"The Crusades, as Seen by Ordinary Folk," by Tullius Marah

Note · 55 gp · Weight 2

A story recorded by Tullius Marah, from the words of Woren, a peasant from the village of Darkfords "Want to know why they call old Genty 'The Crusader'? This is what happened. Ogar the farmer died, leaving three sons. The two older ones divided the land and lived their lives, and Genty, the youngest one, was a square peg in a round hole, as they say; he only knew how to bask under a tree and eat pies. What was he to do? Where could he apply himself? So he got a rusty old sword from the blacksmith's back yard, mounted his skinny horse, and rode off, over the hills and far away. Sooner or later, he came to a castle. Inside it, there was a knight's wife, sitting around waiting for her husband to return from the crusades. So our Genty sat down next to her, saying, 'Fair Lady, your husband is a great man, and you deserve all compassion. I am a crusader myself, and used to fight the horrible spawn of the Worldwound...' and so on he rambled. He sat behind the stone walls for a month, gained ten pounds, became even more well-groomed, and in the end looked like a baron! But he grew bored of the knight's wife: she was always pale and sad, and cried for days, praying to Sarenrae. So Genty waved her goodbye and went on his way. He rode and rode, and saw a mill on a river, and a miller's wife — rosy cheeks, plump as a partridge. Our Genty cozied up to her, saying, 'Lady miller's wife, does your husband happen to be at home?' 'No, my good sir, last year the fey dragged him into the river,' she said. So Genty invited himself to stay at the mill. He lay on a soft bed, eating pies, drinking beer, and walking around the village. He had some nerve: told everyone at the village tavern what a seasoned crusader he was. He feared no demon, and promised to show them what's what! So one moonlit night, when he was huffing and puffing on the widow, he felt her grabbing his back so strongly that he couldn't stand it. He looked down, and there she was... a crone, horrible, like a skeleton, with a crooked nose, eyes like embers, a hollow stomach, ribs sticking out, and claws instead of nails, stinking of a ripened grave. Try as he might, Genty couldn't get away. The crone held him tight, hissing, 'Where are you going, my sweet crusader. Come on, put your bun in my oven!' And she stuck out her long tongue, and licked her rotten teeth. Somehow Genty wiggled away, leaving plenty of his skin and meat on her claws. He ran from the mill in a panic! Ran all the way to the village, naked and bleeding. So, he's running and yelling, 'Demons! Demons!' Well, the locals gathered with their axes and pitchforks, and came to the mill — but it was empty. The crone was gone. They did find an ugly corpse in the basement, though. They knew it was the miller's wife, by her hair and clothes. That's when Genty lost his mind. Now he sits under his brother's windows, staring into the distance, saying, 'The demons are coming, the demons are coming.' That's the only thing he'll say."