Sachihiro

We watch as the veterans fight the and best of the Sandersonians. A battle that shakes the ground on the hill we are standing on miles away, yet it's sound that's most pervasive as it sink into me. I'm star-struck, awed, horrified, excited, angry and scared within the same breath in a jumble witnessing this. The screaming, cacophony ing clammer of people in their thousands bashing into each other with lethal intent.

The Sandersonian magicians are truly terrifying in their destructive power as they unleash the rage of nature upon our warriors.

[Tlaa!], sharped vines bust from the group into flesh. I need to pee, anyone else need to pee? No one seems to need to pee but me, I'll hold it.

The wave of Barbarian colours, Sandies black and red mixes with the green grass into a quickly unidentifiable soup of muddy ground. It's scent most felt after sound, the scent of broken ground and blood. The scent of mud and shit and desperate violence.

The mages pick targets unnaturally accurately in the chaos of the clash of bodies. The Seers hardly able to do anything with their summoned mists, confusing gases, strength sapping rain and all the tricks they try. Dee is amongst them I saw him yesterday, they shouldn't get much action. He seems to be dedicated to whatever path that stone will lead him towards. I envy him that direction, that surety.

Another bright flash blinds me from so far with eye-watering light. A force is suddenly scything through our line establishing battle formation in bobs and sparks. Warriors caught between formations find themselves quickly harried from all sides.

Shit, we're being slaughtered. The Southerners have brought the elite of their force onto the field now there is no question, and though we are suffering for it the Battle Cheifs are all taking notes, every warrior is taking notes.

The armoured soldiers are slow but resilient, they can take big hit well. The gaps in the joints immobilize them quickly, the gain in resilience is not worth the speed loss one on one but as units they're quite dangerous. Mhmm, that's real impressive how that guy keeps cutting the Sandie elite down so quickly. Oh, he didn't finish them, shit he's getting shocks from a mage. He's going down, shit he's down that such a waste.

"Each one of our Warriors is worth four of theirs," someone says.

"But some of their elite are a match for ours; they fight well together."

"Which is the only way their winning, they're cowards."

"It is not cowardice that overwhelms us, this is a different type of fighting but strength is strength and must be respected."

Taking notes and giving lessons to us watching.

Man for man the rank and file are no match for any of us when in the Rage even with their armour and defensive formations enhancing their durability. Few Barbarians wear armour and our best formation is running as a pack before we pounce on their force. It's fascinating to see the fighting even as worrying as it is. The different styles of fighting and how they engulf each other in the chaos of battle.

An Awakened Warrior is truly a terrifying sight to behold, their elite powerhouses scattering our elder warriors to and fro with single powerful strokes. Some more subtle in their power to the uninitiated they might not seem like much, but for us in the know which is basically every single warrior watching or participating in the fight; the Awakened Warriors are terrifying to behold.

Each Awakened warrior at least on par with a Barbarian tribesmen in the Rage in terms of devastation wroth, more dangerous because they have complete and utter control of all faculties. Moving better, taking less injury, devastating with power regardless of their smaller statues.

It soon becomes apparent that there are tiers to Awakening. Some Awakened fight two or three to a single tribesman. But others, others hold of a hoard of tribesmen in the Rage by themselves. Utter monsters in human skin is what they are, and they show us how small we are as their magics deplete the numbers of moving Barbarians.

We have always thought we are the best. We are unequalled warriors, and even if the soft skinned Southerners could win a battle. It would be due to numbers and magic not physical might or skill of arms or even better plans. We’ve been waiting for years for a big enough challange through which to show our might, an excuse to fight that brings the tribes together. How wrong we were to underestimate the Sanderorians.

Da and my Daewon are down there fighting for their lives. Ma and a few of the older women and one of the Seers are doing as the Sandersonians and pulling the injured back. A very dangerous job, trying to restrain an injured Barbarian.

We are lucky it takes a lot to kill a Barbarian in the Rage and that two of the dwarven observers are healers of some kind and wiling to give aid. Dwarven magic has already saved hundreds of lives both today and two days ago after the first battle.

Bringing people from the brink of death that we usually give-up on as lost further proving how wasteful we've been of our own lives through our ignorance. But we’re taking note.

