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The tall woman looked at the city in the distance and smiled. She had promised King Priam that she would aid him when he needed it and this she reckoned was a good time for that aid to be delivered. Penthesilia had brought with her the finest warriors that the Amazon nation had to offer to join the ones that she had sent on ahead.

The expedition had been a long one with many miles covered in its completion. She studied the surrounding terrain and saw that the Greeks had not yet made it round to this side of the city. The Queen of the Amazons moved out of the forest and into the land before the city, their shadows stretching out before them. They followed a path edged with colourful flowers, behind the small group, the sun was beginning to fall. They were tired and ragged, but their journey’s end was in sight and they were cheerful. Before they were even halfway to the city walls, the enemy suddenly appeared behind them.

One of Agamemnon’s war bands came into view, not just spearmen but horsemen too, a force that was about a thirty strong. All Penthesilia had with her were twelve warriors. They were the best warriors that the Amazons had to offer, but they had travelled far and were weary.

The Greek horsemen spurred ahead of their infantry. It would only take them a few minutes to reach the exhausted Amazon fighters and the women knew that not even the swiftest of them could reach the city walls before those horsemen swept around them with slashing swords and stabbing spears. The Amazons looked fearfully at their doom rushing towards them, all of them except for Penthesilia who looked towards the city in hope.

Tag: Any Greeks who want a fight or any Trojans who want to help

The exotic runner was swift, entering the Trojan city soundlessly upon dirtied feet that was adorned with a beaded anklet tied around and a feathered arm band designating the wild beauty as a tribal warrior. Drawing a round of attention, the Amazon spoke in detail of the patrol enroute per Priam’s request. On her cue, Hector gathers a sizable amount of troops and mounts up, storming past the inner curtain wall and pluming up a cloud of dust beneath their hooves as they galloped past the twin towers and overhead arch. Dividing the régime, The Prince of Troy led a dozen of the riders westwards along the road, swallowed by the enclosing forest while the rest circled the city boundaries in the opposite direction.

Long before the dark haired hero saw the familiar bronze dome of Chalcidian helmets, the noise of a skirmish tore through the forest depths and stimulated their adrenalines. The piercing ring of steel rose above the rumble of hooves as they surged forwards into a torrent of spears. Shields raised, the Trojan soldiers spurred their steeds’ forwards, the acrid smell of blood and sweat burning in their nostrils as they collided impetuously into the Grecian horsemen.
The snorted breaths of the horses rasped with a frothy drool upon their muzzles with increased agitation to the noise and calamity of the fighting men straddled upon their backs, while fidgety hooves stomped upon those unlucky to have fallen, crushing bone and skull.

With his arm lifted in a striking position, Hector caught a glimpse of a band of female warriors who were engaged in combat some distance away. His arm swung, the blade angled outwards while pulling up from his saddle upon muscular thighs for leverage and increased power in the strike, slicing deeply into the man’s thorax with a spray of blood and breaking ribs by the sheer strength exerted behind the blow.

As the Grecian body fell away from his mount, The Trojan Prince bellowed at the top of his lungs, “Troops! Assist the Amazons!”
His bloodied sword pointed forwards with an extended arm, knotted biceps crimson stained and wet with perspiration urging a few of his soldiers deeper into the fray to help protect the beautifully fierce women who have come to Troy’s aid.

The Amazon Queen shouted at her woman to form a circle with their spears sticking out. No horse on the planet could be made to run into that shield of spears but it made the huddled fighters more vulnerable to the infantry who were not far behind the cavalry. While the horsemen were distracted, Penthesilea chargered her swiftest runner to go and seek aid from the nearby city, laying down a covering fire from her bow as she did.

Then she had no time to worry about anything else as the Greek swordsmen descended upon the Amazons. Another cry from the Queen and the Amazons deployed into pairs, each duo fighting as a single unit. Penthesilea, stood side by side with her partner and hefted her battle axe in her right hand to face her opponant.

A tall heavyset Greek with bad teeth and a scar running across his jaw confronted the Amazon and battle began. She slashed her axe at the Greek but it hit his shield and was knocked down. The Greek returned the blow with one of his own which whistled past Penthesilea's head by mere inches. The Greek then bought his sword down low to cut at the Amazon's legs but the younger woman was able to move deftly out of the way and parry another blow from the older man’s sword that would have disembowelled her if she had not been more alert.

