To Call The Calvary

To Call The Calvary

Chapter I: In which our two heroes meet.

~~In the later months of the 7th Year of Thedude. The weather is cold, but snowfall is light where our story takes place. In the land of Morcia, beginning in the camp of the Merry Band. We go now, to find the Merry Band beside a large lake, located in the forest, where they are packing up.~~

"Silverstine?"

Stirling turned away from his task of knocking down his 3rd tent to face a man on a black horse.

"Please, call me Strider," he replied, squinting up at him. The sun was right behind the stranger, and it hid his facial features, but Strider noted the mismatched and clearly used armor and gear that horse and rider wore.

"I am Sir Thaddeus Nathanael Thingguy the Second. I was told by the Gateway to meet you here," the man said, dismounting. 

Strider's interest was piqued. Finally, he would meet one of the KOTOS. Everywhere he'd gone he'd heard such larger than life stories about these knights. He would be glad to assess them himself, and perhaps knock them down a peg. 

The man patted his horse, and turned around to Strider. His most prominent feature was his bright, short, ginger beard that had clearly not seen a barber in months. Once Strider pulled his attention away from that, he noticed Sir Thingguy's glinty green eyes, and the light smirk that hid a bright mind.

"I am told you wished to join the KOTOS?" he asked. The horse nickered.

Strider shook his head. "Not exactly. Did you get my letter?"

Thingguy shook his head and frowned. "No. I only received word from the Gateway to meet you with the Merry Band, in this wood that they frequent. I came as fast as I could, but I do not know how long it took for the Gateway's letter to reach me. I hope you have not been waiting for me o'er long!"

Strider smiled. "Not to worry, I have been redeeming the time." He turned back to the collapsed tent and began gathering it up into a single manageable bundle. "I do appreciate you coming."

"If you did not want to join KOTOS, perhaps you can explain to me your intent." Thingguy asked guardedly.

"Certainly, but do you mind if we walk and talk?" Strider asked, having tied the bundle. 

"Not at all."

Strider hefted the bundle onto his right shoulder. "Wonderful."

The two started on down the lane, passing others who were packing their various items and abodes.

"I was seeking out the KOTOS, true," began Strider, "But not to join. I was hoping you could help me find my family. You see-"

Thingguy raised an eyebrow. The black horse stopped dead in it's tracks and whinnied. 

"Oh, come on, Deadbeat, it wasn't that far a ride! Besides, you'll get oats, remember?" the knight said, turning to the horse.

'Deadbeat' snorted.  

"That, I'm not so sure." Replied the knight.

Stirling stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Are you talking to your horse?"

Both Deadbeat and Thingguy turned on Strider with a near-identical look of look of incredulity.  "Don't you?" Thingguy asked.

"Um. No. I don't really keep any one horse for very long. In fact, I'd go so far as to say I and horses have bad luck."

Both horse and man blinked. Then Thingguy shrugged.  "To each their own." Deadbeat snorted again, and swished his tail contemptuously as he began walking off.

"I hope you get put to work!" yelled Thingguy after him. Deadbeat whinnied back, and Thingguy waved him off.

"You're not worried he'll wander off?" Strider asked.

"Naw, he'll be fine. Maybe a little fatter, if he finds those sugar cubes he was asking about."

"I doubt it; The Merry Band's just about done packing, by the looks of it. We should be moving off in about two to three hours max.

Thingguy looked around. They were nearly the only people on the path now.

"Wow. I've met the Merry Band before but I'd never seen them move."

"They've gotten a lot of practice over the years, what with thedude's forces trying to get rid of such a large force so close to Orlan." agreed Strider solemnly. "Even though it's largely women and children."

Thingguy nodded. "Speaking of family, you were telling me you were trying to find your own?"

"Oh. Yes." Strider refocused. "The Silverstine Family." He turned to Thingguy. "I asked you to call me 'Strider', but my name is Stirling Silverstine."

"Pleased to meet you, Stirling!" Thingguy replied warmly, sticking his right hand out to shake. Stirling was holding the tent bundle in that hand, but he shifted it over to his left shoulder, and shook Thingguy's hand.

"And it is a pleasure to meet you, Thingguy."

"Now, tell me more of your family. Why are you so desperate to find them that you would call on the Gateway?" Thingguy asked as they began walking again. 

"Actually, that was the idea of the Merry Band here. They said that then the Gateway could contact the KOTOS. I've been offworld for many years, but Militeregnum is my homeworld." Stirling unstringed his brown coat to reveal his Samurai chestplate beneath. "I'd been fighting in the Nexus Force for many years before I came here 7 years ago. I was on shore leave with a pilot-friend who helped me get through the blockade, but we crash-landed.

