1 May 2012
He paid the sky with a smile, a simple gift from him to the blue, as he pondered for a while, on storm clouds rolling into view.
The journey had been long, arduous and cruel, still, he kept himself strong, through the mud, and death, and gruel.
His chain mail was now tarnished, though he kept his tunic bright, the red cross was emblazoned, upon a background of pure white.
His feet now burned with the memory of miles, at the gates of Antioch. The siege upon the city, raining arrows of fire and rock.
For weeks supplies had dwindled, and one in seven died, but all his hopes rekindled, as reinforcements had arrived.
Now he lifted his sword to his lips, and he gently kissed the blade. He made his peace with god, then went forth to kill in gods name.
Crusader • Opuss № I