The Spartan looked around the battlefield. Carnage everywhere he looked, Arms, legs, headless torsos, you name a body part and it was on that field. Many of those body parts composed what where once his friends. But Xerxes had taken them away from him. Xerxes and all of his damn men!
Oh how he hated that supposed "god" being, with all of his flashy ornamentation and near perfect look. I say near perfect because he had one flaw, the great scar Leonitus put upon his face right before his death at the hot gates with his brave 300 behind him. after that skirmish, as Xerxes referred to it, he pushed hard for the destruction of Sparta. For he knew that there lay his biggest threat. He saw what 300 spartans where able to do to his innumerable army, he feared what a united Spartan army could achieve. So he struck fast and hard, hitting towns and villages without warning, destroying everything and everyone. Especially in one village, that had been a constant source of irritation to him. the 30 odd Spartans living in that village had constantly harried and ambushed his scouting parties. When Xerxes scouting parties began to come back in tatters or not at all, he knew he had to fix this problem those miserable Spartans where causing.
The Spartans hid in the trees and brush waiting for the Persian supply train to come. Traetiis noticed that it was more heavily guarded than usual. "We must be affecting them" he thought "for them to be sending so many to guard the caravan." The Persian wagons rumbled down the dirt road, coming ever closer. He looked to his left and right checking to see if the other Spartans near him where ready. He need not have checked, Spartans where always ready no matter the situation.
The Persians where upon them now, so Traetiis sprung the trap signaling his men. The whistling noise of arrows filled the air, all aimed at the horses pulling the wagons. Effectively stopping the Persians in their tracks. Traetiis hated the senseless slaughter of the horses, but war was war, and sacrifices must be made.
He again signaled 30 men under his command. They stepped out in front of the caravan in phalanx formation. it was then the wagon coverings where ripped off revealing more Persian soldiers than were in the original guard troop. There were at least 30 Persians issuing forth from every wagon and there had to be half a dozen wagons in the caravan. The Spartans soon found themselves outnumbered 5 to 1, bad odds even for a Spartan.
"Men hold your ground" Traetiis shouted, "let none survive this day. Never retreat and never surrender! Take no prisoners!" The Persians charged enmass towards the Spartan phalanx. They crashed upon their shields like the waves upon the Cliffside, giving little ground. But there were just too many of them and they were soon surrounded on all sides. The Spartan men were forced into a tight k nit circular formation, with every man's shield overlapping his fellow soldiers, protecting them from thigh to neck. Spears pointed out menacingly, Traetiis knew they were in a tough position. One which none of them may survive, a risk that all Spartans knew of and relished the thought of dying in glorious battle. For there was no better way to die than with a sword or spear in your hand, the smell of blood in the air, and the shouts and sounds of combat ringing in your ears.
The Persians were hesitant to attack the Spartans even though they vastly outnumbered them. They knew of their skill and daring in battle, and none wished to willingly test their mettle with that of a Spartan soldier. The Persian officer urged his men to destroy the Spartan scum. Finally they charged in from all sides, engulfing the tiny wheel formation in a wave of men. But the shield welding Spartans held their ground, while those in the center of the formation began to plunge their spears into the ensuing mob of Persians. Dealing death with every thrust of the spear, the Spartans soon amassed many kills. But no matter how many they downed, 2 more would fill the space of the man just killed.
Then the worst that could happen occurred. A spear got under the shields and went through the knee of an unfortunate Spartan, dropping him to the ground and leaving an opening in the formation. The Persians seeing that they were vulnerable surged forward, eager to eliminate every single one of the vile Spartans.