Thingguy's eyes lit up. "Was there anyone else on your shuttle?"

"No, just me and Perry. He's a Venture Leaguer, if that means anything to you."

"It does!" Thingguy assured. "The KOTOS are originally from Nimbus Station!"

It was Stirling's turn to be surprised. "Really? They don't tell that in the legends."

Thingguy chuckled. "There's a lot the legends don't tell. I should know, I've instigated a few!" His eyes twinkled slyly.

Stirling raised an eyebrow. "Ah. I see."

"But I'm interrupting. You are supposed to be telling me your legend."

"Right. Well, Perry and I crash-landed, and we found out pretty quickly the state of things here on Milteregnum. I set off in search of my family, Perry joining me, and found out later we were being trailed by thedude's forces curious about the crash. We ended up taking shelter at Calibus Tower for awhile where I found one of my two brothers,-"

Here, Thingguy reacted with alarm at the mention of Calibus Tower, but did not interrupt as Stirling continued his summary.

"-but I soon left for my family's estate in the Athelas Mounts. I found it ransacked, empty of the living."  Stirling paused as the memories of his wrecked childhood home sprang back. It had clearly been the scene of more than one battle before he had gotten there. He hadn't recognized anyone, but that was to be expected as he would have had difficulty remembering anyone from his childhood even if they were not marred and desecrated as they were.

Silverstine Keep was little more than a tomb now. A ruined tomb.

"What did you do then?" Thingguy asked, pulling Strider back to the present.

Stirling made a conscious effort to look Thingguy in the eye.  "I went back to Calibus. Found that the enemy had raided it."

Thingguy stared right back, with a sudden solemnity. "The Raid of Calibus, they call it."

"They killed my brother, and took away my best friend." Stirling growled. "And the leader of the assault was-"

"Lord Brocktree."

"-Menaya Kull. Wait, what?"

"Pardon?"

"Brocktree?"

"Maniacal?"

Stirling stopped to enunciate. "No, Me-nay-a. Kull." 

Thingguy shook his head. "No, it was Brocktree. Lord Brocktree." He clarified.

"Brocktree? Who's that?" Stirling scoffed.

Thingguy waited a moment, and the realization dawned inevitably on the Sentinel Nexus Forcer.

"Wait... THE Brocktree?" Stirling asked. Thingguy nodded. "The Sir Brocktree that disappeared from known space like..." Stirling did some quick math on his fingers. " Almost TEN YEARS AGO?!" 

"YES!"

"Second in command to the Faction Leaders?!"

"YES!"

"HOLY-" Stirling bit back whatever he was about to say next, instead opting for, "Lord Brocktree is here?" Awe, mixed with a little confusion and (healthy) fear was plain on the Sentinel.

Thingguy nodded. "Lord Brocktree is on Militeregnum, but, Stirling... he's on thedude's side." Thingguy whispered. He wasn't sure how this ex-Nexus Forcer would take it.  Stirling appeared to be very surprised, and Thingguy was ready for his next question.

"How?"

"We're not sure. There's all sorts of theories about why he's working for thedude, but alas, nothing concrete." They began walking again.

"Seriously?"

"Well, it's not like anyone's been able to just walk up to him and ask." Thingguy remarked glibly.

"Why not?"

Thingguy glanced at Stirling to make sure the man's serious tone was, well, serious.  

Yup, the guy was in earnest. 

"Heh, Stirling," Thingguy wavered. "This guy is a cold-blooded killer. What you saw at Calibus, that was his handiwork, at least, from what I've learned."

Stirling frowned as he contemplated this new information. "That is grave."

The two men had now reached the center of the packing effort. The sound was surprisingly lower than expected as the Merry Band finished tying everything down to move out. The occasional bray of a Mule attached to a wagon, the chortling engine of a truck. The muted murmuring of children too young to help pack, and so already packed away themselves in a hot air balloon basket.

"I hope you were not looking forward to a rest," Stirling said to Thingguy, who shrugged.

"It's probably for the best, I should be off as soon as I can. But first, you must finish your tale!" Thingguy replied, ending with a note of mock exasperation.

Stirling waved it off. "Yes, yes." He looked out over the crowd and then, having espised what he was looking for, began powerwalking. "Well, after I left Calibus again, there's not much to tell concerning my family."

