Session 35
Siege of Tyr
Siege of Tyr
You spot Agis at the gate, his tense demeanor evident as he beckons you inside. Leading you to a wine shop, he waits until you're seated before emerging from a shadowy corner. His cautious gaze scans the surroundings to ensure no one has followed you. Seated once more, Agis, your contact, expresses gratitude for your prompt attendance and delves into the urgent matter at hand.
"Thank you for coming to this meeting, especially on such short notice. There is trouble brewing for Tyr—perhaps you have heard rumors of it. No? Well then, let me be the first to tell you. The word from King Tithian and the council is that Tyr is under attack. I don't mean this instant; I mean that King Hamanu, the sorcerer-king of Urik, has dispatched an army to capture Tyr and claim it for his own. Hamanu styles himself a warlord, although he relies on Tyr for the iron in his weapons. Apparently, King Kalak cut off supplies long ago, and now Hamanu is coming to reopen the mines under his control."
Agis continues, revealing Tithian's actions and appointments, expressing doubts about their sincerity. He emphasizes the need for external help to ensure Tyr remains a free city. "I'm counting on you for some of that help," he states.
He proceeds to brief you on the complex political landscape, pointing out the reluctance of Senator Vildeen from the Tyrthani family to fully support the cause. Agis stresses the importance of persuading Vildeen to show greater support discreetly, considering Vildeen's popularity. Additionally, gaining the support of the templars is crucial, and you're tasked with navigating these intricate political waters to secure Tyr's future.
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.
In the meeting, Hasaval assumes command and articulates Girias's demands. The elderly templar, trusting that Hasaval is negotiating in his best interest, maintains silence. Girias, a vain and easily flattered individual, appears more preoccupied with his appearance and impressing the troops than with the matters of command and leadership. Expressing boredom, he defers everything to his friend, Hasaval. Throughout, Hasaval persistently pushes the group for a decision, and the party readily agrees.
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.
As the group arrived at the Tyrthani estates, they were made to wait, enduring the indifferent comings and goings of servants who remained tight-lipped in response to any questions. Frustration set in, and eventually, a thin and hollow-eyed human, Hanfros, Senator Vildeen's secretary, joined them on the veranda. With a barely polite bow, he instructed the group to place their weapons on a nearby table, emphasizing that it was a prerequisite for the senator's audience.
The group expressed annoyance and Hanfros subtly coughed, and a curtain rustled, revealing two mul guards. Once satisfied that the group was weaponless, he led them to the senator.
Senator Vildeen, having just finished his bath, received the party in his opulent robes, exuding wealth and power as he reclined on his lounge. Through hooded eyes, he regarded the PCs. Abruptly barking orders at Hanfros, he demanded lunch and informed him of the guests. The secretary, clearly irritated, left the room.
Known for his greed and abrasive demeanor, Senator Vildeen engaged in conversation laden with insults and complaints about everyone, including his own secretary. As a seasoned senator, he understood power dynamics and viewed the party as mere lackeys. Bluntly, he demanded a bribe in the form of enough steel to forge ten swords for his troops. The group, recognizing the political game at play, reluctantly agreed to his terms.
"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.
The time had come at last. King Tithian had announced that the Urikite army was near. Heeding the advice of his councilors, especially the respected Commander Rikus, Tithian had ordered the Army of Tyr into the field. On the appointed morning, official runners were sent to the villas of the nobles, the quarters of the templars, and the old arena. All day long, men gathered at the muster ground outside the city—a motley assortment of men and equipment. Commander Rikus and the other officials watched from the top of the city wall.
As the citizen-soldiers came onto the field, the various lieutenants sorted the men by training, equipment, faction, and class. Clerks noted the numbers of men arriving and estimated the supplies needed. Gladiators, among Tyr's few experienced in the trade of war, prowled the ranks to size up each new trooper. Commander Rikus wanted to know the caliber of his army. As the group watched the troops gather, a courier arrived, searching for Rexar.
Rexar was given a papyrus scroll commissioning him as one of Rikus's lieutenants; the post could not be declined. His commission was granted for his service to the True. The commission gave Rexar the authority to give orders to the troops and allowed him to appoint others as his aides. The new rank brought 5 silver pieces a month. Shortly after, groups of soldiers reported to Rexar—Templars, green gladiators, farmers from House Tyrthani, a group of noble guards, and a few peasant villagers. Garias was also assigned to Commander over Rexar.
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.
In the dimly lit war room, Rexar and his aides were ensnared in heated debates, their voices echoing through the space as they meticulously devised their battle plans. Tension gripped the air, the weight of impending conflict pressing upon them. Every choice, every strategy was dissected and analyzed for its potential merits and pitfalls.
As the flickering candlelight cast shadows on the faces of the strategists, the urgency of the situation became palpable. The fate of their city rested on the decisions made in that room. Each aide passionately defended their viewpoints, arguing for the survival of their comrades and the freedom of Tyr.
Amid the fervent discussions, Rexar, with a furrowed brow and steely determination, weighed the options before him. The war room became an arena of conflicting ideas, where the clash of opinions mirrored the imminent clash of armies. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, the outcome of their debates holding the key to the success or failure of their impending campaign.
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.
