TheOnlyThomas' 2nd Annual Creative Writing Competition

Which of the entries did you like the best?

  • Entry 1

    Votes: 7 14.6%
  • Entry 2

    Votes: 12 25.0%
  • Entry 3

    Votes: 4 8.3%
  • Entry 4

    Votes: 7 14.6%
  • Entry 5

    Votes: 2 4.2%
  • Entry 6

    Votes: 16 33.3%

  • Total voters
  • Poll closed .


Task - The task is fairly simple. Write a creative writing piece of between 600 and 1000 words. Your piece must be set in ancient Greece and nothing that wasn’t around then can be mentioned. This is also a very simple and open piece.
You must write as if either:

You are a soldier in an attacking army. You are about to attack an enemy city which is heavily fortified. You can include the beginning of the attack, but the main point of this task is to explore the phycological side of war. What are you thinking? Are you afraid? If you are a commander, how are you motivating the soldiers under your command?
You are a soldier in a defending army, your defences have been battered by wave after wave of enemy troops and there are only a handful of you left. You're about to abandon the walls and fall back to the Tower. Again, what are you thinking? Are you a commander? If so, does it make any difference? Maybe have a flashback to the night before, etc etc.

As i said, this is more about the phycological side of war- this is a fairly serious task and i would ask that it is treated as such.

Method - How does a user compete successfully?
You have 1 week from the competition opening to enter, all entries must be PMed to theonlythomas (NOT Tyrion) by midnight on that day (GMT+1). Any submissions received after this time will not be entered.

Rules -
No plagiarising. It has to be your own work.
It can be no more then 1000 words (a few over is ok) and no less then 600. If it is outside of these boundaries your piece will not be entered.
All normal forum rules apply (Do not use this to insult any other members of the community etc.)
Voting will be anonymous.
Campaigning is not allowed; you are allowed to advertise the event/poll (e.g. please check out this poll and vote on which you think is best’ is allowed, but ‘check this out and vote for number 3’ is not).

Victory Conditions - I will post the pieces as they arrive in my inbox, they will be anonymous and please do not reveal who’s is who’s if you know, do not even say something like ‘I think number 1 is Tyrion’s’. Once the competition has ended a poll will be created and this will be open for 1 week.

Prize- There will be prizes for 1st and 2nd place- once the poll is over winners will be revealed (but none of the others, they can choose to do so if they want).

1st place-

2nd place-



We've had our 2nd submission now. I've decided to do it slightly differently this time, all submissions will be posted at once with the poll on Saturday. You will then have a week to read and vote for your fave.



Apollo falls steadily toward the horizon, pace unhindered by our suffering. His golden chariot reflects the red blood that pools in our farmland, and I’ve come to hate his passing into the night. How have we forgotten him so that he turns over his dominion to Selene without offering relief from this dreaded siege. I have seen three full moons under which our attackers frenzy in celebration and mirth as though the Moirai have shared with them some wicked secret. The minds are fleeing our brave but inexperienced conscripts; it appears that Athena has abandoned us with Apollo. What trouble has Hermes Dolios caused that the remaining Pantheon should all forsake us?

My stomach writhes and folds into itself. I have offered the total of my last three days ration to the men fighting alongside me, and still they eat less than would sustain a child. I owe it to them, being the one that convinced them at the agora that the liberty to live comfortably and without tyranny was more valuable than my or their individual lives. But famished, they remain in steadfast defense of our withering polis. Though fear permeates their speech, their tone, surely their thoughts and impresses itself upon their sunken eyes, they watch and sleep with spear in hand. We wait, just in case they breach our walls before the last of our women and children perish from starvation; we fear that Ares will not permit us a more favorable outcome. Surely Zeus has one obolos’-worth of compassion or mercy for us: although droves of pagan and atheist traders have visited our markets, our population remains faithful. We perform our rituals with the precision that only a merchant or a god could appreciate.

