The off world strangers come through the misty mountains silently in the cold hours of night, appearing without warning in a formation that has then covering land and sky north of the mountain wall built in preparation for their coming.

The wall stands monumental against the invaders, not one crossing it though some hover high above its highest crenelation.

[VHRUUUUU!]

The war horn of the allied Sandoria sounds alerting every soul in the mountain wall citadel from the baker to the smiths to arms. The sound of it billows throughout the Tundra heard by rattling squirrels, flying birds, trees in the Dawn and dwarves in the warm halls of Anastasia under the forest mountain. Everyone in an entire nation picks up arms and mans their station as prepared as could ever be before the first arrow flies.

The formation of featureless humanoids with silver face masks numbers barely 27 but the horror and destruction wroth by these invaders well documented by the survivors of their advance.

Kwala Yankhan the Archer standing on the mountain wall braces herself on the crenulation as she draws her zanpakuto True Shot, imbuing the arrows as she aims in perfect posture. She takes a breath, her ears fluttering as she picks up the beating sounds of her target’s heart. The Paradisian fae pauses in her ready stance allowing the formation to enpower her as the invaders remain unmoving, waiting for her signal to kill.

The mountain wall stretches 12km across in a zagging pattern of tribal runic design marking the barbarian territory border and increasing its defensive power. From Slettmarkpiggen Mountain to Haemah Mountain the wall stretches, built in a never before seen feat of magical engineering that took the combined effort of 6 races and enthusiastic workers. Each brick over a ton in weight with a mana stone at its core for magical repair, the entire wall a designed as a spiritual enchantment as it itself is enchanted with sorcery.

The cold mists part showing the five figures floating casually behind the formation of faceless caricatures of people, each of the five with various expressions on their faces.

‘’Ah, how nice they’ve gathered themselves together for us,’’ the words are soft spoken but carry as they were intended to.

Covering over 12 kilometres in a conversational tone; heard by every dwarf, elf, highlander, orc, fae, beastkin, Sandersorian and Barbarian in the two citadels and beyond.

‘’Think they’ll surrender?’’

‘’I hope they fight, it’s been fun being here.’’

"I should talk to them, I have a speech prepared. Mhm-mgh, how does thus sound?

‘’People of Gaia, we are the Bantu-jin of the Moya Family here to claim these lands. Surrender peacefully and you will be used humanely befitting your stations, resist and you will be crushed.’’

One of them snorts, flying forward till just before the air-wall above the stone wall he shouts.

"People of Gaia, you have the honour of being before the Moya clan of the Bantu-jin people of Velaria. We have come to take what you cannot keep, woe to you for you have become resources for us to reap. Despair, for your weapons and ways are abominations that must be purged from the worlds. Lay down and accept death, for your end is inevitable."

The signal comes.

Kwala Yankhan the Archer lets loose her arrow, a part of her Shikai evolved zanpakuto that crosses the kilometres to its target in a blink of space. Will powers clash between target and shooter as the arrow is caught by Luvuyo, the Bantu-jin grinning excitedly.

[TLAA], his finger splatter apart as the arrow shatters into razor shrapnel. The other Bantu-jin laugh at his stupefied outraged. The injured Bantu-jin heals slowly with a potion but the first attack of the Sandorians has drawn the blood of their enemy allowing the possibility of the Endless Tide strategy as the blood and soul magic formation spell activates.

With the first arrow loosed all hell breaks loose as the silver-mash wearing faceless move, one of the Bantu-jin disappearing as the javelin catapults release their payloads to curve through the night honing to their targets in their thousands. A whistling of aerial weapons and high-speed movement abilities contrast each other as the Faceless go all out against the armies of Sandoria in a mortal game of cat and mouse slaughter.

The barrier of air stretching high above the wall shatters like fragile glass. Faceless land amongst the warrior squards in catastrophic displays of might.

Psions unleash abilities without holding back, each amplified with various enchanted aids, soul-weapons lead followed by various attacks none directly mana based. Quickly there is chaos, faceless and Bantu-jin alike crushing people underfoot as they land, tearing people apart, ripping through armour and flesh as through wet cardboard material.