As the group leaves the green belt, tensions escalate among the citizens who harbor deep-seated fears that civilization's boundary lies at the edge of the desert, where monsters and savages lurk. The widespread belief that the army would remain within the safety of the greensward is shattered, causing anxiety and suspicion among the men, evident in the strain etched across their faces.
Amidst the gathering of wood for night fires, a disturbance erupts in the Tyrthani troops' camp. The bellowing voice of Urvas echoes throughout as he discovers that five of his men were attempting to desert with essential supplies. Urvas, a pudgy and livid figure, demands severe punishment—either staking the deserters out to die in the scorching sun or subjecting them to slow torture. The deserters, trembling from fear and dehydration, present a wretched sight.
The other commanders concur on the need for punishment as a deterrent. Rexar, seizing the moment, delivers a rousing speech before overseeing the execution of the deserters, sending a chilling message to others who may entertain similar thoughts. T'Taka, in a fit of violent rage, attacks the lifeless bodies of the executed, instilling fear among the onlookers.
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.
A runner sprinted into camp, gasping for breath as he presented himself. Trembling with exhaustion and excitement, he could barely choke out, "Sir, there's a dust cloud on the road! Coming our way!" Waving madly in the direction he came from, directly along the army's route. When the PCs investigated, they saw a small dust cloud approaching. Encouraging caution and paranoia, they wasted time moving slowly closer. Eventually, they discovered the cause of the dust cloud—a merchant caravan with a lone mekillot wagon. Outriders on inixes escorted the patrol to the wagon.
Under a hastily erected pavilion, Rexar parleyed with Kazhal, the caravan captain, and Dlasva, a senior merchant of the Uinjinjum house headquartered in Raam. The caravan had come from Altaruk via Urik many months ago and was now bound for Tyr. T'Taka inspected the cargo, and after dispelling any sense of betrayal, the caravan was sent on its way.
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.
Today's search carried them out onto the sandy dunes beyond the broken lands. The undulating mounds, with deep valleys and foot-slogging slopes, were difficult to traverse. Luigi's scouting group found themselves in a bowl, where the winds had scooped out steep sides. Once at the top, they would have a good view of the surrounding area.
Luigi blundered into the Urikite ambush once they reached the ridge. The group was automatically surprised. Many soldiers of Luigi were slain, and a half-elf defiler dropped many with a lightning bolt before Luigi, in turn, killed him but was chased down by Urikite soldiers and, in turn, slain. The few survivors reported all of this to Rexar.
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.
Arriving at Rikus's headquarters, they had to convince the guards that their news was important, a task not difficult but necessary. They waited while Rikus was awakened and the commanders were assembled. Only then were they shown into his tent, where they gave a report, describing what they had seen. Rikus commented little during their speech, only making grunts and concerned noises.
Upon learning the immensity of the Urikite army, a pall descended on all in the tent. Despair and panic seized Styan and Jaseela, believing themselves defeated before the battle had begun. Even Agis and Sadira wilted. Only the gladiators, Rikus, Neeva, and Gaanon, seemed unmoved. The mul angrily snapped at the others to show courage, citing that he had fought worse odds before. Gradually, the group took heart once more.
They were ordered to wait outside while Rikus and the others planned. The PCs were eventually called back in. The mul pointed at Rexarr and said, "Tomorrow we'll defeat the Urikites in an ambush, but only if you can lure their scouts away. Succeed, or tonight will be our last night on Athas."
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.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the unforgiving desert, the weary dwarf Vandoorm rasped, "This is it. My men are spent; they can go no farther." His weathered eyes scanned the desolate landscape, lingering on the ominous dust clouds billowing in the wake of the relentless Urikites. "I say we'll have to make a stand," he growled, a grim determination etched on his face. "This is the ground we die on."
A heavy silence settled over the beleaguered group, each warrior grappling with the weight of impending doom. Rexar, feeling the gravity of the situation, took charge. He swiftly assigned the troops to strategic positions, ordering them to construct makeshift defenses with whatever they could find – ditches and piles of stones hastily assembled to be their last line of defense against the relentless Urikite pursuit. The air crackled with tension as the soldiers prepared for the inevitable clash, their hearts pounding in anticipation of the harrowing battle to come.
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.
The initial phase of the battle unfolded in a series of scattered skirmishes, as the Urikites probed the Tyrian lines for vulnerabilities. Troops of halflings charged, only to be repelled, while kank riders executed feints and strategic retreats, evaluating the defenses. Amidst the chaos, a frenzied kank crashed through a ditch, and a squad of halflings managed to breach the lines.
As the general attack commenced, the Tyrian forces found themselves under intense pressure. The battlefield echoed with the clash of weapons, the shouts of soldiers, and the cries of wounded combatants. Suddenly, a chilling series of screams pierced the air as a small breach emerged in the defensive line. The ominous threat of a rout loomed over the Tyrian forces, demanding swift and decisive action.
In a desperate bid to avert disaster, the heroes rallied, responding with urgency to the breach. With determination in their eyes, they engaged the encroaching enemy, dispatching them with a fierce resolve to seal the breach and preserve the integrity of the Tyrian defenses. The fate of the battle hinged on their ability to staunch the flow and turn the tide in their favor.
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.