Stirling's voice turned quiet and dangerous. "All of these years, and I haven't found heads nor tails of any of the others." He spared a quick glance back at Thingguy as they pressed through a group of cows, and Thingguy saw that Stirling's face burned with emotion. "And it's not for lack of trying! I've been all over Morcia, but all I hear are rumors. Rumors of you and the KOTOS, rumors of wars, and uprisings. Rumors of hope, Evidence of despair, but nothing of my family. All hints end up pointless, and it's as if they've been spirited away!" Stirling finished this with a frustrated toss of his hand that ended up in the back of someone's head tying down a knot on a wagon.

"Ow!"

This made Stirling's mood disappear as he looked to whom he'd struck.  "Oh, sorry, sir." 

The Band member turned around as he rubbed his head and straightened his large round spectacles. "Oh, it's alright, it only smarts. Strider, right?"

"Yes. And you are?"

"Oswald"

"Nice to meet you Oswald."

"Good to meet you! Hey, can you pull this? I'm good with knots but not the strength."

Stirling pulled on the cord, and Oswald whipped the knot together almost instantly. "Thanks!"

"Anytime," Stirling replied, walking off.

Thingguy remained quiet for a time, following Stirling. It occurred to him that they were nearing the front of a quickly forming caravan. Some were already beginning to set off. He wondered if he should try to find Deadbeat. 

Suddenly, Thingguy caught up to Stirling talking to a bushy-eyed mustachioed man wearing something that looked like cowboy attire from the waist up, and a Marathon runner from the waist down.

"h'I wish you tha' very best ah luck, Strider!" the man said, clapping Stirling's shoulder strongly.

"Thanks for everything, Carlos. Till we meet again!" Stirling replied, shouldering a pack with many hooks on it. Then he turned to Thingguy. "Come on, you should find your horse, and I'll get one myself to match your speed."

Thingguy rolled his eyes and began to follow Stirling again, but this time asked him a question in hopes of slowing him down.

"All this time, you haven't told me what your Clan was known for! I don't think I've ever heard of the Silverstines before today."

It worked, Stirling did slow down his walk as he looked up to the sky in thought. "You haven't? Well, no, I suppose you wouldn't have. Perhaps before thedude you might have. The Silverstines were one of the foremost miners of the Athelas Mountains. I told you about our keep in the Mountains; that was where the network started from. My brother, Austin told me that they were almost going to be recognized by the Kingdom as the official source for the Capitol. He told me that the most purest ore was deep in the Scary Mountains Range. We're Miners and Metalworkers. Beyond that, I and my brothers enjoy..." Stirling paused a moment, briefly lost in some distant memory. "We enjoyed learning swordplay, Archery, and all of the various means of battle. My brothers were of course always my betters, but I think that was due to age." Stirling smiled.

"Sounds like you guys were close," Thingguy commented.

"Yes. Yes we were."

"But now you need help finding them." Thingguy finished. "It's a big world, man, and I would love to help, but I've been searching for many more people than- Uh, how many did you say?"

"4. Would have been 5, but not anymore."

"Right. 4 people in this whole planet, but I've been looking for ANY allies of the KOTOS, and up until recently, it's been slim pickings. But now, for alot of reasons, as you probably know, people are getting riled up!" Thingguy paused. "I can't just hold all of that up to help you."

Stirling stopped. They had reached a large herd of animals.

"I understand," he replied, putting his hands on his hips as he looked out over the herd. "And I wouldn't want you to drop everything that you've been working on, just for one man. But if you could point me in some direction, maybe even let me travel with you awhile..." He shrugged. "Maybe if I travel with the rumor monger, I'll stop getting just rumors?" he finished with a weak smile that betrayed the tired helplessness he was fighting internally.

Thingguy looked out over the herd. He wondered what made this herd different from any of the other collections of animals, but then he noticed various rugged quadracycles riding in and around with different animal feeds stowed on them. The animals here were being fed, and would be fed as they moved.

"I'm certainly wouldn't mind the company," Thingguy said. "Deadbeat isn't much for conversation when he's hangry. Which is like, most of the time." 

Sure enough, Deadbeat was here, munching on carrots hanging from a bunch of fishing poles on the back of a parked bicycle.

Thingguy turned his attention back to Stirling. "If we were to find your family, could I count on you as an ally against thedude?"

Stirling's eyes burned brightly. "Yes. Absolutely." 

Thingguy grinned wide. He stuck his leather-gloved hand out to shake on it, and Stirling clasped it in his chain-mail one and shook it vigorously, the grin spreading to his own face. 

