>>5991481

>Kamil al-Rashid: A scout known for his keen eyesight, Kamil grew up as a nomad in the Syrian desert before joining the Saracen army to help fend off the Crusader invasions.

Let’s do a desert spec-ops build, sounds fun. Is this quest related to the new Crusader one in some fashion or pure coincidence that a Crusader and Jihadist quest popped up on the same day?

>>5991481
>Kamil al-Rashid: A scout known for his keen eyesight, Kamil grew up as a nomad in the Syrian desert before joining the Saracen army to help fend off the Crusader invasions.
Desert wind

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>>5991484
>>5991488

You are Kamil al-Rashid, a scout known for your keen eyesight. You grew up as a Bedouin nomad in the Syrian desert before joining the Saracen army to help fend off the Crusader invasions.
You now stand in the twilight, the air heavy with the mingled scents of dust and sweat. A Crusader boy faces you, eyes wide and reflecting the dying sunlight that paints a dance of shadows across his face. You catch the tremor in his voice, the desperation in his gaze. He grasps his sword like it’s a lifeline, his knuckles white with fear: "You are the one they call 'Desert Wind', the demon who killed a hundred Crusaders!"

>>How do you respond?
>And you must be one of the fools who thinks crossing the desert will win him glory.
>I have lost count of how many of your kind I have killed.
>Drop your sword and run, you may yet live to see the next sunrise.
>(Other)

>>5991502
>Blow in his ear and whisper allahu akbar

>>5991504

lol

>>5991502

>”And you must be one of the fools who thinks crossing the desert will win him glory. There are no demons here, boy - only men like me to send you to your Christian god for judgment.”

>>5991502
>Drop your sword and run, you may yet live to see the next sunrise.

>>5991599
>Drop your sword and run, you may yet live to see the next sunrise.
I ain’t slaying another Christian soul if I have a say in the matter.

>>5991502
>And you must be one of the fools who thinks crossing the desert will win him glory.

>>5991502
>(Other)
By Allah, behave yourself
I will give you a taste of my shoe

>>5991509
+1

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>>5991509
>>5991599
>>5991630
>>5991647
>>5992272

“And you must be one of the fools who thinks crossing the desert will win him glory. There are no demons here, boy - only men like me to send you to god for judgment,” you reply evenly, your voice low and steady. The title they’ve given you—Desert Wind—whispers through the ranks of the Crusaders, turning you into a phantom that haunts their nights. Your sharp eyes have tracked their every movement from the dunes, your blade striking unseen.
The boy hesitates, as if pondering your words. “Why are you here?” he asks, voice thin with desperation. He looks to you for an answer that might save him.
“For my faith, and to bring crimson death to you Christian invaders,” you say simply, closing the distance between you. Your sword gleams under the dimming light, as it had in the countless battles you fought to protect this land. The Crusader tries to hold his ground, but you see his resolve crumble as you move.
A sharp rustle from the side, and you glimpse another Crusader charging. You pivot, parrying his blow, and bring your sword down in a swift arc that sends him sprawling. He barely has time to gasp before the sand claims him.
The boy watches, frozen, as his comrade falls. His gaze flickers from your sword to your face, disbelief clouding his youthful features. With a swift motion, you disarm the boy, sending his sword clattering to the ground. He stumbles back, clutching the empty air where his weapon used to be. You step forward, and for a moment, you see the fear in his eyes deepen.
But you stay your hand.
“Run, you may yet live to see the next sunrise,” you command, your voice firm. “Tell your people to leave these lands, or the desert will be their graves.”
The boy stares at you, disbelief mingling with gratitude as he backs away, then turns and runs into the desert. You watch him disappear into the dimming light, knowing that he now carries a message that will echo through the Crusader ranks: the holy lands will never belong to them.

>>What's next?
>You tend to the injured Mujahideen, binding wounds and offering water under the desert sun.
>You sift through the cowardly Crusader's abandoned belongings, claiming your share of their abandoned spoils.
>You scout the nearby terrain, identifying potential ambush spots for the next battle.
>You gather the faithful for a quick prayer, asking for guidance and strength before the next assault.
>(Other)

>>5992360
>You gather the faithful for a quick prayer, asking for guidance and strength before the next assault.

>>5992360
>You tend to the injured Mujahideen, binding wounds and offering water under the desert sun.

