Defense of the Poros RPG

[Daniel Telcontar]

Khalad looked at Astalder briefly before resuming to gaze towards the pillar of smoke. He held his arm across his chest, right hand upon the hilt of his sword. Ready to draw it at moment's notice.

"The messengers could not tell much more than what you heard. They fought valiantly yet had little chance. At least when it came to this tower the Haradrim were numerous enough to easily defeat our soldiers. And rather than using stealth they did it openly, knowing that it would alert us. They must either know our numbers and that we are not a strong force in this area to protect the settlement; or else their numbers must be so great they do not fear meeting us in battle."

Khalad waited for a few moments before continuing to speak.His logic and conclusions did not bode well and he began to fear for defeat. "At any rate, we can only mount a proper defence with chances of successfully defending Poros if we scout their army; we need to know what kinds of troops they have, and how many. Furthermore, I think the two messengers that came from the watch tower should return to Poros. Somebody must alert them even now, and perhaps prepare to evacuate if need be."

The young Roquen took a firmer hold of the reins of his steed, and let go of the hilt of the his sword. Whatever must happen, happens, Khalad thought. "We await your command," he said to Astalder.

[Nerindel]

“Then we ride!” Astalder cried with a nod to the young Knight. Turning his steed he led them towards the smoking tower. “Khalad take two men and scout ahead, but be careful not to be seen!” he called over the thunder of hooves, He knew that soon they would have to hid their horses and continue on foot, if they where to scout their enemies without being seen. Once Khalad had returned reporting the way ahead was clear they took to the forest. The forest ended on an out cropping a short distance from the location of the south tower, where they could leave the horses under the cover of the trees and spread out to get a better look at their enemies.

Stopping his men a short distance from the edge of the forest he dismounted and indicated for Khalad and another of his company and young man named Josef, to follow him, they walked to the edge of the forest and looked out over the carnage below. Then seeing movement amidst the smoke they dropped to their bellies. Astalder watched with growing anger as Haradrim warriors pillaged what was left of the outpost. “Look!” Khalad whispered beside him alerting him to the hundred or so well disciplined warriors who stood watching their company sack what was left of the outpost. “They stood no chance!” Josef gasped. Astalder did not dwell on the man’s assessment but continued to scan the scene below. His gaze suddenly stopped on the figure of a tall thin man who walked with the confidence and demeanour of a Harad officer, as the man turn he saw fully the officer’s uniform confirming his suspicion. Astalder’s eyes narrowed and he found himself wishing that he had some skill with a bow, as he recognised Lan’kash the Lieutenant of the Harnen crossing, of course the two men had never met, but his merchant friend Talfas dealt often with men of the south who grumbled often about the crossings inspections, and he now found that their description of the outposts leader was more than accurate.

“That is their leader!” he spat, pointing Lan’kash out to his two companions. “Oh may the Valar preserve us, they’ve got catapults!” Josef gasp pointing to where a gap in their enemy’s ranks revealed the two monstrosities. Astalder knew at once that the walls of the village would not hold up to their assault. “I want you to each take two men and scout their flanks, we need their full numbers including any scouts they may have patrolling the vicinity.

“And you?” Khalad asked watching with growing concern as Astalder continued to stare at the two catapults, “I will try to even the odds” he answered with a wry grin. “That is madness!” Josef exclaimed in horror, “I have no choice, the walls and buildings of the village will not stand up to the assault of those monstrosities!” he calmly informed the younger man. “Now, come we do not have long, they will soon move again and I wish for us to be well on our way back to the settlement before then.” the two men nodded and followed him back to their company.

Once back they spilt into three groups, Khalad and his two men went right, While Josef took his men to scout their enemies left flank. Which left Astalder with three men at his disposal but he only needed one, he chose the shortest of the three and ordered the others to stay with the horses. “If we are not back when the others return, set out at once for the village.” The men began to protest, but Astalder stopped them abruptly with a raise hand and a sharp look. “If we have not returned by then, it is likely that we have failed and you are to presume that we are dead! Do you understand?”

“Yes sir!” the two men replied lowering their heads. Astalder then turned, beckoning for his companion to follow and set off towards their enemies.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+

The two men moved silently keeping close to the shadows as they approached their intended victims, the Two Haradrim guards looked more like farmer than warriors, But they had no choice if they where to get close to the catapults they would need disguises. As luck would have it the two guards also watched the pillaging going on at the outpost, grumbling that they too wanted a share in the spoils. Astalder silently signalled for his companion to take the smaller of the two guards and at the sometime they stepped out of the shadows of the trees and pulled their blades silently across the throats of their victims, before they even knew anyone was upon then. They then dragged the bodies under the trees and stripped them of their clothes, then hiding their own gear they changed into the garb of the Haradrim soldiers. Astalder kept on his chain mail shirt and strapped his own sword instinctively about his waist, but his helm he removed putting on the head scarf of his victim, pulling the lower section across his face, so that only his eyes could be seen.