In squads the Sandorians crowd around each invader even as they are picked apart they give their all filling the mists with misted blood.

The night darkens further as planar spell blot out the moon and stars without taking away the visibility of the locals. Unfazed the invaders fight on, each of the Bantu-jin grinning like manic beasts as they slaughter their way through the assembled squads taking minor wounds as they move like flesh reaving phantoms through the ranks of dozens, hundreds, thousands.

As the Endless Tide strategy allows endlessly thousands more in their various squads throw themselves forward after every death becoming an unending tide of metal, magic and bloody flesh that fills the air with the scent of iron and shit as bodies are torn asunder. Each member of the frontier squads is chosen for having a specific ability to hamper, slow, injure or outright kill the invaders under the right circumstances. The Bantu-jin glory in the fighting, truly having come to a world with many fighting civilisations. They love it here.

Bantu-jin and Faceless together wade through the defenders like a scythe through a field of reeds as many an attack landing isn’t enough to be lethal even as they themselves lose flesh and blood to minor wounds.

Using the Seers to keep track of the fast-moving invaders the Battle Chiefs send every Barbarian warrior at the mountain wall frontier forward to join the frontier squads in their inward rush to spill themselves against the invader’s onslaught. Every warrior near enough the Titan Mountain Wall to get there within a reasonable amount of time rushes to the citadels to join the fight as its spreads that first blood was achieved.

"Endless Tide!" They shout their strategy like a war cry giving them courage even as they see their fellow man slaughtered out of hand.

An unending supply of Sandorian defenders rushes forward to bloody themselves with the Barbarians enthusiastically throwing themselves forward in glee of aroused battle-lust that can only be called madness. A madness that makes even those deep in the rage shiver as it's reflected back at them as enthusiastically in the eyes of the Bantu-jin warriors, liken spirits meet each other spilling each other’s blood.

War drums beat fast in the background hyperactive with the pace of the bloody scene of slaughter painting itself on the hectares of battlefield south of the wall. The goal is stopping the invaders with a concentrated charge that piles body after body into the meat grinder that is Bantu-jin hands.

Blood flows constantly through the night as the entire might of the Barbarian Tribes wastes itself in a mad collision of battle. As the entire might of the Sandorian armies give everything of themselves from the get-go.

Noluntu Moya loses an ear to a particularly crazed fighter after removing both its arms that had the presence of mind to charge teeth first and somehow caused damage. Incensed she caves in chest plates, crushes helms, rips jaws from their owns faces that much more brutally. Using her I Walk My Path technique to get behind the arranged squads breaking spines, destroying body and armour with every hit leaving broken beings in her wake.

Defenders form quickly in more squads and throw themselves in all-out attacks that are torn apart by the fighting prowess of Bantu-jin trained warriors. The night is sprayed red to the war drums of the Tribes beating as thousands upon thousands of warriors of the frontier squads welcome the invaders with haymaker after haymaker to be scattered apart against tempered bodies as the Bantu-jin go all out.

Enemy seeking enchanted arrows and bolts pepper the invaders like cushions filled with pins, zanpakuto and spirit-bound artifacts rip into flesh draining Bantu-jin and Faceless blood.

Soul armed warriors use their ultimate Shikai moves from the get-go delivering their most devastating attacks to injure or open a chance for their foes to be injured by another. Lukhanyo Moya gets a spear through his chest that knocks the breath out of him, the offending warriors don’t survive the encounter.

Noluvuyo Moya has several axes simultaneously chop into her sides leaving her spine all that’s connecting hips to the torso, none survive her raging counter.

Luyolo Moya, a one-eyed ravaging monster of a Bantu-jin that hates all things zanpakuto since embarrassingly getting injured by the Hito mortals devastates the field of battles in swaths kilometres long as he keeps constantly on the move only to be trapped within a sigil that locks arms and legs in rigour mortis.

[HRRRrr!]

He roars outraged with muscles bulging with veins as he tries to move, the Sandorians throw themselves on him in glee of bloodcurdling attacks. A poleaxe takes his arm, a katana opens his side, a honing javelin pins him to the ground, a hammer cracks his forehead like an egg.

