Report - W.Caravan - ... WIC edition

Chapter 26 - Adaptability Is a Natural Gift

Rattlers - Their favorite move is an encirclement and periodical attacks from there, but if they can get the numbers they may even form a spearhead and charge into exposed or weakened flanks in an attempt to break into the back of the encircled prey. And sadly for me,  they're quiet. Even after spending nearly 2 hours around a horde of unknown size I still cannot give any number more accurate than 40-70. This means I cannot predict where they will strike, where they will ambush us and where they will move. Our only grace is their light brown skin that fails to camouflage with their surroundings. So I'm not needed to see the advance wave appear behind us.
"Rangers hold fire and await the encirclement, don't waste your ammo!" It's not a good morale idea to let us be encircled, but the more you survive the more you realize that encirclement is just a part of the job.
"Sir, their running circles around us!"
"I KNOW! Hold your fire they're trying to waste your ammo. Let them waste their energy instead they won't be jumping up here unlike the crawlers"
"And the scouts?"
A damn good point. Most of the wall is blocked by a wall of shields and spears and behind sit the crossbows.
"Scouts hang around at the bottom and wait for when they start chomping through the wood"
"THE WHAT?"
"THAT'S AN ORDER!"
Several rattlers screech out mid run with periodical delays. The main force has been alerted and now they will bring their numbers up and then begin to poke holes in us.
"Rangers aim forward towards the road in 2 waves, scouts watch our flanks! Worst comes to worst we got some explosives, but I doubt they'll give us a chance to use them"
I'm far more accurate than these boys so I deal with those around us. Terrifying situation, but the rangers obey and change targets. Score, the reinforcement appears on the road.
"Fire!" And bolts are sent hurdling towards some 13 rattlers.
"Reloading!"
"We got you, we got you"
"2nd wave cover the first!" Too late the survivors join in on the ring before more have arrived.
"Sir?"
"Scouts keep watch and rangers keep watching the road! Either one of us fails and we've got a slow death ahead!" More work for me.
Overall a bad situation, but I won't die so besides losing the 4 garrison boys this is a last test of teamwork in disguise. If they survive this then... well if I hear bad reports about the civilian life that doesn't originate from their PTSD then the whips coming out again.
"Garrison hold with the scouts"
"We got a great bow"
"Ye, were you really expecting to fight rattlers with that?"
"Nope, [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted]," [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [redacted].
"Leave the bow and watch the bottom"
"Understood," synchronized nearly perfectly, at least their optimistic.
A 2nd thundering of paws rings out a mere second before I'm alerted by the rangers.
"Fire!" And repeat.
From the wagon wall it appears hopeless nearly. The rattlers are some truly unique creatures for no one else is willing to spend so long running in useless circles just to keep the prey guessing. The strength of the shields and the materials of the wall phases them just about as much as the prospect of running over the spiky balls on the ground in front. I still have no idea how they do it without losing morale because that is extremely fatal to them, not talking of the few I've downed. Then I hear a crack.
"Sir, one approached the wagon wall!"
"Can you reach it?"
"Did, but the spikes screwed it up beforehand!"
"Men keep watch for any more that look for weak spots"
Wave 3 appears.
"Rangers!"
"Got it!" Now the number should be close to 20 dead in front and yet around us I estimate another 20. This is a very large horde and whether the garrison knows it or not, we are in front of it. I'm not an optimist, but 300 is not a large number for most species taking a fort down.
"Sir, more appearing, but from the sides!"
And reinforcements, but not from the road. Either they learned or they're trying to trick us.
"Rangers turn and get as many as you can!" No use they beat us, I failed to see them in time.
"Damn that's gotta be another 20 at least!"
"Keep watch!"
"But, sir! To get them we must reach out from beyond the shield walls so couldn't one of them attack us while were poking out?"
"Now do you understand why you have such large shoulder braces up to your necks? They're not the toughest, but that all depends on if you're faster at stabbing them then they are at getting you!"
Then the cracks become frequent. Similar to a serial killer attack, all around cracks are heard. The attacks are becoming synchronized and soon enough they will start poking their heads inside. They can't jump over the wagons and onto the shields, but they can jump over the shields. I do not wish to be in a cramped shield wall with these guys.
"Scouts if something ugly appears in the boards then smack it!"
"Wish we had blades that weren't meant for swinging!"
"The end is still sharp just turn the blade downwards, a good stab is all it takes with them!"