The Greek's sword drew back for another blow and Penthesilea cut at his wrist. The Greek saw the move coming and tried to get out of the way but was a shade too slow as her blade cut, but not deeply, into his flesh. The Greek winced in pain but was able to keep hold of his weapon, even if he now did not hold it as tightly as he had been.

Penthesilea changed tacks and went fully on the attack, slashing and hacking at her opponent as she forced him ever backwards. As the Greek lunged forward for an attack, the Amazon suddenly dropped to one knee so that the sword went over her head. She lunged upwards with the axe, feeling it strike home. The blade of the axe went right into the Greek's gut and a great gush of blood stained the dirt floor as he stared at her in disbelief before slumping down, dead.

The Amazon didn't have much time to celebrate her victory for soon there was a new Greek to fight. She was vaguely aware of the sound of fighting in the distance but was too busy with the man in front of her that she had no time to glance up to see what was happening. Just as she dispatched of her second Greek of the day, a great cry went up.

“Troops! Assist the Amazons!" It would seem that the Trojans had come to their aid after all.

With renewed vigour, the Amazon Queen threw herself into the heat of the battle. Penthesilea loved this feeling, the knowledge that she would win and that her opponant would lose.

He rode in the center of the party, he was covered in armor from head to foot, "Just a bit further my men." He spoke calmly and urged his horse on some more. He was getting close to the wall and he wanted to have an optimum seat when his army rushed the wall to try to weaken the defenses of the city.

Holding up his hand he called for a bow, "Now, give them a warning it is only fair...Give me three men." He smiled and readied and arrow and saw three of his men ready theirs. He laughed darkly now and smirked, "Good, now on on my count fire...FIRE!" He yelled out and let fly his own arrow followed by his men. Laughing he tossed his bow to the side and smiled urging his horse forward once more.

"Men, we will strike at first sun on the morrow." He dismounted and looked around, "Here is where we will set up camp for now, to guards near every possible threat." He smiled and looked around, "Send the fastest in four directions, scout ahead and try to find any food or any one we can take."

He knew that in order to make sure that he had the upped hand he needed villagers and civilians from each city he took. He smiled now and looked around once more before stopping dead, "DIDN'T I SAY I WANTED MY TENT UP NOW!" He kicked one of his own men from his path and looked at a spot, "Here, put it here and you have ten minutes or one of you dies by my own hand...Is that understood?" He asked looking at them all.

Hector watched as the Grecian formation advanced upon the onslaught of Trojans riders at a trot, meeting their challenge with short upwards thrusts with an advantaged distance. Each enemy foot soldier concealed a broad, double-edged Xiphos which hung from a baldric under the left arm, readily available for close combat. These bronze swords were cast and are thus are more easily formed into a leaf shape than traditional iron swords, which needed to be forged. The splintering of wood was predominantly music to Hector’s ears as the enemy’s spears were easily parried by the spatha short swords brandished by his Trojan horsemen. Although a few skilled spearmen found their mark, one in particular upon a young, inexperienced soldier that ended a promising career before it had a chance to be realized.

Engaged in battle with a determined Greek who would make his name known among heroes, the Prince of Troy vented his grief over the loss of the comrade with a swift impalement directly into the ambitious enemy’s heart chamber. As the man fell, a glance was thrown towards the Amazons in observance that they were holding their own against the attack while his own troops fought against the barrage of spears that separated the two allies. The glint of a battle axe through the trees caught his eye briefly before the sickening crack of its steel edge severed through bone and soft tendons, cleanly dismembering an arm from its owner.

Urging his steed forwards, Hector kicked out hard with a booted foot into the back of a spearman’s head while the man was engaged in strife with another Trojan, reeling him forwards into the friendly sword. Olianche nodded his thanks as he bend sideways to wipe the sticky blood from his blade upon the fallen Greek.
With an even tone, he remarked while directing his gaze upon the tightly packed phalanx formation with their small pelte (forearm shields) and two handed sarissa hedge, wedged between the Trojans and the Amazons, “Sir, If I might suggest, please that we remove this obstacle from our path as quickly as possible and escort our Amazonian allies closer to the protection of Troy’s garrisoned walls.”

Both men turned as Grecian reinforcements began swarming through the near distant coppice, promising that this battle would not be over soon. The enemy’s sarissa spear was twice as long as the Trojan’s doru equivalent and would take more manpower and determination than they had brought with them to break the phalanx wall. Hector wasted not another moment in conversation but nodded with a forwards motion of his hand in gesture and a grunt as he pressed forwards with a solid heel pressed into his chestnut gelding, his sword swinging into the hedgerow of spears. The secondary group of riders, that were dispatched earlier, eventually regrouped to join the Trojan defenders.

