Help me write a story

[Archimedes]

It was late August. The cloudy fall day was not entirely unpleasant to anyone who happened to enjoy a slight nip in the air and the scent of the leaves turning on the wind. It just so happened that Archimedes did. The pale young man in his early twenties ran a soothing hand through his own thick mane of orange hair. He closed his green eyes to take in the scent, the sound.

When he opened them, he surveyed the field critically. He fought to not gaze upon the trees that dotted the flat lowlands and instead focused on the approaching army. They wore armor, as he did, with formations set out in lines of swordsmen, spearmen, archers, and of course the mages as artillery.

He donned his helmet and sighed nervously as his stomach tied itself in knots. He looked through the narrow slit at his own comrades, a battle line of swordsmen right behind the spearmen of his own company. He met the eyes of each and they nodded grimly.

On each of their armors they bore a token of their goddess, Princess Celestia. On the other side, dark green banners of the combined forces of the Changeling army, ruled by the nefarious Queen Chrysalis, were arrayed against them.

He heard their battle cry from across the field, and took up with the chorus of voices from his side in answer. "For Celestia!" He cried, and flew down the field with his allies.

Pandemonium ensued. Fire and green flashes of light sparked up all across the battlefield. He saw their own magic users counter from the flashes of gold, purple, blue, and amber that lit up in reply. Thundering explosions rent the air, reverberating through his helmet and armor.

Just before their lines met, a flash of green on his right startled him and he turned to face it. The dark, pitted face of a changeling warrior stared at him wearing a celestial set of armor. His sword was already flashing towards Archimedes, but the lad parried only just in time to prevent a fatal blow. The tip of the changeling's sword sunk deep into his left forearm and he cried out.

Before he could do the honors himself, a gleaming silver sword tore through the changeling from behind, splattering his armor with sticky green blood. He pushed the finished enemy off him, and it fell over with a slump. "Than-" He started, but was cut off when he saw the wielder of the blade-

[Archimedes]

(Alright. Explanation time. First off, you can post anything you want in sequence. Cupcakes raining from the sky? Alright. Kill someone off? Alright. Do whatever you want with this story, as long as it really is what you want. I'll probs be posting every once in a while on it. Only one rule. Don't just simply negate something someone else wrote. You post something, that something stays. Period. In case you're like me and prefer concrete examples, if someone walks through a door, don't say something like, "but they really didn't, what they did do is this!" If you really don't like a part of the story, write a continuation sequence that fixes it, creatively if you can. Above all, have fun. I want this story to belong to everyone, so feel free to move Archimedes however you want, write as much as you want, etc.)

[Archimedes]

A beautifully angelic figure loomed over the changeling. Her pearlescent horn jutted out from her head behind a golden crown encrusted with a single gigantic ruby. Her golden, gem-studded armor was emblazoned with the royal crest, a radiant sun casting happy beams onto a trio of rearing ponies. The left pony had a horn, the right a pair of wings, while the middle pony seemed a small bit taller. Her rainbow hair wafted lazily in the breeze. She looked at Archimedes with a sad smile and pointing a glowing, perfect finger towards the sky.

A brilliant halo of golden light emanated from her horn across the armies. Archimedes felt a warmth rising inside him that washed all his pain and fear away; like the warm of the sun on his entire body after a cold winter's night. He looked down to see the last remnants of the wound closing, leaving only a faint scar in its wake. All around them, those that were bleeding or wounded rose from the ground, or went from limping across the field to running at a sprint. Archimedes even noticed a man's arm regrow on his left. The dead, however, remained motionless.

Archie could have stood in awe forever, but he picked his mouth up off the floor, hardened his focus and charged towards the enemy line. There was no way they could loose with Celestia on the field! He smiled courageously despite the growing number of enemies surrounding them. "More wood for the fire!" He taunted.

[Archimedes]

The rest of the battle was a blur of heat, sweat, and gore. Twice more at critical moments, the golden light wafted over the battlefield, restoring the Celestial defenders. The changelings seemed innumerable, until they didn't. Slowly, their numbers dwindled. It was a good thing that Celestia's army dwindled even slower.

Finally, after what must have been hours, the last changeling fell. The sun was drooping over the blood red horizon, casting crimson beams overy the field that turned the blood from both armies black. Archimedes stood panting, covered head to toe in every kind of blood. He looked around at the hundred and fifty or so left. They all had the same trademark of splattering all over their armor, too. Celestia, however was spotless. She greeted each warrior individually, assembling them towards a small camp that had been prepared a half mile from the battlefield to the west.

