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Born to the hero Peleus and the sea nymph Thetis, Achilles was the prince of the highly trained and skilled Myrmidons, a crew of Greek hopilite warriors. Peleus entrusted his son to the care of Chiron, a centaur and legendary teacher of heroes. When Achilles grew up, Thetis confronted her son, offering him two choices: a quiet, happy, and long life with a good family, or a fierce and violent one full of glory that would end with him dying young. Achilles chose the latter.
When the Trojan war began with the abduction of Helen of Sparta, King Agamemnon called the Myrmidons to arms. Although Thetis tried to prevent him from leaving, Achilles sailed to the beaches Troy to join the fight.
As the war dragged on into its tenth year, Agamemnon choose to make a concubine belonging to Achilles, Briseus, his own. Achilles, insulted and infuriated, ordered his Myrmidons to stop fighting, and the Greeks lost much ground without them. Achilles's closest friend, Patroclus, decided to take Achilles's place and lead the Myrmidons into battle. He donned Achilles's armor and drove back the Trojans, but was killed by the Trojan champion Hector. When he learned what happened, Achilles flew into a rage. He slaughtered countless numbers of Trojans on his search for revenge, finally slaying Hector outside the gates of Troy. Achilles would meet his prophesied end shortly afterward, being felled by the arrows of Paris, Hector's brother.
Battle vs. Hercules (by The Deadliest Warrior)Edit
Hercules is walking through the Greek countryside, javelin in hand and Great Bow and quiver full of poisoned arrows slung over his shoulder. As he walks through the meadow and into a forest he notices an abondoned but battle-ready chariot just sitting there. Puzzled, Hercules comes and checks inside, to see Achilles lying in ambush wih his Gastraphetes crossbow. He fires and a bolt launches itself at Hercules, but it bounces harmlessly off his Nemean Lion-skin cloak. Hercules shouts in rage and drives his javelin straight through the chariot at Achilles, who rolls aside and barely escapes unscathed. The chariot, however, is ruined, stuck firmly into the ground by the javelin.
Achilles pulls out his short sword and Hercules angrily pulls a tree out of the ground and wields it as a massive club. Achilles, startled, is frozen in shock and smashed by the huge branches of the tree, a blow that would kill any mortal man. However, his heel was untouched and Achilles bounces back, slashing at Hercules' unprotected face with his short sword, giving him a gash down his cheek. The son of Zeus bellows in rage and grabs Achilles by his tunic collar and punches his face with a mighty fist, but Achilles only receives a black eye. Hercules is confused and drops Achilles, who runs back to the ruined chariot, grabs his spear and battle axe, and runs deeper into the forest.
Growling with anger, Hercules pries his javelin out from the destroyed chariot and heads cautiously into the forest, looking between trees for Achiiles. Unknown to him, Achilles has scrambled up one of the olive oaks and jumps down on the demigod warriors with his battle axe, shouting furiously. Hercules falls and the only thing that saves him from the furious blows raining down on him from Achilles is his Lion-skin. Hercules growls and rolls over, dangling Achilles at head-legth with a meaty hand. Acilles desperately tries to cover his heel, and Hercules at once understands this "immortal" man's weakness. Throwing him down into the dirt, Hercules takes out his Great Bow and notches and arrow, but Achilles will not leave his heel unprotected andscrambles back, spear in hand.
Lunging at Hercules, Achilles thrusts the spear at the strongman's chest but it snaps like a toothpick against Hercules' hardened skin. Achilles desperately takes out his short sword and runs back into the thick trees, but as he turns Hercules fires another arrow lightning-quick. It goes deep into Achilles' unprotected heel, and the warrior falls in agony. The poison from the arrow quickly sspreads through his body, and after convulsing violently for a few seconds Achilles slumps forward, facedown, dead. Hercules kicks him over to make sure his opponent is dead, then roars in victory and lumbers away.
The experts believed that Hercules' strength was able to have him hold out against Achilles until he finally hit the Trojan War hero's mortal heel, and that the Nemean Lion skin prevented Achilles from wounding Hercules before he himself was killed.
