Sing, Ares, God of War, of the honor and courage of Phallia!
Resolute warriors, ever defiant in the face of Greeceâ€™s might,
Though doomed to be swept â€˜neath unstoppable waves of mighty Acheans,
Still they fought true and drew Aresâ€™ fond eye as they braved the coming storm.
Greeceâ€™s tremendous ambition, no secret to those of fair Phallia,
Rendered the cityâ€™s great army a maelstrom of fear and suspicion.
For, it had come to be thought, within their voluminous ranks there lurked
Spies and assassins, inclined to annihilate Phallia from within.
Jeffius, fleetest of Phalliaâ€™s messengers, left to discover the
Nature of Greeceâ€™s great onslaught, the identity of her treacherous spies.
Seven and twenty days later did Jeffius return, mortally wounded, and
Spoke of the terrible threat that confronted the warriors of Phallia:
â€œBrothers, dear Phallians, wretched is our fortune and ill are our chances, for
Athan himself has been secretly planted within our great ranks.
Watching and waiting for many a month, with six of his greatest champions,
Athan, the Scourge of the Achaens has learned of our strengths and our weaknesses.
â€œWatching and waiting, the monster within is poised to hinder our efforts,
And three days hence will the Grecians descend â€˜pon our ill-fated city.
From without and within, both overtly and covertly, will our forces be assailed,
â€˜Til every last warrior lays on the ground, awash in gore and ignominy.â€
His tale related, the wound-riddled Phallian died in the arms of his captain.
Silence descended upon the townâ€™s army as the weight of the messengerâ€™s
Words reverbâ€™rated through the halls, for no man, nor woman, nor child
Was ignorant to the might of great Athan, he who was blessed by the gods.
Favored by Hades, the Achaen was immune to mortal weaponry,
Impervious to death at the hands of any mere man or beast.
Armies of thousands had fallen â€˜neath Athanâ€™s implacable blade,
Head hewn from neck as their bodies slumped lifelessly down to the uncaring earth.
His deeds were well-known, but no man knew his visage, for Athan eâ€™er wore
A great helm of pure black, which obscured every feature, eclipsed his identity.
Phalliaâ€™s great army knew well that the monster hid silent among them,
Yet powerless they were to recognize their foe - the serpent that lurked in their midst.
Near drew the day of the foretold assault, and weary grew the men.
Ramparts were fortified, walls reinforced, but the Phallians knew it for naught,
As the true challenge lay in their very own den: the immortal Athan of Greece,
And the cursed destruction that soon would be wrought by his wrath and his fury.