“The term of a killing field typically denoted an area that had been prepared for either combat or ambush, often liberally seeded with traps and other unpleasantness. Should an enemy force blunder into one such area, if properly prepared, it would be rare for them to be able to leave on their own volition.” - Laugge les Charl, prominent tactician from the Clangeddin-Knallzog conflict, circa 407 VA.

By the time the mounted raiders - forty-three in all - had approached the section of the road Erycea’s group were stationed in, it was a good half hour later. The weather had been rainy of late, and as a result the roads were somewhat waterlogged and muddy, which forced the riders to slow down their horses to avoid a tumble or worse, since a fall when galloping at high speeds could easily result in fatal injuries to both the rider and the mount.

It was raining by then, a drizzle that turned into a steady downpour. Visibility was poor as a result, and the mounted raiders entered the stretch of road that had been prepared by Erycea’s group in the past day or so without any suspicion whatsoever. In the poor visibility, not a single one of them noticed the length of sturdy rope stretched across the road at ankle height, tied to trees on either side of the rope.

At least, not until it was too late.

The first five riders were fortunate. Their steeds happened to skip over the outstretched rope without even noticing its presence. However, the sixth and seventh rider in line behind them were not as lucky, as their steeds’ forelegs tripped against the rope, which held and caused both horses to stumble end over end together with their riders. One of the riders was thrown hard against the ground, and he was the fortunate one as the other rider was crushed beneath his falling steed.

Another two riders behind the fallen ones failed to react fast enough, and their steeds also fell, not because of the rope - which they avoided - but because they tripped on the fallen steeds ahead of them, becoming part of the pile-up that ensued. Those further behind at least had just enough time to avoid the pile of writhing men and horses, but they had no idea that more traps awaited them ahead.

Just as the riders who were at the head for the formation - the first five who had been fortunate to avoid the trap - breathed a sigh of relief, a whinny full of pain came from one of their horses as its foreleg fell into a pit dug into the road and camouflaged with dirt and branches. The short fall itself had not injured the animal which caught itself, but the momentum of its own trot pushed it forward and snapped the limb, throwing its rider hard against a tree in the process.

As his neck snapped and his back broke on the impact, the rider was instantly killed before he realized what happened.

Their torment wasn't even done yet. Even as the riders behind them slowed down to avoid the traps, those at the front found that the stretch of road ahead of them had been churned into mud that reached halfway up the horses’ shins. They too were forced to slow down due to the poor footing and the mud further slowing them down.

Then a large wooden log swung towards them from above. Two of the horses were fast enough to react and ducked their heads underneath the swinging log, but another three had their heads crushed and their necks snapped by the force of the swinging log. The log had not even paused and gone on to smash their riders off their steeds, though some of them managed to jump away in time rather than be smashed by it.

When other riders reached the muddy section, they too were met with more swinging logs, which eventually forced the riders to dismount and trundle through the mud on foot, while they tried to lead their horses by the reins. By then less than half of the forty plus riders remained, as others had fallen pretty to the various traps, but they forged onward out of a strong desire for survival.

Just as they had stepped out of the mud and saw the clear road ahead of them, they found more traps awaiting them before their morale could even rise up. Slender, flexible branches had been tied to trees on the sides of the road, with several wooden stakes tied to them, then bent as far as they would go. When those branches were released, they whipped out towards the road at great speeds, and the stakes tied to them directly skewered several horses and riders.

The assault forced the rest of the surviving riders towards the center of the road, their numbers further diminished. Even before they could try to mount up their steeds, however, arrows, javelins, daggers, and other projectiles flew from the trees that lined the sides of the roads, aimed directly at the riders themselves and felling another half of the remaining fifteen or so men and women.

That was when Erycea’s platoon sprung their ambush.

She had been ordered to catch some of the raiders, for both interrogative purposes and to be made examples to soothe the victimized populace. Since she was told that a few were fine, Erycea had chosen not to risk her platoon at all, and instead whittled down the raiders through various traps while they themselves remained in the safety of the forest.

At the sight of how dozens of armed mercenaries flooded out from the sides of the road, most of the raiders lost their mettle and gave up right then and there. Only one of them tried to exhort the rest to resist and to sell their lives dearly, probably a commander amongst the raiders, and thus a more worthwhile target to capture.

The man’s exhortations were cut short when a crossbow bolt and a throwing dagger struck him on both of his shoulders at roughly the same time, as Aurora and Ayrie cut his tirade short.