The battle being fought today is a testament of the Sandersonian power, or greed, or both as they give their all out on the battlefield as the battle chiefs move things around, creating attack and defence formations on the spot. Learning, adopting to this type of magic with spells, metal armours, trick formations and enhanced humans.

The Savage Chieftain's plans seems to have worked too well. The plan was to dangle spiritual weapons forged by the tribesmen in the southerner’s faces to force them to fight under these conditions. So the southerners can fight at their best for the 'rare' prizes, we offered as a reward for the battle.

Even though all the tribesmen who took the field today are experienced veterans most of them are men beyond their primes. Men eager for a glorious death fighting a worthy foe and fearing a death lying in bed twisted by age. A horrifying prospect for any Barbarian warrior but a likely one as there are few worthy warriors to raid except other tribesmen. Until today that is.

As saddened as I am by the little value we put on our lives. And as awed as I am by the southerners fighting spirit, I am mostly filled with pride. Pride in those old fighters bellowing their Rage as they sacrifice life and limb to take their opponents to the after-life. Pride in the fire in the Barbarian blood. For though they might be old, there is no such thing as a harmless berserker. To be in the Rage is to be death incarnate and the spirit mist is red from speckles of blood left by the carnage my people bring.

Though these 'Awakened' and 'magicians' may have a lot of power they also know fear as they face a foe that knows no retreat. Even in the face of what should be debilitating odds.

My chest swells in pride and the unreasonable desire to be down there amongst those valiant old men and women. I look around and notice similar reactions all around me.

Teá on my left looks sombre but proud. Her grand-da is down there. Ava to Teá left is hardly even blinking, studying the battle. There are close to 20 000 tribesmen watching the battle. The over 4500 of 10 000 who survived the first battle. Plus the other 10 000 that never fought. And lastly the chiefs, advisors, elders, seers and many veteran warriors and strategists who are using this opportunity to study the Sandersonians at their best.

The rest that came are down there giving almost as good as they get. But these magicians have terrible damaging power. A single magician can lay waste to a Barbarian in the Rage with a swipe of a hand. An unheard of phenomena, and we have very little defence against these magics.

We watch as our numbers dwindle and the fighting becomes more desperate. A tribesmen somehow takes the brunt of a magician’s power and keeps fighting. Managing to kill two more soldiers and injure a third before he goes down.

A woman, likely Jotnar judging by her paint manages to kill one the most destructive opponents, a fire mage of some sort that was so far unparalled in his destructive power. And as he dies he takes out everyone around him in a 50 yards radius explosion, friend and foe alike.

The distraction from the explosion gives another tribesman the chance to decapitate another magician and get away clean. There are many such heroic and praiseworthy feats, on both sides. Two black spear users are particularly difficult to pin down. I didn't even know black people existed. A very skilled trio of warriors hold of six tribesmen, two each and they seem to be as fresh as when the battle started over an hour ago.

"It's almost over." Freydìs says from my right. I grunt affirmatively adjusting my arm better in my splint. Not looking at her but breathing deeply of her scent. Lavender and woman as always.

"You will come to my tent today. I will take care of your injuries and other needs." She says placing a hand on my bare shoulder. Causing goose-bumps to develop.

I nod again, not speaking. I would have gone to her immediately after the battle two days ago. But apparently an arrow to the chest is very bad for you. I almost drowned in my own blood. Thanks to dwarven magic many survived who otherwise would have died. Ava being one of them. Her left lung had completely collapsed, puncture through by a broadsword.

A horn blows indicating the end of the allocated battle time. Of course it takes a few minutes for everyone to disengage. But slowly, the two armies separate. Giving room for others to collect their injured and dead.

I let Freydìs lead me away. Looking around the crowd of people we pass. What a sorry sight we make. There are injured groaning and wearing bandages everywhere.

People missing eyes or fingers or arms. I'm thinking a lot of people will be visiting the dwarven bone benders in Anastasia and we will be paying them in celestial ore. We have more than enough anyway but very limited able experienced warriors.

Freydìs leads me to a row of tents under a clamp of trees. I follow her inside meekly and eagerly. A basin of water and I clothe are inside. She undress' me and baths me. Cleaning my wounds.

"Come." She says leading me out of her tent still naked to a small stream were others are bathing. Both men and women.

Nudity is a common thing in my community and is nothing to take particularly notice off. Being pulled by the hand while naked and erect though causes a few snickers and jeering.

My face flushes red from shame as Freydìs rinses me in the stream. My rod stays ramrod straight through it all though. Bobbing and pulsing occasionally as she cleans it. She leads us back to her tent and I can't stand the teasing anymore.

The moment she directs me to lay down we kiss. Then she fondles me gently as I caress her soft skin.

Then all I know is bliss as she takes me in her mouth.

*

Divina

"They are a formidable foe," Chief Bjork the Hammer says to no one in particular.

"Yes. Better than we anticipated," The sweaty tired Seer from the Jotnar says.

"We have no way of countering their magisters and mages efficiently," another Seer from the Scavengers adds.

I look at my tired son. Sitting slumped by one the tent posts drinking from a water skin. He did well today, his first true battle. I will make sure he gets a woman tonight. Dee is most likely still inexperienced though. I will talk to that Moroi girl from the Jotnar and her ma. The girl seems to have a good head on her soldiers.

"...Divina?"

"Sorry, what was that Chief Stomm?" I respond to our village chieftain, having not caught the question.

"What do you think we should do?" Chief Frey of the Jotnar asks. A strong woman, I like her.

"Stomm and Bjork both seem to value your opinion."

All eyes land on me. It's obvious to all that we can fight them for years but they will wear us down.

"I think we should scatter our young amongst the other races and peoples to learn their ways. Both in living and especially in fighting. I think we have all seen that the southerners are not soft at all. And as the good seer said, we cannot counter their magics, we need to see how other peoples deal with magics" I say, looking around.

[Pfaff], the Jotnar chieftain snorts. "They counter magic with magic of their own and we have none," she pointedly looks at one of the Seers.

"We are listening." Chief Bjorn of the Vikings says. Waving a hand for me to continue, its not a new idea but the first time I mentioned this I was shot down harshly. Not so after what we've just witnessed though.

I nod. "The dwarves have already shown that there is a lot we could learn. Many more young warriors would have died without their healing and we are giving away 16 barbarian made spiritual weapons because we value the dwarven made products much more."

"This is true, but we are an isolated people with violent tendencies and not much of value to trade. What tribes would teach our children magics and why?" Chief Frey asks.

"We have already sent out expeditions to the fae, the orcs, the elves and the ancestral home of the Dawn Dwarves with celestial iron ingots." Chief Stomm says.

"Our hope was to trade some for learning and for them to be cast as weapons and returned to the tribe."

"You sneaky dog!" Chief Bjorn says good naturedly.

"How much ore did you manage to mine?"

All eyes are on the Norse Tribe's chief now as they wait for the response.

"About 40 tons in total." He says with a straight face.

"40 tons?! Spirits beyond Stomm. When were you going to share?"

"Pfrhhh.." Elder Lyad snorts. "If he says 40 it's probably 80," he grumbles.

"If I may interject." Our short dwarven advisor says in a strong deep voice that contradicts him short statue.

"If you have so much, then you can afford to make shields. Bound celestial steel is very light to the wielder and it can stop magic attacks, unlike your current shields."

The dwarf looks from face to face.

"The dwarves are very good at making war axes but our specialties at the Dawn are gems and shields."

"Well why didn't you make us any to begin with?" Stomm grumbles.

"Because it takes a lot of iron to make a shield. Our smiths didn't suspect you would have so much celestial ore at your disposal."

"It is settled then. We will gather our resources together, scatter our young to learn magic and we will build magic stopping shields," Bjorn says loudly.

"The only question being, who can we trust our young to?"

The dwarf clears his throat loudly. "We can take a 100 barbarians into the mountain. For a price of course."

"Greedy dwarves." Someone mumbles.

"And also we recommend you send some to be taught in the Dawn Forest." The dwarf advisor finishes.

"Who is to teach our young in the forest?" Bjork quickly asks, looking at the dwarf.

There is an awkward silence for a while. Everyone knows how dangerous a place the Dawn is, completely untameable. Populated by all kinds of beasts. Magical, Awakened, Awakened magical, and of course, Ancient Beasts.

Beasts so old, wise and powerful they can transform into a combat form to hold all that power.

"The beasts and spirits are very good teachers. Tell me, what do you know about druids?"

"Barbarian druids, that will be the day."