>>5992360
>You scout the nearby terrain, identifying potential ambush spots for the next battle.

>>5991897
This should be a default dialogue choice.

>>5992360
>You tend to the injured Mujahideen, binding wounds and offering water under the desert sun.

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>>5992368
>>5992395
>>5992457
>>5992828

You move among the wounded Mujahideen, the last light of the desert sun casting shadows across the makeshift field hospital. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and blood, and the moans of injured warriors weave through the scorching heat. You crouch beside one of your brothers, carefully binding his wounds with strips of cloth. His parched lips crack open in a painful attempt at a smile as you offer him a flask of water.
"This is what separates us from the infidels," you murmur, voice low yet steady, as you pour a thin stream of water into his mouth. "We care for our wounded. The blue-eyed cowards abandon their own, leaving them to die."
Your eyes scan the rows of injured Mujahideen, looking for those most in need of aid. As you move to the next warrior, a raspy voice catches your attention. “Water…” The words are spoken in the rough tones of Frankish, the language of the invaders. Turning, you find a dying Crusader lying on the ground, his eyes pleading for mercy, his hands feebly reaching out for water.
Before you can act, a shadow falls across the Crusader. Zayd ibn Khalid, a veteran warrior who grew up in Damascus, whose face is marked by the scars of many battles, stands over him. His eyes narrow as he looks down at the wounded man. "You shouldn't waste water on such filth, brother Kamil," he says, his voice hardened by the bitterness of loss, having witnessed his family's farmland burned down by Crusaders. He clutches his scimitar, his knuckles turning white around the hilt. "They came to burn and pillage our lands, and you would give them the water meant for our own?"
You pause, feeling the weight of Zayd's gaze. The dying Crusader looks up at you, his eyes filled with the desperation of a man barely clinging to life. You know the water is a precious resource, more valuable than gold under the relentless sun.

> I understand your anger, brother Zayd, but if we deny them mercy, we become no different from them.
> A drop of water won't turn the tide of this war, but it will help us remember who we truly are.
> What would our ancestors think of us, if they saw us deny a dying man water?
> You are right, brother Zayd, water is for the living, not the dead, it is better to offer him the mercy of death instead.
>(Other)

>>5992888
>You are right, brother Zayd, water is for the living, not the dead, it is better to offer him the mercy of death instead.

>>5992888
>> What would our ancestors think of us, if they saw us deny a dying man water?

>>5992888
>> What would our ancestors think of us, if they saw us deny a dying man water?

>>5992888
>> A drop of water won't turn the tide of this war, but it will help us remember who we truly are.
>> What would our ancestors think of us, if they saw us deny a dying man water?
We must not become to demons to fight demons

>>5992888
> I understand your anger, brother Zayd, but if we deny them mercy, we become no different from them.

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>>5992892
>>5992899
>>5993096
>>5993162
>>5993208

“What would our ancestors think of us if they saw us deny a dying man water?” you counter, your voice steady despite the intense heat bearing down on you. “Our faith and the teachings of the Prophet prohibit needless cruelty.” You hold the water flask firmly in your hand, the lifeblood of the desert.
Zayd’s face hardens, his eyes reflecting the unforgiving desert around you. “The Crusaders would never show you the same mercy if you were the one dying,” he replies, and you know he speaks the truth. You’ve seen the carnage left behind by their swords, the lives they’ve destroyed in their quest for glory. Mercy and respect for the dying aren’t familiar concepts to them.
“If we deny them mercy, we become no different from them,” you whisper softly. The Crusader before you struggles for breath, his lips cracked and bleeding. You kneel beside him, raising the flask to his lips and letting a few drops of water quench his thirst. He manages a sip, but his body is too far gone. Death claims him before he can take another breath.
You whisper a prayer, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the desert. He was an infidel, but still human, and in this final moment, he might have repented for his sins and seen the truth in your faith. Only god can judge what happens after a man crosses the threshold of death.
Zayd watches you, a mixture of confusion and admiration flickering across his face. “I don’t understand you, brother Kamil,” he murmurs, his gaze fixed on the lifeless Crusader. “In some moments, you are the deadliest of us, the silent executioner that all Crusaders fear. Yet, in other moments, you show kindness to those who never deserved it. Who are you really?”
You stand slowly, your eyes meeting his with a look of resolve. “I am a man of faith,” you reply. “A mujahid defending my homeland, but also a believer who follows the teachings of mercy.” You take a breath, the words heavy on your tongue. “In battle, we fight with all our might. But in the moments between, we must remember the principles that guide us.”
Zayd remains silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he considers your words. Then he nods slowly, the lines on his face softening. “May god guide us, Kamil,” he says finally. “And may he grant us the wisdom to navigate this cruel world.”

