Leonidas

[Admiral "Bull" Halsey]

Leonidas was a king of ancient Sparta, the seventeenth of the Agitated line. He succeeded to the throne after his half brother Cleomenes committed suicide in around 489 BC. Very little is known about his life, but his heroic death at the pass of Thermopylae is one of the most famous episodes in history. The Persian king, Xerxes, invaded Greece in about 480 BC, with a large army. The Greek army was considerably smaller and inferior to that of the Persian’s, and so their only option, to avoid defeat, was to find a position to defend where Persian numbers would be of less account. Two defensive lines remained; at the narrow coastal pass of Thermopylae, where the Greek fleet could block the north-Euboean strait, or at the Isthmus itself with the fleet a little to the north of Salamis. After much indecision, the choice fell on Thermopylae. Leonidas was sent with about 7000 men to the pass of Thermopylae. In the pass, Leonidas’ men repulsed the frontal attacks of the Persians for the first two days, but on the third day Leonidas. It is also because, way back and at the hundredth remove, that company stood in the right line of history. After studying Leonidas and what impact he had on his people and other, it is evident that he is of great significance. It is not just that the human reacts directly and beyond all argument to a story of sacrifice and courage, as wine glass must vibrate to the sound of the violin. s learned that a Greek traitor had informed Xerxes of a mountain top trail that would help the Persians break the pass. He was buried with full honours, including a very un-Spartan display of wailing and mourning, and a carved lion was dedicated at his death site to symbolize his courage. Many feel that what Leonidas did gave the rest of Greece more time to mobilize and also increased their moral. Leonidas sent most of the Greeks to safety to Southern Greece and then swung his remaining force of 300 Spartans and 1100 other Greeks, against the enemy with undaunted courage and grim determination worthy of their Gods. Leonidas fell bravely in the thickest of the fight and a fierce struggle raged over the body of the Spartan King, but given the numbers they faced, the body did fall into Persian hands. It has been said by contemporary Greeks, that Leonidas’ head was afterward cut off by Xerxes’ order and his body then crucified. It shows how what Leonidas did at Thermopylae has impacted all people, not only because it was heroic and courageous, but because he was fighting for something greater than himself, and that what he stood for has contributed to the freedom we have today. Our knowledge of the circumstances are too slight to enable us to judge Leonidas’ strategy, but his heroism and devotion secured him an almost unique place in the imagination not only of his own time, but also of succeeding times. The best tribute, to Leonidas and his men, however, was paid by the writer William Golding, who wrote in The Hot Gates, that standing by the mound of Leonidas, he knew “that something real happened here. Simonides, a Spartan lyric poet, expressed the Spartan feeling towards the king with the following quote, “Leonidas, the Spartan king, lives in the great ornament he left behind of unending fame and virtue.

[Judge Judy]

1) Okay I don't know why I read that but it was a interesting read ^_^

2) Secondly what is the point of this topic =/

[Admiral "Bull" Halsey]

It's something from what I've learned after watching 300. It's really interesting and thus it something that I felt like doing.

[Judge Judy]

It's something from what I've learned after watching 300. It's really interesting and thus it something that I felt like doing.

Ah I see...well you got me into it too :)

[California Mountain Snake]

"Watched 300" and "learning" do not belong together in a sentence.

[Fox]

It's something from what I've learned after watching 300. It's really interesting and thus it something that I felt like doing.

Uh, I hope you did some backup research, since 300 isn't a paragon of historical accuracy.

EDIT: beaten by my own brother...

Edited December 7, 2008 by Fox

[California Mountain Snake]

15 minutes later? Tsk Tsk tsk.

Anyways, what the hell is this weird habit of posting book reports on SF? Are you trying to enlighten the unwashed masses with your golden beams of truth and movie pop-trivia?

Edited December 8, 2008 by Black Knight

[Knife]

They're just bookworms.

[Doom103]

It's something from what I've learned after watching 300. It's really interesting and thus it something that I felt like doing.

300 was rather historically incorrect

It had some historically correct things but most was yeaaaa that never happened

[Admiral "Bull" Halsey]

300 was rather historically incorrect

Not 100% though.

[Doom103]

Not 100% though.

Maybe a couple of things were true, but more than 70% is not true

[Celice]

They're just bookworms.

Rought draft.