Yet the bloodthirsty hoplitai who make camp along the roads that feed our polis show no reverance to the gods. To our disgust, they cheerfully banter like traders in the bazaar, some resting their eyes in the midday Sun, while we shiver and hunger like battle tested soldiers months into a long campaign. It is as if our roles have been cruelly reversed out of divine punishment. And their supplies seem to be without end. Our cunning spies gravely report that our attackers are never without a boar on the spit, and that each troop carries a bulging skin of wine at his hip, from which he frequently and merrily drinks. During the night, their songs and cries are so ravenous and cacophonous that they can be heard from deep within our caves. We can not spend one minute under Apollo or Selene with peace enough to remember the time when our food was fresh and our streets were full with exotic wares. Now, not a single traveller with wit about him would risk his life traversing the roads guarded by this merciless army.

Each day at dusk, our enemy’s archers releases a barrage over our walls. Astraeus and Aeolus assist them in blinding our eyes and hastening their projectiles towards our rooftops. Their stock of arrows seems to be without limit. Though our bodies are protected by shelter, our spirit and morale were wounded long ago. Many among us have stopped counting the days since they arrived into our view. I have recorded forty-eight, a number I hope to confirm when the trade carts and their drivers return to our causeways. I have realized throughout these months that optimism is a beautiful gift from the gods, but I hesitate to encourage my fellow militiamen with such wisdom out of respect for the loss that they’ve already endured; I imagine they’ll come to understand it if they survive this unending nightmare.

The women beg the gods for cessation, their children cry out from discomfort in their cold, stone sanctuary. The elders and priests lie prostrate, beseeching the entire Olympiad and all the peace-loving pantheon. Hermes has brought wealth to us, and envy to our enemies. His sullen companion Mammon has spoken perhaps too often with our shopkeepers. Having lost my sons when we first met the heathens in the fallows, I lost my happiness but not my free will. Gold no longer bears value to me for upon death its worth is lost and against autonomy it is weightless. So I will stand on guard and, if necessary, remind my brothers-in-arms of this present truth.

To-day has been particularly quiet. Our lookouts stationed atop the tower observed the hoplitai sharpening their spearheads and swordsmen bearing their shields. The horsemen are dressing their mounts with saddles and reigns. Unless Atropos has already secured our destiny, we depend on the gods to save us now. I hope that our noble soldiers have strength enough to fight honorably and the wherewithal to strike with precision when the time comes as Apollo passes behind Mount Kyllini to the west. I invoke Athena and Ares to work in communion and give us assistance in our final attempt at freedom, which we shall face at the fall of this night. Than freedom, what more have we to lose? What more do we need gain?


It's the third of Gamelion, and the Persians are at our door. They have battered down the last rock and overturned every stone to find the last of our group. The battle has gone for 3 months now, and we only have enough rations for a few weeks. The blockades killed everyone except for 13 warriors and two leaders, Takis and myself, I am called Makis by the way.

I bet you are wondering how this all began. Well, its rather simple really. Our king thought it would be funny to throw a extravagant ball and make the centerpiece a mockery to the Persian god of war, yes I know, the irony is terrible. Eventually word got back to the king of Persia and he retaliated. He prepared for seven years to avenge the injustice done to his god. He then attacked with the largest army ever seen at that time which consisted of over one million men, 500 war ships, 2500 catapults and his new “balls of fire”. This is the lost journal of the lost Greek city.

We were the largest city in the entire world at the time, even larger than Athens, but that all changed on the 26 of Boedromion. We heard the crack of wood as their ships met ours,, setting fire to the ships. We saw our men jump from the ships with fire burning down their skin. We heard the footsteps of his men, with the metal of their swords clashing against their newly brandished armor. We saw the boulders being flung at us by their newly hammered catapults. We saw and heard the cries and screams of OUR women and children as they were scorched by the “balls of fire”. And worst of all, we suffered through seeing every relative that we had suffer through days if not weeks of hunger and torture while our king sat at his throne eating on his precious grapes to only throw out the spoils to the pleading servants at the bottom of his castle window. But all glory lasts only for a time.

