As you left your favorite wineshop, a small, dark-cloaked man, once adorned in the fearsome dress of the templars, abruptly shoulders into you. Your initial reaction is instinctive, a bristle of fury at the audacity of someone blocking your way. Before any altercation unfolds, he halts and pushes back his hood. It's Hasaval, a templar you know. "Ah, it's you," he says. "I came looking for you. Come inside, and let me buy you a drink." Without awaiting your response, he takes the lead, guiding you back indoors.

Once inside, Hasaval shares his plan, expressing his desire to have Templar Girias as a commander in the army. Both of you agree on the importance of meeting with Girias to discuss and solidify the strategy.

As they passed the poor quarter to tell Agis of their progress, they stumbled upon a market square where a gathering of citizens huddled around a well. The familiar sounds of market activities were conspicuously absent, replaced by an air of tension. A tall speaker, standing before the crowd, passionately proclaimed, "People of Tyr, hear me! You are being deceived! In your pursuit of freedom, you've merely swapped one tyrant for another. Kalak is gone, but now we have Tithian and his lying council plotting against us. They claim an army threatens Tyr, urging you to take arms against the so-called evil King Hamanu of Urik. But these are lies!"

The speaker continued, challenging the crowd, "Who among you has spoken to King Hamanu? Who has asked him why he comes to aid riot-torn Tyr? Only the councilors, who fear the threat to their wealth and power! Hamanu comes to free you from your oppressors. He has heard the cries of the oppressed, even from distant Urik. Do you feel safe from the gangs and thugs of our 'elected' councilors? Stand against this tyranny and resist injustice! Fight the true enemy!"

In response, your group engaged in a spirited debate, skillfully swaying the crowd to your perspective. Faced with opposition, the speaker, realizing the shifting sentiments, hastily fled the scene.

"Impossible!" Agis pronounced. "There's no way to get that much steel." You conveyed the information to Vildeen, announcing that the deal was off. Agis emphasized the importance of ensuring his silence, given Vildeen's potential to stir up trouble in the council chambers. It was crucial not to mishandle the situation.

Instead of steel, a different arrangement was proposed. Vildeen could be compensated with service. The senator agreed to provide 70 soldiers if the group contracted to serve him. The contract, bound by Tyrian law, stipulated that after the war's conclusion, Senator Vildeen would require them to undertake a particularly dangerous and odious mission.

Lost soldiers wandered from commander to commander. Farmers stumbled through simple drills, apparently unable to understand even the most basic commands. The dust of hundreds of feet clogged the air. The din numbed the hearing. The confusion continued well into the night. During all this, Rexar and his aides organized their units. With dawn, the troops were finally assembled, and orders came to march away from the city. It was early afternoon before Rikus called for a halt. Camp was made, and many guards were posted to prevent desertion.

A courier arrived in their camp, his clothes soaked in sweaty grime. A message for Rexar from Rikus. He requested you attend a war council immediately. With complete disregard for Rexar's rank, the messenger jabbed his thumb at a small cluster of tents near the top of a nearby ridge. Over there. Arriving at Rikus's headquarters, Rexar met the other lieutenants. Jaseela, commander of a private army of retainers, lounged on cushions, hardly the image of martial spirit. Grim Styan, master of the templars, brooded in one corner, while behind him stood, stoop-shouldered, Gaanon the half-giant, leader of the gladiators. Agis and Neeva, second-in-command, stood beside Rikus, looking at a map stretched out before them.

The War Council was nothing like a proper military staff meeting. Although Rikus was called commander, he had no authority over the others. As a fellow gladiator, Gaanon generally followed his orders, but Jaseela and Styan were free to do as they pleased. Every meeting, they bargained and argued until everyone agreed on a plan. Commanding this army was not an easy task.