Through perseverance and time, they eventually wore down the front row of spear wielders, snapping the iron tips with the broad short swords and weakened the Grecian wall. Hector was among the first to ride through the gauntlet of spears, his horse rearing up with a nervous whinny as he addressed the Amazon warriors with a tilt of his head and a lifted hand to his helm in a gesture of chivalry, “M’ladies, we are your humbled escort.”

His grizzled bearded face remained stony as his comrades greeted the second wave with a clash of swords muffled by the thunder of hooves in the distance. With a casual uplift of his gaze, Hector observed what seemed to be an encampment forming in the far valley below their position, and watched as three archers took a practiced shot towards the wall. Issuing a curse beneath his breath, the dark haired Prince commanded his troops to begin the escort immediately while a few horsemen nocked their bows to greet the oncoming invaders with a torrent of arrows.

More Greeks arrived to bolster the forces that were already present and Penthesilia could feel that what had started out as a small skirmish was rapidly turned into a full scale battle. She and her Amazons had dispatched of the small group of foot soldiers and the Trojans were busy with the mounted Greeks. Glancing up at the new arrivals, she saw the familiar helmet of the supreme commander of the Greek forces himself. She saw than man dismount from his horse and gesture to his troops. If the man had been mounted then the Amazonian Queen would have stood no chance against him but he had given up his height advantage by getting off his steed.

Shouting at her troop to form up at her position, she quickly took stock of what her situation was. None of her twelve woman had been killed but they were not looking pretty. Most of them had been injured in some way and of course they were exhausted after their long journey to Troy. Penthesilia was loathe to send them into battle once more but she knew that Agamemnon could not be allowed to set up his camp so near the the high walls of the city.

Penthesilia gestured towards the new arrivals. "I know we are weary," she said to her women. "But he is the King of the Greeks, if we can defeat him here and now then imagine what glory we can bring to the Amazon Nation." She paused to look each Amazon in the eyes. "We cannot allow that Greek to set up his camp here, this could be just the perlude to a massive attack and if we can nip it in the bud here while they are not yet ready for a fight it will save us a lot of trouble later."

She turned back to the enemy and pointed at them with her axe. "Amazons, attack!" she yelled. She ran at the new group of Greeks, her Amazons behind her yelling their war cry as they moved. Penthesilia ran straight towards the Greek leader, what better way to find glory than to take on the Great King himself.

Confronting him, she began to spit out curses at his family and his manhood; all part of the rituals of the fight of course. "Are you going to fight me or do you need your boys here to do it for you?" she mocked. "Are you too cowardly to fight for yourself or maybe you just know that you can't win so you might as well just leave now."

Around her she could hear the sounds of her Amazons starting their fight with Agamemnon's men and she hefted her axe so that she was ready to face whatever the King threw at her.

He stopped dead and listened to her, "I did not know this would happen." He smiled now and placed his hands along his waist, one setting on his sword the other on a small dagger he carried with him. He chuckled and kept his back turned on her, "Would you strike a man who's back is turned?" He smiled darkly now and held his hands up, his dagger now set in his palm and concealed along his fore arm.

"Come now, Amazon...Do you think that I am here to fight you, my war is with Troy...Not you my...DEAR!" He turned quickly and threw the dagger, it flew straight and past her head by inches, "I see my aim is off..." He smiled once more and drew his sword laughing, "Fine, than we fight but I do not think I will kill you."

He liked the way she looked, "I will take you for my own when this fight is over!" He roared and took an over head swing at her, though the swing it self was a feign, "Now, drop to your knees for me." He smirked and dropped the swing trading it for a kick instead. His helmet was getting in his way, though he wanted to keep it on it was marring his vision.

He listened to the sound of battle around him, one of his men had fallen, "Get up you fools, do not let them defeat us!" He was trying his hardest to keep his edge in battle, though he was finding it hard due to the fact his men were not ready for battle. He was worried, and he needed to end this battle as soon as possible.