I remember the first day they broke through the walls. It took weeks, but they finally succeeded. They flooded in like water in a cracked boat. They tore through our troops as if they were paper, and then proceeded to crush the wall from the inside. We told our women and children that survived that day to flee in the underground canals, but it was unknown the underground was purposely flooded with oil, only to be lit when the Persians heard their footsteps. Those whom remained felt the new heat underground, and checked on the canals, only to find unidentifiable corpses. Then the next day was at hand.

On the next day, they went in groups of 5-10. They raided every home and killed off the brave few who remained. Luckily, a brave soul sounded the horn before they got to the second level of the city, or they would have won that very night. We gathered at the second level barracks and prepared to fight. There are 4500 of us left, and I realize our new fight ahead. There are 5 hours left in the day, so we must either perform a well co-ordinated attack with extreme force with losses under 100, or flee and hide until we are rooted out and killed one-by-one. We obviously chose the first. We lined up on the wall of the second level, only partially broken at this time, and put as many archers on it and in the immediate background of it with a narrow pass to the door. The door had been blocked by wood with metal backing and newly placed metal barriers to slow down his men from breaking it. Ten feet behind that we had our remaining 3600 swordmen on the path to the top level, where our king rests.

They battered at the door but it was futile. Our archers picked them off piece by piece until the remaining archers fainted due to hypothermia. We easily killed 20,000 of their men before they broke through the doors, but what is 20,000 men in the sea of one million. They had their archers fire arrows into our section and killed a few hundred men, more than we could afford. Then came their infantry. They were lightly armored, but their armor was devilish. Their hoods blacked out their faces, it seemed like you were being swallowed by a demon of Hades. They fought bravely, as did ours, but to no avail. They killed every last one of us, or so they thought.

14 men and I escaped just after their infantry attacked. We knew we couldn't fight them off then, so we gathered together and escaped. There were rumors among the Persians that there was a small group of survivors in the city, but the Persian leader Ahriman didn't believe their gossip. We saw their raid on the kings palace and watched as Ahriman took our king, tortured him, cut off his legs and burned his wounds so he would survive, and sent the body back to Persia to be burned as sacrifice to their god of war. This is 3 weeks before the third of Gamelion.

Now we are back at my time. The Persians just found out we do exist. We are running to the tower to make our final stand. We prayed to Ares for assistance, but he did not aid us, we prayed to Zeus, to strike down the opponents, but he did not hear our cries, and so, we will die tonight with the gods turning their back on us.

I was the last of us. They took every one and made a mockery of them, and then decapitated us. I wrote these final words about the lost city of Greece, Helike.


We stand on the edge of the shore with the waves crashing behind us, the sun bearing down from the east and a great expanse of carefully crafted stone and mortar from one side of the valley to the other. The air is chill despite the clear skies, perhaps an omen of the souls that will be lost here today I think to myself as I scan the battlements lined with defenders who scurry about as they gather all their provisions for the bloodshed that is soon to come. My heart is beating, and I swear I can hear my comrades’ hearts pounding too. I take a deep drawn out breath as I hear the catapults being rolled from the beach into range of the fortifications, the defenders instantly more alert as the beginning of the end draws near.

