Asriel
I watch using my actual eyes as the Fae fall upon the tribesmen like a storm by-passing us and the first line of defense completely.
I know I'm good at hiding my power level but the mage beside me is surely easy to read and yet they don't stop to challenge us. Do they not see us as a threat?
No, that's not it I soon realise while we move towards the Barbadian camp. They are simply going for the warriors carrying spiritual weapons above all else. And there are less than 200 of them.
If I can't 'see' the fae, then I will look at my new allies using spacial awareness and direct it towards the fighting tribesmen.
The initial assault surprises the tribesmen in it's ferocity.
That surprise results in 17 dead in a single second. The next second more blood flows while everyone within watching distance of the spectacle goes berserk in a cascading burst of aura. Either at the gruesome display of fae strength as one tribesman is literary torn in two with a single swing, or some other biological imperative to survive that has the Barbarians bursting with spiritual energy while throwing themselves at their enemies.
It makes a difference, surpring the attackers with their ferocity resulting in one fae losing an arm at the elbow. The fae are more visible now that they are actively engaged. Whatever magic they were using dispelled.
But still their speed and the clothing itself makes it difficult to keep an eye on them.
Two tribesmen with spiritual weapons are fighting a single fae, using their heavy swords to batter and sweep at the single opponent to try to keep it at bay. The fae blocks and parries the heavy blows with a one handed single edged blade on each hand. Leaving cuts and bloody furrows on it's opponent's with fluid speed.
Another tribesman carrying a normal steel sword and a wooden shield enters the fray leaving soon after with a shorter sword and a missing shield arm.
Another pair with axes is cutting into a shorter leaner fae opponent, most likely a woman. Yet she stops each swing of the large axes with her duel wielded single handed blades with the ease of swatting sticks from children. Sweeping low with her body and using acrobatic moves to sweep a berserk Barbarian off it's feet she takes a head.
I personally haven't faught them but I know it takes a lot to get a berserker to fall. These fae do it with ease.
Crysta, Zhen, Mira and I reach the camp and we movepassed the groups of younger men watching the perimeter still. Heading further into the camp we bump into numerous groups heading towards the fighting. One such group stumbles into our paths consisting of six men, four women. A group of ten like most groups we've come across.
One of the young men has a very protective aura while the rest are mainly full of battle lust.
"You," I call out, almost touching his shoulder to hold him back till I think better of it.
They stop. Most of them know of me, which is why I haven't been challenged even though I'm travelling with 'southerners'.
"You and your group are to protect this woman," I say pushing a surprised Mira forward. The surprised look is quickly replaced with deep hatred as she spits at their feet.
"I can take care of mysel-" she doesn't finish the sentence as a punch knocks two off her teeth out and takes her clean off her feet. One of the Barbarian women, a relatively short one at about 5'6" spits at the feet of a passed out Mira.
"Sorry bald man but we have a fight to get to," she says, quickly pulling the protective one away. I shake my head as Crystal does something with salts from her ever present pouch.
Mira wakes with a groan and spits out blood.
"I'm going to join the fight. I expect you and Crysta to participate," I say to Zhen sternly. The old man has been uncharacteristically quiet throughout this whole debacle.
"Why are they attacking?" He finally asks. I snort and look at Crysta.
She shrugs. "They don't know much about the fae on this continent."
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"Crash course as we go. Keep up," I say pushing forward walking into what has turned into some sort of free for all fighting tournament.
"The fae are a force of nature that has a very deep connection to Gaia. They are not based on any one continent as they travel through groves of trees somehow. They are more closely related to elementals or spirits than they are to humans, and lastly, they don't think very highly of us. By us I mean humanity."
I shove to the front and watch for a few minutes with a large crowd that keeps getting larger. Circling many fights such as the ones I'm watching formed throughout the camp.
The fae are truly and thoroughly encircled. Trapped with the trap that is Barbarian berserker bodies. Now the problem is subduing them and what a problem it is.
There are less than 200 fae in the assault, and not a single one has been killed in contrast to the hundreds of Barbarian dead and wounded already mounting.
The power difference is just too great for any people to expect to win against two hundred fae. To bridge the power gap they would have to pay an astronomical price in blood and bodies, and everyone usually breaks and runs long before that. Usually.
Four Barbarians have circled around a fae fighter that uses a sword and a dagger. They cleave and hack with their spiritual weapons, their speeds and strength impressive in their rage. Impressive in their suicidal skill. Impressive for unAwakened mundane.
A Barbarian loses a hand from the dagger to give his counterpart a chance at a disarming blow. The sword cuts deep into the forarm of the fae and audibly breaks the bone with a crack, but the arm is intact and the creature keeps fighting single handedly.
Another two fae are back to back against five Barbarian opponents. Four wielding spiritual weapons, one wielding a steel long-shafted war-hammer. The fae keep their opponent's at bay with nothing but pure beautiful skill.
Sweeping low, hitting high, dodging, parrying, countering to the sight of Barbarian fingers flying in the air, Barbarian blood painting the night.
The tribesmen keep fighting as though nothing is happening to them. Like they aren't being wittles away by opponent's they can hardly see move, let alone counter. The beautifully stubborn fools persist.
The hammer weilder gets an opening and swings his hammer with all his strength. With the strength of a 280 pound, 6'8" tall human being with shoulders the size of water melons forearms the size of Crysta's thighs.
[BHUU]
The fae takes the blow in the chest with the 'thump' sound of something heavy falling on a wooden floor, ribs snap audibly, he staggers back as if a drunkard. He falls on one knee besides his comrade and shakes his head, spitting blood in a bout.
A swordsman with a spiritual weapon rushes in to finish him off and flames suddenly spring up as the downed fae waves his hand. The flame encircles the two fae and their combatants, preventing the spectators and others ready to rush in from seeing what's happening. But there is still plenty to see throughout the chaotic camp.
The Barbarians don't retreat even as a spirit weapon weilder goes down another quickly takes it's place, already in the berserker rage swinging. Limiting the opponents of each fae to four or less so as not to get into each other's way.
The energy and aura of these 'savage' people going from alert and wearisome to expectant and excited as the night progresses.
The fae have no idea what they have gotten themselves into. Neither did I expect this savagery to be something that can be found within the human spirit, within the human body.
The night wears on, not a single fight stopping.
*
The Barbarians fight with everything they have in an inhuman manner indiscribable in words. Blood snort and tears flowing all over the place as fighter replaces downed fighter in a continuous flow. The scattered way the fae initially attacked preventing them from re-enforcing each other.
Not a single fae warrior has died even though a few have what should be debilitating injuries. A missing arm here, a deep slash across the chest there, an eye poked out elsewhere. But still they fight, as though time or opposition means nothing to them they fight. Lossing all the while they fight.
More than two hundred Barbarian tribesmen are already dead with thousands more lined up for their turn at the fae warriors. To fight back the invaders? To take revenge for their dead? To teach the outsiders a lesson? To test themselves..? To have fun...?
The longer I watch the fighting the less sure I am. I look at the bewildered looks on Zhen and the awful, horrified, fascinated one on Mira's face and I know I'm not alone in being confused by these strange people.
They rage and cry and below and raw and laugh. The laughing is the most unnerving of all in this type of situation.
The spiritual weapons of the downed either lie on the ground unrecovered and then disappear as if by magic or are recovered by a tribesmen who waits for the spiritual residue to fade before binding them and getting back into the fray.
The easiest way to ensure a berserker is dead is by taking of it's head and the fae realise this and three heads go flying in quick succession. I can't watch this much longer, and the most frustrating thing is that the fae have hardly used their most potent weapon yet, magic.
I use my awareness to find an opponent and I zero in on the most likely leader. Toying with his opponents and leaving them dismembered but alive as he faces new challengers.
I nod. "I'm joining the fight over there." I say to Crysta, pointing to where a tent used to be, now a sort of fighting circle.
Crysta nods, I give Zhen and Mira a last look before rushing to the fight. Grabbing a spear on the way as I sheat my dagger. No use nicking or breaking it in this fight.
The battle spirit of the barbarians is a little infectious. You cannot help but admire them when you see them so their thing. Time to show them what they should aspire to.
I jump, using my root chakra for power and burst speed, casting an oppressive aura to get the tribesmen to retreat. This only seems to aggrivate them further till I use my heart chakra point to push them back. Giving myself a place to land and start my work.