War is Hell - Ended. johnarryn wins as EA Ulm.

[johnarryn]

Parekar looked down at the battered corpse that had once been known as Pathos, the Son of Titans, hero of Arcoscephale...

(Earlier that morning)

The battle itself had begun in confusion and misunderstanding. Perekar's unit, moving into a small village, had expected to find nothing but local militia. Instead two strong groups of troops under an unknown banner had emerged from the village to challenge the advance of the Ulmish troops.

Perekar's warrior maidens had focused their fire on the enemy mercenaries, attempting to bring them down before they could make contact. The Arcoscephalian archers, though not as skilled as the Warrior Maids of Ulm, returned punishing fire. The warrior maidens stood grimly to their work, losing a quarter, then half of their number. Perekar felt victory sliding further and further from his grasp.

Then his God joined the battle.

The First Mountain strode past the remaining warrior maidens, moving directly into the mass of enemy warriors.
Swords, spears and arrows broke against him as the wind breaks against a cliff. First the enemy mercenaries then the Arcoscephalian warriors themselves broke and ran in the face of The First Mountain's unmoving power and hammer-like fists.

Yet one man remained when the rest had fled. Clad in bright armor and a strange aura of nobility, the Arcoscephalian drew his sword and challenged the God to battle. Ducking quickly under The First Mountain's attacks, the Arcoscephalian struck once, twice, then three times. On the third blow he felt his sword slide past the God's defenses, inflicting a minor wound. The First Mountain paused; then, faster than a mortal could possibly parry, struck Pathos in his sword arm, which hung tattered at the mortal's side. The next strike sundered Pathos' breastplate... and the mortal knew fear. He turned to run, as the others had run, but was hindered by his ruined armor. A final strike, as inevitable as an avalanche, sent Pathos sprawling. He did not rise.

(Later in the day)

A warrior maiden approached. "Sir. What shall we do with the enemy dead?" Perekar shook himself from thought. "Burn them," he said. Then "Wait. This one. Their commander. Send him back to the Arcoscephelians. Tell them he was brave."
The maiden nodded and departed. Perekar sighed. It was time to move on.