I flex my fingers around the handle of my shield and tap the hilt of my broadsword with my fingers in an impatient and rhythmic fashion. I try to remain calm; I close my eyes and a quick reflection of my previous experiences reassures me that the nerves will soon disappear and nothing but adrenaline and bloodlust will swim through my veins. My eyes jolt open and I notice one of the catapults is by my side. I can smell the fear coursing through the air like a stench of a sewer, being moved around the battlefield even before a single blow has been struck. Not me, however. I do not fear what is coming but embrace it. I have trained every day for moments like this and to bring glory to my city state, and despite the fact that I feel the nerves stinging in my fingertip I prefer to interpret it as anticipation. Anticipation of who I will encounter on the battlefield today and if anyone will be able to test my strength and how far I will have to dig within myself to bring out my last stand. Nothing will satisfy me as much as pitting myself against another player in this game and to see who comes out superior in a physical test of skill, endurance and stamina. For me, this is a competition. A glorious and bloody competition.

I hear the catapult crank followed by a sharp whipping sound as it releases its ammunition. Dozens of boulders fly effortlessly through the air thanks to the advances in engineering and mathematics that have recently been sweeping the land. The boulders are met with a hail of arrows that fall upon our ranks, instantly striking down the few that were not quick enough to raise their shields. As the majority of our forces rush forward, I stand in front of the catapult operators as they reload the siege engine, arrows bouncing off my shield as I protect as many people as I can from the arrows. I have a family back home, as do all of these men. Although I enjoy this, any loss of life is tragic and all I hope is that this truly is beneficial to our state.

The wall begins to crumble and the enemy defenders will soon be spilling out like ants protecting their queen. I plant my personal spear, gifted to me by my wife who I dearly miss, in the ground and pick up a few of the other random spears lying in our supplies. I throw these wildly into the fray hoping to pick off a few targets before picking up my spear again and running to join the melee that has broken out.

As I rush across the battlefield I sidestep gracefully to dodge oncoming arrows and parry with my shield the others that come from my flank before throwing my spear to make my first confirmed kill. I leap into combat and let out an intimidating roar as I plunge my broadsword into the neck of a defender feeling nothing but adrenaline. I set my eyes on my next poor target as I kick the limp corpse off my sword. As I run towards my target, my tunnel vision for the bloodshed is suddenly broken as I catch an arrow whistling past from my peripheral and piercing the armour of a friend, Dimitros. I suddenly halt in my charge and a moment of indecision overcomes me but I decide to run over and help my friend, striking down a defender who is standing over him. He tells me he doesn’t think he will make it and I assure him it will be ok and to stay low as I place his shield over him so that he maintains a low profile.

My indecision costs me as I feel an arrow pierce my calf and I let out a grumble as the searing pain shoots up my leg. Worth it, as I couldn’t deal with the guilt of leaving my ally there to die when I could have done something about it. I break the end of the arrow off and turn my sights towards the direction it came from. I retrieve my spear from the defender it struck not long ago and throw it with accurately at the archer, hitting him in the chest and toppling him over the wall.

I step through the breach where the combat is even thicker and metal on metal rings from all sides. I retrieve my spear once again and focus. My grip tightens as I march with purpose towards the enemy and easily dispatching everyone in my wake, making my presence known and feeding my ego as no one is able to stand up to me. I don’t feel emotion now, just rage, bloodlust and adrenaline and my injuries are drowned out. I seek out the closest enemies and take their life, too desensitised from my previous battles to give them, or their families, a second thought as I crack a soldier’s skull with my shield.


I thrust my sword into the attackers’ chest, hearing his sheer cries of agony. No one can live the same after killing someone else, no one. The warm, red blood dripped onto my hand. Thousands came and thousands died yet, they still ran at us with their swords raised high. Their mighty catapults demolishing what was the Wall as the hundred of us left staggered towards the Senate. As I turned, a gleaming suit of armor pushed me. Darkness.

I woke in the Barracks, with a pint of beer and a steaming plate of food. Our legion commander, Asth, was sitting next to Princess Lozza and attempting to charm her. He was drunk. I sat back, laughed and I realised that myself, my legion and our royalty had survived. After the feast, I walked up to the docks where it was quiet, clean and the breeze calm. Finally, I reached the docks to see shining stars on the horizon that appeared to be moving closer. As they went betwixt the sun and the peninsula, I strafed around to see the wall intact...

