Crusade

[Roger Smith]

Long decades of multitasking had instilled a remarkable ability to multitask into the towering holy man. Though his attention was focused ahead, on guiding the horse along the tracks that had been pointed out to him, his ears were alert and listening intently to the tale that the Templar behind him had to say. It certainly did seem that the man had seen his fair share of hardship since his arrival in the Omniverse, judging by the story's events. So much hardship had befallen this city he had taken up residence in, and it seemed to have struck Cormac particularly hard.

It was not an alien concept to him; Alexander Anderson was not at all a stranger to such difficulty in life. It was just one reason of many he had so tightly embraced his faith. But...that was a matter for another time. His own demons didn't need to be dredged up now, not when there was a job waiting to be done. No, not just a job; much more than that. A duty to be done.

Following the tracks, and up to the peak of a sand dune. It stood seemingly alone from its fellows, rising up head and shoulders above the dusty sandscape around them all. And at the peak, they halted; a sharp tug of the reins in his own hands, and a grinding of tires and grumbling of engine as the nigh-fossilized Emperor brought his vehicle to a halt beside.

The vision of the ruins, shimmering in the desert haze of the horizon, reflected in his glasses as he observed it. He chanced a look back, craning his neck over his shoulder to peer at the man who had orchestrated this task, and as if in unison every other pair of eyes there crept about to stare at the armored man. The look that burned in those eyes spoke a clear message; one that brought a grin to the paladin's face. The message needed no interpretation or translation; it didn't even need to be voiced. They were here. The city of Nippur drew close.

It was time.

With an all-too-delighted smile plastered on his face, Anderson swung his attention back forward, and spurred his steed into motion again. He didn't spare any words yet. None of his usual inspiring speech, none of his usual proclamations of victory before they had even begun. Not yet; that could wait until they drew closer.

The dust and sand of his thundering start had scarcely begun to swirl in the air before the engine of the skeletal ruler's gilded conveyance roared and the tires ground and squealed in the sand, rushing to catch up with the charger in the lead.