The Worlds from Which We Learn

Literature has long been a gateway into the human soul. It acts as the

manifestation of both our inner-most needs, as well as our deepest regrets. In truth, our stories lie far more than as simple fables and fairytales, fancy arrangements of entertainment; literature acts as a benevolent deity, one who which leads her children in hopes of acquiring a greater state of enlightenment. These tales, to which literature houses, deceive the reader into learning legends of morality, faith, and even common sense. The authors behind the letters instill their own past, their own lessons—be it consciously or unconsciously—into their writings and from there, a reader may, in the same token, reveal to themselves these lessons of mankind. As we, as a species, have advanced, so too has our definition of literature: from oral traditions, to the written word; to expressions of the soul through various arts; to cinematic animations; and to virtual realities. Human creation mimics reality, and the harshness of the world thence captured in a fantastic bottle. The mediums to which best convey the realities of existence are those which are not only expressions of the human soul, but replications as well. This, leaves the topics of interest to that of the novel, the film, and the interactive game. These three venues all are products of the human mind, and their creators invest into them their own visions of humanity. The depth to which these visions lie stands as large as the medium allows; the limit of the artificial world is that of the imagination and humanity of the author. Of these three, entirely capable of drawing a witness into their imaginative folds, which best conveys a humanistic sense of reality and existence while still retaining nothing more than intention, meaning, introduced into a material form?

The written word is a wondrous construct of the human mind. It provides the mean to leave a physical record of the metaphysical mind. Simple ink blots serve nothing more than to reveal intricate meanings and truths, inherent only because the mind is able to decipher them (Machuga). Still, the human mind conceives of these symbols in the past tense, always. The composed word is an instant thought, to which is later inscribed upon a material for later reference. Not only is it recorded of late, but it is also perceived late as well—upon reading a word, no matter the difference of time, there must be a period in which the eye visually grabs the ink, and the mind ascertains and creates the meaning. The book is a record. It teachers man of his past. And he learns from it as such, as a reference. In Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter, there are a number of not only decipherable symbols and ink blots, but also messages; the hidden importance and significance within the writing. One example writes itself as through the character of Pearl, Hester’s daughter. She is viewed much as a mad imp, one who had been born into the world misaligned its natural karma, and stood, therefore, separate from its daily sacraments. Her existence is willed as a bane towards that of society: wherever she was seen, she was regarded by society as a devil’s spawn, an impure child, who was wrought of sin. “In giving [Pearl] existence, a great law had been broken, and the result was a being whose elements were perhaps beautiful and brilliant, but all in disorder; or with an order peculiar to themselves, amidst which the point of variety and arrangement was difficult or impossible to be discovered” (80). Much of her society deemed her a misfit, wrong, and difficult to hold. She was summarized in extreme views, from those with extreme beliefs: “Pearl was born outcast of the infantile world. An imp of evil, emblem of product of sin, she had no right among christened infants” (83). Her life and behavior did not comply with their regards of a child’s behavior, or with that of a standard child at all. Her difference was alarming to those who perceived her as a glitch within their society. Though, she was a happy child, as the book divulges, and intelligent, too. Hester’s Scarlet Letter acted as an insignia to make aware the sin founded upon her soul, so that all may witness and become aware of the one who had sinned greatly. Many would come around to scorn her and her child Pearl—each, Hester moreso, were seen as misfits, unable to comply with the morality of the day. Hester was torn apart from the eyes of villagers, piercing her consciousness and driving a stake of guilt through her living heart. She fully suffered these blows. She knew the society to which she was born, and what her sin had meant. She knew both the veracity and ferocity of the glares and words laid upon her chest, having known the world without them from his birth, and realizing their pain from her fall from designated grace. Pearl, however, was born into this declared sin. She had no indication of a past beforehand. She simply knew it as it were, and thought nothing more of it. She had no memory of a better time; she was a new generation, exceeding even Hester in her awareness of the wronging having taken place. When these crude Puritans had taken it upon themselves to scrutinize Hester, “Pearl felt the sentiment, and requited it with the bitterest hatred that can be supposed to rankle in a childish bosom. These outbreaks of a fierce temper had a kind of value, and even comfort, for her mother, because there was at least an intelligible earnestness in the mood, instead of the fitful caprice that so often thwarted her in the child’s manifestations” (84). Pearl resonated the scorn wasted upon her mother, and realized the harshness, and even futility in the actions of the villagers. She saw them as those who would pick on the wounded animal, the one to fling blame on to the scapegoat and the one to first require aid at the slightest sign of pain or discomfort. Pearl would not have a friend who could not tolerate her inherited sin, then it was best to have no friend at all—she was above a selfless need for companionship, and instead had her mother (85). A friend was not one to easily attack enough from the simple word of mouth around the town, having no understanding of the matter itself. She was content enough to engage in play with herself, even her reflection upon the waters’ surface, than sit in secluded play with other children of similarly secluded minds. Hawthorne resonates the notion that Pearl is not an impurity, but rather, the pure strain within the town, that she is simply viewed, by relation to her mother’s sin, a product of the same evil, and has no hope. Rather, Pearl herself pierces through the lies and blindness of those who desecrate her mother, and realizes the evilness of the society, so quick to judge Hester and brand her sin incarnate:

