Om

The Southerners come.

First in ones and twos scouting then in small units of fast lightly armoured groups as they try to infiltrate our lands sneakily. Their sing scouts, their using magic to remain unseen, setting up traps and ambush point to create a space for their army to fill but it was all futile. The seers can see all within the Tundra domain, our own scouts disable their traps, our own units ambush their groups. Though the Seers can not use magic in the traditional sense of mana and Awakening. They have many tricks that rely on spirit energy up their sleeves, and above all else, they are Barbarians.

We rush into their camp in the middle of the night, I throw a javelin that pins one screaming to a tree.

[QHAA], something explodes with flying sparks from their fire brightening the night, I take a knee crouching behind my shield as my eyes adjust.

[BUU], something knocks me on my ass leaving my shield arm numb but my vision is clear.

''Get down!'' A bolt of darkness wheezes overhead catching on someone's round shield eating through it.

A giant shadow moves and a man is bisected at the waist by a large bastard sword, Skylark.

[AHHH]!

The screams are chaotic, the ambush quickly turning into a melee. i stab into a southerner's back, look around, throw my spear at something moving in the shadows.

It's quiet, unnaturally quiet with even the usual sound of the night silenced as no one moves. The fire is out, all I hear is Barbarian breathing, ''I think we got them all. Let's move out,'' take weapons and food leaving the bodies for the beasts.

I enjoy this, the pounding heart, the excitement and lethality of these situations. Our units hunt their units, its fun in its own way.

As expected the Southerners are not dissuaded by their never returning scouts, beast familiars or groups of 12 or 24 that we slaughter as they come. Their numbers keep increasing regardless, spread through the porous border over 100km long, they have too many numbers for our rapid response units to control. Through sheer force of will and greed they push through marshlands not designed to accommodate 300 000 men regardless of how spaced out they are apart.

We watch them from hills and hidden passes, they lose soldiers every day to the marsh but they persist. We watch the army struggle against nature, following them for miles as we try to study them, their setup. Many an unfortunate tribesman gets caught by their magic traps and dying in a quick bloody fight that follows.

A mutual understanding is quickly established. We can not sneak up on their main army and they cannot sneak up on us. The excitement bubbling in the chest of every warrior in the tribes is palpable as the time for ambushes, espionage, sneaking and spying is quickly passed and preparations are made to face the enemy head-on as numerous skirmish fields are chosen by the war-chiefs.

I'm excited myself at the prospect of being part of a large scale battle, when else would I get to fight 300 000 foes. A force worthy of the sagas and truly worth the wait. Their warriors look impressive in their amour helms, breastplates, vambraces, gauntlets, shields, some sort of chain mail worn under the plate that goes down to the thighs then greaves and boots to finish the ensemble. Even the least of their warriors similarly adorned for war, I keep my axe oiled and shared, my spear and shield ready.

We have studied their armour well and are not so proud that we can't take the advice of the Highlanders who have faced Sandoria before. The Tribesmen and the Highlanders mostly get along well enough, tall blue eyed, blond and red haired people that could easily be our cousins by the look of them, it is almost like we have found our long lost kin. They drink as well as us but their women are softer which many Tribesmen are discovering isn't always a bad thing, on the contrary.

The deciding factor in our peoples getting along so well is their insistence on joining the fight against the southerners. Any tribesman is gonna respect a person that's so eager for a good fight. Apparently, the Highlanders have an even lower population than us and they have a bone to pick with the short southerners that always outnumbered them and killed or took away many of their kin into slavery.

The chiefs are eager to accept once it becomes apparent the will be more than enough southerners for everyone to kill twice over. The drinking and fucking is at an all-time high the day the southerners entered our lands. A celebration both to christen the new city, Paradisum and to celebrate the coming bloodshed.

Never before have our people ever been so ready and wound up for a fight. But we are in this for the long haul and so we gathered allies where we can and repelled opponents where we can't.

The envoys to the elves leave and never returned. The envoy to the dwarves across the continent has returned but not bearing the news that was expected. These strange thick accented dwarves the ancestral people of our Dawn dwarves turn out to be complete assholes. Refusing to work with us so long as we associated with the Dawn Dwarves.

''They can go fuck themselves!''

''Here here!'' The Dawn Dwarves are more than happy to see the Stone Dwarves leave, re-affirming themselves to our cause against any invaders.

The Stone Dwarves were quickly put in their places and sent home, mostly in one piece. The Dawn Dwarves are so moved by this that they decided to give us the next batch of spiritual weapons at a 20% reduced rate. An unheard of gesture for anyone who knows the dwarves.

I have spent over a year at the mountain learning a craft and a different way of fighting. The war hammer is a greatly honoured weapon amongst the dwarves. Surprisingly, even more so than the axe. They have legends of hammer-wielding heroes and entire books on the subject of the hammer. I didn't learn their letters but I did learn their methods.

Though they aren't physically joining the fight, they are more than happy to help prepare us. Arming us, healing us and providing teaching in their ways of fighting and smithing. From the forge to the practice yard I practically had a hammer with me 80 hours of the day for a year in Anastasia.

I learnt to use it with both hands as sometimes in the forge you can't stop without ruining all your work even when your shoulder is on fire with fatigue, forearm tightly knotted and hand cramping. You just have to change hands. Easy fix, but the arms aren't equally skilled, we're equally skilled. I'm close to being completely ambidextrous though.

There are two types of war hammers valued by the dwarves. The short haft close range hammer, needing a shield and is great in tight spaces.

Then the long haft war hammer. For a Barbarian it isn't that long. Maybe 3 feet long in total which I discovered that it's the perfect length for me. A hammer needs gauntlets or you might lose fingers quick, but besides that, I'm a decking ball in the training yard with the hammer.

