Sunday, 27 May 2007
There was a chilling breeze blowing off the seas, as if to warn of the impending attack. However, it was not warning me, but warning them.
The plan was simple; I would advance my troop, myself, southwards from the allied beach, once submerged make a feint to the south west, before assaulting their beach head at the weakest point.
From here I would advance following the curve of the mounting to defend my flank, before advancing up the mountain itself to claim the island. There was a very real chance I would not come out of this battle, alive.
The advance was set, and as the beach head drew closer so did the anticipation of the first assault. Their defenses were tight, and they would attack in force, in groups. The numbers were against me, at least 75 to one. It was almost unfair, to them.
As I breeched the front lines their first attackers assaulted head on, groups of suicide attacks in teams of threes. They were weak but their numbers were their power. Slashing enemies aside like paper I tore through their ranks, but as soon as I fell another would take their place. Not even Thermopylae saw such carnage!
The sheer numbers started to wear me down as I came close to the mountains ascent. Fighting their forces up hill would be the final challenge with attacks from both above and below. Once I reached the summer though the battle would me mine, and a rewarded rest and drink in the tavern all around to celebrate the victory.
As I plunged my blade through the final enemy on the summit the battle was ours, mine, what ever! The battle was over; the isle of Porings had suffered my vengeance for its attacks on me so many months ago.
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