I recall in Mount & Blade one time I was unfortunately caught within a castle during an impossible siege, literally hundreds of enemy soldiers besieging the castle and only a few loyal men defending with no reinforcements in sight. It was an impossible situation with no hope in sight, and yet it remains one of my fondest moments in M&B.
You see although few in numbers, I had with me my core elite units which I'd been traveling with at the time of the siege. My main army remained in my own personal castle a fair distance away, but this force with me... it was the best of the best; the most heavily armored knights around wielding weapons that would give any sane man nightmares. And myself; arrayed in my grandest armor and wielding a massive 2-handed sword, horned helm and all. It was a glorious sight to behold: this force of perhaps 100 men, myself and my men perhaps 50 of that number, in our gleaming armor and righteous might against the uncivilized Hordes approaching.
I say uncivilized because the force I was arrayed against were the Khergit, for those unfamiliar with the game think 'The Mongols'. A massive force normally reliant on speed to out-range their foes in battle atop swift mounts and pick them off from a distance with their bows. Perfect for field battles, and rightly a feared force, but in a close quarters siege against the cream-of-the-crop of the knightly orders... it was a slaughter.
Oh how glorious it was to stand there atop those battlements, swinging my sword back and forth like the reaper incarnate come to wreak bloody vengeance upon his foes. Hundreds fell, their bodies tumbling from the ladders and covering the ground upon which more soldiers steadily marched forward. And yet even as the slaughter continued my allies fell; first the less well equipped local garrison, then the archers who's arrows soon ran dry and were forced to fight in melee combat. Then finally, one by one, my knights began to fall. An arrow in the eye one one, an unlucky blow for another, till finally I alone stood there atop the ramparts my arms bloodied to the shoulders and blade continuing it's carnal work.
It was those blasted Khergit bows which would eventually be my end. No man or woman could hope to stand against me; I was an incarnation of war facing mere peasants and farmers. But it wore on me, an arrow struck my shoulder, then another my leg. Not an inch of my armor was not painted a sickly red by this point. Most my enemies, some my own. I stood there till finally not a soul would dare step atop that ladder and all whom remained were the archers arrayed bellow, firing from a distance and unwilling to face a god such as myself. But cowardly although it may have been; it worked, and although it took more arrows to down me than a legion of regular soldiers, eventually the blade fell from cold hands and try though I might to resist the call I fell into darkness.
Ah, but what a cost those foolish armies payed. My unconscious form taken and dragged from the ramparts, no doubt in the hopes my allies would pay a hefty ransom, the Khergit simply did not have the forces left to hold what they had taken and fled in the face of my kings righteous anger. Over 500 enemy soldiers were killed that day, and even more lay wounded. The Khergit armies although successful in siege lay broken, their leaders in disarray and moral low. It was not long after that I would escape the clutches of my captors and, rallying the full might of my awaiting army behind me, would lead an advance into the Khergit kingdom that would eventually spell their end. They never did recover from that one, terrible 'victory'.