>>What's next?
>You scout the nearby terrain, identifying potential ambush spots for the next battle.
>You report to your commander, Yusuf al-Fahd, a formidable swordsman and the son of a respected emir, to share the latest intelligence on the enemy's movements.
>You visit Salah ibn Omar, who used to be a merchant but now fights beside you to reclaim the freedom of his homeland from Crusader invaders.
>You visit Abdul Rahman al-Hakim, a scholar-turned-warrior, who passionately defends the knowledge and heritage of the Islamic world.

>>5993265
>You scout the nearby terrain, identifying potential ambush spots for the next battle.
Might as well get all the info we can before sharing it with Yusuf.

>>5993265
>You scout the nearby terrain, identifying potential ambush spots for the next battle.

>>5993265
>>You scout the nearby terrain, identifying potential ambush spots for the next battle.

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>>5993270
>>5993332
>>5993472

The sun has set, and the desert is draped in the cool darkness of night. But darkness has always been your ally, and tonight is no different. You move through the dunes silently, with the grace of a desert fox. The Crusaders don't know the holy lands, not as you do. Even when they try to move stealthily, they fail, their heavy boots and clanking armor giving away their positions with each step.
You follow the faint trail they've left behind, the disturbed sand and broken branches that mark their passage. "A large group," you whisper to yourself, crouching to examine the tracks. Judging by the number of footprints and the depth of their indentations, it’s clear there are many. The Crusaders who fled today will likely join this larger group. But not all of them are soldiers; among them are camp followers—whores, washerwomen, and merchants eager for coin. They trail behind the knights and foot soldiers, seeking what little profit they can scrape from the conflict.
The Mujahideen, on the other hand, are accustomed to moving through the desert in small groups, all fighters, disciplined and silent. The Crusaders cling to their luxuries, pleasures of the flesh and wine, both forbidden by your faith, burdened by the weight of their own excesses. It makes them sluggish, and it makes them vulnerable.
You climb a dune, its peak giving you a vantage point to survey the land. In the moonlight, you see their path winding through the desert, the clumsy progress of a large, unwieldy force. You estimate their speed and direction, mentally marking the best spot to stage an ambush. A narrow pass between two ridges will funnel them into a confined space, where their numbers won't offer them much protection. Your people will strike like a desert storm, catching them unaware.
Satisfied with your observations, you melt back into the shadows, retracing your steps to your commander. Yusuf al-Fahd will want to know every detail. Your footsteps are soft on the sand, leaving no trail for anyone to follow.

>>3 anons roll dice+1d100+10

Rolled 41 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>5993829

Rolled 25 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>5993829

Rolled 49 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>5993829

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>>5993956
>>5993993
>>5994110

>2 Success

You stride into the command tent, the light of the flickering oil lamps casting shadows on the canvas walls. Yusuf al-Fahd, a formidable swordsman and son of a respected emir, stands over a map spread across a wooden table. His gaze rises to meet yours, his eyes sharp and expectant. The air inside the tent is tense, laden with the weight of the conflict brewing outside.
"Sayyid," you begin, addressing him with the respect owed to his lineage, "there are about seven thousand of them. Moving towards Jerusalem."
Yusuf al-Fahd's grimace deepens as he traces a path on the map with his finger. "More than twice our number."
"True," you concede, stepping closer to the table. "But not all of them are warriors, Sayyid, many are camp followers. Whores and wine-mongers. If we ambush them here in this narrow pass between two ridges, it will funnel them into a confined space, where their numbers won't offer them much protection."
His gaze meets yours, weighing the risks and costs, the lines on his face deepening with the burden of command. For a moment, the only sound in the tent is the faint rustling of the wind outside, sifting through the sand.
Yusuf al-Fahd finally nods, his eyes reflecting a resolve that burns bright. "All right, Kamil. Let us prepare the Mujahideen for battle."
He gathers his men, sharing your intelligence and issuing orders with the authority of a leader born to command. As the word spreads, the camp stirs to life. Warriors emerge from their tents, preparing their weapons, tightening armor straps, and murmuring prayers under their breath. The anticipation builds, and the Mujahideen move with a focused determination.
You find yourself beside Yusuf al-Fahd, your sword sheathed at your side, the weight of the battle ahead resting on your shoulders. Together, you lead the Mujahideen to their positions under the cover of darkness, the night air heavy with the promise of conflict.
As dawn approaches, you take your place among your brothers, your eyes fixed on the horizon. The Crusaders approach, unaware of the trap that awaits them in the narrow pass. The time for battle has come, and you steel yourself, ready to strike like the desert wind.