“Behold, verily, there is the woman of the scarlet letter, and, of a truth, moreover, there is the likeness of the scarlet letter running along by her side! Come, therefore, and let us fling mud at them!” But Pearl, who was a dauntless child, after frowning, stamping her foot, and shaking her little hand with a variety of threatening gestures, suddenly made a rush at the knot of her enemies, and put them all to flight. She resembled, in her fierce pursuit of them, and infant pestilence—the scarlet fever, or some such half-fledged angel of judgment—whose mission was to punish the sins of the rising generation. She screamed and shouted, too, with a terrific volume of sound which, doubtless, caused the hearts of the fugitives to quake within them. The victory accomplished, Pearl returned quietly to her mother, and looked up, smiling, into her face (91).

Pearl reveals to the reader that within dogmatic views, intense belief and acts according to pure faith, that sin lays not in a single act, but in the daily treatment those inflict upon Hester and Pearl. Their judgment is what gives the Scarlet Letter its impact, and it is their will that gives the guilt and sadness pathway into the heart of Hester, and the passion and intellect to Pearl. Hawthorne makes it readily apparent, in just one small avenue of this volume of literature, that there is an aspect of humanity which dwells heavily on inflicting pain past the threshold placed, that the deemed Letter was not simply enough to deem a sin to have taken place, but to encourage repeated awareness of that sin, and daily mockery on Hester, on those who may have been seen as sin, may have committed sin, but remain good people in heart.