The chestnut gelding beneath the Trojan Prince pranced forwards upon a tightened rein, nostrils flared by the stench of blood while several riders carved a path through the advancing Greeks. Hector twisted a smile to see the bold spunk of the women in battle. Only in Sparta had he seen such driven ferocity from the female species, and while he preferred his gentle and docile Andromache, he held great admiration for the Amazon warriors in their brutal beauty. Although they were vastly outmanned, the horsemen held the advantage of swift speed and an elevated position which made their strikes considerably effortless, yet unavoidably a few lost their momentum, pulled from their steeds and fell victim to the sheer number of Grecians that grouped together in force.

The leather saddle creaked beneath his weight as he cantered ahead, following the others with little resistance that an occasional well aimed swipe of his steel rectified with a modest effort. At the top of the incline, the dark haired man noted with worry that Penthesilia headed straight for the legendary Agamemnon and with a flick of his wrist, snapped the end loop of the reins hard upon the withers with a sharp command. The steed’s hooves flew down the embankment, bowling over any unlucky obstacle that chanced in their path.

His gaze never left the altercation as the flash of a dagger caught the reflecting sun, missing its mark and impaling the ground harmlessly behind the Amazon. Bunching the muscles of his arm, he threw his body from the steed in a hasty dismount, landing hard in the spiny brush that littered the valley floor. Firming his grip upon the sword that was held in his right hand, he sprinted the short distance towards Agamemnon and the female warrior.

Anger flashed across his eyes but was not his motivation as Hector fluently avoided a Greek soldier that stepped deliberately between himself and his target, who now had taken a strike at Penthesilia followed by a solid boot to her gut. Hector spun and dropped the Greek interloper with a two handed diagonal cut across his torso but did not pause to watch as the helmed man clutched the red streak that divided his chest and sank to his knees before keeling over with a billow of dust upon impact of body to ground. Muscular legs pumping feverishly, Hector was gone before the man’s eyes glazed over in the typical blank stare of a dead man. The short distance seemed longer by the dry rasp that tore from Hector’s throat as he saw the Amazonian woman getting ready to retaliate.

Hostile shouts were unnoticed as Hector lunched forwards and cut his sword arm low, sending sparks across the flat side of Agamemnon’s sword while the force of his body slammed into the side of the man’s larger bulk, propelling them both several stumbling paces. He could feel the man stubbornly holding his own footing and knew that he was outweighed. The swords shrill ring echoed in his ears long after their metals had parted. Through clenched teeth, he growled at the Achaean commander with an accosting point of his index finger inches from his face, “I bet a sixpence of gold that this worthy female can dance circles around your lard arse anytime!”

Small beads of spittle flew in the Prince’s words to sprinkle upon the gruff complexion of the enemy leader as if adding emphasis to the insult. He knew or sensed Penthesilia coming up behind him and turned quickly with a side-step, allowing the Amazonian to prove his words.
He felt the burning glare of the man’s eyes upon him but did not return the hostility back, keeping his head in focus as the Prince of Troy shouted to those within earshot, “Trojans! Destroy this camp!”

With the exception of a few who fought off the defending soldiers hoping to influence Agamemnon’s victory over the strong female fighter, the rest of the Trojan horsemen scattered to interfere with the camp, slicing through the fabric of their tents while engaging in sword play with the disorder of foot soldiers that sought to carry out their leader’s campaign against Troy. Hector remained close if Penthesilia needed his morale support. He nodded his head with encouragement, willing her to shame Agamemnon.

"Would you strike a man who's back is turned?"

Penthesilea bridled at Agamemnon's words, how dare he accuse her of attacking someone when they were not ready to fight. That simply wasn't the Amazon way, in her culture all fighting was done face to face so that the enemy knew exactly who had killed them.

"Come now, Amazon...Do you think that I am here to fight you, my war is with Troy...Not you my...DEAR!" He turned quickly and threw the dagger, it flew straight and past her head by inches. She wasn't really aware of this action except to see something blur past her vision. "I see my aim is off..." He smiled once more and drew his sword laughing, "Fine, than we fight but I do not think I will kill you."

"Damn right you won't kill me," she replied, eying him warily. "It will be your blood decorating this ground tonight and not mine. As for your war on Troy, it does affect me as these people are my kin and we Amazons swore an oath to come to the city's aid if it were needed."

"I will take you for my own when this fight is over!" He roared and took an over head swing at her, though the swing it self was a feign, "Now, drop to your knees for me."

She saw the swing coming and dodged back out of the way. What she didn't see was the boot coming her way which connected, though not as solidly as it would have done if she had not moved back, with her gut, making her stagger slightly under its force. She gasped for breath and forced herself to stay upright, knowing that if she were to survive that she would have nasty bruise there in the morning.