>>What do you do?
>You stay close to Yusuf al-Fahd, offering your tactical insights as he commands the Mujahideen.
>You pray silently, asking for strength and wisdom to guide your hand in the battle ahead.
>(Other)

>>5995122
>>You request permission to target the enemy leader, aiming to cut off the head of the snake amid the chaos of battle, even if it means risking your own life.
Scorpion tail

>>5995123
>>5995124

I forgot to add (Other) and deleted the post to edit and accidentally ended up removing the third option

>>What do you do?
>You stay close to Yusuf al-Fahd, offering your tactical insights as he commands the Mujahideen.
>You pray silently, asking for strength and wisdom to guide your hand in the battle ahead.
>You request permission to target the enemy leader, aiming to cut off the head of the snake amid the chaos of battle, even if it means risking your own life.
>(Other)

>>5995125
>You request permission to target the enemy leader, aiming to cut off the head of the snake amid the chaos of battle, even if it means risking your own life.
Scorpion Tail

>>5995123
>>You pray silently, asking for strength and wisdom to guide your hand in the battle ahead.
Rabbana ‘atinaa fid dunyaa hasanat wafil aakhirati hasanataw wa qinaa azaaban naar.

>>5995123
>You request permission to target the enemy leader, aiming to cut off the head of the snake amid the chaos of battle, even if it means risking your own life.

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>>5995124
>>5995125
>>5995128
>>5995130
>>5995263

"Sayyid, let me go after the Crusader king," you say, seeking permission from Yusuf al-Fahd. "In the confusion of battle, I can strike at their leader, cutting the head off the snake. Even if it means risking my life." Yusuf al-Fahd grimaces, his eyes shadowed with concern. "He will have many guards, Kamil. You may die before you even reach him."
You meet his gaze, your voice calm and resolute. "If today is the day I am fated to return to god, then nothing can alter my fate. And what better death than that of a shahid?"
"The Mujahideen still need you, Kamil al-Rashid," Yusuf al-Fahd argues, his tone earnest.
"I shall make every attempt to return alive, after bringing crimson death to the king of our blue-eyed enemies," you promise. "But even if I fall, another will take my place, for there will always be those fighting for the righteous cause." Your faith in your fellow Mujahideen shines through your words. The holy land has changed hands many times, and perhaps it will again, but in the end, it will always return to those who follow your faith. Yusuf al-Fahd takes a deep breath, nodding finally. "Alright, you have permission to go after the leader of this host. May god keep you safe."
You bow your head in gratitude, your heart steady with purpose. You prepare your weapons and armor, tightening every strap, ensuring every blade is sharp. The words of your commander echo in your mind as you slip into the darkness, moving towards the Crusader camp. The night cloaks you like a shadow, and your footsteps whisper across the sand.
You move closer to the Crusader encampment, scanning the guards stationed at the perimeter. The faint flicker of torches reveals their positions, but you navigate carefully, your senses heightened. The Crusader king will be well-protected, but you remain undeterred. For your people, for your land, you will face this challenge with unwavering resolve.
The scent of the enemy camp reaches you, a mixture of sweat, smoke, and fear. You press forward, focusing on the tents at the center, where their leader surely lies. The muffled voices of guards reach your ears as you approach, your mind already envisioning the path you will carve to reach the king.

