Warrior in the Shadows — Roleplayer Guild

Gudmund felt himself being dragged by the little old man towards a house. This was not by any means something he was keen on complying with, and so, he proceeded to rebuff the little scrawny old man. He grabbed his fingers and squeezed them off his shirt, freeing himself from the little old man's grip, slowly, but surely. The little old man's fingers began to straighten as Gudmund continued to squeeze. His bony hands were little match for Gudmund's stronger, developed hands, as should be expected of someone with the training of a Knight. "I have no time for this!" He shouted at the little old man, freeing himself from his grip and pushing the old man away.

Gudmund had already lost a lot of headway and was not as close to the front ranks as before. "Go and hide indoors! You'll only be killed" He shouted. He grabbed the old man and whirled him around to face the door he had previously been dragging him towards, and Gudmund gave him a good shove towards it. "There is no place for you here! It's dangerous!" He was mostly just irritated for having his time taken up, while he lost the front rank.

With that, Gudmund turned and ran towards the front again. The closer he got, the more determined he became to get the chance to charge straight up the walls and clear a path for his fellow crusaders. He was racing many a fellow crusader to get to the front. Luckily, he kept pulling ahead. He was young and eager to make it. In a few more years he could earn his Knighthood, or even earn it now, while still in the Holy Land. Such quick advancement was nearly unheard of under his lord, but he wouldn't be staying under his lord. It was his dream to stay in the Holy Land as a defender, maybe even become a lord of some region of the Holy Land.

Gudmund finally reached the front as the Normans continued to plow through everything lying in their wake. Their feet and legs were covered with blood and they left marks on the ground. Gudmund was no exception. Blood was staining his clothing as well. His boots were turning a different color, as the blood caked and dried onto the leather. His kite shield had several bloody smears and a mark that looked like someone had been forced to eat the shield. Regardless of how horrid they all looked, everyone continued to slosh forward, no giving up when the end was so near. The entire city would be theirs and so would the entire Holy Land.

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The Unknown One

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