>>5678442>Battling centaurs are collectively now at 28/44 wounds = -3 wound malus (i'm pretty sure)---
The charge is an ungainly one, as four of the beasts tumble uphill toward pockets of your spearmen.
You had assumed that the assortment of spearmen along the ridge of the hill itself was left to chance, but now you see that Argyros had interspersed your men within the lines of Aristonax’s Hillguard – the superior training of your men helping to guide the amateurish Hillguard and steeling their morale.
Additionally, the previous actions of Argyros before the battle proper are now clear to you – he had sprinted from place to place, adjusting the men, and now you see how he cleverly placed them on outcroppings or before depressions in the ascending hill – the charge of the Κενταυροι is somewhat stymied by these barriers, and with your spears pointed at their human torsos, they are forced to arrest their momentum before contact, rearing up on their hindquarters and flailing at your men with hooves and spearpoints. Now close enough to see, their faces are a mixture of rage and confusion - you suspect that this is a novel predicament for them, and this confusion furthers slows their probing attacks.
Even so, the Thessalians before you are slower to find their courage, stumbling backwards from the roaring fury of Ixion’s spawn. You can’t take each set of duels with your eyes simultaneously, but you see cautious jabs being traded fruitlessly on both sides – the beasts unwilling to advance and risk being flanked, your own men unwilling to leap forward before the lines and risk being gored through the middle, or having their head split open through a sharply-delivered kick from a foreleg. Truly foul language is being bandied about, both in the deep voices of your Thessalians and in the growling rumble of broken Hellenika from the beasts; but that’s the extent of the damage. The charge, as it was, has dissolved with a whimper.
Aristonax and Pantaleon stalk forwards to the front of the battle, but similarly, they are wise enough not to advance too far beyond the lines of battle. Aristonax contexts himself with long thrusts of his spear at the nearest of the savages, safely placed within the line, but these are easily dodged by his prey. Pantaleon in turn is uncharacteristically subtle in his advance, making only half-hearted assaults and then quickly stepping back to safety – between his prior actions with Labostas and his conduct so far, you wonder whether he might be secretly fearful of these beasts.
Standing tall, you determine that it’s time to take action yourself – you draw your bow, nock your arrow, and empty of doubts, aim at center of mass at the nearest beast; a creature with black hair on his human head, but a light gray horse coat. The arrow streaks towards it and you’re delighted to watch it sprout in its well-muscled gut. It cries out, dark black blood spilling across its abdomen.
>more coming