Sachihiro

I deflect a bolt of ice and cut a raging fire in half, leaving everyone to my left and right slightly charred and my arms frosty. We roar onwards as the southern mages throw magic at us from across the field. They're protected by light armoured squads designed to counter us.

The spiritual shield bearing tribesmen taking the brunt of the attacks. Some being shrugged off, others not. Depending on the power of the caster and the strength of spiritual power in the bound weapons.

We cover the ground towards them slowly from a higher vantage point going down the decline. This to help prevent their horses from charging and disabling many. A horse charge is a very intimidating sight and difficult to counter. Easiest thing is to get out of the way, but then in a melee that isn't always an option.

We walk the distance of over two miles towards them. Facing down the powers of nature and the world petted against us by the mages. I don't even have a wooden shield, it not going well with the style I've been using, learnt from the Hito.

My beautiful monster zanpakutō in my hands as I parry light and wind as though it were a physically tangible thing. My nodachi humming silently at different tunes after each power it faces.

We press on slowly, taking our time in an imitation of the shield wall the dwarves have thought us. No one wants to be injured enough to receive the full body healing of the fae anymore. Though it is affective it depletes not just body mass but some of the ether that has accumulated in the body through the years delaying further the coveted Awakening. It's effective but a huge setback for anyone that has hopes of becoming an Awakened anytime soon. Our Awakened warriors watch the battle from a vantage point more than a mile away. A few selected to help bolster our lines if we are being overcome. Several waiting for the Sandies to field their own Awakened warriors first.

It takes us over twenty minutes to reach their lines through the deluge of fire-power falling on us. The mist the Seers cast not permeating into the Sandie lines, pooling at their feet and being dispersed amongst us. Maybe its screwing with the Sandie aim preventing them from seeing us properly but I'm pretty sure it was suppose to be amongst their ranks as well creating confusion and blinding them to our advance, no such luck though.

The path of the Seer is one that is quickly loosing its prestige in the Tundra but every tribesman is a warrior. Even the Seers carry spears and daggers as backups to their spiritual powers.

My fighting group consisting mostly of people from my village by the Dawn Forest. Both youths and veterans, men and women, young and old. We move in, shield bearers forward and wall of shields meets wall of shields as we eventually crash into their line.

The pushing and shoving and weapons going overhead to poke at heads and eyes or underfoot at shins and feet are confusing. Our lines consisting of stronger heavier individuals. Their lines consisting of better armoured individuals and more depth.

It stays like this across many lines. Injuries mounting, minor in damage dealt but numerous in quantity. Breathing hot and heaving, I grin as I notice Om shoving forward after another twenty minutes of this slow bleeding of each other's forces. His large war hammer held high in one hand above the heads of other tribesman. Om is strong and big and tall especially in comparison to when I left him at the Dawn Mountain all those years ago. He stands at about 6 feet 6 inches now, more than 4 inches taller than me yet he's probably not even finished growing.

He gets to the line before the shield bearers and knocks on a Sandie shield hard with his weapon. The dull ding is audible even over some of the screaming and cursing. His second blow bows the Sandie shield-bearer only for it to be immediately replaced by another.

He does this three more times, but the Sandie's have their shield replacement technique down pat. We scuffle this way for a while. Replacing our own shield bearers in hopes of keeping them fresh, but definitely not as smoothly as the Sandies are able to.

Even with all the training and techniques we've been learning over the years from the different allies we've been able to gather. Barbarians are more individual warriors than soldiers working as a unit.

A Barbarian is a natural warrior with any weapon whether trained or not. Many having favourites or most effective weapons but a weapon is a weapon. At least that's how the tribes were before the meteorite separated and fell upon our lands resulting in the biggest deposits of celestial ore ever to be discovered on Gaia to be found in the Tundra, in our lands. Now we no longer fight amongst each other but we fight the invaders. The tribes finally united in purpose after a thousand years of history.

We no longer consider all weapons equal in purpose but are wielders of personal spiritually-bound weapons. Made from celestial ore and scalable to be able to grow in power. What many are now calling artifacts and what a sight we make, a force to be reckoned with even by the mighty Sandorian Kingdom. A kingdom that has managed to conquer almost every other human kingdom on the continent through force of arms and magic.

The fighting barely seems to be progressing efficiently. But through all this the generals of the Sandies and the war-chiefs try to outmanoeuvre each other. Performing feigns that involve thousands of people moving or repositioning. Trying to strike with quick reaction forces where least expected or pull back when their forces are being overwhelmed. We are learning, the war-chiefs are using every opportunity, every exchange, every fight to learn how to move large armies of people. How to efficiently fight when the tribes are combined as they are and forces on the field way more numerous than any raid has ever been. How to counter magic efficiently or use our Claim most efficiently through the Seers, in this war every single Barbarian is a student.

But no feign is effective in this war. The Sandies message each other with magic somehow and formations suddenly change, retreat or push forward. We listen for the bellow of the war-horns to signal our next moves.

Our division of a thousand eventually clashes with the Sandies after what feels like hours of a sort of stalemate. We break through their line at a corner of their shield wall and the gap quickly widens. Bodies flowing in hacking and bashing all around them.

That's the disadvantage of a shield wall. If it falls as they usually eventually do, all the defenders are caught on the back foot. Ideal for defending but difficult to attack from, and what should be a hard fight feels like a rout and could easily turn into one if the fighters break.

We pour into the gap as several such gaps open throughout their lines. Defenders now dividing their attention between different opponents, no longer having the luxury of only expecting death to come from the front.

The fighting is muddy and bloody. Many of the Sandies already tired from hauling armour, we've been at each other's throats for hours at this point. And even as we fight giving our all, we have no idea how the rest of the army is fairing.

Fighting with forces this large is never easy. You become a small cog in a big mechanism, and though you may personally perform admirably the mechanism may fail due to other factors involved that are beyond your control. And in a battle of this size there are many such factors involved.

We cut into their lines like blood-thirsty wraiths. Butchering them enthusiastically in the several minutes it takes for them to re-establish their defensive line. My monster nodachi taking blood from a felled opponent for the first time and its vibrating hum changes slightly. I may have a closer understanding with my zanpakutō, but I am yet to truly understand her.

I block a strike aimed at the person besides me and kick out hard connecting with the flat bottom of my boot solidly against a quickly raised shield. But I still gain some ground as my opponent is pushed back a step. I block two strikes one after the other aimed at me from elsewhere and strike forward. Stabbing through one of my opponent's throats.

The rest fight a retreating battle as they realign themselves. Defending and keeping us honest with spears and short swords until all their gaps are again closed. We get back into a sort of stalemate with the Sandorians. Though having slaughtered a substantial number of them and gained ground. These Sandies don't break, unlike the first Sandies I fought against so many years ago. These Sandies mostly fight to the end. But they have a division of soldiers dedicated to fighting a retreating battle for when their army has to disengage odd that they have a special 'retreat' division but its working for them. These divisions seem to excel at this and there are other such specialized divisions amongst them.

Because of their bravery and fighting spirit the southern invaders have become a worthy enemy. Spoken of fondly by warriors as they tell accounts of the valiant opponents they killed. No longer referred to as the 'soft southerners', by most of our people.