Ambush of Southern Transfer Caravan

We wait, crouched low hidden in the thick brush and full trees. It takes hours before we hear the sounds of wagon wheels along the road. I can feel the tension shift tighter among us. My heart pounds in my chest as I wait, watching where I know Silas to be laying in wait just ahead of me. Stergios sits to the left of me behind the largest tree we could find on this side of the roadway. A crow calls from farther away and I can see Stergios shift. Minutes later I can see in a gap between the growth a sliver of wood from one of the carts. The earth shakes beneath us and we here shouts of alarm. Silas and a few others stand behind the trees with bows, firing arrows toward the road. The earth shakes again and I duck an arrow flying towards me, I hear the thunk of it hitting the tree behind my head.
Shouts of alarm come from our side now as men with spears start heading in from the tree line. Static builds to my right and I spot Ze dodging a spear before an arc of light travels from their fingers to the tip of it, the man drops it and they use the distraction to get in close before slamming their palm into the man's uncovered neck. He drops and I pull my attention away. In front of me Silas shoulders his bow and takes his sword from his hip. Before I break from the trees I reach for one and take the life from it, the large pine’s needles turn brown and shower down around me as the ground shakes again.
I make my way out of the trees. Four large carts make up the caravan, a few dozen Loyalist fight with the fifteen Gifted who pour out of the woods from all sides. Rock protrudes from where broken cart wheels are wedged, more walls of rock cover our archers at the front of the caravan. Stergios is no longer to my left, 3 Gifted take on a handful of Loyalists.
A fog reaches for their feet and they stumble, legs locking up, the Gifted rush forward. I reach the first cart right behind Silas, he cuts down a man and is fighting with another two when I get to the back. A row of several Gifted sit shackled, with a Loyalist holding the tip of his sword to a girl's neck.
I feel the thrum from the pine under my skin as I slowly edge toward him with my hands up. He demands that I stop, I step forward more, and he points the blade at me. I burst forward, side stepping the blade to wrap my hand around his wrist. I take the life from him, looking only toward the frightened, thin and dirty faces of the Gifted. He drops, I grab the keys from his waist and start to unlock some shackles. When I spot the bolt holding the chains to the cart I hand the keys to the free person and pull, the pins holding onto the floor rip from the wood.
I wrench harder at the link connecting it and the chains, it bends, shattering. Free from the cart they begin to unlock their hands, one of them takes up the sword of the dead man and guards the back of the cart. The final chain drops and we exit, I look over the area but I don’t see Silas. I hope he is ok.
I turn to the freed Gifted, and say “If you can and will fight, pick up weapons from the dead and protect those who can’t, we get them to the woods. If you spot any wounded, take them too.”
From the cart behind us more Gifted, these ones still shackled, shuffle out as quick as they can. I hear shouts and see Loyalists begin to divert their attention toward us. An arrow hits one of the shackled. He falls and the others try to drag him with. Me and two freed Loyalists run to help. Swords and Gifts clash together, metal ringing out as the panicked bound Gifted get caught in the middle. I try to reach the lock only to duck a sword, it slices into someone's arm.
I reach up and grab them, take or give? I look up, Loyalist insignia marks their chest, I take it all, they drop. I see the lock and reach for it, I pull and the chain connecting them all slides free. The wounded man lays on the dirt, forgotten in the scuffle. I grab his collar and drag him back towards the woods, leaving the fray behind.
At the edge behind a cropping of Stergios-made rocks lies a group of Gifted, several of them greatly wounded, the non-fighting Gifted from the caravan trying their best to keep them alive. I should have been here. The thrum of the life under my skin feels sour. I drag the wounded man to where the others lie. An arrow sticks out of his stomach, blood bright on his clothes. I pull it as gently as I can, he barely moans. More blood rushes and I squeeze the man's hand, I give, and I give. His wound begins to close. I let go and move on to the next.
I make it four people in before the thrum of the dead men empties from me completely. I shove my hand into the dirt and keep going, taking and giving. I heal two more before all the plant life around us dies.

Conflict Type

Skirmish

Belligerents

Loyalists

• Temple Loyalists

Led by

• Miron
• Theocritus

Gifted

• The Gifted-Rebellion Group

Led by

• silas-person-archived-1627831842silas-person-archived-1627831842

Strength

Casualties

Objectives