Solstice: Part One

The First Crusade: Preparation

          The Heroes' opponents were camped in another clearing.  It was surrounded and punctured in places by trees, many bare or dead.  The clearing was just large enough for the many shadowed figures milling about it.  Some were resting on blankets or sleeping bags, others grouped around lanterns and candles.  Almost all of them had weapons, and quite a few were in the process of maintenance.

          All of them wore masks.

          Overseeing the masked horde was Sutton.  His mind was entirely intact, and he was (had been designated) their commander.  He wore his homemade steel death mask under a hooded shawl.  Sutton appreciated the art of handcrafted tools, which is what the mask was;  he had also made the saber he wore at his side, along with a .357 Magnum revolver.

          Many of the mindless ones were acting up since the Master had arrived.  He had been pacing by the row of dead pines at the southern end of the clearing after His arrival a few minutes.

          Come here.

          Sutton had not been looking forward to this.  He had communicated with his Master many times before, but he did not know what mood He might be in.   Still, he strode to the tall figure, where he noticed another man was waiting.

          His voice was smooth and clear, at least to Sutton; a strong mind had earned him his role of commander.

          Acolyte tells me that Zero is leading them into the battle, He said, referring to the man in a heavy hooded cloak and welding mask.

          "Yes, Master," Sutton said. 

          Zanna believes that quite a few of the Notables will be fighting tonight.  Can you confirm this?

          "I would have no way of knowing.  I  wouldn't doubt it, though."

          "The Heretics have been boasting about their coming victory," snarled Acolyte, his voice resonating within the helmet.  "No doubt they will show up.  Lambs to the slaughter."

          If Basroil Squad attends tonight, you may be in for a bit of trouble.  The tentacles began to arise from His back, long and writhing.  I don't want too much interference before I kill their "Hero" in front of them. 

          "Don't worry, my Master," Sutton assured Him.  "We are many, and well armed."

          Elaborate.

          "Everyone has their weapon of choice; lots of lead pipes, a multitude of kitchen knives, garden tools and such for the most part.  As for firearms, we have pistols, carbines, shotguns, all spread around.  Machetes seem to be pretty popular, and Orthrus passed out some body armor to those who didn't have some of their own.  Shrike made some mention of a "surprise" for Basroil Squad earlier, but he wasn't much clearer.  And, of course, we have You, my Master."

          Acolyte nodded, impressed.  He was holding his own favorite weapon, a large broadax he had kept from his time as a logger.  A Glock 22 was in his back pocket, under his cloak.

          Only hope that not all of Nightcrawler's fools have their lasers tonight.  How many are here tonight?

          Acolyte answered before Sutton could open his mouth.  "Around thrity-seven, Master.  Possibly more."

          Some of those nearer to the south of the camp were watching the conversation with interest.  Shrike, the gem eyes of his Mardi Gras bird mask twinkling green, had stopped his storytelling to watch the meeting; Niter and Pit, the notable Proxy couple, removed one another's masquerade masks' noses from the other's and watched their Master rapturously.

          It will soon be late, and they will have arrived before the hill, their Master said.  He sounded full of anticipation.  Ready them, Sutton. 

          "Will you lead us, Master?" Sutton asked cautiously.

          No.  But I will not be far behind.  I've been waiting for this night.  He reached backwards for the top of one of the dead trees.  On the uppermost branch was a hat.  His hat.  The hat.

          Take them.  Now.

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          Sutton saw Zero and Maduin first; the Hero and his Trickster.  Amelia, or perhaps "the Heroine" was behind them.  He recognized a few others, but quite a few weren't Notables.  They numbered about a dozen or so.  A few members of Basroil Squad went forward as well, but most stayed behind, ready for the serious carnage to begin.

          The Master called across to the assembled:

          Who among you petty few do you name "the Hero?"

          There was a great bang, a wave of simultaneous cries and gunshots.

          Attack, Sutton.