Saw an interesting question and thought it would be worthy of a thread:
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My answer:
WHM - The Biggest of Big Bads has won. Fallen heroes are everywhere, some unconscious laying flat on their faces, some on a knee, gasping for breath and holding shut wounds across their abdomens or clutching broken arms. The heartiest of them is holding the line barely, both hands and all their strength on their sword as the Big Bad with one arm throws them back. The Big Bad says he's grown tired of this, and as he gathers energy in his sword to end it all, the Hero arrives. First few, but growing, light shafts pierce the overcast sky. The corrupted ground starts to brighten, green grasses straightening to life. The White Mage has arrived, holding his staff aloft with golden rays washing over his allies. The Big Bad, momentarily blinded by the light staggers back, reaching a hand to their eyes in momentary stunned silence as the very heavens erupt, pouring out healing light and like a torrent of rain. Everyone it touches is invigorated, bones straightening, wounds mending, consciousness returns. And one by one, the heroes stand, the most powerful warriors to the front, raising their shields with new energy, the archers and mages cracking necks, rolling freshly healed shoulders, and stretching arms, raise their weapons again. And the White Mage's staff glows once more, the battle rejoined.
SCH - Chaos has overtaken the battlefield. The Free Peoples retreat, reform ranks, hold the line, then are forced to retreat again. Foul magics streak across the battlefield, exploding on contact, sending men-at-arms back as they are peppered with the dark rays of magic. Vile warriors in armor inked with blackest knight slam into the lines, blackend greatswords smashing into tarnished shields. Onto the field steps the SCH. Straightening her glasses, she points, and her Faerie companion, with but a moment to nod, streaks to the battleline. She draws out her book and traces the sacred geometry inked across its voluminous pages, summoning the spells to turn the tide. As the black knights charge the newly pushed back and reformed line, a massive domed barrier forms over the defenders, blocking the dark warriors' path, slowing their footsteps, and sapping power from their swings. The tarnished shields radiate a bit more light, some of the tar fallen away, and the swords rebound. The glinting Faerie streaks from warrior to warrior, whispering mysterious words in the language of the Fey, restoring their vigor with a giggle before flitting onto the next. Their backs stand straighter, their shields held higher. The Scholar yells out an order, and the line advances, barriers of magicked light forming around the lead warrior, and immediately spreading out from that one, left and right, all the way down the line and across every soldier. The black magics come, but the barriers of light rise to meet them, clashing with them, and nullifying them. The Scholar shouts a command, and her Faerie closes her eyes, opening them with a giggle as magic feathers wash across her, then bursting out in radiating light as yet more barriers spread from her across the battleline. The Scholar shouts one more command, as green magicked winds pour from her book and wash out, pouring against the backs of her allies, quickening her steps: Advance!
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Those are the two I play, so that's how I see them both working in their "badass" heroic moments.