"And how about these people? The Merry Band? You seem to know them pretty well," Thingguy asked. "Would they join us?"

Stirling's smile contorted curiously. "Not now. These people are not warriors. At best, they're scouts. If you were to take all of the able-bodied men, willing and unwilling, you may get a single worthy company. Maybe two, but they would be greener than northern Britay's hills in springtime."

Thingguy shook his head, and chuckled. "I wouldn't mean as warriors. You already told me they're mostly women and children. I meant as suppliers. An army is nothing without a supply chain, and these people seem to be just the kind of hoarders a resistance could use!"

Stirling raised an eyebrow. "I... I hadn't thought of that."

"That fellow you bumped into earlier, Oswald? I thought I saw electronics poking out of his wagon, was I right?"

"Yes, that's right. He likes to see how they work, even if they're practically useless with the tech-curse. Still, when his stuff does work, it helps so immensely that he's allowed his hobby, and the one wagon to keep it all in."

"And all of these animals! Mounts! All of this good food! Provisions! I'm sure you guys have an armory somewhere too!" 

Stirling nodded in affirmation as he rubbed his rough chin. He glanced around, seeming to see things in a whole new light. He had never really focused on army logistics while in the Nexus Force, but as he considered the vast inventory wandering past him in the slowly moving caravan around them, he marveled that he hadn't thought of it himself. There might not be the manpower of an army here, but there was the equipment for one! At least, a small one.

Something caught Thingguy's eye up in the sky, and he gasped as he pointed.  "You've even got eyes in the sky!!! I mean, it's no Helicopter, but-"

Stirling followed his gaze to see a low-flying, camo-colored, miniature blimp. From the ground, the name 'Happy Thoughts' was visible in the pattern of the camouflage print.

"Oh, that's the Merry Band's Leadership tent," Stirling replied. 

"Then that's where I need to go," Thingguy said, as he turned back to Stirling. "Do you think you could introduce me?"

As the blimp became obscured by trees, Stirling focused back on Thingguy and shrugged. "Certainly, but I don't think you'll need one. You're a legend, remember?"

Thingguy's excited grin cracked an extra inch wider with an almost impish glee. "Don't tell me that, it might go to my head."

The two began walking off in the direction of the front of the caravan, and the blimp.  

"When will the Happy Thoughts come back down?" Thingguy asked.

"Not sure," Stirling replied. "But we might find some of the other leadership around here on the ground."

"That would be fantastic!"

Chapter II: In Which Thingguy and Strider speak with the local authorities.

It took awhile, but the time was not wasted on the two, as Stirling showed Thingguy to various members and services of the Band, even packed up and moving as it all was. Thingguy was fascinated by the wealth of gear, tools, and provisions all around him. He only hoped that they would be willing to share the wealth. As the day went on, they found their way to where the bulk of armaments were. There, they met one of the leadership.

"Sir Thingguy, I'd like you to meet Armsmaster Fiddelton. He's in charge of keeping the weaponry in the right hands."

Thingguy shook hands with the tall, broad-shouldered man. He looked about in his 50's, and was dressed in nearly full armor that had an older emblem of King Matthias's regime. His simple brown hair and clear blue eyes gave him a very congenial and trustworthy look. However, he had a frighteningly large broadsword strapped to his back.

"Thingguy... Strange name." His voice was low and deep, but clear. A voice that could carry commands over the din of battle. "Not the Thingguy, of KOTOS fame?" He raised an eyebrow.

In response, Thingguy smiled roguishly. "Why yes, now that you mention it."

Fiddleton's clean-shaven demeanor broke into a grin. "Rumor has it you were a swordsmanship teacher once upon a time. Does that still hold true?"

Thingguy leaned back and studied Fiddleton. "It's been awhile, but thankfully, I've run into trouble enough over the years that I still keep my skills sharp. However," he pointed to the broadsword. "I think you could beat me with that monstrosity. I specialized in the longsword and hand-and-a-half. Also, the sword and shield combo."

"Whatever you could help me teach, would be most valuable, Sir Thingguy." The Armsmaster replied.

Thingguy brightened up. "Ah! I thought you were challenging me to a dual."

Fiddleton laughed. "Perhaps later. Personally, I think you overestimate me."

"Of course you would say that!" Thingguy joined in the laughter. "You just want to get my guard down!"

Fiddelton glanced around, still chuckling. "Eh. Perhaps. But tell me, what brings you to our humble band? Why now?"

