The Crusader
Lonely goes looking for a dear old friend despite her better judgment.
The Crusader
by Lonelyrider
Missing both her boyfriend and a lost friend, Lonely makes an impulsive decision to find out what has become of her estranged male friend.
Lonely was feeling wistful. She'd done her chores for the day and had succesfully fed the local poor with fresh bread she'd baked, and though she felt satisfied for this deed, something still pulled at her, a longing loneliness for company, especially male. She withdrew her silver magical hand mirror, its borders awash with many carved roses, and smiled softly at it.
"Please, show me James." She requested, she closed her eyes tight as the mirror blinded her temporarily and an image of her boyfriend in his current state appeared before her; he was asleep, his large ebon wingspan wrapped around his hefty physique keeping him warm as he slept. She smiled adoringly spotting the plush bunny she'd gifted him snuggled tightly in his arms, he muttered in his sleep and turned, snoring, his rich velvet covers falling over the side of his black angel wing as he dozed. Lonely smiled tenderly and caressed the mirror as if it were his face. A sudden thought came to her for the 15th time that month, though she knew it was risky and probably foolish as well. She took a deep breath.
"Forgive me for prying...mirror, please show me where to find Father Dixon."
Lonely closed her eyes at the bright wash of light again and her short thick hair blew back, this time, she was shown images of a map, and the long winding trail of a holy & bloody crusade, which her friend and mentor had suddenly left for without warning or explanation. It still ate at her often. Lonely quickly drew what she saw in the mirror and finished as it went black once more, deciding to take a huge chance in the spur of the moment. She grabbed a lantern and her crudely drawn map and donned a very long red and gold embroidered cloak, flipping the hood up to hopefully hide her countenance as she saddled her sturdy Highland Pony mare, named Bridgette, and swung herself up into the side-saddle. On her way to find her absent friend, she stopped at the blacksmith in town she knew her boyfriend James favored going to, asking him to craft a special piece for the mission she had an mind.
Lonely rode Bridgette for many miles that day, stopping often to rest and water her. She had been wondering how she'd know when they'd found Father Dixon's whereabouts, but as she approached, she gasped in awe and realized that wouldn't be an issue. An army of over 100 men of many different human, furry like herself, and mythological species were savagely advancing on a resisting tribe of what looked to be some sort of monkey humanoids, who were fighting back hard. Lonely pulled her hooded cloak over herself as much as she could and walked her mount slowly toward the fray of the battle, deliberately keeping a low profile. As she neared, she heard and saw the white flashes of holy magic she recognized as belonging to her friend, and finally she spotted him, right in the middle of the chaos. He wore ornate & beautiful battle robes and a splendid Bible rested in his hand, his massive crucifix swayed about as he continued yelling an animated sermon and healing his advancing troops.
"A battle priest, oh my word." Lonely whispered to Bridgette, who nickered softly and perked, she'd never expected this turn of events from the docile man she'd once known at her church. Father Dixon continued casting holy healing spells and fortitude magic on the soldiers fighting in front of him, as he shouted a fiery sermon both encouraging the crusaders and warning the enemy.
"Convert! Embrace the sacred blood of the Divine Lamb, or be slaughtered by the blade! Behold! God has spoken! Through His chosen Son, we offer you everlasting life, or else a fast death! The reckoning has come upon you! Repent of your heathen ways, or be destroyed! Onward men! The might of the Lamb is ours to press on! Repent, repent, oh ye savages! Cleanse them all in holy fire! Convert or be destroyed!" Father Jacob cast a holy enhancement on the lead soldier's sword and he cut through 3 monkey men at once, and Jacob advanced as the army he inspired pushed on. Lonely could see they did have a commander shouting orders as well, but it was clear to anyone watching that her friend was the real driving instrument in the force; she had goosebumps all over watching the scene, gruesome though it was, the ground soaked with blood from the resisting humanoids. Lonely hopped off Bridgette carefully and held her intended gift close, her cloak fast around her, she made her way carefully around the soldiers, pages and couriers, slipping past Father Dixon as he continued to preach heatedly and cast spells on the frontline fighters, he stopped for a moment as he felt someone hand him a sheathed dagger and went silent for the first time in many days as he inspected it, the clang of swords echoing in the air with cries of their losing foes. Jacob beheld an ornate ritual dagger with his name etched onto the blade, a crucifix on the other side; it bore carvings of outdoor motifs of all kinds, which he dearly treasured. Quickly, he fastened the gift about his waist, gesturing to a teenage page boy nearby and scanning the crowd. Jacob pointed, his hand glowing white with magic, and he felt and saw the hooded figure cast a stamina boosting holy spell on him as she mounted her strong mare and rode away fast.
"Paul my son, follow that girl, and report back to me what you see. Do not let her see you doing so, or you'll answer to my wrath later, do you understand?" Jacob commanded, being somewhat rough with the boy, who looked intimidated.
"Yes Father Dixon! I won't, sir!"
"Good, boy! Now go, don't let her get out of your sight! I want a full report in my tent when you get back tonight. Go!" Father Dixon gave the boy a rough shove forward and he nearly fell from the force of it, quickly finding his agile pony at the edge of the battle and galloping away fast in stealthy pursuit of the lady rider Father Dixon had ordered surveyed. Jacob paused amid the din of the grand battle, which he hadn't done in many months since joining this hot-blooded crusade. He stared intensely at the dagger about his waist, holding it in his hand.
"Lonely." He muttered softly, a slew of emotions hitting him that he'd joined this gory fray to escape from. Using his iron will, he forced himself to restart his passionate sermon, as the holy army pushed through their remaining foes and began another frantic advance, Jacob keeping time within them.