>>Three anons roll dice+1d100+10

Rolled 33 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>5995676

Rolled 66 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>5995676
ALLAHU AKBAR MY BROTHER, LET US SUICIDE BOMB THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF HIM

Rolled 13 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>5995687
>>5995688
>>5995725

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>>5995843

>1 Success

You glide through the darkness, moving like a ghost the Crusaders whisper about in fear. Each step is soundless, the soft shift of sand beneath your feet the only whisper of your presence. The first guard you encounter is barely conscious, slumped against a pole, the sour stench of wine on his breath. Why men willingly drink something so foul that poisons their mind is beyond you. He doesn’t even notice your approach before your blade finds his throat. He slumps to the ground, dead before he can make a sound.
You dispatch the next guard just as silently, and then another. They fall one after the other, and you pass through them like a knife through corrupt flesh. The Crusader camp lies in disarray, and no one seems to notice as you move toward the largest tent, the one covered in fine fabric and adorned with bright colors.
You peer inside, your breath steady, your senses heightened. The king lies there, armored plates discarded and piled nearby. But he is not alone. A nude woman sleeps beside him, her face turned toward the opening, her chest rising and falling in steady breaths. You pause, your eyes scanning the interior of the tent. Killing the king is simple enough, but leaving the woman alive could raise an alarm before you can make your escape.
Your faith forbids the murder of innocents, and you have no desire to kill a defenseless woman. Yet doubt creeps into your mind; you are aware that a woman who shares the bed of the Crusader king is far from innocent. Even so, hesitation grips you, your heart wrestling with the decision.
You take a steadying breath, the blade in your hand feeling heavier than it did moments ago. You step back into the shadows, crouching down to assess the situation. A plan begins to form in your mind—strike quickly and with precision, dispatching the king in one swift move before he can react. The woman may cry out, but in her panic, she may stumble in the confusion, giving you the moment you need to slip back into the night.
You move silently, your resolve firm. The fate of the holy land rests on your shoulders, and you cannot afford to falter. With your grip tightening on the hilt of your blade, you prepare to strike.

>>What do you do?
>You dispatch both the king and the woman swiftly, leaving no witnesses as you vanish into the night.
>You strike down the king alone, your blade sparing the woman as you retreat into the shadows.
>You subdue the woman quietly, ensuring she cannot raise an alarm as you eliminate the king.
>You abandon your mission, slipping back into the night, your conscience unwilling to commit an act you might regret.
>(Other)

>>5995848
>(Other)
>You go in and scream "ALLAHU AKBAR INFIDELS" while pressing the button on your bomb vest
*BOM* goes the bomb as it produces a shock wave so powerful as to wake up everyone in the camp. Dead is the king and his wretched whore. Yusuf al-Fahd can hear the detonation from 20km away in their camp, he let's out a silent prayer "SubhanaK-Allahumma wa bihamdiKa, wa tabaarak-asmuKa, wa ta-‘aala jadduKa, wa la ilaaha ghayruK" for he knows you are now with the all mighty Allah.

>>5995848
>You strike down the king alone, your blade sparing the woman as you retreat into the shadows.
I dunno what “subdue” means here but I ain’t risking it going wrong and killing her.

>>5995852
It probably means that you knock her out... What else do you think subdue means?

>>5995851
>>>5995848
>>(Other)
>>You go in and scream "ALLAHU AKBAR INFIDELS" while pressing the button on your bomb vest
This is a fun option to choose.

>>5995848
>>You strike down the king alone, your blade sparing the woman as you retreat into the shadows.
Toss down a muslim dagger to her as we leave. Maybe they will be dumb enough to think she did it

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>>5995852
>>5995901

You steady your breath, eyes fixed on the sleeping crusader king as you approach the bed with measured, silent steps. The moonlight filtering through the canvas casts ghostly shadows, dancing on the tent walls. Your grip tightens around the hilt of your blade, the cold steel reflecting the dim light. The woman stirs slightly, her face turned toward you, but she does not wake.
Your target lies unaware of the threat lurking in the shadows. You lean in close, the tip of your blade aimed with precision, and with a swift, silent motion, you strike. The king's eyes open wide, his mouth agape, but before he can draw breath to scream, you press down hard, your blade slicing cleanly through his throat. A gurgling sound escapes him as his body jerks once, then falls still.
You stand over him for a moment, the only sound your own heartbeat thumping in your chest. The woman shifts again in her sleep, oblivious to the life that has just ended beside her. Her presence gives you pause, but your resolve is firm. You cannot stain your hands with the blood of a defenseless woman, no matter who she sleeps beside.
Swiftly and silently, you retreat from the tent, leaving the dead king and his oblivious companion behind. You slip back into the shadows, retracing your path through the camp. The guards remain unaware of your presence, their drunken stupor rendering them useless.
You reach the edge of the camp, the dark expanse of the desert stretching before you. The night's cool air fills your lungs, the only witness to your deed. Soon, the wind carries the distant sound of hooves pounding against the sand, the Mujahideen approaching like a force of nature.
Yusuf al-Fahd rides at the forefront, his sword raised high, the glint of steel catching the moonlight. The ranks of the Mujahideen follow, their resolve solid and hearts steadfast. Their silhouettes appear over the dunes, a wave of warriors ready to sweep down upon the Crusaders. The night air is filled with the war cries of the faithful.
As the Mujahideen charge into the camp, confusion ripples through the Crusaders. They scramble from their tents, armor half-donned, weapons clutched in frantic hands. They stumble and shout, their eyes searching for their leader, but he will not answer their call. Their king lies cold and lifeless, leaving them without guidance in the chaos.