The next thing she knew, another person had joined in her fight with the Greek King. Anger flashed in her eyes, how dare someone try and steal the glory that was rightfully hers. Then the weight of that perosn's body slammed into Agamemnon, sending them stumbling back a few yards. It was then that she recognised the new player, it was Hector.

“I bet a sixpence of gold that this worthy female can dance circles around your lard arse anytime!” the Trojan snarled.

"As true as those words are, cousin," she said to him as she approached the pair. "I do not need yours or anyone else's help to defeat this man." She remembered a time when the Amazons had visited Troy when she had been just a little girl of about six years old. She had met her Trojan cousins then and had been amazed at how they had lived, cooped up within the walls of their grand city. She had got into an fight with an older boy of about ten or eleven and she remembered that Hector, who would have been about seventeen at the time, tried to intervene then as well, much to her child like horror. Nobody would fight her fights for her.

The Trojan stepped to one side to allow her to continue her fight before ordering his men to destroy whatever of the camp that the Greeks had managed to erect. She looked at Agamemnon once more. "Just you and me," she snarled.

Pentesilea moved towards the Greek leader as if nothing else mattered, a fierce look of determination in her eyes. She hefted her axe in her hands before taking a swing at Agamemnon which was, as his had been earlier, a diversion. She then checked her swing and fell to her knees, the weapon moving towards the older man's legs. Yes, she would drop to her knees for the Greek King.

He laughed enjoying the conflict, "Such fun tonight." He laughed and then got hit by the Trojan, he slid a few feet and then righted himself glaring daggers at the man. "Bastard, son of a wench." He spat out finally reaching up and removing his helmet tossing it to the side. He was going to kill him as soon as he got a chance to, "You will pay for such impudence you little wretch!" He yelled at the Trojan, anger over taking him he was starting to lose his focus.

He turned his attention back the Amazon now, his eyes burning with fury, "You think this little whelp can unseat me?" He laughed and nearly fell as he jumped back from her attack, it was faster than he anticipated and he wasn't ready for it. His face showed at first anger and then joy, "So much fun, I welcome this challenge." He held his hand up and one of his men sacrificed himself in the process of tossing his shield to Their King, "Unlike your men...And Women, if you can call them that...Mine are not afraid to die in order to serve their king." He laughed and held his hand aloft, "We are Greek, we are Warriors...I am the Warrior King!" He yelled and readied his shield smiling.

He was armored, that slowed him down, he carried a shield and a sword, he was encumbered more now but he knew that in order to survive this fight he need to be as protected as he could be, this woman had speed on her side, the one thing he lacked. He watched the two before him and spied a lone Trojan, no older than twenty looking around, confused, most of the warriors were distracted with battle two on one if not more at times. Agamemnon smiled and spun quickly bringing his sword up and loping the head off of the young warrior, "Poor Trojan, so quick to lose his head." He laughed and looked at the two again.

He was using an old ploy, shake his enemies with unneeded violence. He picked up the head in the same hand that held his sword and looked at it, "So young, so weak...So poorly trained." He tossed it to Hector and smiled darkly blood now dripping from his fingers and sword. He smiled as the head was mid flight he took off behind it and held the shield up as he charged the Amazon and Trojan, "Have at you both, you cannot defeat me, Troy shall be mine!"

The satisfaction of rousing Agamemnon’s temper was cut short as the prince caught the look of righteous anger in Penthesilea’s eyes as if he had overstated his authority upon the blood soaked field, the discarded helmet bounced and rolled , veering his gaze momentarily upon the bodies that were quickly littering the green tufts of grass around them.

The feminine voice seemed out of place among the deep throated curses of the men in battle, "As true as those words are, cousin," she had stated plaintively to him, “I do not need yours or anyone else's help to defeat this man."
In a world where man was the predominate gender, her bravado was not only confusing to him but inconsequential. He did not feel any pangs of ill doing upon his part but stepped back with his arms splayed outwards as a silent gesture of submission to her whim and watched a moment of the Amazon’s prowess while the swift cut of her war axe halved the air by the knees of the burly figured Greek.