“Our aim is to sabotage the catapults, but not to destroy them, we need our enemies to think that they still have the advantage until they try to use them.” he grinned wryly, turning to his companion, who was now also dressed in the garb of a Harad soldier. After his companion nodded his understanding they took up the dead Haradrim guards spears and made their way towards the mammoth weapons.

The majority of the soldier ignored them but as they neared their goal they were stopped several times and asked where they were going, they could only pointed in the direction of the men milling around the base of the catapults and grunt “orders from Lan’kash!” To which the questioner would laugh harshly and send them on their way. Once at the catapults they split up, Astalder taking the nearest. He inconspicuously circled the mechanism looking for an easy way up, he was just climbing towards the ropes that worked the leverage went he heard a sharp, commanding voice below him.

“Just what do you think you are doing up there?” He froze searching for a suitable answer, but just as he was about to answer, another voice broke the silence.

“Lieutenant we found another one on the other catapult and look!” Astalder looked down in horror as the Haradrim soldier ripped off his companions head scarf revealing the dark hair and pale complexion of the Gondorian knight. With instinctive reflexes he pulled free his sword slicing through the leverage ropes and jumped down to face his enemies.

[Orual]

Anhelm was at his desk, sorting papers, sifting through reports, trying to find something to do. But he had already been through all of the papers; every one of them was familiar. If asked, he could probably recite them all from memory. He had to admit it: he was trying to distract himself.

I should be out there. He couldn't get the thought out of his head. What was he doing here, in his cushy office, surrounded by four solid, protective walls, while his men were on the front lines? Granted, it had been a scouting mission, but somehow he had a feeling that it wouldn't end as a scouting mission. There was too much danger for there to be no trouble. He knew that. He had known it when he sent his men out, but he had done it anyway. Granted, they were soldiers. They were trained. They knew coming in that this was a dangerous post. But that didn't give him a free pass to send them out into life-threatening situations without giving it enough thought...

Snap.

Suddenly he was no longer in his office.

He looked around himself and saw that he was in the midst of a battle. He saw everything, but it was dull, unfocused. The towers...the towers were burning. He saw his men around him. He called out to them, and some of them seemed to hear, but they did not turn. They only startled, like men hearing a ghost, denying its existance, and moving on. His heart cried out for him to draw his sword, but he knew, in some inexplicable way, that he could do nothing. Or, rather, that he was not allowed to do anything. That somehow, if he used his sword in this battle, where he was, that it would do more harm than good: for him, for his men, for everyone.

He walked around in a daze, watching the battle rage around him, watching his men fall, watching them fell Haradrim soldiers. There was nothing to rejoice about. All Anhelm could see was suffering. He projected his own suffering in the holes where there was none, until he was smothered by it. Finally he saw Khalad, and ran up to him. Khalad did not turn, but shuddered a little, as though a chill breeze had enveloped him. Anhelm felt tears in his eyes--the tears that he had been taught to hide--and he whispered to his soldier, "For Gondor."

That was all that was allowed him.

Snap.

His office seemed intolerably hot, and everything seemed so sharp. The rough wood of the underside of his desk was almost painful to touch, and every lungful of air he inhaled stung his chest. He felt the tears that still hung in his eyes, and gave in to them. He collapsed on his desk, weeping for his men.

[Imladris]

“Treachery?” asked Erfâzh with an askance glance. “Frôzhal wouldn’t commit treachery.”

Jinan waived the objection away with his hand and then said, “Naturally not. He has a backbone of pudding.” He rubbed his jaw and smiled a toothless grin at Erfâzh. “Besides,” he murmured, “Frôzhal is not worthy of his position in the Haradrim army. He skulked from the sword’s blade and the arrow’s steel. However --” he grimaced here -- “he has already groveled his way towards the top in the army already, and is not likely to be arrested on your charge of treachery, since it’s only your word against his, and to whose word do you think the Lieutenant will listen?” Jinan shook his head. “No…the desert sands of Harad dirty more than the skin of men’s hands, Erfâzh.”

Erfâzh nodded, and rummaged in the pockets of a Gondorian corpse. “I suppose you’re right. I also suppose that if Frôzhal is proven guilty by some improbably means, his position will be open to a more deserving man.” He grinned at Jinan.

