A new morning was arising, the sun's weak light spreading long shadows upon the ground as the lone pilgrim wandered through the remains of the battlefield. Over yonder was a castle bearing the banner of the holy state of JerusalemAcre, it's walls were scarred and battered by the recent fighting. Fires raged from within sending sparks floating into the day's awakening, the cries of the defenders carried to the pilgrim, shouts of alarm, cries of warning, and the screams of the dead and dying. The pilgrim's feet carried him through the battlefield where death stalked the land. Discarded weapons lay scattered amongst the corpses now stiff and cold. Picking up a chipped sword the pilgrim ran it through his fingers, wondering to himself what blacksmith had crafted such a masterwork item, yet his name was of no issue as the wielder lay face down with arrows protruding from his back making him to be some form of sick pincushion. So much for a relief force coming to the aid of the men of Acre.
The pilgrim had been nearby in a thicket where he had begun to camp for the night, yet these brave soldiers had made too much noise, their reckless passage made them easy to follow where upon midnight the besiegers fell upon them, tearing them to shreds as numbers played their part. Surrounded on all sides they made a valiant defence yet for everyman they struck down another two were ready to take his place, as soon as a man fell in their ranks their circle slowly became smaller, shrinking in upon itself until the last man was slain where he stood. The banner of Acre was burnt it's ashes scattered in the wind with the hope of every defender that had lined the walls to watch the massacre below.
The pilgrim now looked towards the walls of the castle, it's stone was strong yet how much longer could it endure the batterings of the rocks that were flung against it's surfaces? Crenelations were missing atop the walls where missiles had sheared them clean off leaving behind a mess of stone and rubble, and in some areas a bloody mess where the unfortunate defenders had been caught. The poor bastards could surely not last much longer. The armies surrounding the castle were endless, a horde of angry faces held in grim determination as attack after attack was repelled leaving behind more dead each time. Arrows, bolts and even the odd javelin flew from the castle in never ending waves of pointed steel that covered the ground in feathered shafts. As the pilgrim watched more ladders were flung against the walls, the attackers rushing forth to scale them, men were felled by arrows making their targets, shields became heavy with the extra weight embedded onto their surfaces. As he watched the grisly spectacle, a ladder was broken sending the men upon it tumble to the ground landing in a heap of broken limbs.
A loud cheer rang across the field, all fell silent until an audible groan arose from the defenders as the gate began to slowly open, men funneled through the opening eager for the plunder and gold to find within. New screams sounded from within as the attackers grasped the advantage, pressing forward their attack. Surely victory was within their sights. Yet a new sound overrode the triumphant cheers of the attackers as a creaking metallic sound announced the closing of the gate, this time it was the besiegers whom groaned as the men inside were now trapped and were slaughtered where they stood, with their backs against the gate they made easy targets for the archers within.
Turning his back the pilgrim walked away with the sounds of death and sorrow following him. Suddenly a brazen note rang forth, and another one closely following the first, startled by the change of events the pilgrim swung round, taking in the sight before him he couldn't believe what he saw, rubbing his tired eyes not understanding what he was seeing. A line of horsemen had crested the nearby ridge with the sun on their backs, straining his eyes to pick out the banners he thought he saw a flash of gold upon a white background yet he could not be certain. The new arrivals lowered their lances, banners flapping in the wind, with a crescending roar, heels were kicked into the flanks of horses and the tide surged forth coming to devour all that stood in it's path. Another note sounded from inside the castle, a brassy note carried forth as the gates swung open and the defenders sallied forth. Shaking his head at the turn of events the pilgrim turned around and began his long journey back to the land of the EUnuchs, his hope for the New World diminished as this war torn World was no different to his own bloodied land.
/bored