A glittering blade silhouetted against the pale moonlight rose above my head. I pulled out my dagger just as it stole towards me. FWATWANG!!!The dagger and the sword broke in two. Dazed, I struggled to get up, the assailant reached out and grabbed my collar as a sharp burning in my neck increased. I fell to the ground, life flashing before my eyes. All the things I had done, all the people I have killed and for what. The ones I had murdered were innocent people just like I was. I am a terrible person, I have done terrible things...I deserve to die.

"Hurry up, get on the boat, We have to be their NOW!" screeched Captain Tyrion. I climbed onto the boat just as it was leaving. It has been weeks since I left my family, friends and country. I miss them so much; I doubt they know how much I love them. Most of us are miserable and our morale low. All we wish to do is see our families one more time, die with our families. I remember the day I told my parents about leaving.

"Well Mum and Dad. Just because you don't want me doing anything risky is not enough to stop me from leaving!" I argued.
"We don't want you doing anything stupid, Athens is a heavily fortified city. If our leader wants to conquer it he can but we're not letting you go." They stated in unison.
"Its too late I'm going no matter what, whether you like it or not."I stuttered as I stormed out of our house towards the harbour.

On our last day of the boat trip, Tyrion found an enemy spy and tortured him. The spy was Dux Vox, a fairly new recruit that joined the army after his country was conquered. Tyrion made the whole crew watch as Dux Vox was gutted alive, and then beheaded. Tyrion placed his head on the mast as a reminder that traitors will not be tolerated. I couldn't get to sleep that night, I kept getting nightmares about what happened, the horrible scene. Today I lost a part of my soul and I will never be the same again.

I was awoken by a loud blast of our war horn. We neared Athens. I strapped on my gleaming armor and prepared to land. I stepped onto deck as we all lined up preparing to charge. I was near my cousin who had also signed up. As the waves brushed the ship the reality of what was happening kicked in, an adrenaline rush. THUD!!! The landing door hit the ground and Tyrion gave us the order to attack. Simultaneously, the enemy unleashed a wave of deadly arrows and dropped hundreds of our army. We blazed up the beach, every few moments another wave of arrows and another hundred troops died. Finally, a few troops around me took cover behind a rock. Captain Tyrion, on his high horse as usual was barking out orders to us.

"ATTACK YOU COWA----,". Blood splattered everywhere and Tyrion fell of the horse with an arrow in his eye. We stood there, silent and scared. CRACK! A humongous rock launched from a catapult connected with the wall, bringing it down. Our spirits rose as we saw the enemy retreating. With a loud roar we dashed to the large hole in the wall. Then we split up, my cousin and I were left to patrol the eastern edge of the wall.

"NOOOO!" My cousin was slashed and stabbed right beside me by a masked warrior. I drew my sword and pushed the assailant over, knocking him out. I had time to tend to my cousin. I unstrapped his chest plate to reveal a gaping, red hole where his heart is. His eyes rolled into his head and at last, he was gone. I firmly gripped my sword and rose it to above the attackers head. I brought it down towards his head. FWATWANG!. My sword as well as his dagger snapped and startled I fell over. My head was aching and bleeding. When I rose the enemy was still struggling to get up. I strode towards him. Roughly grabbing his collar I lifted him up. I withdrew my dagger, its golden tip just touching his neck. We stood there, silent. Eyeing each other nervously. I strengthened my grip on the dagger, but loosened it. After all I have been through I couldn't kill him. My emotions overwhelmed me and I cried, not because my cousins dead, but because of the situation.

Suddenly, the pain in my neck was no more. I could breathe, the enemy was crying. I felt tears in my eyes as I realised he wasn't the enemy. He was just an ordinary person, fighting for the people that aren't willing to do it themselves. We had all lost our morales and values for this cause, inside, I know none of us will be the same.