Before calling the meeting to order, Agis took Rexar aside and explained the commander's plan. Rikus wanted to create a small scouting force that would find the Urikite army and report on its movements while the main army advanced along the Tyr-Urik road. The scout force needed a commander, and Rikus wanted that commander to be the player character commander. Rikus called the meeting to order. In the meeting, both Styan and Jaseela decided to approve the choice (they thought the risk was too great to assume). Rexar received a regional map and broad instructions to find the enemy and report on his movements.

Rexar and his aides, recognizing the gravity of the task at hand, meticulously crafted a comprehensive plan to scout the designated areas. Dividing the groups strategically, they ensured both the security of their units and the seamless flow of vital information. However, upon presenting the plan to Rikus, the commander expressed dissatisfaction with certain elements. This necessitated careful adjustments, requiring additional deliberation and fine-tuning to align with Rikus's expectations. Despite the initial challenges, the revised plan ultimately gained approval, setting the stage for the upcoming scouting mission. 

In the morning, a patrol reported numerous tracks moving through one of the great cuts in the rugged buttes. Identifying the origin of these tracks or determining their numbers proved to be a challenging task for the townsmen, and their limited reconnaissance capabilities left much to be desired. Grateful that the tracks were noticed at all, more information was clearly required. Luckily, their sergeant displayed some sense by noting landmarks, and he felt confident in guiding the group back.

The trek consumed two hours of hard marching through the rocky badlands. As they followed the trail, approximately an hour into their journey through the bottom of a sandy ravine, a sudden barrage of spears descended upon them from the top of the ravine—an unexpected ambush. The patrol, caught off guard, became the target of a gith ambush as the gith, having noticed the group's noise and dust, circled back and lay in wait for the perfect moment. Employing the buttonhook tactic, the gith now held the advantages of both high ground and surprise. Despite their best efforts, many of the patrol members fell to the gith before Rexar and the survivors chose the grim option of fleeing, leaving their fallen comrades behind.

Tonight, their bones ached from the strong desert chill accompanying the dark. Wrapped tightly in blankets, they heard a soft gurgle from somewhere nearby. Magnamus psychically checked on the noise, and as his mind advanced, he saw something soft. Stooping to investigate, his mind brushed something warm and wet—the cut throat of a guard!

Suddenly, there was a flash! The black glint of obsidian nicked his projection, just missing it. A tall, thin figure, jagged sword in hand, loomed out of the darkness. Magnamus raised an alarm. Fifty elf marauders were attacking the camp. They had already murdered the guards and were now slaughtering the sleeping.

The elves attacked in three groups. Thirty entered the camp from the north, while 10 pressed in on the east and west flanks. They left the troopers an escape route, hoping the men would bolt, leaving their goods behind. The soldiers fled into the night.

The group stood and fought, easily killing many elves with Magnamus' stomp ability and Luigi's Shatter ability. The battle quickly became a race against time as the remaining elves fled the camp and disappeared into the night. They found little of value on the dead elves, but they had earned the respect and trust of their men, particularly the experienced gladiators and templars.

Rexar took the reserves and the other aides to investigate, while Mario raised his brother as an undead. They followed the trail as it plunged into the desert, roughly holding to the course of the Tyr road. For miles, it wound its way past gaunt outcroppings of rock rising above the sandy dunes. Jagged stones sliced their sandals. There was little time to waste, for even then the trail was vanishing as the winds swept the sands smooth again.

The men were thirsty and tired; the day was still broiling hot even at this late hour. They roused from the torpor of the march only long enough to look anxiously toward the setting sun. Soon darkness and all its horrors would sweep down upon them far from camp.

Knowing the trail was not likely to be there tomorrow, they pressed on, getting close enough to observe the Urikite army. Well before they were in sighting distance, a greasy haze in the sky indicated the smoke of innumerable cooking fires, and closer still, a muted rumble of thousands of men. Tracks abounded throughout the area.

Advancing with caution, they reached a weathered sandstone outcrop near the main army camp. From the top of this tor, the group had a good view of the Urikite army that darkened the sandy plain below. They counted standards, fires, wagons, or whatever they could to get an estimate of the army's size (approximately 10,000 strong).