Mixing with other people quickly showed us how much potential we have and haven't been developing. Training. An unknown concept to the natural warriors that we are seems to have unlocked a code hidden in our ancestral blood that just needed the right push. Who would have imagined that a person could train until they went into the Rage from sheer exhaustion! These are exciting times and with the help of the dwarven masters in fighting in formation and shield walls, the Highlanders, masters of the double-handed long sword we are a force that even an Ancestral Beasts of the Dawn would surely hesitate to face.

The people sent into the forest all returned disappointed as the dwarven and elven druids turned them away. Saying without the ability to Awaken to magic no Barbarian will ever be a druid, its just an excuse though as already 120 Barbarians have confirmed their Awakening. Truly exciting times.

We did find the orcs amongst the mountain tribes, but they are a diminished people. Decimated by an Ancestral Beast they had apparently picked a fight with years ago. Saved from extinction on the continent only because of the beasts nature not to kill wantonly.

We gave those poor fools supplies and left them to their fate. The world is a dangerous place and any fool who picks a fight with an Ancestral Beast is too stupid to be alive. They were lucky it only killed a few dozen thousand of them.

Daewon is the most changed of everyone I know, practically unrecognizable. Still wielding a spear and a dagger, but training with the big-breasted southern sorceress Crysta and the strange old lightening man Zhen. Though he can't use magic his spirit energy is apparently in a league of its own. Called a prodigy by the Seers, they leave him in the woman's hands a few hours a day. After which he joins the spear wielders for training then the Seers who study his dungeon sphere.

There is also some elite training conducted by a few of the fae. Apparently, each fae has a speciality in something. It’s apparently difficult to stay alive as long as they do without obsessing over something and Shaolin More is obsessed with the spear, the greatest weapon ever to exist according to him. 'Independently invented and reinvented hundreds of times throughout the entire Seven Worlds. Used for time immemorial and still in use today because of its effectiveness.'

We've been preparing and training for two years, fighting skemishes with some of the orcs tribes, killing Sandorian scouting units, learning to smith.

During this two year bloody training the gruesome injuries inflicted and sustained would have been sure deaths or maimings without the fae. Their presence allowes us to push ourselves to the extreme.

Not all is good and happy at all times though as feuds between clans result in a few rapes, murders and murder attempts fairly frequently. Even us, the lovers of battle and the worshipers of a great death are still human and we mourn loved ones lost too soon.

The city of Paradisum was a great initiative and quickly surpassed our greatest ambitions and expectations. But having all the tribes in one place pushes us to explore and experiment with ways of governance we had never explored before. The chiefs and other elders with advisors that have travelled and some that are well-read or even foreigners are trying to solve the issue of governance that will thereafter solve these new kinds of problems.

The Jotnar had surprised everyone by coming down from their mountain valley in force. Revealing the presence of the giant Jotnar men who are bearded and scruffy even by the standards of the Tribes. Large, handsome pale eyed men all over 7 feet tall with prodigious strength and stamina truly terrible to fight and vicious beyond the norm. The Jotnar reveal a breeding program that has been going on apparently for centuries right under the tribes' noses with an Ancestral Beast happily being the stud and patriarch of a new line of peoples.

Big, strong people nearly impervious to the mountain cold. But all these big bastards bred from the Jotnar beast have lost their berserker rage. Somehow seeming diminished to the rest of the tribesmen even with their good looks, giant cocks and never-ending stamina. Not that the Norse women didn't avail themselves to them. There has been much contention and friction between the different tribes with everyone all within the same settlement but things have been settling down as the Sandies push more and more aggressively into the Tundra.

The fae were apparently shocked to discover three Ancestral Beasts within 10 000 miles of each other. Though not as territorial as lesser beasts, they are known to be protectors of Gaia and to cover vast lands in their scouting and as part of their domain. One at the Dawn, another deeper within the mountains and the Jotnar beast not even a thousand miles from Paradisum in the Jotnar controlled mountain woodlands.

*

My unit and I prepare to face a force of about two thousand of the Southerners. Though they will know of our presence long before we get to them, hopefully, their reinforcements cannot arrive in time to make a difference.

The fae have changed the terrain in favour of the defenders subtly throughout the years and now those changes have been forcing the larger force of southerners to split up into units allowing our smaller numbers the advantage.

"Are you ready?" A veteran warrior from the Scavengers asks. She is in charge of this raiding force.

Her second is another veteran, but a quieter warrior, Skylark of the Jotnar. Though he is also the spawn of an Ancestral Beast he isn't as big but definitely as good looking. I like him though; he is very good with the sword and shield.

I grunt my ascent as everyone else acknowledges her question.

"Alright, all of you take a piss now 'cause we rush them in 2 minutes. Om, you stay behind with Jorri and Boari we'll drive some towards you. Watch our backs from a distance in case we miss anything. Remember, we don't have to kill them all. Just remind them that this is a fight, not a dance."

I grunt again and wait with the two idiots as the rest rush forward. A hundred flanking each side of the Southerner camp and about 300 rushing to the middle.

I wonder how Sachihiro is doing. I always looked up to him a little but by the spirits I'll never admit that to anyone. At this point I'm probably a better fighter than he is, is he even still alive the strange idiot that he sometimes is.

If he hasn't been training then everyone in the tribe is probably a better fighter than he is. I watch as the southerners get into formation. Getting advanced warming from either their magics or the noise. I shake my head.

As a hunter I know how to be quiet in the forest some of these other tribes though are hopeless.

The first casualty is a tribesman as lightning, darkness and gas balls of fire are flung towards them. But it doesn't stop the charge as war cries ring out and the two forces meet in a spray of blood, shit, tears and sweat.

The war has begun.