The Crusade of Haddock Weakfist - Chapter 2 · 6:39pm Jun 26th, 2014

With Ulric's down-payment jingling in my pocket, I set about recruiting the first few men for my Holy Crusade. I know nothing about running an army, even a small one – an armlette, if you will – but I am confident that with prayer and effort, I can fulfill my obligation to Ulric, save his brother, and hopefully convert a few heathens in the process.

Praven was a disappointment. Even the promise of a shiny gold coin and the fraternal bond of our common hairstyle was not enough to convince this man to join my holy band. I will need to look elsewhere.

The local farming communities are much more fruitful territory. Almost every town had a few heathen yokels who were willing to go along in exchange for a few denars and all the cabbage they could eat.

I am surprised at how easily they accept me into their communities, as if they're conditioned to defer to any man on horseback with a few coins to his name.

Feudalism at work.

The rumors about Praven's chaotic state are no exaggerations. From all the bandits I've seen I'm surprised every merchant isn't throwing money at travelers to attempt to rescue captured relatives. Sibling rescue should be a booming industry.

Still, guided by prayer and one of the men who knows the goat trails back to Praven, we avoid the bandits and arrive safely. I meet with Ulric and he tells me the kidnappers were waiting nearby and if I can capture one of them, I would be able to extract the location of his brother from them.

As a man of God, I tell him that I would have to offer them a chance to lay down their arms first. Ulric says that he doesn't see any problem, but doubts they will listen to me. I remind him that, as an ordained priest, I was trained in just this very thing and was very persuasive.

I don't like the way he laughs.

Gathering my army of mercenary farmers we approach the meeting point, pitchforks gleaming under the afternoon sun. I am sure to be right behind my men like a good leader, my Bible held aloft in preparation for any surprise conversions. After all, today's foe could become tomorrow's faithful. As I meet with their leader I began my sermon on mercy, redemption, and the fact that he and his loathsome bandits would burn in the fires of Hell if they did not repent their egregious sins.

They do not surrender.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that a Bible made a good impromptu bludgeon, in the right circumstances. Like, for example, when a bandit leader tries to cut your throat when you restart the Lord's Prayer for the fifth time because you just can't remember the Latin for "Holy Spirit".

God truly does watch over me.

Their leader, after his recover from the blow to the head, is quick to point me in the direction of their hideout in the distant hills. After taking the bandits prisoner to face their crimes and grabbing a few shepherds from the nearest town to fill out our ranks, we set off in good spirits. We were on the road to victory!

It turns out we are actually on the mountain road that bandits use to ambush farmers.

From a distance it is clear that many of the farmers are just women and girls, so I am quick to order my men to charge and save the defenseless women from the blood-thirsty bandits. As a true Christian man I can take no other path – both metaphorically, and because we were stuck on a narrow mountain pass, quite literally, too.

I am a little concerned to discover the innocent flower of local femininity are better armed then my own men. Still, I am able to convince them to hand over one of the surviving bandits so I can interrogate him.

We reach the hideout just before nightfall. Surveying the wooded and hilly terrain ahead of us, I draw upon what I have read about Alexander the Great and William the Conqueror and quickly lay out a devious plan of stealthy advance that will allow us to sneak up upon their camp and attack from all sides. The men look suitably impressed by my tactical decisions, and I feel like a true commander as my men form up in ranks. With one simple gesture, I give the command to advance.

They promptly charge the bandits, screaming at the tops of their lungs.

Horrified, I take off after them, trying to get them to stick to my plan. It was pure suicide to just blindly charge the enemy when they were entrenched upon the high ground. When they fail to listen I take cover behind a nearby tree and prepare my bow, waiting for the screams of agony from the dead and dying. I fear for myself, Ulric's brother, and the fate of the souls of Calradia if I am to perish due to the incompetence of my men.