Always a man of chivalry, Hector could not bring himself to abandon Penthesilea’s side despite the earlier rebuttal. His fingers tightened upon the hilt, working their knuckles into a cramp as the arrogant Commander boasted his title and swiftly stole the life of a young soldier whom had recently married and had celebrated the early conception of her womb. The couple’s happy life shattered in the imagery of his mind, the Prince of Troy started to intercept with a quick jerk of his body but realized that it was too little, and too late to change the young man’s already determined fate. He held his motion in check, settling his weight back while his jaw tightened and pulsed with frustrated anger.

Agamemnon’s taunting words echoed repeatedly in his mind with the image of the grieving dead man’s wife, “So young, so weak...So poorly trained”, the sightless eyes rolled airborne towards him. Reflexively, the Trojan prince raised a forearm to deflect the decapitated head while sidestepping the gruesome projectile. A shudder of repulse tore through his body as Diomedes struck him, leaving a bloodied bruise.

The ploy was effective; too late he realized that Agamemnon was in full charge, shield plowing towards them. Hector dipped his shoulder down in preparation while spacing his footing to absorb the impact and met the hard surface of the shield with the solid crack of bone against metal, his arm vibrated and then felt numb. With a hard twist of his torso, the shield slid as he followed with a downwards jab of the underside of his hilt into the side of the man’s un-helmeted head.
Once a slight distance was established, the Prince of Troy held his sword level to his midsection with both hands and waited for a signal that Penthesilea needed him, although half doubted that she would.

"Unlike your men...And Women, if you can call them that...Mine are not afraid to die in order to serve their king." Agamemnon laughed and held his hand aloft, "We are Greek, we are Warriors...I am the Warrior King!"

Penthesilea's eyes blazed with anger but she held onto her battle calm, she knew that the King was trying to get her angry so that he could exploit her weakness but she wasn't about to cave that easily. She shot him a sardonic smile, "More like Lard Arse King," she retorted.

The Great King then spun round to decapitate one of the young Trojan soldiers who had taken to the field. "Poor Trojan, so quick to lose his head," he mocked as he held up the lifeless head. "So young, so weak...So poorly trained." The Amazon Queen could sense Hector's anger and frustration at the death of his man and she sympathised with him. But she also knew that the time for mourning was not now. That would come when the days fighting was done and both sides had retreated to the safety of their own camps. Then and only then could the grieving for fallen comrades begin. Agamemnon suddenly threw the head at them and charged. "Have at you both, you cannot defeat me, Troy shall be mine!"

The Greek King slammed into her Trojan cousin who had barely seen the move coming but had managed to prepare himself for it. She watched as Hector slammed his sword hilt into Agamemnon's face before stepping back to allow her to continue her fight.

She sneered at the King. "So you need to kill boys to make yourself feel like a man," she spat at him. "No wonder your wife is considered the whore of all Greece, she needs to get her pleasure from somewhere and I doubt you are up to the job."

The Amazon redied herself into a fighting stance, prepared to meet anything that Agamemnon was about to hurl at her. She knew that she could pretty much evade anything that he threw at her because of her lack og heavy armour. Of course that meant that if he did hit her with any real force, she was in some real trouble. The best thing for her to try and do was let him wear himself on thein air out as she dodged his attacks and when he was tired then she would go on the attack.

He nearly fell as he was hit, "Bastard." He rolled and adjusted his stance holding the shield up high, "You two, you shall not get a rise from me." He chuckled, a dark look on his face, almost deranged. Stepping back and dropped his shield he ripped a discarded sword from a corpse and looked at them once more, "Two on one...Fun." He smiled and spun the swords circling them.

His eyes were blazing, "So tell me woman...Should you be on the field or in the room, for battle is not the place for a woman, though when we are done I will show you your place." He laughed once more and shot forward, spinning his body he aimed to strike both at the same time. He was not playing any more, his mind was on combat and combat only, moving he kicked dirt upward to cause a cloud to block his moves a cheap trick but it might work.

The sounds of battle on the field, the screams, the tear of flesh and drop of bodies. They were nothing to him right now, they were just sounds outside of the battle, he needed to focus on the fight now and make sure the speedy woman did not get a chance to strike make sure the man did not get his sight. This was not about victory right now, it was about his manhood, his pride...It was personal now.

A wry curl of his lip could not conceal his amusement for the Amazon’s quipped retort although there was little time to waste in exchanged banters when abruptly the sound of running feet spun him around with his sword whirling. As he engaged a young Greek in a clash of steel, Penthesilea continues to fume her insults upon Agamemnon while the Prince of Troy danced deadly with an enemy in the background.

