Om I swing left with a roar and a step. Feeling the tip of a blade pierce my nipple by the edge of a hair. The move likely saves my life as the stroke was aimed straight for my heart. My hammerhead crashes into a knee with an explosion of bone shards and scream. I do my spin, slightly out of reflex, mostly out of the sheer joy I get from preening myself to the world in my Rage. 'World, hear me roar!' I seem to be saying as the butt of my hammer slams into a nose with devastating results. A perfect strike like a divine destiny long foretold. I move, deflect, and roar a scream of surprise as my skin is ripped from clavicle to hip in a stray of blood. I twitch in pain and send my head careening forward letting it collide with something soft and mushy. Swinging a back elbow followed by an immediate front elbow strike. The move devastates my opponent, dislocating bone and bruising muscle. A move dwarves developed to fight dwarves. A move dwarves are too short to use fighting a taller race of people. A move the short dwarves wondered why the tall races never seem to do to each other. A move I was taught so the short dwarves may be entertained watching me destroy the stupid uncreative tall races. Krav maga they call it. I duck back and roll forward, but it’s a melee, its chaos and I can't get up. There is no space, I feel boots on me, the gorge of panic threatening to close my mind. Sliding in the mud and taking out the feet of a tribesman from under him I stand on a knee and with a push to give myself some space. With elbows and biting the fight continues. Sometimes fighting opponents and leaving them to fight others like a dance where everyone occasionally changes partners. Sometimes facing an opponent or two or three till the end result of the exchange where I am all that remains standing. Everything is a beautifully choreographed chaos, a chaos of blood and bones. Screaming, faeces and urine. In my Rage I enjoy myself; in my Rage I have an absolute blast. This is it; this is the height of enjoying yourself. Life is too short and miserable enough as it is not to enjoy this utter glee as often as possible. I let the berserker out and have its day. [HRAAA]!!! I let it out with a primal roar that capsizes things at a spiritual level as something primal and powerful brakes out in a yellow mist. With me as the source the mist spreads wide, feeling almost like my skin expanding and I can feel everything it encompasses with a phantom touch. Spreading wet and wide like a physical thing. Spraying and affecting all within my vicinity, friend or foe with the certainty of their doom. I move as though through water as my horizontal swing cuts the air. Parting it as though parting a viscous solution. My swing connects to a slab of meat that was once considered human muscles and bones with a crunching slap. A thunking sound heard as paste is pushed out out the meat as bloody vicera. I move, and move and move. Almost learning a skill in my utter subconscious brilliance of movement. Utter genius, I am an utter prodigy of combat. An artist I start to get tired feeling as if I've lost time. The sun is definitely lower than it was but a moment ago. I breathe deep as I allow the Rage to fade. Letting it lower as if it's not being forced to submit but just letting it rest a while. Pampering it's ego as though it were a sentient animal, I stroke it. I breathe out. Letting it fade go, allowing the beast back to its slumber. Blinking and watching my surroundings come into focus. There are bodies everywhere. A few still giggling half mad with their entrails out with the berserker still protecting the mind from breaking completely. My stomach roils with the smell as though faeces was on my face. I wiped my cheek only the smear something else disgustingly squashy on myself. This Rage seemed different a little. A bit more than usual I can also feel some of my injuries starting to make themselves known. Throbbing, pulsing, raiding increasingly hot pain. There last of my waterskin is emptied on my face, there is blood everywhere. In a daze I start walking, ignoring the suffering and bodies besides me. I don't want to recognise anyone in that soup. At the same time I'm worried about who might die, who could have been saved but died because I walked passed. The moaning, screaming, muttering invading the sound around me. Polluting it. I walk faster having found a broken spear to lean with. I walk for a while before I reach our tents. Where the medics are busy bustling around deep in the guts of the injured and no one recognizes you nor cares who you are. The impersonal face of war that reminds me how insignificant I am in the face of it. This isn't my home, I have no rest here. I have to make my own home one day, where I will be appreciated whenever I return. I moved to a nice clean spot and sit down. Accepting a paddle of water gratefully and closing my eyes to sleep. Or did I dream that water? I'm not sure as my throat goes dry again. I'm out like a lamp. * I stay untold hours that feel like two days like that. Sometimes getting water from passing strangers. I keep wondering whether I walked into the Sandies camp somehow but Divina eventually finds me. Bathes me, and feeds me. Treats me like a child and I appreciated it. I don't even know what is wrong with me. I have no wounds that could account for this behaviour. I just feel drained. That woman Aaliyah still haunts me. The only death I've caused that has ever haunted me. Somehow I know she could have been so much more. I fought her too early in her development. I could have spared her life. Given her the shame of mercy so that she may better herself. Maybe we could even have been friends. She was out cold when I bashed her head in. She would have known when she woke that I spared her. Shamed but eager to fight me again and reclaim her honour. She would have developed further and seeked me out. "Are you alright now?" A voice asks bringing me to myself. "Yes. What happened?" I ask Divina as she passes me a loaf of bread and some weeds. "The fae said you Awakened to Aura. Congratulations." "I Awakened to Aura huh? What does that entail?" I grumble between swallows. Drinking it all down with sweetened ale, the fae creatures are incomprehensible. "Something not as good as mana based magic they gave the impression but useful all the same and very affective in physical combat." "What does it do? Aura." "It can physically enhance things like honing the edge of a blade with it. It can also affect the willpower and abilities of your opponent, and other things I know nothing about." I grunt and stay silent for a while, trying to collect my thoughts. Some think because of my size and silence I'm dumb. They couldn't be more wrong. Master Gwan says I'm a genius at the forging. Extolling my natural ability and adaptive mind. As a warrior I'm very versatile, quick to learn new moves and see people's mistakes, taking advantage during combat. The point is I'm really good at using my brain, usually. "So how did we do?" I finally ask. After a battle like that, and the bodies... "We did well considering. They fielded more than 50 000 men and expected us to fight fair. With hundreds of thousands more in reserve. We let loose the Awakened for the first time and they didn't disappoint. We probably killed over 60 000 of them at the ridge. But around 15 - 20 000 tribesmen are dead." The silence is deafening after that number. 20 000 tribesmen and women dead. A substantial number for a people who periodically cull each other through raids and challenges. "The fae saved more than 10 000 though, but still. It was a difficult victory." she says. "Their armour makes more of a difference than anticipated I'm told." "They still eager to fight?" I ask, dreading the answer yet not sure which I'd prefer. "Oh I'm sure the will be a lull in the fighting after this. By now we've probably taken almost half their force. A force that took nearly two years to train to par. They will need time to replenish, but they will keep these current 'veterans' fresh harassing us. "As soon as they come of age we will also send our children with experienced warriors to raid the southerners instead of raid each other. [Sigh], "so much is changing." We will eventually be changed as a people. Not large change but change enough that we permanently lose something of ourselves and gain something new, I'm sad but left feeling hopeful for our people. Some changes for the better, some for the worst." I grunt. "I see you haven't thought about this at all," I say sarcastically getting up. We converse further. She enlightens me about the recent going ons. We relaxed for a while. Almost forgetting where we were, escapism. The smell of shit and blood finally fades to be replaced with broth soup.