If I pull them off the wagons then I may very well resign the caravans cargo to its fate and fail my mission. Any earth wall will be the last move to make sure I don't pass out from exhaustion and leave them with an unclear path of attack against those who will climb up one way or another. Conjuration my dear friend I need assistance again. The rattlers don't look up when it rains so no one here sees a new cloud appearing. A clean legbreakers axe and several pieces of rope have already appeared before right into my palms. Now an outline begins to form above and leave behind a dark cloud, same as the natural ones, but at a far lower elevation, then it splits in two. Right along the paths used by the runners falls a knife then 2, then 3, then 4. Soon enough the rainstorm of blades is spotted by every creature around, hit or not, and a shriek is sounded. A few break and then the rest follow.
"RANGERS!"
"On it!" A small volley is sent out towards the disorganized mass running away.
"B2, is it over?"
"Highly doubtful, remain in position"
A tense 2 minutes and 13 seconds pass before I hear them again. We searched the boxes and we have agreed on a plan B. If it comes to it we will use the bombs and most of the provisions wagon and light them, most unwillingly agreed to losing most of our food, cigarettes, alcohol and clothes, and the garrison boys CAN throw. The success of the following moves all depends on our enemies decisions. If they do a slow encirclement we could very well be screwed here, but if they attack. The leaders usually join the spearheads near the front. I just need 1 good shot and this might still be salvageable. A messenger bird has been sent to the fort, but I'm doubtful they get here before we're done.
"Round 2! Rangers!"
"At least theres no trees this time!"
"Shut it and shoot!" And the trees would help split them up, but yes then it would be harder to hit them.
"Alright, wait for them to get near, split and then cover me while I jab th-"
A great force shakes the whole wagon of the poor fool talking and everyone onboard. They did split, but a major force remained on path and rammed into the wall. Either they're tired, unlikely, or the leader is nearby and he's angry at their failure. And the first long face pokes out in the sides.
"Scouts!"
"On it!"
The first board has broken off. A 2nd wave crashes behind. They're attempting to pin us in from 2 sides.
"Garrison hold back. Watch so they don't make a 3rd breakthrough and if they do I need you to hold it off"
"Understood"
And good timing aswell, a 3rd crash in between the 2 pincers. Currently we are being attacked from 3/4 of our sides and with every second the potential for a new poke to appear increases dramatically. More and more shields are being injured by the sheer mass awaiting to lung at them as they await to lunge at the rattlers. More and more seem to appear despite the blades that, for them, seemingly appear out of thin air. My heart sinks with every heartbeat for the eventuality that we have to pull into a round shield wall becomes more and more realistic. 
.....................
"Garrison I need you to grab the cargo and move it over to the sides. We're gonna do something risky"
"Break open a path for them?"
"Seems your on board at least"
"Not much choice"
"Get ready to throw the wagons off and get the shields behind that"
"Understood"
The garrison boys have strength, they will make it seem as though the rattlers broke through and hopefully all of their force will be brought there and compressed. Then a good spell and a passed explosive should be crippling enough.
"Move or smash?"
"Smash it to bits!" There's no way to make it natural by lifting it.
It is strange to describe the moment in which a Survivor Brother orders those on the outskirts of humanity to smash one of their precious wagons so that they may funnel a ton of 4 eyes into close combat. It is similar to poetry, but that is not my specialty.
And a wave rushes into the newly 'exposed' flank. The same way they jumped at the wagons with their teeth and claws they repeat on the shields of our men. And the line holds off the charge. The terrifying melee that occurs pins the shields against those that are unable to attack, retreat and attack again. It is a spiral of blind swings and aimless twitching repeated 10 times every other second. The entire battle slowly begins to shift towards the opening as both rattlers and our own men mirror each others positions over to the melee. In the stampede of stabs and claws rings out more than 1 final wail of pain of the rattlers as they request that they be let out. The sound brings the rest over to reinforce them and unknowingly repeat the process by blocking in the rest. In front of the shields is the moment - maximum casualties. If I can land a perfect strike of some sort then this could be the moment to cripple their main force. 
"Rangers watch for more"
Deep breath. A jab in the middle to make movement harder for them and an extra torrent of knives to halt the advancing mass. And worst to comes to worst, I am still a fighter by profession and the iron cladded garrisoneers are itching to show off why their position is eternal like mine. A shriek is yelled out by the 5 rattlers caught in the earth I strike back at them, but these creatures don't care about the pain of another one. The storm comes next and yet they don't break. Bits and pieces appear from around as a few tricky ones try to grab an extra entryway. If this turns out to not be the full force then an early release of our secret weapon will be a waste and they will return to the slow death method. Although a single hope remains. If something is set ablaze and it scares them, then the rest will not understand how fire can appear in the midst of rain and run all the same. As a precaution I head to the nearest medical crate and gather every single chemical and most of our bandages. Set ablaze in this durable metal box they will retain the heat and spew out a miniature flame storm before impact. Unknowingly I would come to use it faster than I predicted. Another thundering roar of paws rings out from behind us, but the old way, the road. ... I do not like to fake numbers or make a legend of all of my maneuvers, but I suspect the number was above 100. We had pulled however many rattlers there were around us to one of the furthest pointed from the road behind us and our spears had followed. The shrieks were more than a final gasp for air it was a message 'the back is open' and no one has noticed it just yet. Quick decisions.
