previous threads:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=crusader+questThread 5 didn't archive fully:
http://archive.4plebs.org/tg/thread/34542810/#q34542810Twitter:
https://twitter.com/KoblOfcharacter sheet:
http://pastebin.com/JEE8ZM7HIt is the Year of Our Lord, 1135.
And you are Mathilde, young daughter of Sir Wilhelm of Koblenz, unwed sister of Lord Wilhelm of Ramla.
The cold wind of Palestine cuts across your path, carrying with it an eddy of swirling dust as you looked upon the high walls of Jerusalem. The mantle about your shoulders wafted like the banner of Ramla above your head, setting a shiver down your spine. You can hear the singing of pilgrims, voices raised in prayer as they approached. It made your heart swell, breath catch in your throat to look upon the Holy City with the raised voices imploring to Christ ahead of you.
Before the walls were haggard men and women dressed in rags, hair filthy and matted, down upon their knees in prayer as they whipped themselves with knotted cords. Trails of blood wound down their backs mingling with the filth. The stink of their zealousness gave them a wide berth, but many watched the self-flagellation with an awe that spoke of fear and respect. Few could claim such piousness.
The roads into the city were broad but crowded. Tents were pitched all along it, with the hard worn faces of well traveled pilgrim poking out or resting beside low fires. Some looked to you with curiosity, a fine noble girl a-horse with armed escort attracted all sorts of attention. When a man armed with holy trinkets tried to approach, Bayard set his horse between you, hooves clattering and hand upon sword hilt. The paddler retreated with a bow. Few approached under the single eyed glare of your defender.
"Last time I was here we were wanted men," Bayard said, "Had to hide like rats in a church. But we left feeling like heroes. Wonder what's waiting for us this time."
