Originally Posted by Vuk Brankovic
The soldiers waited, their mighty general watching from above. They glimpsed the billowing standards of the legion. The columns of armoured men moved slowly towards the centre and were ambushed by archers firing from both sides, and from below, came celts from Gaul, where the men were taught to march into battle stark-naked except their clothes. The battle begins...the men stand shoulder to shoulder, their steadfast gazes directed on fierce opponents. The battle-cry resonated from the hills when Conan the Barbarian fell onto a spear; the incapacitated* barbarian was hungry but bowed and died.
Barbarians are charging...the lone soldier with woad-painted face striked first, instantly inflicting massive losses, finally was killed though, his men lost
Heart; their courage; whatever. :beam: