Om There is nothing as liberating as knowing that short of losing your head, you can be restored when going into battle. There have been numerous skirmishes between the tribesmen and the Sandorians up to this point and the fighting is fierce. The Sandorians are truly formidable with their magic. But our new shields did surprise them and us as well a few times. Every warrior among the veterans now has a spiritual weapon, whether named or unnamed. Even some of the more advanced young fighters have spiritual weapons. Of course, the people that looted weapons from the dead during the battle with the fae got to keep what they took. Looting Looting the dead is an age-old tradition but the value and rarity of the newly formed celestial steel weapons is forcing a lot of uncomfortable changes to the way things have always been done. Spiritual weapons are turning into heirlooms to be returned to the family of the wielder if the victor doesn't claim them as spoils. Which we tried to never let the southerners do. The Sandies have chosen this particular field of battle by playing the patient game and waiting until we moved in on them as they played the vulnerable target. All pretence of civility long since dispensed with between our two forces. The Sandies act like they hate us, to them we are the worst scum to ever come out of the human race. Their hate is how they justify the killing and the gore of war. Otherwise without that emotional crutch, without telling themselves we deserve it. They would have a much harder time going to sleep at night from the nightmares and horrors of war, on their lips 'Barbarian' is a slur. It’s alright though, we do not begrudge them their hate. They need it to keep sane. But we don't need such a psychological crutch, we have never been averse to spilling blood. We as a people are not homicidal maniacs, but are more 'emotionally developed'. As Carmella Mortan, one of the fae healers said with laughter a few days ago. By choosing an open field with only a few shrubs and a rolling hill for cover they essentially made it more difficult for us to cover the distance to them. With their artillery mages having a perfect line of sight and more than half our attacking force still not wielding spiritual shields. It would be a blood bath to approach them. But they still seem to underestimate our resolve as we cross the distance to them as quickly as possible. Shield bearers at the front, nearly 500 of them carrying spiritual round shields and normal steel weapons. While the other 500 of our 1200 force carrying spiritual weapons and normal or no shields. I am among the few that carries all normal steel gear with my head tucked low dodging flying magic detonating amongst our ranks. We cross the distance to a magical firestorm that has the hair standing on end. Death and destruction rain like hail from the sky. The land rumbling and spilling out lava amongst us, I jump over a crack that swallows two tribesmen ahead of me. Fire spews out of a hole in the ground catching a few tribesmen screaming and flailing as their skin melts. Crackling and fleshes of the air leave the smell of ozone scathing like salt in the air. Eaach cackle usually accompanied by a groaning warrior rippling on the ground.Lightning flashes once, twice thrice in quick succession, I jump over a completely burnt smoking chunk of meat that used to be a person. Some lightning flashing blue, others flashing yellow in the distance but very few warriors go down considering. Orange or red fireballs bloom doing damage in a wide radius leaving aecond degree burns or focusing on a single person leaving third-degree burns or outright death. These magicians and magisters wield the forces of nature to a terrifying extent, or what would be terrifying to any other people. [HHAAAA], Barbarian cries of war echo into the predawn light as we closed the distance, even some of the shield bearers falling despite their shields. The shields are good at taking the magical damage but they are still affected by it. Though a shield can take a focused fire attack, it still gets too hot to handle afterwards, some stop ice shards or water propelled from the mages. It doesn't stop the ice that develops on the shield from getting heavier or leaving the arm numb from the temperature or force of the impacts. The most effective mages are the ones that control earth and nature. The grass, stone and the ground working against us making us lose our footing, delaying our advance as the other mages pepper us with power from above. Finally, we get to their lines and crash into their armoured troops. [TLAAA], Barbarians crashing into Sadies to the spray of blood and viscera, the close-range taking the mages out of the contest. This is where the real fighting begins. [HAAAA]! I bellow as I jump and dive into an opponent hammerhead first. The hammer knocking into a chest and taking him off his feet; the momentum allowing me to land on chest but quickly rolling upright. Another soldier shield bashes into me. Knocking the air from my lungs and any cohesion from my head. I deflect a sword blow more on instincts and training than seeing it coming as I try to orient myself. The soldier strikes out again with his shield but I yield to the force and the shield pushes me back instead of knocking me back. I follow through with an underhanded swing of my hammer focusing more on forearm and wrist movement than arm strength. Bringing his shield down even as the hammerhead