At dusk, they found a psionicist at the tor, intent on meditating at the top. Surprising him, they took him captive before returning to camp.

The first glow of the false dawn colored the burnt red-brown sands of the waste when a rider galloped into camp. Barely letting his kank stop, the messenger, a mere youth, dropped from his saddle and hurried to where they waited. Commander Rikus asked if they would please start their plan so he could begin his march with the other commanders. In the spirit of the new democracy, he asked, "Shall I tell him you have decided to grant his request?"

With Girias in command, confusing orders were given that delayed the start of the march. Other problems included units getting lost in the dark, animals running away, and even arguments over which noblemen's unit would lead the advance. The sheer size of the enemy's scouting force, perhaps 200 strong, with kank riders and halflings, was terrifying. The group grew nervous as the enemy did not immediately charge out.

Rexar launched some raids to draw the enemy's advance, which remained wary and cautious. Rexar did something bold to have the enemy scouts take the bait. More than once during the chase, the enemy turned back, and Rexar had to act boldly and quickly to draw them out again. Finally, at some point late in the chase, an unexpected group of enemies suddenly appeared on the vanguard's flank. Panic rose in the ranks, and Rexar had to act quickly to retain control.

This cat-and-mouse game went on for hours. Finally, just as Rexar's troops gained a little distance on their pursuers, exhaustion set in. The vanguard had to stop and make its stand against overwhelming forces.

To the east, the attackers' ominous dust cloud emerges on the horizon, casting a foreboding shadow over the desolate landscape. Within moments, a relentless procession of wild halflings comes into stark view. The reputation of these savage creatures strikes terror into the hearts of Tyr's citizen-soldiers. As the impending threat draws nearer, Urvas, gripped by fear, seeks refuge behind a rocky outcropping, rendering him incapable of inspiring his troops.

Amidst the mounting tension, Rexar and his aides step forward, their voices cutting through the air like a clarion call. They deliver impassioned speeches, invoking the hard-fought freedoms, beseeching the soldiers to stand resolute for their loved ones, and recounting the grim consequences of a retreat. The desolate landscape echoes with the weight of their words, attempting to fortify the shaken resolve of the troops.

Yet, in this crucible of fear and determination, an insidious presence lurks. Puram, the spy, stealthily maneuvers through the ranks, weaving whispers of panic and dissent before being dealt with, permanently. The air is thick with apprehension as the soldiers grapple with conflicting emotions. The impending clash with the halfling horde becomes a dire test of not only physical strength but also the resilience of their collective spirit.

As the echoes of combat fade into the distance, the distant sounds of ongoing battle reach the ears of the exhausted soldiers. Yet, responding to the urgent need of treating the wounded and burying the fallen comrades takes precedence, leaving the defeated Urikites to the mercy of the desert. Despite exhortations, several hours pass before the army regains the ability to move, with the weary soldiers, burdened by the weight of their injured comrades, appearing to crawl across the desert plain.

By the time the group discovers the main army after sundown, the march is guided by the hellish glow of campfires and the mournful moans of thousands of wounded. A courier leads them through the battlefield to Rikus's camp, where the victorious yet battered commanders, including Gaanon, Styan, Jaseela, Neeva, and Agis, await. Wine flows freely as tales of the defeat of Urik's forces are shared. The Tyrian army, using the successful baiting of Urikite scouts, executed a strategic maneuver, setting up an ambush that led to the retreat of the Urikite army.

Senator Agis emphasizes the group's success in accomplishing the crucial task of luring away Urikite scouts, allowing the Tyrian army to position itself advantageously. The day, hard-fought and uncertain until the end, resulted in the complete destruction of the Urikite army, eliminating the immediate threat to Tyr. Eager with the taste of victory, Rikus proposes pressing on to take the war to Urik, but the weariness of the others prevails. Tonight, they revel in their achievements, content with the impact they've made.