The cinematic film introduced a new aspect to literature. No longer were events to be learned of in the past, but at a present sense. Rather than reading of a knight dashing onward towards his enemies, people were able to witness this act within reality, on a television. This carried not only the power of literature to a new audience, but arguably made hidden meanings easier for some to grasp. On March 14th, 2008, one of Dr. Suess’s works was adapted to the cinematic realm, and while the origin of the tale remained, it was adjusted to run the length of the average film, as well as to appeal to modern culture—its meanings were not altogether modified, but moreso adjusted, and new intention inserted, as well as references. Horton Hears a Who! details a scenario in which an entire world lies in existence at the size of a single speck, and its very livelihood held in the balance of the larger world in which it survives, unknowing of neither its parent universe, nor its own insignificance in the large picture. The film opens with the Speck, which lies upon a perfect flower. However, a small spiked seed pod had fallen from a nearby tree, and by infinite chance, had rolled directly in the path of the flower. A clove of the blossom takes wind, and sets upon its windy ride, eventually nearing the location of an elephant named Horton, who is instructing a number of children as to how life survives in the Jungle of Noon. By token of his large ears, he, in equal chance, strikes his luck in hearing the then-apparent scream of a few inhabitants of the Speck. His good nature succeeds Horton into delving after the Speck, hoping to save those stranded on this floating clovee, grazing through the Jungle without so much a wary notion of the danger set in wait for their world. After all, many a being sit stranded in a world, convinced that their notion of reality is the only true one. Lunatics run forth throughout the land—but those in wait know better than to believe the tales spun by those who cannot sit in the reality forged in the present. Still; Horton saves the Speck and carries it to a safer locale, attempting to make contact with the inhabitants. Upon this sight, however, the Sour Kangaroo spots Horton—she disdains any sense of imagination instilled in the children by Horton, and this colony afloat the winds stands as nothing more than another game to which the elephant, apparently, is attempting to instill within the minds of the Jungle’s youth. When the Kangaroo accuses Horton of this behavior, his philosophical and moral answer is returned, no matter its context relative to the questioner: what if it were we on this Speck, lost in an infinite void, spinning without a nurturing mother? Without a godly figure to guide us, a natural deity to the natural world; an instilment of hope, a meaning to life? However, the Kangaroo sees past the nonsense, and instills her own notions, “if you can’t hear, see, or feel something, it’s not real.” She wants no being to hear of Horton’s “lie,” his attempts at “poisoning this community.” The realm where imagination can distort an entire society, is a dangerous one, where simple free thought can defeat the highest regiment of order. Regal halls depending not on the thought of its people, but on their multitudes of support and wanton voice. The film may be attempting to reveal how knowledge may precede, in many cases, and prevent tyranny and absolute control, the will of a single individual held over an entirety, over the Jungle of Noon, for example. Meanwhile, on the Speck, there exists a small town of Whoville, where many a Who live. Its Mayor, Ned McDodd, began noticing change in his town. Gravity seemed to flourish and warp with the greatest of ease; earthquakes suddenly took place, and weather too soon changed. When the Mayor attempts to reveal to the citizens of the city of these changes, and the troubles they could bring, the City Council quickly bottles off the Mayor from the rest of the audience, literally, within a bottle, leaving he with the Council alone. At this, they explain, that it would be foolish to let these unfortunate events distract them from their celebration of their Whocentennial, their recognition of the absolute peace their town, let alone the world, had sustained in their entire known existence. The City Council turns a blind eye in their own absolute faith that no matter the small incursions, there has been and never will be a danger to their land, and that fretting over such would only be poor sport. They pronounce the Mayor a boob, and remove the barrier, allowing the citizens to hear the announcement that the festivities will go continue on. Eventually as the cinema carries on, there comes to the point a confrontation: the Sour Kangaroo is entirely against the notion of imagination, so far, that she begins to seek out the chance to employ one to ruin the goal of Horton—he, who soon after making contact with the little Who Mayor, makes it his goal to deliver the Speck safely to the most perfect spot able to possibly exist—atop Mt. Noon. Vlad, a Vulture, is manipulated into willfully, and freely, seeking out the death of the speck; rather, though, than decapitate the clover, as he boasts he will do, he simply drops it off the face of a cliff, willfully, in front of Horton, who had just scaled cliffs and ran the deepest rifts of snow to try and saved Whoville. The Vulture’s aim was a bountiful sea of clovers, of the exact same hue, the exact same size, and the roving saves of them hid its Speck. Just moments before, here, the Speck sat in its own dilemma: the Mayor had attempted to show the entire town that their world really was a Speck—before this could be done, the clove had been snatched away by the vulture. No matter, for still, the City Council declared the Mayor insane, unable to show evidence of the notion, nothing to be touched, to be heard, or to be seen. Upon the end of this statement, the Speck, upon its flower, landed in its grove of bretheren, and while minute to the Jungle, this force shattered the world, uprooted its inhabitants, and desolated their town. Yet still, Horton eventually finds the Speck, in the infinite vastness of the sea, and by then, the Whos realize that, at this catastrophe, there must be some larger being at work, to be able to cause such damage, as well as the recent changes to their world, so suddenly from their previous state of natural slumber. This reveals that willful blindness and comfort only dilute the reaction to things unknown. The best course of action was set aside, and instead, ignored completely. Without an open mind, and at the very least open judgment, an entire town may be subjected to immense pain: be it of a single individual, or a group of those in power who see no reason to change for the will of their people. Similar to The Scarlet Letter, full to the brim are these works in containing truths of mankind—and not enough ink to spell them out plainly, instead are they left ciphered away in the texts of the world.