Thingguy began to reply, but then paused, and glanced to his side, where Stirling was. He grabbed his shoulder. 

"This guy." He replied. "I've heard of the Merry Band, but I never realized you were quite this large before today. I responded to Strider's request to meet here, and now here I am, and I think I've met more people just today than I have in any given month since I went underground!"

Still smiling, Fiddleton pressed a little deeper. "And why did you go into hiding in the first place, Sir Knight?"

Thingguy paused briefly before replying.

"The Battle of the Skyfalls is where it all fell apart. I made the mistake of trying to stand alone. And alone, I was defeated. That's when we first encountered the Barneybots, and we were totally unprepared for it."

Thingguy glanced at Fiddleton, who motioned for him to continue. He cast himself back to what he could remember of that terrible day.

"In the aftermath of it all, both sides had suffered heavy casualties, and if it were not for the Bots, we may have survived as a group to fight another day, but the Barneybots were relentless, and stopped us from regrouping after our leadership fell. Myself included. Talmid was captured, I was defeated by thedude, and I don't even know what happened to Lukas."

Thingguy vividly remembered...

...standing with a tight knot of fellow knights. Sir Shaprie and Seton, among others. The way the Skyfalls phenomena drenched the whole embattled northern shoreline in mist. How the lightened gravity had made his sword and shield very wet and slippery feathers in his hands. He remembered Sharpie coming up on his left and saying, "I'm running low on ammo for these flareguns, and I'm a so-so shot with a bow. How are we going to defeat these monstrosities?"

Suddenly, the mist near the shore had parted, and Seton fainted. Thingguy followed the direction of Seton's gaze, and saw something that made his blood run cold. 

It was thedude. His back was to them as he bent over a knight. 

Without thinking, without knowing who the knight was, Thingguy had rushed forward to end this awful war with one more brilliant stroke. He remembered refraining from doing the typical inane battle-cry he'd seen in so many movies, as he raised his sword...

10 yards. thedude stood up as a Barneybot came and grabbed the comatose knight off the ground.

 

6 yards. The Bot saw Thingguy charging, dropped the knight, and began firing. Alerted, thedude turned around himself. Thingguy raised his shield, and charged forward unabated.

 

4. 

Thingguy leapt the final few meters, (Wait, were these yards or meters?) and brought his sword down on thedude, who, of course, parried. The clash of steel on steel rang like an bell. Thingguy twisted around and sliced at the Bot with such fervor that there was now a deep gash in it's armor, and sparks flew as the bot staggered on it's hover-jets. Parrying a lightning-quick thrust from thedude, Thingguy blocked a disjointed shot from the Bot, and attempted a thrust of his own at thedude. 

By all natural means, he should have run thedude right through his evil gut, but an invisible force caused his sword to veer off to thedude's side and miss by mere centimeters. Even worse, Thingguy's momentum carried him into inches from thedude's awful anchovy-ridden breath. Both men's swords were now in inert positions to harm the other, so close were they, but thedude did not need a sword to harm Thingguy. Before he could pull back, the barbaric megalomaniac gave the valiant knight the mother of all uppercuts with his free left hand. And with the help of the lesser gravity, Sir Thingguy went flying high into the sky. 

Thingguy remembered seeing way more stars than he ever thought possible. Then thedude's leering grin blocked out the vast majority of the starry sky and he was slugged back down to earth. Except, earth was cold, dark, wet and it swallowed him whole with a gurgle. Oh, wait, no, that was river.

~~~

His next memory was waking up on an empty shore, frozen to the bone. Later, he discovered he had ended up on the far shore of the Equatorial River in Elepharia. And thus began his many years of wandering, finding allies old and new.

~~~

"Hello? Thingguy?"

Thingguy was brought back to the present...

by the waving of a mailed gauntlet in his face. It was Stirling. Next to him, Armsmaster Fiddleton looked mildly concerned.

"You faded out there for a minute," Stirling explained.

"I'm sorry if I brought up unpleasant memories, Sir Thingguy," commented Fiddleton.

Thingguy waved them both off, and he disarmed their worries with a smile. "Not at all. Memories, and in this case, memories of failure, are some of life's greatest teachers."

Stirling raised an eyebrow. "And the lesson here is...?"

Thingguy raised a finger and declared, "That thedude has a mean left uppercut!"

The two men were very confused, but Thingguy did not leave them time to consider.  "To answer your question, Fiddleton, the reason I went into hiding after the Skyfalls was because one man cannot stand alone against thedude. He needs allies. Allies he can count on." He raised an eyebrow. "I will be frank, I'm looking for some. Do you think the Merry Band would stand with me?"

