Today you’re a dude in the Crusades. We’re not really sure which one, but King Richard will be there fighting Saladin and there will be a whole bunch of camels and horses and bleeding and shit and a lot of racial intolerance too.
You won’t be anyone important. You’ll just be a young merchant who works out of Acre. Your day will start pretty normally, with a delivery from Muhammad to restock your shop with silks. He’ll warn you that he heard from Muhammad (also a merchant, man that’s a common name) that Christians are advancing on the city, but you’ll brush him off and go about your day normally.
You’ll go about your business normally until a bunch of fires start and some huge rocks start to fall out of the sky on and around your shop. You’ll poke your head outside to make sure it’s not just you and, sure enough, the entire fucking city will be in the process of being pelted by rocks and flaming arrows. You’ll run back inside to save some of your favorite silks and a picture of your favorite camel (you’re really fucking weird) and you’ll be crushed to death by a flaming piece of rock launched by an illiterate young man from Wales who was pressed into service in order to pay for his excessive legal fees after he stole several pigs from a neighbor.
He’ll be pretty psyched that he gets to launch flaming rocks at people, and he’ll be happy at the thought of killing people who disagree with him in general, especially after his incredibly unfair hearing, but he won’t actually think that you might have been a person with your own life and beliefs. That would probably bum him out, and he’ll be doing his absolute best to keep his spirits up because he’s going to be helping to load and launch heavy and occasionally incendiary rocks for like, five straight days, which is kind of going to suck.
Just not as much as being crushed.
Congratulations Crusade Participant!
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