Sachihiro

I'm watching a fight between an invading woman, Stomm the Bloodletter, village Chief Daen, da and Tosting the White. I've never seen anything like this in my entire life short though it has been. The Bloodletter is good, really good moving like a shadow himself, barely here, barely there. Fuck, but Tosting is better.

I know they are fighting a woman who stands head and shoulders shorter and probably weighs a third Tosting's mass. But I've given up using normal scales for these creatures when the fire wall came up in village Chief Bohr and his guard's fight against the invaders.

Chief Bohr is the only chief without a spiritual weapon, as his weapon of choice is the hammer, and it would have been a waste to make a hammer with celestial ore, so the rumours say. It takes a lot of metal to make a war hammer after all.

When he smashed that hammer home I was sure these creatures would get their first casualty. How wrong was I, the invaders just took it up a notch spewing literal walls of fire.

Ava is besides herself with palpable excitement and nervous battle lust. She stands absolutely no chance in this fight. None of us do. But by Gaia if I'm not also bouncing at the tip of my toes with nervous excitement.

This is definitely a naming fight, no question. Everyone who manages to last and survive will definitely get a war name. Tosting the White. I see why they call the old man that.

He fights with a single edged one handed axe in each hand. His beautifully crafted and lovingly wrapped and decorated half-moon dwarven axes looking like sparkles in the night reflecting the fires and moonlight. The speed with which they slash making the hammers disappear. His ghost white hair all over the place, mesmerizing in the pale moonlight.

Tosting's the White indeed.

The annoying and contrary old man is gone. Replaced by a pure genius of the one handed axe who's Rage burns white as he moves. I can almost see what I assume is a white mist falling off him like steam.

Da takes a kick to the chest and stumbles three steps back. A bruise the size of a child's foot plastered on his chest, even from here I can see the unatural angle of his ribs after a single kick. Everything about this fight is fascinating because I have never seen da fight seriously.

And 99% of all named fighters are much older than me and got their names long before I knew which end of a spear to hold. Watching all these named men hold nothing back is an honour I will cherish forever.

My eyes wonder of to another interesting fight, then my legs take me towards it. But too many people are blocking my way, eagerly anticipating their chance at a glorious death.

Teá pulls on my arm as a wave of dust and air pressure buffets us. I look and see nothing until a pressure that sets my teeth to gnashing and heart pounding in fear befalls me.

I roar loudly to dispel it and am at the edge of the Rage as I try not to piss myself. Suddenly the pressure is gone and I can breathe again, then am pushed a few yards back.

The ground trembles slightly as the bald man lands between the fighters and the vicious creature they are fighting. One of the fighters nearly attacks him, but he is already gone.

Sweeping his spear through the creatures guard somehow and stabbing with enough force to cause air pressure ripples. The spear passes through the air silently but in its wake is a great pressure and rumbling wind that pushes everyone standing behind the creature with it's force tumbling. Grinning and gritting their teeth they stand their ground watching the new arrival with weary eagerness even in their bloodied states.

The creature somehow blocks the strike by crossing it's swords. But not without effort as it spits blood and frowns. The bald man moves, and an after imagine of him trails behind like a coloured shadow.

 

The following exchange of blows is completely invisible to me but I can still sort of see their bodies move, and it's mesmerizing. The bald man seems to be fighting with the entire length of the weapon.

Beating it into his opponent and stabbing with quick silent strikes that would devastate any opponent. They are also all over the place. A single step back taking them yards apart, or yards towards each other crashing through everything in their path. Their tempo changing to some unheard of rhythm.

The bald man's strike is dogged and the spear slides smoothly into the tarred wall of a long house as though the barrier is nothing but water. He quickly pulls it out and the fight resumes, moving at a fast pace towards another area.

As I'm about to follow I hear the crumbling of tar and falling of crushed splinters from what used to be the wall. A wall made from Siamese logs 24 inches thick tarred in black oils till petrified, wood as hard as any 24 inch stone wall gone from a single thrust.

I want to be this strong.

The most alarming thing is the radius of the destruction. That small spear point has devastated the wall and left a perfectly round hole at least 4 feet in circumference.

Shaking my head with wonder I move to follow them but find instead another surprise and shock. The old lightnening magician trading magic with another invading creature. The mere fact that these beings also have magic on top of everything else is disconcerting, and why is a Sandy fighting with us?

The sight of the fight distracts me as tongues of lightning play around in the air hamming the creature in. She waves her hands and they disappear. A round dome appearing around the old man as suddenly invisible impacts buffet the dome.

I can feel the speed of the wind in the area picking up. The dome and it's occupant are suddenly pulled towards the creature. A thin visible cyclone of wind drills into the dome as it gets closer.

The magician is ready though, as a hole is opened he dodges the cyclone and arch's lighting at his foe. She catches it on her sword and stabs it into the ground dispelling it, but her arms tremble and the magician sends five more loud lightning bolts in quick succession.

She can't seem to dodge them as they arch towards her as if with a mind of their own. Following her movement eerily. She keeps grounding them though, even as the shivering in her arms becomes more pronounced it doesn't stop her movement.

It does slow her enough for an axe to suddenly become lodged in her skull. It cuts deep and stays embedded right on her forehead suddenly snapping the creature's head back.

Not immediately dying it hisses and sends another thin cyclone towards the thrower tearing a hole straight through his heart with wind.

She then staggers and falls, dead.

The first casualty on their side. I quickly rush in and hack into her neck to make sure. It takes six blows to break passed her vertebrae. Spirits beyond, these people are resilient.

I dislodge the axe from the skull and I notice for the first time it's the beauty of a weapon I was eyeing back in the village. The half-moon bladed spiritual weapon that can be used in close range for hacking or long range for throwing.

It feels strange though, like it's imbalanced and vibrating at a frequency that's grating on my teeth. It's heavier than it should be as well, a bit unwieldy. I suddenly remember my lesson on spiritual weapons as it slowly becomes 'normal' again after the death of it's wielder. It has to be fate that it has found my hands. I try to imbue spirit into it but for me spirit energy is still something I can only willingly tap into when sitting down and meditating in a quiet environment.

Everyone who has claimed such a weapon so far has gone into the fight as normal steel weapons are cleanly cleaved through after a few strikes from the swords of our foes.

I look at the two swords besides the dead creature, woman, before I can grab them another man picks them up. He hefts them a moment then passes them on to another.

"Too light for me," he says and moves towards another fight. The new woman swings them a few times experimentally. Looks at the corps at my feet and swings towards a leg. Cutting cleanly into it, separating shin from the rest of the body with ease.

"Idiot," she says and giggles as I look at her new weapons with envy clear on my face.

"Tell you what, I'll let you clean them when all this is done," she says with a giggle and jogs to join a fight.

I'm kicking myself for not realising sooner what their weapons are made of. Mythril. They are using mythril weapons, no wonder they cut clean through our steel. Shaking my head I quickly loot the rest of the corps. Lest I miss something else valuable.

A roar rings out as I look up from my corps robbing. A different type of roar than the usual battle cry. I quickly tie my new purse to my belt and move towards the action.

Another invader has fallen I soon realise and his weapons, rings and purse are taken long before I can get there. The most ornate ring being passed to the short southern woman with blond streaked hair and big breasts. Meaning she is the one that killed him somehow.

I notice someone disrobe the corps and curse under my breath as I move back to my corps quickly. I'm too late though. This one lies naked and headless. I completely forgot to loot it's clothes as Barbadians hardly dress.

But these clothes have special attributes somehow. No question about it.

Discarding my shield. I duel wield my axes, one smaller than the other as I move towards a good fight. I can always retreat if things get too heated.

 

Moving forward, long since separated from my party I look around. Moving from fight to fight as night creeps towards dawn. Watching the invaders fight.

Some using magic, some not. But all formidable foes with their weapons. A few dead already as I see about a dozen naked corpses throughout my wondering. The camp is in chaos. Fighters giving way for others as they run out of stamina and their Rages expire, leaving them dazed.

I have never thought I'd see a day when a Barbarian runs out of stamina and Rage before an enemy dies. But it happens as dawn starts reaching its zenith with no give on either side.

 

Even during the twilight of the 10 hour dawn it is difficult to see these creatures properly.

The biggest surprise is the bald man who though hasn't killed any of his opponent's, is now fighting two foes. Two! They leave devastation where ever they fight.

Long houses crumbling and tents falling over with a mere glance in their direction. The few tribesmen that tried joining the fight getting weak kneed and losing strength by merely getting too close.

Somehow his spear has only needed replacing twice against the steel cleaving swords. Between finding a new weapon he uses what I assume is a dagger from his trailing after imagine, his actual body too fast to follow.

It's been more than 20 hours since the fighting began and the devastation is immense. Bodies litter the ground from the initial attack, collateral damage or fighters who wanted to test themselves. Dead scattered all over the ground with no one picking them up.

 

Dawn turns to day as the screaming and roaring continues unabated. Even tribesmen starting to lose their taste for battle as the bodies start to pile up.

The invaders fight on, seemingly without flagging. Fighter replacing fighter as some get some sleep and food.

Waking up to get back into the fray.

I replace such a fighter and find myself in the fastest struggle of my life. In the Rage and roaring my challenge as I harass an opponent I've been watching for 10 minutes before attacking.

I harass all the perceived weaknesses I thought I saw and find myself bloody within the first 5 seconds. A slash from forehead to cheek decorating my face.

I move in again to cover for the woman to my left. She takes the opportunity to cut deeply with her spiritual sword. Only to find our opponent has blocked me and dogged her while kicking the other attacker back.

The tribesmen behind her bashes in with his shield which is swiftly cut in half.

But he is no longer holding it, the shield serving as a distraction. Using the same idea I unlimber the shield on my back and throw it at our opponent as the tribeswoman besides me slashes in with a combination of sword strikes taking the opening.

The invader dodges and slashes, seemingly in two places at once as her twin blades multi-task. Keeping all three of us at bay. She seems unfazed by our efforts as we give ourselves deep into the Rage for added strength, speed and intuition.

Five minutes into that fight I get a boot to the chest that sends me flying. Cracking a rib for sure as I land in a heep by a dead bodies.

My place is quickly taken up by another tribesman I dizzily notice.