Armsmaster Fiddleton's own eyebrows raised at Thingguy's blunt question. He pursed his lips. Took a deep breath and let it out like a horse. 

"Bppbpbpbpbp.... That is not a decision I can make. Nor do I think the Leadership would come to a conclusion easily."

Stirling interrupted. "But you would endorse it, wouldn't you, Armsmaster?"

He looked at Strider from the corner of his eye. "Well, Yes. Personally. But as a leader, I-"

"I know, I know. You have a responsibility, and we know you can't let your personal thoughts get in the way, but if Thingguy were to propose an alliance of some type, you would be inclined to endorse it to the others, wouldn't you?" Stirling pressed.

Thingguy looked between the two, his smile slowly turning into a grin as Fiddleton's stare turned from irritation to thoughtfulness to careful condescension. "We cannot hide forever..." he mused aloud. "Recent events have shown that clear enough..."

"Wonderful!" Thingguy exclaimed. 

"Very good, we appreciate it," Stirling replied.

"But!" Fiddleton amended. "I must make it clear that such an alliance would be for the future. We are nowhere near being prepared for such a large-scale engagement as fighting the Tyrant would suggest."

Thingguy agreed. "I think you are closer than you might think. You have plenty of resources, but what's missing is something each person must find within themselves."

This elicited the two others to ponder.

"Courage?" Fiddleton asked.

"Hope." Stirling decided.