‘’Bankai!’’ A ravaging pillar of fire breaks the darkness spell with its light, reducing Luyolo’s flesh to melting wax. Still the tortured apparition persists as he staggers with the trap spell now reduced to cinders.

‘’Ignify!’’ concentrated invisible fire reduces him to ash blinding all that see it, with Bankai released zanpakuto the first Bantu-jin dies on the field of battle.

The continuous onslaught of attacking defenders starts to overwhelm the Silver Faceless, Chi Cultivators with Tempered bodies start going down to the grinding unending tide of suicidal warriors unleashing their ultimate attacks in a constant tide of blood, flesh and steel.

Over 30 000 warriors of the allied armies of Sandoria die within the first hour of fighting as they throw themselves forward in madness that feeds off of itself infecting the whole. None hold back for fear of maiming or death and in a single hour of slaughter, only 4 invaders remain on the field.

Noluvuyo, Noluntu, Luvuyo, Lukhanyo fly through the air assessing their bloody work as they watch the defenders continue forward even as piles of bloody remains remain scattered about the killing field.

‘’These people are mad,’’ Noluntu says seeing the will to fight irrationally still present in the defenders even as thousands upon thousands of them litter the valley floor south of their wall.

Luvuyo grins, his arm already growing back. ‘’I like them, they have spine!’’

‘’They killed Luyolo, we’re going to have to answer for that,’’ Lukhanyo says as they retreat through the air.

‘’He was weak, he shouldn’t have insisted on coming back after his first embarrassment,’’ Luvuyo spits out some teeth before continuing to busk in the bloody accomplishment littered on the valley killing field. ‘’This is the largest killing field I’ve ever created,’’ he boasts proudly as they float north of the wall. The locals not coming to this side even as they have fliers of their own.

‘’They killed all our Faceless,’’ Lukhanyo points out.

‘’We’ll definitely have to answer for that,’’ Noluntu complains. Already changing out of her tattered clothing as she flies back north. ‘’Come on, we have to report Luyolo’s death.’’

*

[VHUUUUuu...!]

The horn of the battle’s end causes a mighty roar of victory from every standing fighter in the shadow of the mountain wall and beyond.

[HHHHAAAAA!]

The roar of a beast that stood in the way of a storm and managed to protect its young, a roar of power and pride for defying a monster and sending it running.

Quickly the survivors isolate the remains of the invaders from the killing field from the rest of their people, not very hard with only 27 invaders dead.

The first planar spell of the Endless Strategy is activated, a phantom tree bright with light blooms going endlessly into the night sky. The Healing Tree Planar Spell oozes healing on every biological material under the shadow of its leaves. It fills the sky visible from one citadel to the other it’s so large, permeating an aura of life so potent that every injury starts to mend even from amongst those dead on the field.

Many a barbarian gets back to their feet having been persisting in mortal injury through the rage, torn arms start growing back, ripped heads being replaced, bugs squished underfoot growing along with the broken flowers and blades of grass. Everything within the shadow of the spell heals, everything except 26 of the 27 invaders isolated so they aren’t healed by the spell.

As the spell burns itself out every injury incurred is healed with the roar of victory that much more potent as it echoes through the valleys of the Titan Mountains. One Faceless corpse is allowed to heal and quickly bound away as a prisoner of war.

The Prisms of Souls are activated next, enchanted prisms each over a ton in weight made with large amounts of spirit-ores designed and enchanted by Hito soul smiths and fae sorcery they pulse with power. The spirits of the dead pulse out given power, many of the dead rise again as their spirits find purchase within their healed bodies as the spell does its work. Even some of the dismembered Faceless live for a breath before dying again as their broken flesh fails to hold life.

From over 30 000 casualties to only 1170 that don’t rise again the spirit of victory of Sandoria rouses the spirit of Gaia to deepens as the continent takes its first victory all their territory bonds that much more firmly. The Tribes have withstood the first onslaught, an allied Sandoria has withstood the first onslaught and stands to fight another day.

"Victory," they shout hugging each other in wonder at their revivals.

"Victory!"

The first victory causes a roar across a territory.