General Art The Holy War

[Ganondork]

Hey guys. I haven't done much writing on here in awhile, and I got a burst of inspiration today. I plan to make a multi-chapter series about the Third Crusades. I hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

***

Chapter 1: King Richard I​

The great hall was lively, bustling with the revelry of the English noble class. Each man and woman was garbed in the finest silk. Every strand imported from the Chinese – a foreign land that few of them cared to even know existed. In each hand was a goblet filled to the brim with wine; the servants attended to this with great attention.

The hall itself was extravagant. Large tables lined the interior of the lavish room. Red tapestry lined the walls, the cross of the Catholic Church etched onto every fabric. Light shone through the spaces between the tapestries, illuminating the smiling faces of the guests.

On the far side of the hall, two steps led to what looked like something only royalty could be allowed to sit on. A large, red throne stood there, the long back of it towering over the room. Satin covered the oak wood that created the frame of the chair.

The sound of laughter rang through the halls, every man letting out a deep bellow as their stomachs fluctuated to and fro; every woman letting out a high pitched squeal of delight as intoxication slowly overtook them.

“To all who hear my words; be silent!” a voice bellowed. All heads turned to the voice, every mouth immediately shut. They looked up at the figure standing before them. He stood tall in front of the throne chair. He wore an ornate crown on his head. Red satin with gold trimmings concealed luscious brown hair on the top of his head. He was clean-shaven, his blue eyes studying his subjects.

He gestured for his subjects to sit down – they did as he commanded without hesitation – and took a seat on his throne. All ears in the room were pricked to listen to each word that their ruler uttered.

“Pope Urban III has spoken of another Crusade,” he began, a smile slowly creasing his face that boasted perfect complexion, “And perhaps this is what we need. Who told the Muslims that Jerusalem was their city? Why is it not ours?”

His smile faded, his face now curled back in a ferocious snarl. His hand, balled into a fist, pounded into the arm of his throne. Every soul in the room was captivated by his emotion, his compassion.

“I will be damned if I allow such heathens to continue their blasphemous practices in the city that our savior died in. They do not hold allegiance for Jerusalem except for their insatiable greed for more land. They will march to England next, and claim it for Allah.” He looked at his subjects, his teeth bared, his eyes growing wild.

“Are we to allow such godless beings to do that?” he roared. Cries of anger erupted through the hall. He held these subjects in the palm of his hand. He refused to relent now. “Fight with me, men. Bring forth your prayers, women. I would sell London if that means we claim back the Holy Land!” He stood up again, his fist in the air. Everyone in the room mimicked him, crying, “King Richard!”

The Third Crusade had begun.

***​

Fourteen long months of preparation had passed until the King found himself marching on horseback. His horse, a black stallion, was well-built, muscular, and large. It was constantly compared to his rider. Far ahead of him, the Knights Templar marched. Close behind them were the common soldiers. Unlike King Richard, who was donned in steel plate armor, the peasant soldiers wore armor made of felt.

King Richard looked ahead, noticing the walls of the Christian city of Acre coming into sight. Recently fallen to the Saracen forces – the Muslims’ answer to the Crusaders – it was their first city to capture.

He looked on, a glimmer in his eyes. He had sold all that he owned – land, castles, towns, manors – for this Holy War. It had never felt so real to him until then. His hatred for the Muslims finally peaked, and he found himself lost in his own thoughts.

All he knew was the name of the man he knew he had to kill in order to take Jerusalem for the Holy Catholic Church; Salah ad-Din.

 

[Hero of Time]

This was great, Keith. You set the mood well with your descriptions and followed through with King Richard's short yet powerful speech. Not only was the tone of the chapter depicted, but the whole story's tone, one of fiery passion suitable for war, has been established. Great job, and I'm looking forward to the continuation of this as Richard pursues Salah Ah-Din.

The only potential mistake I caught was this:

Every strand imported from the Chinese – a foreign land that few of them cared to even know existed.

There should be a "was" between "strand" and "imported," though if you intended this to be a sentence fragment then leave it as it is.

 

[Azure Sage]

Excellent writing, as usual. I could really get a good grasp of King Richard's emotions. This was a bit on the short side, but as expected of you, it's splendid. This was a good set-up for the rest of the story. Very well done, man!

 

[Garo]

Not bad. I'm liking the history.

My largest criticism is that it lacks much of a personality. There are some nice descriptions, and emotion is conveyed respectably, but it feels like a very cold narrator simply describing the scene rather than recreating it. There needs to be a bit more flair to it. Obviously since this is just the first section there may be a very good reason for that - if you plan to jump viewpoints, for instance. But if you're going to be following solely Richard III, I'd advise tethering narration to a character, perhaps an advisor or an aide. Even if you maintain third person, describing things as seen and heard by that character will give it the sort of personality that I feel this bit is lacking.