Thingguy shook his head. "Passion. Passion can get you both of those, and more."

~~~~

Chapter 3: In Which Our Heroes Do Little More Than Wait.

The conversation wore down quickly after that, but it did not end until after the Armsmaster had used a Walkie-Talkie and arranged with the other leaders to have a meeting to listen to what Thingguy had to say. With this finished, all three men excused themselves, as they all had various things that needed doing now.

As soon as Fiddleton had been lost among the Caravan, Thingguy appeared to have a mental breakdown. He began grinning uncontrollably. Rubbing his hands, he leaned conspiratorially to Stirling.

"I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to tell them!" he whispered excitedly.

"Don't worry, I'll help you prepare," Stirling assured. They went off to find a whiteboard and a good spot to sit down and rest. This ended up being atop a one of a kind sort of dry sleigh. It vaguely reminded one of something depicted in  ancient carvings of slave labor. Only, this didn't use slaves, of course. 

There was the wooden deck, where tables and benches were bolted down to stop them from bumping away. Right underneath that was a cage that housed a large, thin wedge, the length of the deck, with logs rolling underneath it. As the logs rolled to the thick back of the wedge, something akin to a water-wheel would catch the log and lift it to the top of the wedge, where it would roll down to the front, and drop down to go under the wedge and through the cycle again.

Perhaps not the most efficient mode of transportation, but a mode nonetheless. 

Stirling and Thingguy sat down at this open-aired sitting area, and it was not long before Thingguy and Stirling had filled and erased the whiteboard a dozen times. Thingguy now knew what he wanted to say, and how he was to frame it to his target audience. He filled the board one more time, with his key points, and the two rehearsed it till Thingguy was confident.

By then, many hours had passed, and the sun had long dipped under the tree canopy, leaving the caravan in twilight.

At some point, the two men had procured a snack, which they were finishing as a middle-aged woman boarded the platform and made her way to them.

Stirling looked up from his honey-roll. "Ah, Mrs. Smith. This is a rare surprise."

"Not quite," the woman said. "I'm here to take you two to the meeting."

Thingguy noted her long blonde hair, tied up in a simple and no-nonsense ponytail. Her face matched it, putting Thingguy in mind of an old-fashioned schoolteacher. She wore a brown dress with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows, and a white apron around her waist. Both items were stained and dirty, though her face, neck, and arms, the only skin visible, seemed clean enough.

"Well then, Mrs. Smith! Lead the way, and we shall follow, Madame!" Thingguy declared, getting up. Stirling followed suit.

With a slight nod, Mrs. Smith turned away and scampered away with a speed that initially surprised Thingguy, though the two men quickly adjusted speed and kept up with her as she weaved through the caravan towards the front.

Abruptly, she turned off to the right, and the three left the Caravan behind, as Mrs. Smith headed into the dense forest.

"Ah. She's headed for the glade," Stirling muttered to Thingguy.

"There's a glade up here?"

"Yeah. Come to think of it, it would make a nice landing spot for the dirigible."

"Makes sense." 

Sure enough, the three emerged into an average-sized glade. Looking up, the three saw the 'Happy Thoughts' slowly descending. However, as the carriage of the airship leveled with the treeline, a rope ladder was thrown out over the side, and a thin, wirey silhouette cried out "Climb up! The Caravan won't stop tonight, so neither shall we!"

Stirling and Thingguy looked at each other, then at Mrs. Smith.

"Are you coming as well, Gemma?" Stirling asked. Mrs. Smith shook her head. 

"No. The other leaders already know my opinion, and the same goes for the Armsmaster. Our exclusion from your presentation won't change the ruling."

Behind Stirling, Thingguy tilted his head to see Gemma Smith. Her face was unreadable. "You mean to say that the leadership has already made up their minds, or just you and Fiddleton?" he asked.

"I oppose your desire to bring us into your war," she said bluntly. "We've had enough of it recently."

Thingguy smiled, avoiding her verbal jab. "That must mean that with Fiddleton's one vote yea, and your vote nay, I have to convince the majority up there?"

She stared at him. "Yes."

Her brief hesitation bolstered Thingguy's hopes. He took it to mean that she feared his success. Then he realized his grin was growing, and that she might consider him cocky. He smoothed out his features into what he considered a humble smile. 

"I appreciate your honest opposition, Mrs. Smith." Not waiting for a response, he grasped the rope ladder and began scrambling up.

Stirling grabbed the rope ladder, then turned back to the ever-stoic Mrs. Smith.

"I do wish you would listen to what Thingguy has to say," Stirling said.

Gemma bobbed her head, watching Thingguy scamper up the ladder like the monkeys of old. "I will. I have a radio. I and the Armsmaster will be listening, but we have duties to perform with the moving caravan." She pointed at Thingguy. "You should hurry, or you will be stuck down here with us."

Stirling looked up to see Thingguy being helped into the carriage by others. "Oh shoot," he muttered, before clambering up with half the speed and grace that Thingguy had.

Chapter 4: In Which Thingguy makes his Case.

A quick right, short corridor, and a left brought Stirling and Thingguy into a large room, where they stood in front of a long table parallel to them. Behind it sat five individuals with such varying characteristics that Thingguy didn't know where to start.

"h'Ah, good! You mah'e it," said one that sat in the very middle of the table. He had bushy eyebrows and a 'stache, as well as a fez. He was wearing an oversized knitted Yule sweater depicting 2 heart-forming reindeer, and as he put his hi-top sneakers up on the table, he displayed some very flashy sequined disco leggings.  "Now we'h can beg'hin!"

Thingguy grinned. "You must be the legendary Carlos Obfusco, leader of this very Merry Band." 

Carlos was clearly pleased at being recognized. "Wh'y y'es I am!" He awkwardly extended a hand to shake, without dropping his feet from the table. As he and Thingguy shook hands, Carlos introduced the others.