The Spartan soldiers gave all they had and then more. They knew then that this was the end, and they were determined to take as many Persian bastards with them to hell as they could. Persians began dropping like flies, with spear tips appearing from nowhere, skewering them, then appearing elsewhere into another unfortunate victim. Traetiis men had broke rank by now, and where singly fighting the Persians with their swords now. For their spears where no good in close quarters combat, but the Spartan sword is just as deadly as their spear, much to their enemies dismay. The clang of sword on sword rang dully in Traetiis ears as he traded blows with his opponent. Catching the Persian off guard, he slung his shield into the mans face, effectively crushing it and dropping the man to the ground. A cry of pain and dismay echoed across the battlefield, Lareritees lay dead on the ground and his father standing over him in shock. A sword soon sprouted from his stomach as a Persian thrust his sword threw him from behind. A blood lust came upon Traetiis, as he saw two of his closest friends fall. His sword and shield became mighty weapons as he bashed, struck, stabbed, and sliced his way through the mob of Persian soldiers. They became as wheat to a sickle to Traetiis, no sooner had they appeared in front of him that they where down. Many dead, some not, others missing limbs, some their heads, such were the Persian bodies left in Traetiis wake.
He failed to notice that many of his men were being overwhelmed, his blood lust devouring him. Giving him one purpose, kill or be killed.
"Come meet your death Persian filth" he roared, flinging himself bodily shield first into a group of Persians. Knocking them all over, Traetiis stood up quickly dealing death to all that arose from the tangle of men. Finally regaining some control, he looked around to view the ensuing battle. It did not fair well for either side, with no more than 30 Persians left of their original number. "To me Spartans" he shouted trying to rally the remaining Spartans. Only five men where left of the original thirty under his command, they formed a wedge, with Traetiis at its center, and charged into the remaining Persians. Slashing and stabbing at every opening that presented itself, the wedge made its way through the Persians. But two more men had fallen along the way, leaving 3 men and Traetiis.
The Persian officer, who had remained on the sidelines of the battle, ordered his men on screaming that there were only four of them. Traetiis, picking up a spear from a fallen comrade began to stab at any one brave enough to come near, many falling from its deadly bite. Traetiis then remembered some valuable advice given to him once by Leonitus himself. "If you want to demoralize and defeat your enemy, start with the man on charge. Once he is gone the rest will be nothing more than an indecisive mob with no direction or motivation." So thinking, he sighted the Persian officer and threw his spear through the air straight through his chest, pinning him to a tree behind him.
The Persians seeing this did exactly as Leonitus had said would happen, they stopped and did not know what to do anymore.
Seezing the opportunity presented to them, Traetiis and his three comrades charged into the remaining Persians. They battered them with their shields and stabbed them fiercely with their swords, whittling down the remaining Persian troops.
The Persians finally recovering themselves, began to fight back knowing that the tides had turned it was their lives on the line now. They fought with desperation and panic born of the fear of death. They managed to overwhelm the defenses of two of the remaining Spartans, brutally hacking them to bits and pieces.
Traetiis and the remaining Spartan fought back to back, surrounded by seven Persians. For that was all that was left of the massive troop that they attempted to ambush. Persians charged from all sides. Traetiis and his comrade linked shield arms, swords straight out, they began to spin around in a circle faster and faster. The Persians not sure of this tactic held back at the last moment, not wanting to be sliced by the whirling circle of sword blades. Spinning faster and faster, Traetiis screamed "Now" and they released each others arms flinging themselves with great speed at the enemy catching them by surprise. Traetiis put his shield before him and crashed into four of the Persians. Two of them instantly died from the collision with broken necks, the others got up and tried to kill Traetiis. But he was to fast for them, with a quick slice and a stab they were both dead. He turned around to see how his fellow soldier had faired, only to see a sword thrust through his gut by the remaining Persian. Much to Traetiis and the Persians surprise, the Spartan whipped the sword out of his stomach, taking his and the Persians sword and bloodily beheading his final opponent. He then fell to the ground dead, but with a smile on his face. He had died in glorious battle, an honor all Spartans longed for.
Traetiis looked around the battlefield. Carnage everywhere he looked, Arms, legs, headless torsos, you name a body part and it was on that field. Many of those body parts composed what where once his friends. But Xerxes had taken them away from him. Xerxes and all of his damn men!