Otherwise a good effort - looking forward to more.

 

[A Link In Time]

I enjoyed reading this piece, Kieth although as I recall from my European History class, Urban III wasn't exactly the most righteous pope throughout the ages. Seems natural he would request such an effort. Your love for lore and history shines through once again. I particularly enjoyed the contrasts between Richard I and his subjects as well as between the men and the woman.

Aside from the minor fix, HoT, noted, I have sparse suggestions of my own:

every man letting out a deep bellow as their stomachs

If I recall my grammar rules correctly, what you wrote is correct but "as his stomach..." is more proper.

His hatred for the Muslims finally peaked

Once more, this isn't an error, but "piqued" is traditionally used. "That piqued my curiosity, interest, etc."

 

[Garo]

Once more, this isn't an error, but "piqued" is traditionally used. "That piqued my curiosity, interest, etc."

That's actually a different usage. Piqued is generally used to mean "triggered", whereas in context here, it seems more like "reached its height", so peaked is the best term.

 

[Chilfo Freeze]

Very well-written. I must agree with GaroXicon when confronting your use of third person narration. It does seem a bit cold and unattached. Narration from a bystander would add emotion/feeling to your piece, adding some element of tone that is missing.

I do have a quick suggestion:

In each hand was a goblet filled to the brim with wine; the servants attended to this with great attention.

This second half of the sentence is - if I'm correct - redundant. Or at least repetitive. I would recommend replacing "attention" with "care" or "concern."

every woman letting out a high pitched squeal of delight as intoxication slowly overtook them.

Just as ALIT suggested with the first part of the sentence, it applies to the second half as well. "slowly overtook her" would be correct.


Nice work, Keith!

 

[Ganondork]

Hey guys. Next chapter is up. My initial source misspelled the Saracen force's Sultan. It's Salah ad-Din, not Salah Ah-Din. It has been edited and won't be an issue again. Thank you for all of your feedback.

Chapter 2: Salah ad-Din​

A powerful man overlooked the balcony of a grand palace in the city of Acre. Islamic influence already shaped what once was a Christian city. Mosques shot out of the ground seemingly overnight. The dome-shaped buildings boasted a Muslim influence upon the city’s architecture.

The man had a darker complexion and a flowing black beard that reached to his chest. His dark eyes turned to the walls of the city. Bulging muscles were evident on his large arms – his entire body boasted muscularity. His hands were on the rails that were erected at the edge of the balcony. He heard the sound of footsteps behind him, and turned quickly.

When he looked at the person approaching, he recognized him immediately. His small frame and lighter complexion was unmistakable. “What news do you bring, Bahadir?”

“Sultan Salah ad-Din,” Bahadir began, doubling over for a moment to catch his breath. He had clearly run to meet Salah ad-Din. “There are men approaching the gates. I recognized the insignia of the Knights Templar.”

Salah ad-Din did not hesitate to walk into the palace. He headed straight for his master bedroom. A four poster bed was the centerpiece of the room. Next to it was a wardrobe made of oak. He hastily opened it. Before him was an extravagant armor from his homeland of the Middle East. A piece of metal covered the mouth region, a nose guard evident as well. It was heavy with layers of plates on the torso. The legs accommodated to the Sultan’s muscular leg, as if it was forged for his body alone. At the hip of the armor was a scimitar, sheathed in a jewel-encrusted holster.

He donned the armor that he had grown so accustomed to as quickly as he could, and was dressed in minutes. He turned for the door. “Where are you going, Sultan?” Bahadir asked with a look of concern – and astonishment – etched on his face.

“If the Europeans yearn for battle, then it is battle they shall have.”

***​

The Saracens were quickly assembled and made ready for combat. Salah ad-Din watched from the city’s walls with the archers. His scimitar in hand, he shouted orders for his men to get in position. He looked ahead and noticed the two siege towers approaching the gates of Acre.

They were built tall and of proportionally-cut wooden boards. It didn’t take long for him to recognize it as the discarded boards used in the construction of their own siege towers to take Acre. “How ironic,” Salah ad-Din murmured under his breath. He wasn’t sure how they found those, but he realized that these towers were sturdier than the ones built in the Second Crusade.

The Arabic Sultan needed a strategy to stop the siege towers; something faster than flaming arrows; something more efficient. He headed back to the palace with great urgency, looking for Bahadir.

***​

When he stepped onto the balcony, Bahadir was pacing back and forth, clearly deep in thought. “Flaming arrows cannot stop their siege towers,” Salah ad-Din said, interrupting his adviser’s thoughts.