goes past his guard and knocks on his shin plate. I pull back and step back quickly. Though he blocked most of the force of the blow my hammerhead is still in his guard and I use the head as a hook to pull his shield out from under him. The move is unexpected and the shield strapped to his arm causes him to stumble forward as I complete my spin and drive the reinforced pummel of my hammer into his helm. I knock him back a few times as he stumbles onto one knee. But another opponent rushes me shield first, leaving a wounded tribesman behind him. His mistake. I avoid him but move back, keeping his attention on me as the tribesman in the Rage finally drives his sword through armour and chains from the back of my opponent to the front. The blood and viscera spills onto my face, this is battle. I rush forward to join the fighting and find two Sandie's harassing an axe and shield wielder. Timing my attack I jump and roar as I bring my hammer down with all my strength. As expected my opponent raises his shield and I hear the snap of bone and the dull ringing made by the now dented metal shield. My victim tries to retreat as his friend covers him only to be skewered by another axe landing on his shoulder. The fighting is chaotic and the battle is long. Our mage killers, a squad of specialists that train with the fae keep the mages occupied. Mage killersquids hit fast and hard, most of whom seem to be youths from my village. Dee included. I find myself fighting a woman, and for some reason wanting to give her a clean death instead of the horrible maiming a hammer is capable of. We exchange blows, her striking light but fast. Me strong but slower. The wounds on my forearms are adding up. The gauntlets prevent glancing blows from rolling down the shaft and taking a finger but doing very little to prevent a direct hit onto my hand from leaving me maimed. She's a very competent warrior, I smash my hammer on an unaware Sandie that gets close and she punishes me for it.Two fingers remain attached by skin and metal. I do a few spins for both repositioning myself and bringing extra force into pummeling. She deflects shifting with the force as she always does. Never taking my blows head-on but deflecting them and dodging or taking them at an angle. Taking the force out of them. I take my time and study her, wearing her down as her blade leaves shallow wounds and my blows sapping her strength and stamina. She loses her footing a few times in the bloody mud as she dodges, but she surely deserves a proper death not one of misfortune, but one of struggle. There is no doubt in my mind that I'll kill her yet I find myself admiring how such a dainty woman clad in such constricting armours is able to keep up with me. After about 10 minutes of us doing this she discards her shield and helm. Stepping back as she sucks huge lungful of air in. Her hair wet with sweat and stuck to her flushed southern face. "What is your name savage?" She asks through laboured breaths. Looking around at the battlefield as if for the first time. Her people are losing, the tribesmen are fighting smarter. Better than we ever had. It was a worry that Awakened Warriors would turn the tide in their favour but I'm yet to come across any Awakened Sandies besides mages. We were reassured that there are very few Awakened Warriors in Sandoria, most of the Awakened choosing to Awaken to magic, a few becoming psions. I don't answer her, but I do toss her my water skin. She catches it, unclasping the lid with her teeth. After sniffing into it she takes a mouth full. "I would expect large men such as yourselves to carry something much stronger than water to battle," she says tossing it back and looking around once more. There are more tribesmen than there are southerners now. Not by much, but enough that some of the standing southerners sometimes have to fight two tribesmen at a time. Those that remain are their elites. The cream of their fighting crop. An unintended consequence of some of the training is the length for which we can now fight without going, berserker. It takes a lot to force me into the Rage during battle as opposed to it happening from the merest bloodshed, or from merely being challenge or wounded. "It seems I should take it up a notch," she says picking up a second sword from a fallen Sandie. Tribesmen around us giving us space as many individual duels take place throughout the battlefield. "I'm Aaliyah by the way, Aaliyah of House Avalon," she says saluting then rushes me. Left blade swinging low, right blade slicing across my chest seemingly out of nowhere as I block her left. Her speed has somehow increased by several degrees. She keeps moving, spinning around me as I sweep wide, denying her an approach. She dodges under my swing only to be met by a boot to the chest as I go into the Rage with her cutting deep into my thigh. [HAAA]! I roar. Increasing my own speed and power by several degrees. Even with me surprising her, she takes the kick in a roll. Going with the momentum of the kick, resulting in it doing less damage. I follow through with a spin, using the momentum of the dodge to both spin and jump toward and bring a crushing blow down. My blow lands on an already downed corps. Crushing its helm and skull as she does a dodge and roll. Coming up further than I expected. I watch her, she moves like a cat but it is time for her to die. "Om," I say, taking off my own helmet and tossing it away. "I am Om," I say and rush her.