A book reveals a record to the reader, one to which may be recalled or referred back when needed. A cinematic film reasons with the viewer, attempting to mesh the senses into the worlds and realities created upon the screen. Each attempt to define reality, to break the boundaries between what is real and what is fiction, pushing the reader to the edge of his own beliefs, if he enters open and hopeful himself. What then, of the electronic videogame? As technology has become as refined as it has over the many decades, it has became infinitely easier to create simulations of real world physics, color distortions, chemical balances. Everything of the world can be recreated within the electronic box, just as imagination is so capable of doing. It did not take long for some minds to realize potential for games—not as simply outlets for mindless fun, such as with functions of carnivals and the like (though we know such outlets are not to be ignored either); rather, some saw that videogames could be another medium for the expression of humanity, of literature. The book summarized and read out its history; the film acted lively and chanced to coerce the audience into their world. The game places an avatar within a virtual world, and no longer a reader or a viewer, a participant—a player—controls directly within the world. This gives a much deeper development to the moralities within literature based upon virtual realities. While in books you could evoke sympathy and develop moralities, they were learned, and nothing more. Pure execution relied on the reader themselves. Films portrayed a livelier version of the same, and still, the viewer could only go so far as to sympathize, and further if he willed to do so. With the game, the player is directly within the universe. He is not an outside viewer, and his actions directly affect the world in which he lives. His sympathy and actions now have effects, and perhaps further causes. Reprimands to the players attitude and choice, just as in life—within a game, the participant is tested of their emotional awareness. Their humanity contrasted with virtual lives. Bethesda’s Fallout 3 is set within a universe where Earth had met war with the dwindled amount of crude oil. China had apparently run dangerously low in its own oil supply. Their attitude in trade soon turned excessively aggressive, and their sites sat on American reserves in Alaska. After the Chinese made their decision to invade, Canada was annexed by the American Army, and nations clashed. The year stood 2077: On October 23rd, the “bombs are launched; who struck first is unknown... and it is not even known if the bombs came from China or America. Air raid sirens sound, but very few people go into vaults, thinking it is a false alarm (Timeline). Nuclear warheads were launched the world over. Such devastation ruined not only the two nations, but Earth itself. The lands ravaged, virtually all signs of vegetation were extinct. Trees stood bare. Water polluted to the point of becoming undrinkable. Food poisoned with radiation. The world in which Fallout 3 replicated and imitated attempted to reveal how life could be for one individual. Players begin the game nearly two centuries after the Great War, as it came to be called, had begun. By now, there was no established government in America. Few entities stood to be seen as anything close to authority—there were those who attempted to recast society and civilization, and as such created armed forces to protect whoever needed to be protected. Recreations of police forces for the intermittent settlements across the wastelands. In terms of an overhead government, there was the Brotherhood of Steel, a group that came together in effort to protect the people of the dead America, and the Enclave, whose actually existence could not be proved: their roles were echoed over radio waves, and some doubted these to be anything more than morale boosters left looping across eternity. The player is subjected to a world without rules, a place where men and women and children fend for themselves daily, where it matters not good intention nor bad, but only the weapon one carries, and the means to use it. There are easily hundreds of things for the player to begin to do: in one, there lies a settlement of the name Grayditch. It seems this once quiet area had its share of a few inhabitants, and mostly, they were safe from whatever mutated creatures wandered the wastelands. Yet after a scientist had begun research in the area’s local ant population, death soon over swept the small populace: in an effort to revert the size of the mutated ants of the region, now far larger than a human child, the newly-arrived scientist manipulated a gene sequence in a larval batch, which actually increased aggravation and instilled new violent features, such as the ability to spew flammable liquids. The settlement was soon ravaged. The player arrives to find a child, hiding in an old diner, wishing to find his father. Here, the player can, rather than witness an act of sympathy, enact their own: one could listen to the plea and search out the father, only to find his body lifeless. This would lead onwards to the player not only reintroducing a modification of genes for the scientist, in hopes of regressing this new mutation as well as reverting their size still, but also finding a home for the boy—miles away, his aunt set up home in the largest establishment of civilization within the area, a large naval vessel modified into Rivet City. Or, alternatively, the player could place the child in restraint with a collar, and lead him to the northern Paradise Falls, a place where Slave Traders abound. It is no longer a matter of watching the actions of another, but now, the participant is faced with the choice directly, and he himself decides what the next course of action is to be. If say, he did decide to lead the child to the Slave Traders, he could then become employed there, and capture slaves daily against their will. He could do this a number of ways: breaking in a night and stealing the innocent in their sleep, or wandering settlements, looking for the most innocent of individuals hoping only to help the player. Or, the player could overturn the settlement of Paradise Falls, and attempt to rescue all the slaves. If this proves too large a feat, too great a danger, the player could seek out the areas own version of the Underground Railroad, a sort of safe haven for the runaway slaves of the wasteland. The player is rewarded for these acts with Karma, aligning themselves either to a Good or Evil side. Their actions accumulate, and soon, there is recognition for their acts. For example, if the player takes negative choices repeatedly, steals food from those innocent, and other immoral things, similar factions of ideals will respond to the player, just as within humanity—crime organizations, such as the Slave Traders, would welcome the player with open arms, and try not to upset the dangerous criminal. Alternatively, in good acting, the player will see the reaction of the world: those who were worse off will now have a savior to look towards in the desolate wasteland. A figure that seeks out sources of clean water for a settlement, or rescues those captured by local raiders. In truth, Fallout 3 is entirely open ended. What comes of it is not a lesson, nor a revelation to the participant of humanity’s nature; rather, it is an exercise of how one would act, had they been the main role of the events. If the reader were to be in Hester’s role, and the viewer in Horton’s or the Mayors—videogames give the capability and ease to create the same worlds literature endows, and makes them playgrounds for the player.