Hector raised his sword with a devastating downwards swipe that knocked the man’s sword from his grip with a harsh clatter that made the Grecian flinch and step back while searching for something to wield. The Trojan began to step forwards in a threatening manner but the heavy stomp of Agamemnon’s boot pulled his attention back and the lucky soldier trotted off to find another weapon.

In this age of chivalry, it was not uncommon for two warriors to allow the other a chance for a weapon but too many Trojans had already fallen in this skirmish and he wasn’t about to let honor stand in the way of victory this day. He cupped his hand around his mouth and hollered to a small group of his men who were destroying barrels of stored water, wasting the precious liquid into the arid soil. One turned and caught Hector’s glance, following the motion of his head and immediately pursued the unarmed soldier, ending his quest with a quick impalement.

The Prince of Troy turned his attention back upon the Amazon just as the war lord kicked dirt up into their faces. Hector dodged and parried the strike, shifting aside as the man began a vulture’s approach and circled them with additional taunts. The Prince was pleased to see Penthesilea still managing the larger aggressor with a calm poise and suddenly spun with all his muscle leveraged upon the swing of his sword with the attempt to goad the Grecian Lord into a foolhardy pass between the sword and the axe and be limited to his defense. If he could position himself so that the Amazon woman was in the man’s blind side then she might have ample opportunity to cause some serious damage.

"You two, you shall not get a rise from me." Agamemnon chuckled, dropping his shield and grabbing a discarded sword from a corpse so that he was now fighting with two blades. "Two on one...Fun. So tell me woman...Should you be on the field or in the room, for battle is not the place for a woman, though when we are done I will show you your place."

The retort Penthesilea was about to come up with died on her lips as the King kicked up a cloud of dust and attacked. The Amazon almost scoffed at the obvious trick he tried to use on them, dancing back to avoid the flying dirt. Hector parried the intended strike while she dodged out of the way to the other side of him. She could see that the Trojan Prince was trying to maneouver the Greek King so that they had him in a pincer movement so that he was trapped between them. The Amazon wondered why none of the Greeks had come to their King's aid; maybe he wasn't so popular as he thought.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of her women go down, a great spurt of blood erupting into the air as her throat was severed by a Greek blade. Penthesilea's eyes darkened with rage but she knew that now was not the time to mourn. That would have to come much later when they got to the safety of Troy but the Amazon Queen couldn't help but wonder how many more of her people would perish in this small skirmish that had seemingly erupted into a full on battle.

With a cry, Penthesilea whirled her axe and launched an attack on Agamemnon's ankles, hoping that she had got into a position where she could attack him on his blind side.

He smiled and let out a sharp whistle, "Now." He called out and a volley of arrows fired down just behind him making a wall of projectiles. He just laughed and spun in a sharp circle, one of his swords aimed at the head of the amazon, the other aimed at her waist. He growled as he struck, he was not going to give her any chance to strike.

Every move he made now, was a swipe of one sword and then another. His archers were busy keeping the trojan at bay for now, when he was done with the woman he would focus on her. He was spinning and slicing, parrying and thrusting, no move was wasted, though he could feel his muscles screaming at him. He had an idea, a feint that was going to bring her within striking range, he dropped to one knee breathing hard. He kept his eyes on her, he counted every breath, every throb of his muscles, he was calming down thinking...He was waiting for his next strike.

The battle raged all around them in multiple skirmishes, metal slamming on metal and cutting into soft flesh. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and blood, groans of pain and grunts of exertion as man fought against man, and the duel solidarity of the women were equally as aggressive. Hector stood in preparation, snapped his gaze towards the sky at the same time as an ominous shadow blocked out the sun, deafening with the screech of arrows raining down upon the field. The urgency of his voice was absolute, “COVER!”

Shield went up as the projectiles came down, some too late as the air split with a barrage of thumps and thuds, excruciating screams that forced the Prince to leap down and under the protection of his own shield. He shot a futile glance over towards Penthesilea, who was now alone in a mêlée against the alternating swords of the Grecian commander.

The Trojan Prince pulled up his lip in a snarl and wrenched back his shield as the last of the arrows struck into the dirt around him, and rising quickly to his feet. He gripped his sword tighter and cast a rueful glance towards the archers, knowing that if he tried to interfere with the Amazon and Grecian bastard, than he would be prime candidate for another wave of arrows to descend upon them. The rest of his troops who had been caught in the earlier torrent, were now reassembling into battle and gaining a momentum of fury again.

