Tasked by God to cleanse the wasteland of heresy, the crusader Roland Cyrillian is embarking on a journey to a distant castle.
The crusader draws closer to Corvega Castle, encountering strange machines. If it is true. It is indeed was God had said – that Cyrillian had been transported to the distant year of 2287 AD, then these machines… They were not of the Devil. They were not of Satan, but rather, made of man.THe purpose of these creations, the crusader shuddered to consider. Whatever had happened in the last 1200 years, it was clear that humanity had lost absolutely its connection to the Lord. That it had abandoned the true path.
And now it seemed, it was down to Cyrillian to steer it back.
The crusader draws closer to Castle Corvega. Inhuman structures jut into the sky. What appears to be a large chimney, for a blacksmith of some kind, towers above the structure. More buildings – a strange, otherworldly looking town, also lies among the castle.
He approaches the castle’s front gate. Armed men patrol, a grim expression on their faces and rough, unfriendly stances.
“I seek entrance to Castle Corvega” the crusader calls to the gate’s guard.
There is no response. No response save the echo of laughter. Mockery was something the crusader would not stand for. To stand in a temple of the lord and mock his followers was a grave sin.
“Alright, bucket man,” the gate guard says. “This is how it’s going to go. You lay down everything you own and walk away. Otherwise… I’m putting a bullet in you.”
“You will not be reasoned with?” the crusader asks.
There is more laughter.
“I only wish to spread the word of the Lord,” Cyrillian continues. “Lay down your arms, and join me in prayer!”
The gate guard seems to possess otherworldly abilities, ones that allow him to reach through his weapon as if it were made of air.
It is clear, however, that these brigands would not hear reason. Perhaps, the crusader thought, he could get closer and help them see sense. He slinks back and tries to find another way in.
Every castle needs a sewage system, and it does not take long for the crusader to find that of Castle Corvega’s.
The pipe reveals a small room, water lapping around Cyrillian’s ankles. The rotting corpses at his feet indicate he is not the first person to try this route. He stays on his guard.
Cyrillian continues following the underground passage. Strange pipes snake their way along side him, like great serpents of temptation. At his feet, litter and refuse lie strewn. Ahead, more strange devices, the likes of which the crusader can not identify.
Cyrillian emerges from the passage into a wide open room, constructed of strange metals coloured in varying tones of red, yellow and blue. The humans of the future have created great castles of metal, with strange, seemingly magical means of illumination. Where were the torches? The flames? They were absent.
It is this moment that the crusader encounters his first brigade.
“There you are,” Cyrillian says. “Now if you will hear me out-“
“He’s here!” the brigand shouts. “The bucket man! He’s here! Everyone get him!”
So it would have to be this way, then. The brigand attempts to physically attack the crusader. Cyrillian’s superior holy strength overpowers the villain easily.
But he is not alone. There is movement in this great metal castle now. Footsteps. Voices. The enemy is rapidly closing on the Crusader. The heathens. The heretics. They seek to do him harm, to destroy God’s followers. They had left Cyrillian with no other choice.
Suffering more attacks by brigand slug-throwers, the Crusader cuts through their numbers. Unseen, and nebulous until the last moment, his blade brings justice to the heretics. Dozens fall, one by one.
Alone again, the crusader ponders the fate of the brigands. No castle could sustain an attack from within, and that is exactly what Cyrillian had done. But it could have been avoided. If they had simply heeded their words.
Instead, they attacked on sight. For no reason. To take a life was against the will of God. But to destroy sinners… that was acceptable.
Cyrillian had believed that this world was a vision of the devil. That its inhabitants were mere visages of temptation and cruelty, created by Satan for the sole purpose of swaying the crusader from the holy path.
But now…. if they were real… real individuals, living over a thousand years from his own time… then he was putting normal people to the sword. With every villain laid low, another potential follower of the Lord was lost forever.
Tenpines Bluff.
A few days later, the crusader returns to the farm. He lets the residents know the brigands have been…dealt with. But the Crusader is not jubiliant. Not yet. He returns to his plot, his own church, to ponder.
The crusader remaiend there for days. If not weeks. Undisturbed. Undisturbed, at least, until one chance encounter with an old friend…
What happens next? Find out in part 7!
It's Only A Model 