“Well naturally,” Jinan replied with a smile that showed his teeth. He twirled his dagger in his hand, the wind whistling upon the blade like a lad playing a tune upon a blade of grass.

“You do realize, that you haven’t gotten to where you are by military merit, but by whispered bribes of gold?”

“Mere rumour, Erfâzh,” Jinan said. “And if it were true, at least I didn’t crawl upon my belly.”

“My point was that you might become involved in more ways than one, you might be accused.”

Jinan shrugged. “What is that to me? Two out of three officers in the Haradrim army get to where they are by ignoble means. But what does that matter if you act according to your station on the field.”

Erfâzh snapped to attention and jammed his elbow into Jinan’s ribs, hence drawing his attention to Frôzhal’s approach. Frôzhal, besmeared with blood, a gash or two on his cheeks, and his sword stained with blood, did not look as if he had been merely scratched by bramble bushes. Jinan cocked an eyebrow at Erfâzh, who shook his head and replied with a imperceptible shrug of his shoulders.

Frôzhal stopped, his brown skin turning to ash. His fingers fidgeted, and his eyes darted away from his face. Jinan smiled toothlessly. “Hello, Frôzhal.”

The clash of swords drowned Frôzhal’s reply (if he had even made one), and Jinan and Erfâzh sprinted towards the melee. Two Gondorians, dressed Haradrim garb, were being borne to the ground. Dressed in Haradrim garb… Jinan grabbed Erfâzh and whispered in his ear…

[Daniel Telcontar]

Khalad felt the anxiety growing with the passing of the day. He knew that the only chance the Poros settlement stood of defending itself was its walls; and if breached by the catapults then victory was no longer achievable. Yet Astalder and his companion did not return. And it was plain to see that some of the soldiers were uneasy, wishing to return to the temporary safety that Poros could offer.

None of the remaining knights had higher rank than the others, and Khalad could not order them. But when some of the mounted their horses and spoke of returning, he replied sharply: "We cannot return as long as Astalder has not!" Some of them eyed him warily, unsure of what he meant. "It may be very well to be noble and all that, but if they have been caught, we don't stand a chance of helping them," some said in equally harsh tones.
"I am not trying to be noble!" Khalad lashed out. "Do you not understand what the catapults mean? Our walls are useless and will be nothing but a trap for ourselves when they come crumbling down upon us, struck by the siege equipment! The settlement should already be alerted by the survivors from the watch tower. Our duty now must be to destroy the catapults before the Haradrim reach Poros."

Khalad waited for a few moments, allowing his words to sink in and to let his comrades understand fully what he meant. Khalad mounted his steed yet prepared to ride in another direction than those who had done so at first. "We must destroy those catapults," he said, and now his voice was no longer raised, but quiet, almost a whisper; but it did not lose its urgency because of it. One by one the knights of Gondor mounted their horses and then carefully, using their vigilance, they rode towards the Haradrim camp.

[Imladris]

It would be difficult blaming Frôzhal for the Gondorians in disguise. They could have taken the clothing from a Haradrim corpse…maybe they even had slain the guards that were supposed to have been guarding the catapult. But that didn’t really matter. All what mattered was silently, swiftly, and cleverly putting Frôzhal out of the way.

It was strange, this loathing of Frôzhal. He was timid. He was a puppy. He was a worm that grubbed after men’s compliments and slunk up the ladder to success. He was insignificant. So insignificant that I shouldn’t even care about him no more than I would care for a flea. But that was the annoying thing about fleas. They never went away. They bit your skin and their bites itched until they became an unbearable torment. Yet it was only a flea. A harmless flea. A flea that could not kill you or make you sick. That was what Frôzhal was. He was a flea who bit you behind the ears when you were asleep. It’s rather difficult to smack a flea when you are peacefully asleep, unaware that the flea is even there. That’s what Frôzhal did. He hovered around long enough, bribed men with money and what not. I honestly believe that the commanding officers let Frôzhal up the ladder because he was a simple annoyance. It was an easy way to get rid of him.

But fleas could be killed. They could be drowned if one went swimming for a long period of time. Frôzhal would similarly be drowned under a torrent of carefully spun lies. Lies that couldn’t be proved guilty and could be proven true under a manipulation of evidence.

But why is it again that I want Frôzhal proved of treason? Because he forsake his post at the army, that’s why. The ultimate proof of his cowardice. Yet who would believe them? These Gondorians were the key…but how is the key going to be made to fit the lock?