When she came towards Archimedes, he took a knee. He hadn't been injured after the second wave of healing apart from small scrapes and bruises, and had slain at least fifteen changelings. He beamed with pride inside, but knew if it weren't for her, he wouldn't have been alive past five minutes. "Thank you, Princess," he said thickly, surprised at the hoarseness of his voice.

"Rise, Archimedes," She said, her voice full of compassion. "You have fought hard. Please, go rest."

He rose when she commanded and removed his helmet. He saw in her eyes as she spoke a sort of faraway look. She seemed to him to be sad, still carrying the same somber bearing he had seen at the start. As he looked closer he could almost catch the sight of tears on her cheeks, but she moved past him, touching him gently on the shoulder. "My brave little knight," She said affectionately in his ear, smiling.

"P-princess-" he began, meaning to ask her what was wrong, but he stopped himself. Who was he that she would take him into her confidence?

She seemed to have guessed his intent. "Thank you," she said appreciatively. Her smile was the warmest smile he had ever received. She looked at him with motherly affection and said, "Please, see to your fellows at the camp. The power I have shared with you will bring you there."

He blushed, but didn't argue. Slowly, surveying the battlefield, he moved west. He couldn't even count the number of bodies littering the field. It was only then he realized how costly of a victory this was. They had started with over 500 and now...

His strength seemed to wane as he entered the camp. It was set in a clearing over a small hill and through a path cut through a cluster of trees, completely hidden from the battlefield. Golden colored one man tents had been arranged in rows spanning several acres with a large gathering area on the north side. Many fires were blazing, mostly in the gathering area where most of those that survived the battle huddled over bowls of hot soup.

A gigantic walled tent, easily the size of a large house was erected on the south side closest to him. He could see a guard standing outside next to a lit wrought iron brazier and couriers hurrying into and out, looking important and rushed. The path back to his tent ran in front of it.

The sun had completely set now, and the cool night air cut right through his sweaty undergarments making him shivver. As he clanked along slowly, he almost missed a voice speaking angrily from inside the tent.

"I keep telling her it is dangerous," the distinctly masculine voice carried just under the din of a hundred troops eating dinner. "She's going to get herself killed doing that. Every time she shows up on the field, she presents a perfect target for Queen Chrysalis."

Archimedes stopped and strained an ear, hoping the guard wouldn't run him off for eavesdropping, but he didn't seem to care. He looked at him, sized him up, then continued warming his hands by the brazier.

Another voice answered him. It was feminine and hauntingly beautiful, but proud and powerful in a dangerous way. "If my sister were in any real danger, general, she would have already been slain. My scouts report Chrysalis has moved to Manehattan with her main force. You already know this. I daresay we would have lost today if not for her direct involvement."

The general, whoever he was, didn't get a chance at a reply, however. A courier had blazed past Archimedes into the tent while Princess Luna, Celestia's sister had been talking. She had long blond hair and gray feathered wings sticking out of two holes in the back of her uniform. She smiled awkwardly at him as she lighted on the ground and dashed into the tent.

"Ah! Thank you private Doo," She said and there was a silence that could only mean she was reading. He heard her curse loudly and jumped back from the tent in unison with the guard. "Manehattan has fallen," she said grimly. She swore and swore again. He could hear the sounds of something breaking inside the tent.

He had heard enough. Their conversation faded away as Archimedes continued to his tent. His heart had been full after the battle, but now his spirits couldn't be lower. He opened the flap with an exasperated sigh. Stooping low, he entered through the narrow opening into a full sized bedroom with two bunk beds on either side of the entrance. Four empty racks for armor stood at the far wall of the 'tent'. Two footlockers sat at the foot of each bunkbed. One of them had the names Archimedes and Honor Bound scrawled in different handwriting on the lid.

He was alone. He wondered if the others had made it. He shook the worried thoughts out of his head and began to remove his armor. He'd wait to clean it until tomorrow. The battle had worn him out completely, despite being magicked several times back to perfect health. When he had finally finished storing the armor on the rack furthest to the left, he stood in a wet padded doublet and wet, thick cotton breeches. He sat on the bottom bunk and laid backwards, staring at the bottom of the top mattress, lost in morbid thought. It was there he drifted fast asleep.