Unknown
"Are we ready?" I ask the 23 men and women assembled before me.
"You know I quit like it here. These Sandorians show proper reverence to men accomplished in the magical arts," Albert says nursing a chalice of wine.
"The negotiations are complete," Diana says quickly. "The Tier 3 magicians are already on the move, our presence here will not be felt."
Assad nods. "Once the Sandorians have bypassed the Barbarians getting in and out without the fae detecting should be easier."
"What did these ingrains finally settle on in exchange?" I ask, Cecile smiles knowingly. She has been enjoying herself the most in this new land we've discovered.
"We taught them how to commune with spirits and got them on the path to making permanent enchaments," Assad says. "Nothing they wouldn't have discovered themselves with a little traveling and trading but still priceless technology that puts them in our debts."
"Good. Well, let's get ready to swoop in and collect the ore when the borders open."
We raise our glasses in salute and drink. All seems to be going well for the Circle.
*
Sachihiro
The arrival of the Maori was the beginning of the end. Large tall men comparable to Barbarians but slightly more rounded. Using mostly hatchets, clubs, bludgeons and maces. Weapons I see were designed to fight men in armour but just as effective against us if not more so.
Only through going berserk and the benefit of training could we overpower them in battle. That and waiting them out, for we still had greater stamina than them. But the southern generals knew this and only used the Maori when a battle was close to being decided.
The dwarves still pushing us back and replacing the troops needed to fight a retreating battle when the Sandies changed out their lines. By that point we were outnumbered 4 to 1 in our own lands. Cursing ourselves for the many years of infighting that always culled our population, preventing us from proliferating the land.
The changing tactics and different specialized fighting groups confusing our war-chiefs and their planners. One of the greatest shocks came when the old man Zhen informed us that several grandmaster magician had joined the army.
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This shocked us for two reasons, firstly because the mages up to this point had killed the most tribesman and where the most difficult to counter. Our warriors only saved by the ability of artifacts to deflect or block magic somewhat. And here was this old man telling us we weren't facing the best magics the southerners had all this time, no, we've been facing mere master magicians, magisters and simple magicians.
The second shock was that if old man Zhen was correct in his estimate of their power in comparison to what we've been facing, then we had absolutely no counter for them. A magician is apparently a person newly Awakened to their element and still learning new things. The difference between a magician and a magister is knowledge and experience.
Magisters have furthered their study and have expertise magicians don't initially have. The difference between a magister and a master magician being power level. Such a great power difference that even two magisters cannot hope to face a master and survive.
The difference between master and grandmaster being even more power. Compatible to Awakened King on the martial path. Grandmasters are not even commanded by the king. So if they are here, they are here by choice. Ready to put an end to this war by obliterating us.
That was the beginning of our fall. The beginning of the fall of the tribes. Our pyre was built and oiled in preparation for the death of my people.
The torch though, the conniving elves carried the torch as they joined our enemies. The Sun Elves that lived in at the other side of the Dawn, where humanoid apparently aren't hunted by beasts after dawn. The Dawn, a forest know as the Sun Forest.
When the Sandersonians, the Stone Dwarves, the Maori, the grandmasters, and the Sun Elves combined against us the only thing we could do is surrender or die. And so we died.
When the forces combined against us finally broke through the stranglehold we had on the passages into our towns and villages it marked the beginning of the end for the barbarian ways.
Hundred of thousands of Sandies in their hatred and thirst for revenge. Revenge for the hundreds of thousands of their country men we had sent to the Ever After. Revenge for the audacity we've had to stand against them for so long, revenge for the fear we had put in their hearts.
Leaving the most conquering kingdom in the continent for the past 300 years utterly satiated of war.
They took their rage out on our villages, our women, our children. But even there they fought for every step of land they took. Even our women and children died with blood on their axes, their daggers, their teeth. The hate that allowed the Sandies to endure the sight of war and slaughter. Protecting their delicate psyche from the realities of war also allowed them to commit unspeakable atrocities. The greatest of which was marking the souls of our people into obedience, slavery. Soul bound slavery, a despicable invention.
The southerners came with slavery, and it was a crime we couldn't allow stand. And we died in our thousands in outrage and Rage. Fighting no longer for the pleasure of it, for the glory of it, for making a name for ourselves in history.
But for something more primal than even survival, we fought for our souls and the souls of our people.