Glorious Hector

So fucking lit!!!

Hector among the ships:

Meanwhile Hector seized a rock that lay fore the gate, thick at the base but pointed at the top, two of the strongest men these days could barely have levered it from the ground onto a cart, yet he handled it alone, Zeus the son of devious Cronos making it seem light. Hector lifted the rock like a shepherd lifting a ram’s fleece in one hand, scarcely burdened by the weight, and raised it against the solid panels of the tall tightly-fitted double gates, held by two cross bars and a single bolt. Bracing himself, feet well apart, to hurl it with greatest force, he stood in front and struck them square in the middle. The hinges broke on either side, and the stone’s weight carried it on, as the doors flung open groaning, crossbars broken. Glorious Hector leapt inside, face dark as night; his body gleaming with baleful bronze, grasping his twin spears in his hands. None but a god could have checked him once he had passed the gates.

Eyes blazing fire, he turned to the ranks behind and called to them to climb the battlements. At his order some men scaled the wall, while others poured in through the broken gates, as the Greeks, routed, were driven back to the hollow ships, in the midst of a relentless clamour.

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