Achilles is fighting in the Trojan War, and notices a semi-human warrior in the distance. He breaks off from the fighting, and charges the warrior, not recognizing his armor. The Hurlock raises his Darkspawn Longbow, and fires several arrows at Achilles. He raises his shield and catches them all, as he comes in range for his javelin. He throws it, only to see it deflected by the Hurlock’s shield. He draws his spear as the Hurlock unsheathes Blightblood.
Achilles uses his range to his advantage, rarely if ever closing in with the Hurlock. It decides to charge, closing in with Achilles. The warrior manages to score several hits on the Darkspawn, causing thick, soupy blood to gush out. The Hurlock tries to batter Achilles’ shield, and the warrior is forced to drop his spear. He strikes out with his shield to cover himself while unsheathing his sword, which knocks Blightblood out of the Darkspawn’s hands. It takes out a more generic Darkspawn Longsword, and lashes out at Achilles. All of his blows were ineffectual, and Achilles counters with his own sword, and cuts off the Hurlock’s shield arm.
Bleeding profusely but still alive, the Hurlock attempts to cut off Achilles’ head, but is battered back by his shield. Achilles uses the shield to knock the Darkspawn to the ground, and slams down on top of the fiend. He gets up, and stabs the Hurlock in the neck and head. He then strips it of armor and weapons and calls for his chariot.
Achilles' greater training, strength, and skill contributed to his victory.
Battle vs. Gerald Tarrant (by Leolab)Edit
Achilles is walking in the Forest, moving as stealthily as he can until he reaches a clearing. Once there, he spots a large bird flying above him. Believing this to be a message from the Gods, he stops and unlimbers his spear and javelin, but the bird attacks. Achilles manages to raise his shield in time to block the talons from striking his eyes, and manages to wound the creature with this sword. Gerald Tarrant, shapeshifted into the bird, feeds off of the warrior’s fear and heals himself. Tarrant then grabs the sword in his talons and works Coldfire, shattering the sword and causing Achilles to drop it.
He then lands, and shifts back into his normal form. Achilles picks up his javelin and throws it at the Adept, but Tarrant uses Coldfire to freeze the spear and shatter it long before it reaches him. Achilles picks up his spear and charges Tarrant, who draws his own sword in the process. Achilles jabs several times, only to have his attacks dodged or deflected by the Coldfire-infused sword. Tarrant meets with a similar frustration, as all of his strikes glance off of the Achaean’s shield. Tarrant uses the nature of Coldfire to his advantage, as Achilles’ proximity causes it to freeze his soul. Tarrant, dodging, parrying, and riposting knows that he is safe; in his state of Unlife, he has no soul to freeze. Achilles notices the peril, and bashes Tarrant with his shield. He goes flying, and Achilles charges in again, trying to hit Tarrant into a tree. The Forest responds to Tarrant’s will, and the trees disappear to allow him to land softly. He works Coldfire at Achilles’ shield, freezing it and giving the warrior major damage to his shield arm.
Tarrant, seeing his opponent weakened, takes out his gun. Banishing all doubts about the gun from his mind, he levels it at his opponent. Tarrant takes his time, savoring the terror coming off of the clearly defeated warrior. After his hunger is states, the Hunter pulls the trigger, ending Achilles’ life.
Please consider a contribution by writing an expert's opinion as to why Gerald won.
Battle vs. Beowulf (by El Alamein)Edit
Sing, O Muses, of the wrath of Achilles…
Indomitable he woke, and fresh in rage, Achilles in his prime.
The walls of Troy were wan and dry, and death echoed from within.
Apollo’s glint shone from his noble head and glimmered in his eye,
His heavy step all but shook the earth
His grip all but stilled the wind
And his growl but calmed the sea.
Achilles’ gaze swept the barren land, and glared through the dusty waves
That rolled and parched the throats of men who languished from within.
“Onward, men!” the warlord roared, his blade held high in hand.
“Slay these Trojan dogs and wipe their very presence from the land!”
His Myrmidons were vicious, and eager to the teeth, armed up and down from head to toe
With blade and spear and axe and bow.