"Garrison I need one of yas to pass me a blast and one of the hard boxes!"
"What for?"
"NOW!"
"Right!"
Change of plans. The explosion will blow open their sides and distract them first to their left and then their right. In this confusion I will throw out the flammable material and it will spray them. If the shock in that moment - that single moment - prevails... then these boys will have a 2nd chance of seeing their homes. 
My hands temperature rises to a bit shy of 100 degrees celsius from fear and panic, it was hard to control, before I grab the ends of the bombs in between my pointer and thumb. I lock the ignited explosive inside and lunge the boxes as far as the ropes permit. The material contains the spark despite any sudden impacts from improper angles or uneven ground and then... kaboom. With a short delay a rather insignificant explosion occurs on the right and then left sides of the spearhead. In a bit of shock not only does the attack falter and become disorganized, but in some place it even stop and appears to be on the edge of routing. Then a single figure stands up on its back legs and emits a howl - the leader.
"GORGER HEAD AND CHEMICALS!"
Shame to throw away such a trophy, but I am B2 of the WBS so in most cases my word is superior over any trophy. The creatures scales and soft underskin are laced in the same medication that most of our previously wounded, and soon to be wounded, have in some bits and pieces inside of their bloodstream. This time it won't heal anyone or anything, this time it is the most flammable liquid we have and with enough fate, the most effective weapon we have. Not too long after the charge is reassembled I raise my hand again. The flaming gorger head makes 1 spin around my head so as not to hit the rangers, who are half pissing themselves because they just noticed what's behind us, before it's directed at the center of the arrow shape. Like a cannonball grazing through a crawler tunnel it lands and it strikes well. Later count seems to reveal I struck at least 25, but that wouldn't mean much if I hadn't struck their leader. Again part of the attack peels off, another part stops and now a new part tries to take command. 
"Pass me more!"
"B2! They're breaking through!"
"Not for long"
Another set of boxes are thrown and then 2 more. Each pair containing enough medicine and beer to create a flame spray upon arriving above the creatures positions. That seals the deal. Unable to find anyone who can bring them together and afraid of both the fire, and the confusion of seeing fire during rain, the rattlers begin to retreat. First only 1 or 2, but with every rattler that retreats morale drops and another flees. The cycle repeats until the attackers at the other end get the signal and pull off while they still have a functional body to bring them home.
"Rangers! Everyone fire at whatever!" And with the closest weapon anyone can throw the battle ends.
"Scouts makeshift roof, rangers get the injured!"
"Do we have enough medicine?"
"Oh you really thought I'd throw everything didn't ya? Bring them here and get the garrison boys maybe they'll be better at teaching you then I am"
[22:05]
"Some maniac call for backup?" Theres our fort reinforcements.
"We didn't, but B2 did" one of the garisoneers with us responds.
"Well well well, the B2, no wonder theres enough rattler bodies around to feed us for a week"
"Thanks for the compliments, but not now. These boys need rest and food and we have some... storage problems"
"How much we talking?"
"Well you had builders coming by so if they can be sent with them then 1 nights worth of rest and food"
"We got that, then let's get moving. What needs carrying?"
"Whatever doesn't have a wagon anymore"
"Like this broken one back here and the ones with holes in the bottom?"
"Ye funny story. Can you grab everything that can't fit in the wagons?"
"You got it, as long as you carry the weapons"
"Give 'em here," Easier to carry several axes and swords than a whole wagon by myself.
"Right garisoneers we don't usually do this, but one way or another we must protect the weak. Especially if they keep us alive and bring us our mail," That was a joke, but the caravaneers don't take it lightly.
"Here, doc boy pass me the wounded lets get this caravan over to the fort and quick"
With the addition of the newly wounded and the lost wagon we offload some of the extra packages onto the garrison reinforcements. Medicine was enough and no one seemed to be fataly close to death so at worst maybe 1 or 2 will die from diseases later. Casualties were low, but they will be the only ones to wholly return to safety.
"Ah, hold it youngies don't ya see? That wheel is busted. Ye the screws are rusted and next to breaking"
"Ye, no one here knows how to fix that and we don't really have the time"
"Fine, pusher move. K, T, F grab the other corners were carrying this wooden box on our shoulders. And the rest of you grab in-between"
If there was any doubts from these caravaneers about the physical unpreparedness of us eternals, even after the giant, then something tells me that all changed when these guys picked up the heaviest and most packed wagon and carried it all the way back on their shoulders.
"Caravan march! This time it really will be the last"