Literature stands as a means to explore humanity. How one would act in specific events. It is a sort of mirror to which humans may explore alternate realities, just as with the imagination. These mere fancies are not only well off for a good time, but also serve as means to train the compassion of a being, by introducing one into a realm of opportunities and tales. Here in literature, the actions taken revolutionize the worlds, and reveal the power through which a single individual can accomplish. The real beauty of these, is that they may serve to guide humanity themselves. A person may read of the difference and realization of an individual mistreated, and witness the drive to which one elephant tried to save an entire world, all out of his heart, despite those who tried to hold him back. And of a world that was entirely destroyed, with no guidance, left to whatever strains of humanity remained. People may view these, and perhaps learn better, so that when in their lives, when issues of the same caliber come time to be faced, they could have had experience already. They could have been taught, educated, to know better, to save themselves, and perhaps make the world a better place. It all depends on what Literature is about to foresee, and what the people are delving into.

Bethesda Game Studios. Fallout 3. Rockville: Bethesda Softworks and ZeniMax Media,

October 28th 2008.

Horton Hears a Who!. Dir. Jummy Haywood and Steve Martino. Pro. Bob Gordon and

Chris Wedge. 20th Century Fox and Blue Sky Studios, Marth 14th 2008.

Machuga, Ric. In Defense of the Soul – What it Means to be HUMAN. Grand Rapids: Brazos Press.

Nathaniel Hawthorne. The Scarlet Letter. New York: Signet Classic, 1999.

"Timeline." Fallout Wiki – The Vault. 6 Dec 2008, 14:26 UTC. Wikimedia Foundation,

Inc. 29 Nov 2008 <http://fallout.wikia.com/wiki/Timeline>

^^ (spoilers wouldn't work)

Edited December 8, 2008 by Celice

[Admiral "Bull" Halsey]

Holy crap. Did you wrote that just now or something? O_O

Anyways, what the hell is this weird habit of posting book reports on SF? Are you trying to enlighten the unwashed masses with your golden beams of truth and movie pop-trivia?

Also, why do you care? It's not like it's in the rules or something. <_<

Edited December 8, 2008 by Namie Amuro

[Celice]

Naw, just a few hours--it's a small paper :/

[Admiral "Bull" Halsey]

So this is your work though? ?_?

What's the purpose of this though. It's really interesting, I'm reading it right now...

[Celice]

Yeah. It was my U.S. Literature I's final paper for the term. All she wanted was a 3000 word paper--I've had her for two semesters already, so she really doesn't care how much I give her. Moreso, she didn't care about what the paper was about, as long as it pertained to things of the human nature. That said, this is far, far too brief--I condensed three large papers into a miniature form >.>

[Admiral "Bull" Halsey]

That's really good even for a rough draft. Btw, is this mainly about philosophy? ^^

Edited December 8, 2008 by Namie Amuro

[Celice]

I guess you could say that, but really, it's just random musings :/

[Meteor]

Μολὼν λάβε!

[Defeatist Elitist]

You guys, everybody nows that the greatest last stand ever was The Battle of Saragarhi.

The Wiki page alone brought tears to my eyes.

21 Sikh troops stayed to fight off 10,000 Afghan troops, knowing that they would die in the process.

[Esau of Isaac]

"Watched 300" and "learning" do not belong together in a sentence.

Are you trying to tell me that 300 did not accurately portray the Battle of Thermopylae? Because my history book agrees with everything that happened in the movie.

Did I mention that my history book is Frank Miller's 300?

Not 100% though.

You could have used this same defense if Superman and aliens were in the movie, you know that right?

[Magical CC]

You guys, everybody nows that the greatest last stand ever was The Battle of Saragarhi.

The Wiki page alone brought tears to my eyes.

21 Sikh troops stayed to fight off 10,000 Afghan troops, knowing that they would die in the process.

Any righteous war have it's own heroes.

[Thingy Person]

Leonidas was not a king. That's BS. The Spartan government consisted of a bunch of secretive razzlers who controlled the lives of the people more than any other entity of its time. Leonidas was Sparta's 1337est warrior. It'd be pretty stupid to send your king, of all people, into a suicidal mission, right?

[Phoenix Wright]

Nevertheless, the movie was great.

The traitor was portrayed as a beast, which was good too.

[Jyosua]

THIS