The very land on which Troy stood quivered at his approach
And the shouts of death intensified
As the Achaeans grew ever near.
The tall proud gates swung open, resistance stumbled out,
But the Myrmidons held firm.
“Leave no foolish mortal standing!” His face was washed in red,
With blood and bone and guts and skin hanging from his sword.
His heart was black with anger, his eyes flashed scorching flame,
And he turned back Trojan soldiers who had not fallen to his blows.
Achilles, born of war, let weapon slip and fall from hand, and
With fist and knee brought punishment to the foes still within his grasp.
Tangible panic swept the ranks of the Trojans still in march
Who turned and fled and left their slain
Crumbled in the dust.
“I am the beast of battle! No man has bested me yet! So come and bring your finest man to truly test my skill!”
Even as the blood of others dripped from the champion’s chin,
He knew not that the foe he bade approached from the North.
The son of Ecgþeow, the king’s own man,
Beowulf, he was, strength ripe in arm,
And alert and heightened of mind.
The devilspawn of the Danes was dead, the fiend, the horror,
Grendel, and his mother lay rotting too.
Hrunting high in hand, through the misty morn,
The warrior-prince strode bravely forward in search of his ruthless adversary.
The bane of man they said he was, a thousand men killed at his foot, the bones
Piling high in an altar of war.
His name was spoken in whispers, the sound brought fear to man, yet Beowulf roared to the sky
“Achilles! The great! Your hour is near! Sharpen your weapon, but tremble in dread! For your equal has come!”
His calm, cool stride matched not his ire
Or the quiver in his lip as his nostrils flared and he silently steeled his nerve.
The back-bent boughs of the wispy trees swayed slowly in the wind
But that was all to be heard save for Beowulf’s step in the boggy marsh.
Guided by God in mind and heart
He endured no qualms that his righteous journey was doomed to peril,
That it would be him to fall.
The ring-mail held through the dense, low shrubs where brambles skulked within
And his tough leather pants kept right at bay the gnats and flies
That sought to dine upon his flesh.
Well-armed and -armored the valiant warrior stood,
A proud and noble disposition hanging on his face
But deep within his mind ran fast to prepare himself for what lay ahead.
So quietly, and to himself, Beowulf made his final heartfelt prayer:
“Oh Lord, keep my mind firm and my arm stiff as I seek to end the war in South,
For there is much suffering there.”
The road to Troy was cracked, torn dust
Once paved, now derelict. Yet Beowulf treaded with watchful eyes for the man he hunted, Ready for any form of attack.
The morning sun shone with a bright orange glaze, and sparkled in the air
Over the warrior’s head as he squinted through the rolling waves of heat.
“Oh, Achilles, you god of war! Cause of a thousand deaths! Your butchery stops here and now!
Step out and face me, hand-to-hand! Test your muscle, might, and speed!”
Achilles sat in the dirt but looked with rapid rage
At the challenge unmistakably roared.
So he dove to his chariot and gripped the reins with an iron determination in hand.
“You Myrmidons! Beasts of battle! Fight strongly for your champion!
For when I return, I will have satisfied my yearn to prove myself unbeatable!”
A thousand cheers bid him goodbye, the vicious sacker of Troy,
And the chariot bounded up and down on the broken path below.
“Mysterious rival! I have heard your call! Your death is on the way!
So quick, prepare, lest I arrive, with sword in hand, and catch you unaware!”
The Greek’s reply hit no deaf ears, and Beowulf, courage in heart,
Made fast his run towards the source of sound from whence Achilles’ boast came.
An arrow nocked to his bowstring quivered as he peered into the sun.
The rumbling chariot stopped as its rider spotted foe
And hefted spear up high in hand.
The arrow flew true through the air but fell far of its mark.
With a hate-fueled thrust burning in anger,
The spearhead plunged into Beowulf’s thigh.
Raw, vicious pain surged through his mind and bit into his leg
But Beowulf snapped the shaft in half
With a downward strike from his palm.
The curse of Troy stood stone in shock, for his spear was bested by none,
And Hrunting slashed across his jaw and drew the champion’s blood.