>>Three anons roll dice+1d100+20

Rolled 2 + 20 (1d20 + 20)

>>5995941

Rolled 99 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>5995941
>>5995975
oops

Rolled 12 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>5995941
ALLAHU AKBAR MY BROTHERS, LET US ALL DETONATE OUR SUICIDE VESTS

subhanakal-lahumma wabihamdika
watabarakas-muka
wataa ‘ala jadduka
wala ilaha ghayruka.

Rolled 56 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>5995941

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>>5995976
>>5996284

>2 Success

You fall into step with the Mujahideen, your blade at the ready, moving alongside Yusuf al-Fahd as he drives his horse through the lines of the infidels. The Crusaders falter, disoriented and leaderless, and their confusion quickly turns to panic as the Mujahideen strike with precision. The Crusaders struggle to form a defense, their ranks breaking under the assault.
You cut through the camp like the desert wind, your blade a flash of silver in the moonlight. The Crusaders crumble before you, falling under the force of the Mujahideen’s charge. Shouts of victory fill the air, mixing with the clash of steel and the cries of the wounded.
Amidst the chaos, you catch Ghazi Yusuf al-Fahd’s eye. He nods, his face set in grim determination. The infidels will fall tonight, their defeat sealed by the death of their leader. The Mujahideen press on, overwhelming the Crusaders, driving them back across the sand.
The battle rages through the night, but the tide is in your favor. The Crusaders, disorganized and disheartened, have lost their will and courage to fight, not that they had much of either in the first place. They begin to retreat, fleeing into the desert, abandoning their camp and their comrades. The Mujahideen stand victorious, the cries of triumph echoing across the dunes.
You survey the aftermath, your breath coming in steady gasps. The Crusader camp lies in shambles, their banners trampled and their fires extinguished.
The Mujahideen stand victorious, your blades dripping with the crimson of your blue-eyed enemies. The Crusaders lie scattered across the sands, their ranks shattered and broken. The few who survived are herded into a makeshift pen, prisoners of war now at the mercy of their captors.
Yusuf al-Fahd surveys the battlefield, his eyes resting on the fallen Crusaders and the triumphant Mujahideen. He dismounts from his horse, moving through the ranks of his warriors, offering words of encouragement and gratitude. His gaze finally meets yours, and he strides toward you, his expression one of approval.
"Kamil al-Rashid," he begins, placing a firm hand on your shoulder. "You have done well. Your actions have brought us victory tonight. The Crusaders were leaderless and in disarray thanks to your courage and skill."
You bow your head in gratitude, humbled by his words. "It is an honor to serve, Sayyid. The Holy Lands remain in the hands of the faithful and righteous."
Yusuf al-Fahd nods, his eyes reflecting the fierce pride of a commander who has led his people to victory. "I will send word to Sultan Salah ad-Din, informing him of our triumph. This victory is ours, and the infidels will think twice before crossing the desert again."

(Quest Complete)

>>5996757
NOOO, IT CAN'T BE OVER OP. Make up more shit !!!!! Now that the infidels are defeated their lands are defenseless, we must strike while the iron is hot. ALLAHU AKBAR, LET THE SUICIDE BOMBINGS BEGIN, OUR FIRST TARGET SHALL BE THE TWIN TOWERS AND THE PENTAGON, oh wait never mind, that's an inside job.

>>5996757
Hell yeah. Good stuff. Thanks for the quest, QM.

>>5996757
We did it! Jihad successful!

gj qm

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>>5996757
Reading through it after the fact, this was very cool. Nice job with the one shot OP. I'd archive the thread if I were you.