The Phalanx formations could not hold out any longer at the wall, we were givin the order to retreat. Most of our forces were failing or routing, we could no longer hold the wall. Troops were swarming, their torches lighted they sought to destroy our farms, pillage our stores, and kill our women and children. I would not allow this to happen... not to me or my family. I could smell the sulfur in the air, feel my hand sweat as it was grasping my spear and shield, I could taste the ashes as it fell on my face and I could hear the voices of my comrades dying around me as we try to fall back fighting. Dark and consuming were my thoughts, flashbacks returning to me of the night before, those catupults, troops coming out of the fog as if they were a frightening Cerebus creature just now reemerging in the shadows. It seemed as if it was the only thing I could remember, our hoplites gathering at the brunt of the gates forming a wall of spears and shields while our archers and swordsmen kept to the top of the wall firing and defending againest soldiers that would scale the wall. The first strike was at our left flank, horsemen charging at our left flank, and slingers pelting us with rocks, that either fell from the wall or were on the shore of the sea. As we hoplites were being coereced into loosening up our position, being tested to waver to open a gap for soldiers to decimate us on the inside, as the second strike had happened my friend was brutally injured, so helpless, so weak it was like looking at the shadow of a man, a whisper. It seemed as yesterday, me and him were going to the local Olympics together pelting passerbys with watermelons... The monsters took that very thing away from me. His last words as I recall,"Remember me my friend...." as he faded off into the dark deep abyss of death. A tear welded up in my eye, as the soldiers kept attacking the front, a small gap where I had once been was now open. I quickly returned to the front stabbing at all my opposers who dare to come near to me. Rage and hatred had fuled me for battle, so as the third strike had happened I swung my spear at the enemies cutting each one down as a rabid animal, it was almost if I thirsted for their deaths. Most of my comrades were already retreating back to the tower, me and six other comrades were striking at each passing soldier seemingly becoming stronger as each one was struck down by our hands. Though fueled by my hatred my friends dying words echoed in my mind, "Remember me my friend..." In the midst of battle however flashbacks of my last time with my friend popped up, his confidence, boldness I looked more up to him then I did the general. Even if the general had known me better he would be this General more devoted to the Greek Democracy then his friends. Almost at an instance the battle returned to my eyes as if being struck by a bolt of Zeus and fueling me with his power, I could no longer see the flames and death around. All my attention went toward one person, and that was the fiend who killed my brother, my heart began to beat faster and faster, pumping my blood throughout my body as my rage built up toward this one person. He was a tall man of 6 ft, and his face was so rugged so concentrated on destroying my entire home and cutting every enemy soldier he saw on sight. I pulled my sword out of my sycthe and lunged at him, nearly hitting his torso, he swang back with his broad sword, but he didn't count on me deflecting his blow. As I lunged forward he deflected my uppercut and then caught me off guard having enough time of making a gaping wound on my torso. I struggled to fight back, fell, and as I was on the ground all my bruises, cuts and wounds seemed to throb again making the pain even worse. As all hope seemed lost a soldier on our side went in front of his sword deflecting the final blow. "Fall back to the tower! GO!" Anxiously he said... I ran it seemed as if I had no choice the final stand was going to be at the tower. It was either them or me, they would not take anything more precious from me, I swore on the depths of Hades nothing would allow me to get to my family even if that meant I had to take on the entire enemy on my own...


Drums blared loudly throughout the night. Bright flames flickered on the blackened sky. Male cheers rose as their whores danced to the tune.

"My Lord, Should we not move back to the tower?" The commander looked at his Lt. in admiration. "You are my most loyal friend and I trust you more then my own brother. If I were to fall, I want you to take my children and wife and go through the tunnels to safety." The Lt. bowed, "Of course, but you will not die today, we need you." The commander placed his hand on his xiphos,"Prepare the cavalry and archers. Put the archers on the left and upper right flank. Put Peltasts on the roof of the tower. Gather all the doru you can find and place them above the wall. Tell the men to form a phalanx at the sides of the door, as soon as they come through, the archers are to fire, the men are to attack." The Lt. bowed before running off to prepare the men.

