he was. I hope I don't have to deal with shock and awe over this again. He stood there, waiting. “'My name is John Raimi, of the government branch CR-2. I specialize in biological and chemical threat disposal.' So, you're a scientist... and a soldier? Then we've got something in common. I'm guessing you're here to see the princesses as well?” A muffled shout behind them startled them both. A tall, bald man with a strange purple tattoo over one eye, wearing bright, shining armour, was being levitated by two unicorn ponies. He was gagged, although, if looks could kill, the entire planet would have blown to pieces. “Hold him, girls! We have to get him... to... the... oh my.” One of them, a lavender unicorn pony, stared at Raimi. The Courier looked at him, shrugging. “I've got no idea. This is pretty much a Tuesday on average for me.” He stepped forward, kneeling down to bring him to eye level with the lavender unicorn. “Would you mind putting him down? That would be good.” The screaming man was let down, almost attacking before the Courier grabbed his arms. “Whoa! Calm down, pal!” He dodged a wild swing. “Okay, if you fucking hit me-” He was slammed hard in the stomach, getting launched by the panicking man. The gag was torn off with powerful hands as he stared the two men down. “You... you are not ponies. Ponies are not friendly to Minsc and Boo!” A hamster hopped onto Minsc's shoulder, glaring angrily. “Sorry, I have not introduced myself. I am Minsc, a ranger and berserker of the highest degree in the Ranger lodges of Rashemen!” He smiled and shrugged. “They do not accept Minsc... ever since the incident.” “What... incident?” Minsc scratched his head, confused. “I don't remember... all I remember from then is a h-h-head wound.” Boo squeaked, though it went unnoticed by Minsc. The Courier smiled. “We're here to see the leaders of this land, the Princesses.” The lavender unicorn stopped, staring. “Y-You're here to s-see the Princesses?! How d-do we know that you won't hurt them?!” Raimi stepped forward, looking down. He touched his hand to her head, his spirit connecting to her mind. Images flashed through her head. Tears welled up in her eyes as she witnessed the cruelty of Volks Corp as seen by Raimi himself. “You don't understand. I was taken by a bright flash of light. I don't know how the Courier here got here, or Minsc, but all I know is that we are here for some reason, and I intend to find out.” He spoke without moving his lips, the very act scaring the unicorn. “Twilight Sparkle.” She recoiled as she heard her name spoken in her mind. Raimi stepped back, crossing his arms. “L-Let's take them to the Princesses. I think there's something that needs to be explained.” Twilight moved away, an orange-coloured pony following. “Hey, Twi, what did that there... thing do t'ya?” Twilight turned around. “He showed me... what he had gone through. I'm not sure how, but they need to see the Princesses... and there's something I haven't told you all yet. You'll need to talk to all three of us before you understand.” Twilight raced off, followed by six ponies, and three humans. The humans did not understand what exactly was going on, but in the situation they were in, they did not care. They were about to get answers, and they would not stop for anything. The Courier grumbled. “They had better not be fucking pony princesses. I'm starting to get a little sick of all this colour.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Author's Notes are NOT currently working at this time: Okay, so... I mixed the history of the battle of Thermopylae, the main inspiration behind the 2006 movie, "300", and the movie... along with some headcanon. Leonidas always stuck out to me as a leader of men. While generals can lead, those who truly understand the art of war, and actively participate in it with their fighting force, can be the leader of men like King Leonidas of Sparta. He is, and will always be, one of my favourite ancient historical figures. So, comments and criticism. And if anyone wants to, point out to me in a PM what I could have done to use the history better, as I'm always looking to improve!