“Come again?” Bahadir asked, clearly not grasping the situation.

“They found our discarded boards. They built siege towers with it. Two of them,” the Sultan said, a sense of urgency in his voice.

“Maybe,” Bahadir began, the gears turning in his head, “There is a man – a Greek – who has been visiting Acre. He is apparently of nobility, and knows a thing or two about warfare.”

“Well summon for him, then,” Salah ad-Din said, impatience quickly growing with each passing moment. “I know not how much longer we have before the siege towers reach the city’s walls.”

***​

With great impatience, the Arabic Sultan paced back and forth as he waited for Bahadir and the Greek man. Fighting had broken out clearly, the archers firing their arrows in perfect synchronization. Salah ad-Din knew the formation well; after the first platoon of archers fired, the next one would step forward and fire their arrows while the first group prepared their next shot for firing.

An hour passed – but felt like an eternity to Salah ad-Din – before Bahadir returned with the man the Sultan needed to speak with. “Your majesty,” Bahadir began, “I introduce you to Thanassis.”

Salah ad-Din nodded, but continued with the matter at hand. “I hear that you are a man taught in the ways of war. Are such claims true?”

Thanassis, a light-skinned man with a lanky figure and no facial hair, grew animated at the mention of warfare. “Ah, yes! I am well-versed in naval, ranged, and close quarter-centric combats. What is it that you need?”

“The Europeans approach. They have powerful siege towers, and we will lose the city if they are not burned to the ground. I fear conventional flames will not be enough. Do you know of anything that could assist us?” Salah ad-Din turned his head to the noise of steel clashing. The real battle had begun.

“I think I have just the thing,” he said, pulling out a small piece of parchment from his bag that was slung over his shoulder. He handed it to Salah ad-Din, who examined it closely. “This is the recipe for Greek Fire. Anything it touches will be lit immediately. It spreads, but it also sticks to the surface that it hits; very effective against such circumstances.”

***​

It was not long before every archer was next to a large golden container filled to the brim with Greek Fire. Each arrowhead was dipped in the sticky substance before it was fired.

It did nothing initially, earning Salah ad-Din’s skepticism towards the substance. “If this fails, you will be rightfully punished,” he threatened Thanassis. “However, if it succeeds, you will be rightfully rewarded.”

The siege towers crept closer and closer to the gates, the men at their bases straining with great effort to push it forward. The wheels creaked with some resistance as they rolled forward. The archers stood inside of the tower, firing arrows in response to the Saracen archers. Below, a man donned in the finest armor circled around Acre on horseback, looking for other means of entry. He weaved through volleys of arrows directed at him as he rode.

A single archer aimed his arrow with little precision. Instead of hitting the wooden frame of the siege tower, he hit an archer inside of it. Unlike the tower, the archer ignited immediately. He frantically ran from side to side, trying to douse the green flames, but it only stuck to him.

The other archers, now wise to how to use the Greek substance, fired at the Crusader archers. The archers were no match. They were lit immediately, the fire spreading to other people. Soon, many of them fell to the floor, dead.

The flames began to spread to the first tower. The highest level ignited, the green flames of Greek Fire rising. Salah ad-Din watched from his palace and smiled. He finally felt a glimmer of hope.

 

[A Link In Time]

It's interesting how you shifted perspective to the Muslims, Keith. Very well written. A part of me wanted to see the battle with the English riders setting aflame detailed more graphically, however, the narrative is very gripping. My sole suggestion is substituting a synonym for the word "donned" which I saw repeated multiple times. Vested perhaps? A job well done. I look forward to reading more.

 

[Keeseman]

I see an awesome Assassin's Creed fanfic forming... Aw Yiss

You ended each section of the story in very effective places, and your descriptions are very well done, without taking away from the plot. Your punctuation was also very effective.

However, you could work on making the story even more tense. There was tension shown, such as when there was "a sense of urgency in his voice." However, I was expecting Salah ad-Din to be favoured in this situation; that was too predictable.
Also, you could focus more on this "man donned in the finest armor" who "circled around Acre on horseback, looking for other means of entry." I didn't quite understand his purpose, as well as whether or not his purpose is to be revealed.
And how does Salah ad-Din feel when he hears that the Templars are attacking? What is going through his mind? Does that make him react more quickly? We need to be able to infer that the fact that the attackers are Templars has some significance.

Lastly, the tone of your characters could use some work. Your audience needs to hear the voice of your characters.
Does the Sultan speak in a deep, booming, powerful voice? Or is it rough and worn out from the hardships of war?
How does Baradir address his master? Is he afraid of the Sultan's power? Or does he speak with respect, but boldly? His tone should allow us to infer of a past relationship between the two.
Does Thanassis speak confidently, as he is confident in his knowledge of warfare? Or is he also afraid of Salah ad-Din's power, making him question his abilities?