He could not afford to be selfish, and hesitated too long in his decision for suddenly a solider flanked him with a thrust of his sword, piercing his cuirass as he yelped out and spun around, feeling a warm wetness soaking through the fabric of his tunic beneath. With his teeth grit down, Hector countered the next series of strikes with vigilance, Stepping forwards with each parry and driving the young Greek backwards, inch by inch in a relentless pursuit of dominance.

Penthesilea became lost to his sights, although he could hear the metallic ring of axe scraping against sword in the background of the fray, visualizing her lithe body dodging his blows with a feeling of anxiety. He had no other choice but to trust that she would be victorious, he could not risk losing more troops to the archers patiently waiting in the precincts of the battlefield.

Penthesilea's sweep cut through air as the Greek King moved out of the way. Then without warning, he put his fingers to his lips and let out a sharp whistle which was followed by a cry of, "Now!". The Amazon's temporary confusion was soon put aside as a sheet of arrows fell down from the sky, cutting Hector off from the melee with Agamemnon.

She glanced over to where the Trojan Prince was located and was relieved to see that he had managed to avoid being struck by any of the flying projectiles. Unfortunately some of the others on the field were not so lucky, both Greek and Trojan alike, who were not fast enough to react, being struck down by the Greek arrows.

She looked back at the Greek King, whom she was now fighting alone. That last move just proved that he cared so very little for the men under his command, that they were just a means to and end, expendable. For Penthesilea, the women she fought alongside were like family to her.

Agamemnon was now standing with both swords aimed at her, one at her head and the other at her waist. Then he moved, whirling the duel weapons in a fierce attack and the Amazon Queen concentrated on parrying his blades and dodging out of the way of the ones that she could. The sudden attack seemed to exhaust the Greek King as he slumped to one knee and panted heavily, his eyes still on her.

Penthesilea looked at him warily, unsure whether he was really tired or if he was just bluffing so she would move closer to him so that he could attack. Caution took over and she stayed just out of reach of his impressive weapon. "Fight getting too much for you," she taunted. "Old men should be at home sitting in fron of the fire, not out getting killed in battle."

He looked at her and sneered speaking, "What fear you then from walking closer to this old man then...Do you keep your distance from fear?" He just chuckled and checked the distance before chuckling and taking a sudden leap forward he held both swords before him like snake fangs. He smirked as he thrust them down as hard as he could, he was going to take out her arms, and then from there he was going to take much more.

His men watched, those that still stood fought even harder seeing their king not fall but come back with avengence. The archers called out to the men below, a diversion that was planned out, the best archers were trying their hardest to drop the Trojan's with one shot and only trying to injure the amazons. Agamemnon was smiling as time seemed to slow down for him now, the battle was beauty, his men were working as they should.

The sword struck its mark, releasing a crimson sprinkle upon the trampled grass and swept up in a smooth arc as Hector’s eyes locked on to the adversary who had stepped up to the challenge. Both men refused to give in as they met in a furious dance of steel with the Prince being driven backwards in step. His arms bulged with sweat beaded muscle as he cut inwards and swiftly deflected with alternating moments, using his shield to block.

He slammed the shield forwards into the soldier’s chin and added an upwards tilt, hoping to break his jaw or gag him with his own blood and then drove his sword low with an impalement. The solider staggered back and retaliated with a booted foot kicked forwards, dislodging the offending weapon from his gut. Blood pumped furiously out and ran down his leg but did not stop the warrior from attacking again in a ruthless determination.

Hector spun, effectively avoiding the angry man’s lunge and lifted his elbow up as he drove it hard into the bridge of his opponent’s nose guard, jarring his head backwards. Without hesitation, the Prince of Troy followed through with multiple strikes of shield and sword that the dazed man could not ward off for long and eventually stumbled and fell, finding death awaiting him.

The shrill split of air from a projectile caught Hector unguarded as a feathered shaft slammed into his shoulder, causing him to reel in a semi circle and raise his shield after the fact. His blinked and looked in amazed disbelief at the object sticking out of his shoulder before reaching with his sword hand and snapping the wooden shaft, leaving the point embedded into bone and flesh.

He roared angrily and set his sights upon the Archers in a sprinted run towards them, raising his sword high to gain the attention of other Trojans while favoring the wounded shoulder by keeping his left arm tightly held close to his chest and the shield protecting him. A few who were fighting nearby, abandoned their individual skirmishes to join Hector’s campaign against the archers.