Achilles’ teeth shone white with fury, arm swinging shield round
To slam edge-first into Beowulf, throwing him to the dirt.
His arm curled up and twitched in pain
But Beowulf righted himself and resumed the attack.
Blade clashed on shield, striking sparks, and shaking the ground below.
Achilles pushed for every inch but his mortal foe held firm
And rained hard blows that rang the bronze but failed to punch straight through.
In a burst of furious strength, Achilles beat Beowulf down
And leaped upon him, shortsword drawn, slashing at his throat.
The wound was grave, blood bubbled deep, but Beowulf choked through
And grabbed Achilles’ feathered helm and crashed it against his fist.
Ears ringing hard, the Greek fell back and the Dane stumbled to his feet
Dragging his foe as he stumbled again, claws dug into his shoulders.
Achilles roared in pain as Beowulf raked his nails through his flesh
But he brought his knuckles to the warrior’s nose
And his foot up to his chest.
“What a testament to my glory and strength! That I’ll have beaten a man like you!”
“You boast too soon, Son of Peleus! This battle’s mine to win! I’ll take you head and hold it high!
You’ll pay yet for your sins!”
So Beowulf wiped blood from his mouth and threw sword to the ground.
Achilles, laughing, mocked his foe but followed suit.
“Hand to hand? You daring fool! But that’s my gift of war!”
He grappled high to meet his foe’s hands, but the smirk melted from his face.
His rage dissipated in an instant
His strength was outmatched.
Beowulf roared and pushed down hard,
Achilles’ arms cracked and bent.
The Greek stumbled back, hit the ground, his elbows worn, and broke.
“I am God-driven vengeance! And you’ll pay for all, here and now!”
Hrunting flashed, but Achilles was strong, and his armor snapped the blade.
The iron shattered, piece by piece, but shards blanketed the broken man,
His face flecked with scarlet, blinded and crippled,
Plagued with all-consuming pain.
Beowulf’s arms clutched Achilles’ neck and squeezed firm and full of grit
And with a snap and an angry shove
He had vanquished the Trojan Menace.
“You see? All men must pay for time that they have stolen from the weak!
This corpse is now an empty shell! The legend is no more!”
Beowulf emerged the victor in this battle largely thanks to his immensely greater strength. While Achilles may have had more experience fighting other human foes in the Trojan War, Beowulf was far more prepared for superhuman combat thanks to his struggles with Grendel and his mother. Achilles' battle-fueled rage did temporarily boost his strength, but his arrogance and poor tactical skills betrayed him, allowing Beowulf's raw muscle to gain the upper hand, giving him the win.
Battle vs. King Arthur (by Cfp3157)Edit
Sing, O Muses, of the final voyage of Achilles
Strong he rose, and prepared for bloodlust, Achilles stood in his glamor
The inner city of Troy was laiden with death,
The echoes of the crows and ravens echoing through the city.
The blessing of Ares shone radiant from his armor,
Shining brighter than any of the fires in the forges of Hephasteus
And stronger than the steeds of Zeus' chariot.
The bloodthirsty warlord glared at the dogs before him.
"Go forth, my comrades! Let us fill the Underworld with their corpses!"
The loyal death bringers of Achilles stood, clad in bronze and iron
Armed with spear and shield and sling and bow.
The final men of Troy held firm, but none stood a match for his sword and spear
And bone with flesh and blood fell to the dusty floors,
And his spear was crimson with blood, and his armor was golden no more.
"No mortal man shall stand to my sword, and those that do shall join Hades!"
Achilles returned to his foes, dropping his spear and sword,
His strength alone brought death to the field, and men began the journey to the Underworld.
When the Trojan dogs lay dead on the floor
And their bodies cold as stone, Achilles roared the to cheering Myrmidons;
"Where is an opponent worthy enough for my blade? WHERE!"
He beckoned forth any Trojan to dare come forth,
To feel the wrath of his rage.
But the man he wished for came not from the city before him,
Instead, he lived in the land beyond the gods.
Arthur, the king of Camelot, was the man whom he begged.
Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, stood upon his throne,
Excalibur by his side.
He had heard of a bane of the south
Who's blade had brought thousands to their grave.
The name was whispered in fear,
Panic twas in their voice.
Arthur had not worried about this monster of a man,
And never dreaded the day he would come.
But, alas! His squire had proved him wrong.
An armada as far as the mortal eye could see
Was heading to their beaches.
The flag of Pthia flew high in the winds
And the sun glared from their golden armor.
The man who had been whipsered in terror
The one who has filled the Earth with corpses.
This man was coming to the shores of Camelot,
Bloodlust twas probably his goal.
Arthur rode began the voyage, prepared for death itself.
As he stood with his knights and men, eager and nervous for their enemies,
Arthur rode through their ranks, yelling with such strength and courage;
"My fellow men and friends, today we will enter a battle.
A battle that may even be our last.
But know this! I have faith in our dear Lord
That we will stop this monster among men!
Mordred and Morgan le Faye, the Saxons and Romans,
We have stood to fight these threats, and we have triumphed!
And I know we shall do so once more!"
His men gave a loud cheer, bellowing his name,
And they had the faith in their king.
Achilles, the bane of Troy, would come to Camelot by the morrow.
But he would not survive to see the end of that wretched day.
Achilles stood at the helm, his voice loud with as the thunder itself,
"Behold, my great Myrmidons! Gather your strength and go onward!"
The Myrmidons yelled heartily, and onward they went.
The wrath of Posideon bellowed at them,
His trident casting waves the size of moutains.
Zeus cast thunder and lightning around them,
His anger at the warlord unmatched.
"You wish for a challenge, oh Achilles! A man worthy for your blade?"
Know this, your rage and anger will send you not to only an opponent worthy
But one better than your blade!
You may see clear skies and calm beaches,
But you know not what awaits you.
A king clad in iron, and his sword stronger than stone.
You shall meet this man, and know this;
Your corpse shall be no more than a shell
And the curse you bring onto our land shall be no more!"
Achilles heard not the threat of Zeus,
Nor did he care.
Instead, he mustered the strength to proceed through the maelstorm of the gods
And to Camelot, where the opponent he yearned for
The foe he praised the gods for,
Twas waiting for him.
Achilles left the ship, the sand shifting beneath him.
Before him stood an army, clad in iron and silver.
His felt rage rise from his heart, black as the night
And his eyes shone flames of the sun itself.
He got into his chariot, great spear and shield in hand.
"Send forth your greatest warrior forward
And watch his blood spill upon the Earth!
Show yourself, so that I may show that I,
Achilles, truly am the greatest warrior!"
The army of silver remained solemnly still
Listening to him rant utop the odd vehicle.
Suddenly, an arrow sharp as a sword flew
Whistling in the air.
It thudded into the chariot, breaking into several splinters.
Achilles spun around at it's direction,
Utter outrage arose from within, and he roared at the man before him.
Arthur walked onto the field once more, an arrow nocked again.
"Let us settle this like true men, o slayer of Troy.
Whoever proves the better warrior shall live to see the morrow."
Achilles stepped down from his chariot, and took javelin in hand.
"So be it foolish one, you alone shall fall to my blade!"
Achiles jogged at Arthur, his mighty spear in hand.
Yet Arthur held firm as stone as he nocked another arrow,
"Lord, permit upon this day the strength to kill a monster
And end his sinful days."
With those words to our Lord, and courage in his heart,
He let the arrow fly, it whistled in the air.
But Achilles ducked to the ground, the point meeting nothing but sand.
The Greek monster laughed in outrage as he slung forth one hefty spear,
And Arthur, oh brave Arthur, charged forth with Excalibur.
Achilles thrust his great spear, but Arthur dodged once more.
A feint and a recovery, a thrust and a parry, a chop and a block,
The two titans dualed as lions would, ferocious were their blades.
Achilles made one final sweep, his spear tripping Arthur to the ground.
He yelled in his glory, his hand held high in triumph,
"Upon this day be it known, that Achilles is the greatest of them all."
Arthur stood, though weakened by the blow, and hefted Excalibur back into his hands.