Quite well written, but it could use some work to make it even more engaging for the readers. I'm excited to hear what happens next. Keep it up Keef!

 

[Ronin]

A very absorbing and well-paced tale you have so far crafted. As per usual, you present great continuity in description and dialogue. With those two together, you form an enjoyable rate for the reader to view the scenarios, as if they are there witnessing the events take place, yet cannot participate. This is a method which constitutes some of the best stories. And while you have it down so far, there will always be room for improvement. Keep up the good work. :yes:

It's interesting how you shifted perspective to the Muslims, Keith. Very well written. A part of me wanted to see the battle with the English riders setting aflame detailed more graphically, however, the narrative is very gripping. My sole suggestion is substituting a synonym for the word "donned" which I saw repeated multiple times. Vested perhaps? A job well done. I look forward to reading more.

"Vested" is more applicable to words that have to do with ordinary clothing. But I'm pretty sure that Ganondork's characters were putting on/wearing armor, so others such as "garbed", "attired", or even "arrayed" would be fitting substitutes.

 

[Garo]

My previous concern regarding the lack of a personality in the narration has been allayed; the change in viewpoint worked really well.

My new criticism is a strange one. I'm sure you've heard the adage "show, don't tell". Interesting, you seem to be doing BOTH here - showing and telling. For instance:

“Sultan Salah ad-Din,” Bahadir began, doubling over for a moment to catch his breath. He had clearly run to meet Salah ad-Din.

You tell us that he had run to meet Salah ad-Din, but you had just conveyed that same information by showing us that he was out of breath. It's not strictly bad or poor or anything, it's just a bit redundant. The audience's inference that he had run to meet Salah ad-Din is much stronger than the statement confirming it; leave it at inference. There are a few other instances with something similar. And again - it's not necessarily bad, but it'd be more effective if you left out the statements and stuck to showing their physical state and letting the audience infer the rest.

Overall, solid effort once again.

 

[Chilfo Freeze]

Throughout my reading of this passage, I could feel a significant change of emotion from the previous passage. Nice work with the addition of that.

I've got little things on my mind.

Salah ad-Din knew the formation well; after the first platoon of archers fired, the next one would step forward and fire their arrows while the first group prepared their next shot for firing.

This is just a small mishap that caught my attention. Self-explanatory, but it's simply a fault in the use of number. You use singular and then move to plural while referring to the next platoon in line. "Its" would be a simple replacement for "their."

The other archers, now wise to how to use the Greek substance, fired at the Crusader archers. The archers were no match. They were lit immediately, the fire spreading to other people.

I find this sequence of sentences confusing. Specifically the sentence, "The archers were no match" stands out. As a reader, I cannot grasp which group of archers you are referring to. I would suggest mentioning the group of archers which you planned to refer to, or maybe revise the sentences beforehand in order to lessen confusion. Maybe you intended this to be an inference? It does become clear within the next few lines that Salah ad-Din's archers were the victors, but I still feel confusion with these few sentences.

Overall, it's nicely done. I can feel Salah ad-Din's want for victory and success, and it emanates through his actions.

 

[Hero of Time]

Once again, Keith, very good; perhaps even better than Chapter 1. The atmosphere of the battle was pretty cool, especially since both sides were introduced beforehand. However, I did catch a couple of words used twice quite close to each other:

The Arabic Sultan needed a strategy to stop the siege towers; something faster than flaming arrows; something more efficient. He headed back to the palace with great urgency, looking for Bahadir.

***

When he stepped onto the balcony, Bahadir was pacing back and forth, clearly deep in thought. “Flaming arrows cannot stop their siege towers,” Salah ad-Din said, interrupting his adviser’s thoughts.

“Come again?” Bahadir asked, clearly not grasping the situation.

“They found our discarded boards. They built siege towers with it. Two of them,” the Sultan said, a sense of urgency in his voice.

“Well summon for him, then,” Salah ad-Din said, impatience quickly growing with each passing moment. “I know not how much longer we have before the siege towers reach the city’s walls.”

***

With great impatience, the Arabic Sultan paced back and forth as he waited for Bahadir and the Greek man. Fighting had broken out clearly, the archers firing their arrows in perfect synchronization. Salah ad-Din knew the formation well; after the first platoon of archers fired, the next one would step forward and fire their arrows while the first group prepared their next shot for firing.

I suggest replacing these redundancies with synonyms such as "imminence" and "incitement." But other than that, excellent work. :yes: