Siege of Antioch
The Crusaders, having endured months of siege, starvation, and failed assaults, are on the brink of either breaking through Antioch's defenses or collapsing from exhaustion. Bohemond of Taranto, Raymo
Setting
The outer walls of Antioch, near the Gate of St. Paul. The city's massive stone fortifications loom above, scarred by months of siege. The ground is littered with debris, broken weapons, and remnants of failed assaults. Crusader tents and makeshift shelters dot the landscape outside the walls, while smoke rises from scattered fires.
Characters
Bohemond of Taranto
primary
A tall, powerfully built Norman nobleman in his late 30s, with sun-weathered skin and piercing blue eyes that miss nothing. His face bears the scars of previous battles, and his reddish-blond hair is cropped short in the Norman fashion. His muscular frame shows the strain of months of campaigning, but his posture remains that of a born warrior.
Raymond of Toulouse
primary
A tall, gaunt Occitan nobleman in his late 50s with sharp features, sunken cheeks from months of campaigning, and piercing blue eyes that burn with fervor. His once-rich auburn hair is now streaked with gray and matted from wearing a helmet. His hands bear the calluses of a lifelong warrior.
Godfrey of Bouillon
secondary
A tall, broad-shouldered man in his late 30s with a weathered face marked by years of campaigning. His short-cropped brown beard shows streaks of premature gray, and his piercing blue eyes scan the battlefield with methodical precision. His hands, resting on his sword pommel, bear the callouses of a lifelong warrior.
Crusader Sergeant
secondary
A grizzled veteran in his early 40s, with a wiry but muscular build from years of campaigning. His face is deeply tanned and lined from exposure, with a jagged scar running from his left temple to his cheekbone—a souvenir from an earlier skirmish. His short-cropped brown hair is streaked with gray, and his hands are calloused from wielding weapons and maintaining siege engines.
Defender Archer
background
A young Turkish archer in his early twenties, with a lean but wiry build from years of training with the bow. His dark brown eyes are sharp but weary, scanning the horizon with practiced vigilance. His sun-weathered skin and calloused hands speak of a life spent in military service. A thin beard frames his jaw, partially obscured by the wrapped cloth protecting his neck from the sun.
Dialog
Bohemond of Taranto
By the bones of Saint Michael, Raymond! Your pious hesitation costs us lives—the sally port on the northwest bastion stands unguarded!
Raymond of Toulouse
Saint Giles preserve us from rashness, Bohemond. Should we storm like Saracens, forgetting that God favors the righteous? The enfilade from their towers would slaughter our men.
Crusader Sergeant
The ram’s axle splintered, my lord. And the last scaling hooks? Broken in yesterday’s assault. We’ve no wood left to repair them.
Bohemond of Taranto
Then strip the damn tents for timber! Unless Count Raymond would have us pray the walls down?
Raymond of Toulouse
Mock not divine aid. Recall how Joshua’s faith felled Jericho—but very well. Order the assault. May the Holy Lance guide our swords.
Crusader Sergeant
The men whisper of plague inside Antioch’s walls. If their strength fails before ours…
Bohemond of Taranto
Then we take Antioch not by steel, but by their corpses’ stench. Ready the ladders.