"Know this you monster of man, the battle has not been done!"
With victory in sight and his opponent left in a lustful daze,
Arthur swung Excalibur, clashing against his back.
And oh, behold the gods, the golden armor snapped like bark,
And Achilles turned once more, bewildered and in shock.
"This cannot be! The gods would not allow!
This armor is stronger than any iron, forged from the gods themselves!"
But Arthur swung Excalibur, his face as cold as steel
Achilles was swept upon the ground, his foot split in two.
'Alas, this cannot be! I am a machine of the gods, a bringer of death!"
"And this is why you shall fall!!" With those final words, Arthur ended their dual.
Raising the head of Achilles high, to cheers of his roraing knights,
"Behold, oh Myrmidons, the head of Achilles the Greek!
Spread througout the land the the bane of Troy is dead!"
The reason everyone backed Arthur were for a number of reasons, first and foremost because he was wielding much more powerful weapons against Achilles. While his rage and skill were formidable, Achilles did not posses the weapons or armor to defeat the high King of Briton.
Battle vs. Diarmuid Ua Duibhne (by Laquearius) Edit
Sing, O Goddess, of warlike Achilles, peer of Ares, slayer of men and heroes. Sing of Diarmuid, fearless and courageous Fian, who clashed with the bloodthirsty one, on that fateful day...
Diarmuid strode across the sandy shoreline, his eyes darting back and forth across the strange land his ship had brought him to. "Surely the Otherworlders could not have made a mistake... but this land is surely not Éireann," he mumbled to himself as he made his way to the top of a dune. Upon reaching the summit, he spied a great camp ahead of him: countless tents constructed in rows, hundreds of mighty ships beached on the shores. The sun was beginning to set, and several servants were travelling in between the rows of tents, lighting lamps. One tent sat just ahead of him, at the foot of the dune. "Perhaps I shall inqure here, learn more about this strange land. Sincerest hopes that these men are peaceful.. but if not..."
Diarmuid pulled Beagalltach halfway out of its sheath.
Achilles was alone in his tent, putting on his armor: gifts from his mother, forged by Hephaestus, the godly smith. A great, wrathful fire burned in his eyes, ignited by the spark of loss. Patroclus was dead, slain by Hector. Tomorrow, all of Troy would pay for what they had taken from him.
Achilles heard a voice from outside his tent as he place his helmet over his eyes. "Hello? Is anyone home?"
The tent flap flew open as Achilles exited. The demigod was marvelous to look upon, his golden armor shining brightly in the last light of the day. "Who are you, stranger?!" demanded the Achaean. "A Trojan spy, here to slit my throat as I rest?"
"You are mistaken, my lord. I am... lost, you see."
Achilles was blinded by his anger. No reason would be heard by his mind this day.
"A likely story." Achilles drew his sword and took up his shield from where it hung on his back. "Your commander will die at my feet, and countless of his bretheren before then. You can be the first."
"You're mad!" shouted Diarmuid, as he leaped out of the way of Achilles's first swing. "But if it is a fight that you seek, I will not back down!"
The Fian tossed Beagalltach to his left hand and took up Gae Buidhe with the other. He thrusted the yellow spear forward, aiming for Achilles exposed right arm. Achilles quickly raised his shield and knocked the blow away before making a jab of his own, which crashed harmlessly against the Fian's enchanted chain mail. Diarmuid recoiled from the force of the blow, but recovered quickly and made a swipe for Achilles's calves. The demigod quickly sidestepped the attack, and Diarmuid followed up by rolling out of his opponents range to avoid a counterattack. The Irishman scurried back up the side of the dune, and then leaped off, his sword aimed at the Achaean's neck. Achilles reacted quickly and swung his shield over his head, crashing into the Fian and sending him flying several meters.
Diarmuid got to his feet in an instant. Spinning around, he hurled Gae Buidhe at Achilles, who easily blocked the projectile with his shield. Achilles snatched up his own javelin, which lay against the side of his tent, and thre it at the Fian. Drawing Moralltach, Diarmuid hacked the incoming javelin apart with one swing of the magical blade.