The commander was caressing his wife cheek when the warning bell rang. "I will see you again, do not hesitate to leave. Our children are your top priory." He ran his rough hands through her hair. "What about me? Should I be widowed because of your honor? Shall my children be fatherless? Shall I tell stories of how you fought against the great Persians until the end, your name forever remembered as the great prince who stood up against a tyrant? You are willing to leave your people, to die for a cause that is not just?" The commander took a step back. "You wish for my story to turn from the Great Prince to the Coward who ran? I will not submit to a tyrant and you should have no such doubts about your husband. You wish for us to surrender, to forever be enslaved? Just so we can have our love? Did I teach you to be so selfish? How would your father bear the news that his favorite daughter married a coward, a traitor? I am not a coward, my father was not a Coward, We laid down our lives for these people, I will not leave my FAMILY Legacy with a cowardly ending. If you want cowardice, then do so in your mind, but such a word shall not be uttered by you again." The commander left his wife in tears.

The archers and peltasts hid in the rafters. The hops patiently waited for the arrival of the enemy, who rampaged through the surrounding building looking for a kill. Footsteps fell heavily on the stone path. It neared ever so quickly and soon it was followed by a herd of thundering footfalls as it neared the tower. Yells and curses rained out as the enemy chased down the lone footman. "Archers ready!" The commander's voice came out raspy and low. The footman came tearing through the doors and flew to the floor covering his head as the enemy flooded through after him. "Fire!" Arrows rained down on the heads of the surprised enemy. Some tried to turn around, only to be run through by spears. "Halt!" The scouting troops laid slaughtered on the stone ground. "Drag them in, now!" the Hops near the door hurriedly dragged the bodies in and laid them in middle. The footman got undressed and was putting on the enemy armor when a warning call came in. "Hurry up", the footman grabbed the helmet and ran out the doors.

He ran all the way to the main forces that happened to gather by the gate. "Halt soldier. Where are the rest?" the footman stopped two inches away from the commander. "They where ambushed,sir." The commander looked around before returning his gaze on the footman. "Where did they ambush them and how did you manage to escape?". The footman pointed to the tower. "There are only 50 men left, but they came up out of the ground, like the desert spiders, I was checking the back for an second entrance when I heard the cries." The commander nodded and turn to his LT. "Gather the men we going to this tower."

The defending Commander's army was spread out in the surrounding house, when the advancing army marched down the streets. The commander peeked over the edge. He waved his finger for the north archer to fire. Bows twanged, several soldiers hit the stonework dead. "Shields up!" It was to late archers and peltasts were firing from four different directions. By the time most of the men had there shields up, the hops had rushed from three different sides, thrusting their spears into the enemy. "Form up!" Soon, the enemy was down to 2 companies and getting picked off either by the archers, javelin throwers, or the merciless hops, who where making quick work of the enemy.

By Midnight the street was flowing black with blood. The advancing army laid ruined on the streets. "Men, we are feared as the Best. We have proven that we are Death's right hand. We have lost valuable men but we have gained honor that none can compete with. For all the cowardice shown by our enemies, We came off Victorious! Go attend to your wounds and prepare to feast over the bodies of our enemies. Today, Hades has received the greatest gift ever made by men!" The men cheered and celebrated the night away for they had slaughtered a great enemy.
The king sat at his throne as he vividly picture the great battle. the kids cheered at his great story.
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Congratulations to 'Lorenzo Ruiz' who is the winner of the April 2012 Grepolis Creative-Writing Competition and 'A Pebble' who came in second place.
Lorenzo's prize is the coveted
forum title and 'A Pebble's' receives

Thank you to everyone who entered and voted, this has been a great competition and there will be another next month i hope!