https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IaJROxEmTY8&t=22sRaising your spear high, standing aloft a particularly large boulder, you bellow in your general’s baritone:
<span class="mu-i">“MEN OF SICIUNT! LISTEN WELL – HIPPOMEDON OF ARGOS GIVES YOU WORD FROM YOUR COMMANDERS! SABAS AND HYPERENOR ORDER YOU TO FORM RANKS AND ADVANCE! – ADVANCE! THE KING OF SICIUNT WILL EMERGE FROM BATTLE, ANOINTED BY ARES! ADVANCE!”</span>
At once, the soldiers on either side leap to their feet, baying for blood – they charge madly, a wild rush of bodies spilling like a fearsome river, a heedless mass of spears and hide and shields and men. They crash and clamber across the rocky ridgeline, twenty deep – men at the edges of the bridge, losing their footing and tumbling down, dashing their brains across the rocky outcrops. You stand in the center of the bridge, pushing the soldiers onwards, exhorting them to fight - fight for their future king!
Sabas and Hyperenor are now caught up in the press of their onrushing soldiers, even as they both attempt to flee – in such tight constraints, they're carrying back to the front like twigs upon a river! Hyperenor is hacking fiercely at his own men with his kopis to no avail; Sabas attempting to shoulder his way back through his own lines – no matter! They are embedded squarely into the lines of their spearmen – when they worm their way through, they are beset again by another wave of Phocians and beyond them, hundreds more marching into the slaughter – they have no hope of pushing their way through. Slingers on either side of the bridge now reach their positions and a hail of stones batters the lines – a violent sleet, drawing screams of agony from the lightly-armored men.
Of course, you have nothing to fear yourself – the odd stone bounces harmlessly off your panoplia, but otherwise you are unaffected. Once, you are delighted to see a spear-cast headed your way - a feeble attempt at injuring you, you deflect it into the air with a shrug of your shield. You watch with amusement as hapless Phocians gut each or miss their strikes broadly; men of such poor training have no consistency in their performance. The noise is deafening - shouting, screaming, screeching, weeping - all jumbled together into chaos. Dead bodies begin to roll off the bridge; straw dolls cast aside by cruel children. Sabas and Hyperenor are being forced together once more - the crush of their compatriots making their reunion inevitable. You watch with interest as they are carried within range of one another...
Leaving things here for now - will roll publicly for the duel between Sabas and Hyperenor, since that's the most fun 