Now understanding the threat that his opponent faced, Diarmuid took out Gae Dearg, the red spear. With spear and sword, he began to sprint back across the beach. Achilles tossed his sword aside and took up his spear, a massive dory crafted by his old mentor, Chiron.
"Come then, assassin of Troy! Face your death!"
Diarmuid readied Moralltach for a strike as he approached his target. Achilles watched carefully, preparing to counter the next blow. The Fian sprung into the air, thrusting his sword directly at Achilles's face. Much to Diarmuid's suprise, the unstoppable blade didn't even scratch the divine armor. Diarmuid tumbled out onto the sand.
"No armor has ever stopped Moralltach before... what kind of beast are you?!"
Achilles thrusted his spear at his downed opponent, who quickly rolled out of the way. Darting back and forth across the sand, he handily dodged each of Achilles attacks, before he found a chance to hurl Gae Dearg at Achilles's exposed calf. The red spear tore through the demigod's skin, sending him to his knees with a shreak of pain. Diarmuid snatched up his sword again, and began to bring it down into Achilles's neck.
Achilles was faster. He swung his shield upwards, striking the Irishman in the jaw, stunning him. Then he thrusted his spear with all his might into Diarmuid's chest. The spear punched through the chain mail and directly into Diarmuid's heart.
Achilles stood up, grimacing at the intense pain in his legs. He removed his weapon from his slain opponent, and kicked his corpse away.
"First you fall. Hector is next!"
Expert's Opinion Edit
Diarmuid had a range and agility advantage, but none of that mattered due to Achilles's unbreakable armor, especially the shield. Eventually the fight would come to close combat, in which Achilles's superior strength and heavy weaponry gives him an advantage. In the end, the immovable object overcame the unstoppable force.
Battles here were deemed to be unfair or otherwise not in accordance with wiki standards, and have been removed from the statuses of the warriors and displayed below.
Battle vs. Alex Mercer (by Leolab)Edit
Achilles somehow winds up in modern-day New York, face-to-face with Alex Mercer. The infected human quickly slams the ground with his hammerfists, and Achilles dodges the blow. Recognizing the threat, he pulls out his sword and knocks Mercer to the ground with his shield.
Mercer’s arms transform into claws, and he slashes at Achilles, most of his blows being halted by the warrior’s shield. Achilles tries to get blows of his own in, but his sword is deflected by Mercer’s claws. His sword eventually gets caught in his opponent’s claws, and Mercer twists his arm away, disarming Achilles. Mercer transforms his arm into a blade, and starts trying to slice through Achilles’ shield. The shield withstands the onslaught, and Mercer pulls back, making his arm into a whipfist. Achilles decides not to close the distance, and throws his javelin as Mercer launches the fist. The javelin shatters on impact, and the whipfist continues, but its speed is reduced enough that it glances off of Achilles’ shield. The Argive warrior then takes out his spear. Mercer’s arm morphs into his blade again, and he charges Achilles. Achilles stabs at Mercer, his larger reach keeping his opponent at bay. He eventually scores a hit, the spear driving into Mercer’s normal arm.
Clutching his injured limb, Mercer decides on a new strategy to maximize his agility advantage. He runs up the building, out of Achilles’ sight. The warrior, startled, looks around for his quarry and spots him as he leaps into the air. He brings his blade down in a karate chop, missing Achilles but slicing his spear in two. Mercer then disguises himself and disappears into the crowd. Achilles moves through the frightened people, and tracks Alex by his behavior. Alex jumps over a building and into an alley, ignored by the watching Blackwatch Soldiers and Marines. Achilles, dumbfounded by the soldiers incompetence, walks into the alleyway.
He turns the corner, putting his shield up just as Mercer launches is whipfist. In his weakened state, the fist bounces off of Achilles’ shield. The warrior closes in, and repeatedly bashes Mercer with his shield. Mercer is reduced to a bloody pulp, staining the shield and walls. Achilles walks back to where the fight started, picks up his spare javelin and spear and walks away, confusedly hearing the soldiers from before talking about Zeus being down.