Ian was feeling pretty jealous of the white folk lately. He’d always been a confident, capable guy, but he always had a gnawing insecurity about being non White. Unable to cope with it, he set out on his journey to learn the ancient art.
He first sought the assistance of the wizards atop the forbidden hill. He arrived just after sunset. The long climb had tired him considerably, and he was very thirsty. He knocked on the large wooden door, but there was no response. Just as he considered leaving, he heard a squeaky voice call him from the other side.
“What are you doing here, Chad? We don’t like your kind around here!”
“Chad?”, Ian replied, “No, my name is Ian.” “I don’t care what your name is, faggot. I’m looking at you through the door and I see a chad.”
Ian was confused at the strange terminology. Nobody had ever used the term “chad” in the kebab village he had come from. “I came to learn the Way of White from the wizards. Could you help me?”
“Oh, the chad wants to learn how to be white, does he?! Go fuck off back to Pole!” Ian heard the sound of a door slamming on the other side of the door.
Disheartened, he knocked once more on the door, but nobody answered. Eventually losing his morale, he went back down the hill towards a nearby town with many (((merchants))); ones who may know of this “Pole” the wizard had mentioned.
Upon arriving he was greeted by a cabal of hook noses; all of them trying to sell him worthless trinkets they called “souvenirs”. He tried to talk to them about Pole, but every single one of them whom he asked would immediately shoot him a terrible grimace and walk away.
He went everywhere in the town, but nobody would tell him of Pole, yet they all clearly knew something. Right when all hope seemed lost, Allah spoke to him, “Ian, my son, you must head north. There you will find Europe. The Way of White can be learned there.”
“Europe? How will I get there? There’s the Great Sea and the Dragon Mountains to the north! They’re both uncrossable! Allah! Help me Allah!”
“Help me Muhammad?”
The heavens were silent. Ian was nervous at the prospect of having to cross both of those treacherous places. Nobody had ever returned from there before once they had gone. With trepidation in his heart, he began walking north through the desert.
Despite his off camera preparations, Ian was running out of supplies as he headed through the desert. Tired and filled with fear at his likely death by dehydration, he continued to walk. He walked and he walked and he walked.
At long last, he had crossed the desert! He could see the city of Kebabistan in the distance. Invigorated with a new found energy, he jogged the rest of the way there. After arriving in the city, he renewed his supplies and went to an inn for the night. Tomorrow he would begin his dangerous trek to the Dragon Mountains. He was tired, but his fear of what would come tomorrow kept him awake.
The next morning at dawn, he gathered his supplies and readied himself for the journey. Right before he set off, however, he heard a horn resound to the west. Looking over there, he saw a large army on the horizon. Before he could react, they shouted as a group and began to charge towards the city. He could see crosses on their flags and quickly realized: “CRUSADERS, WHITE MEN! This is my chance!”
He thought to ask them to teach him, but they clearly couldn’t be reasoned with as they currently are. Ian went back to his inn to hide until things calmed down.
but then crusaders raided the inn and killed all infidels