"To m'ah right here, I h'ave Fath'r Henry, our Rel'gious C'oodinater, an' next tah him is Mart'n Marin, our Communica'htions Mastah!" Then he swung his arm around and waved to his left. "An' ovah here, we have our Mastah H'rbelist, Ju'idith H'cklepatt; Our P'herimeter Captain, Mercedes; an' la'hst but not lea'st, our mastah Scout, Stabb!"

Thingguy took them all in. 

Father Henry looked to be mid-thirties, with a dark brown beard and hair, dressed in a clean black habit, with a white square in the collar. He stared at Thingguy with a kind, but perceptive gaze, his hands folded on the table in front of him attentively.

Martin Marin appeared to be the oldest, according to his thin, scraggly hair and very pale blue eyes that lacked the youthful clarity of his fellows at the table. Perhaps 60s or 70s. He too, was smiling, but it came off as an absentminded smile, instead of sincere. Like he was thinking of other things. His hands rested on the pommel of a cane, and he wore a very faded blue shirt with a King's Crown emblazoned on it. 

Mrs. Hucklepatt wore a simple, unpretentious dress, but her almost regal countenance, with it's fair share of wrinkles, silver-gray crown of hair, and bright turquoise eyes showed she still held considerable wit and wisdom. She gazed at Thingguy with a calculating smile.

The one called Mercedes had helped Thingguy into the blimp. Thus, Thingguy knew that despite his wiry frame and stately attire befitting a nobleman, the man was strong. He also wore his weapons openly. A large quiver and bow were slung on his back, and a large dirk was at his hip. He leaned forward, his hands steepled on the table in front of him, as he stared intently at Thingguy.

Behind Mercedes, in the shadowy corner, stood a short figure, who's chest was level with the table. His jet black hair and full-length coat of deepest green blended with the shadows, and it took a moment for Thingguy to identify where the darkness ended, and the Master Scout named Stabb began. His face was hidden, whether by shadows or an upturned collar Thingguy wasn't sure, but he saw two dark steel-gray eyes nod in acknowledgement of his attention. Thingguy nodded back.

https://youtu.be/fZ1y_Z6Bc0M

"It's a pleasure to meet you all. Thanks for giving me a chance to speak with you," Thingguy said.

"h'of course!" Carlos replied, as others muttered, or nodded assent. "Now, ge'h't on w'hith it!"

Thingguy smiled, and took a deep breath.

Behind Thingguy, Stirling relaxed against the wall by the doorway. He was confident in the speech that he and Thingguy had formulated for this specific group. A most logical and rousing speech of-

"What ever happened to the Monkeys?" Thingguy began.

Stirling's shoulder slipped and he stumbled backwards into the door, where he embarrassingly reorganized himself and stood, staring blankly at Thingguy's back.

Carlos turned his eyes from his boots to Thingguy. "Pa'hdon?"

"You all remember the Monkeys of Militiregnum, right?"

It took a moment, but everyone made their understanding clear. Yes, they knew of the monkeys of Militiregnum...

"How they would go throughout the forest, swinging with ease, carefree and happy? How they ate bananas and in their wake left more trees to grow?"

Everyone nodded, some looked wistful.

"How they chattered and squealed with their impish glees, bringing innocent mischief just as you all used to do, in the days of peace?" Thingguy was now using his whole body, and walking back and forth along the table. "Heck, I'm sure some of you knew monkeys personally!"

Martin briefly raised a hand, and Thingguy slapped it as he passed, turning it into a High-Five.

"But now, do you know what happened to the monkeys?"

Some nodded, but Thingguy regaled them with it anyway.

"They were tricked into working for thedude. We don't know how, or why. What's important is that once they realized that bananas weren't weapons, and we weren't their enemies, they stopped their attacks against us, and thedude called it treachery, and KILLED THEM ALL." Thingguy turned away from the table, to wipe away a tear. Briefly, he looked up and saw Stirling wide-eyed and open-mouthed, staring at him.

Hopefully he was getting a better reaction from his target audience. Keeping a baleful countenance, he looked over his shoulder. 

They were, to various degrees, emotional. Some looked only perturbed and thoughtful, while others sniffled quietly.

"Now, I ask you, did those monkeys deserve such cruelty?"

There were a few sniffles, as well as a quiet 'no'.

"Did those monkeys even care about who ruled? Who won the war?"

More 'no's, shaking heads.

"No! They didn't. But they were exterminated anyway. You know why? Because thedude wanted it done! There's no other reason necessary for him!  He has the mind of a child, but power beyond what any human being should have, and unless we bow down to him and do what he wants; accept him as the tyrant of every detail of our lives, he will never stop. He will never leave you alone, for as long as he lives."

Thingguy was now pacing, his few tears having left his face, being chased away by a stern and thoughtful countenance, that kept watch of his marching feet.

"I know that some of you would rather hide from the War for as long as you can. Perhaps even wait out thedude's very life.  But answer me this. What if thedude is immortal?"

This got everyone's attention, including Stirling's.

"What?"

"What if he's going to outlive us all? What if he's immortal?" Thingguy repeated, turning to Stirling. "Is the Merry Band able to hide forever?"

"We can hide a deuced long time," Mercedes countered. 

Thingguy nodded in assent. "And you have. But be realistic, no one can hide forever."

Thingguy's imperative was met with stony silence.

"But this is not enough to come out of hiding now or anytime. Not until you absolutely have to. Or once they find you.  But what will you do then?"

With nearly one voice, the leaders leapt to their feet and roared.

"WE WILL FIGHT!" "We won't go peacefully." "WE'LL GIVE THEM HELL!" "WE'LL TAKE THEM MAN TO MAN!" "We'll die bravely."

Thingguy couldn't stop his admiration for these men and women from surfacing. His eyes began to brim with tears as he laid his hands on the table in front of a posing Carlos.

"My friends..." Thingguy said.

"You will die. Alone."

The silence returned, but it wasn't stony. It was sharp, brittle, emotionally charged, and threatened to snap and ruin whatever goodwill Thingguy had left with these people. Hoping he hadn't pushed reality into them too hard, Thingguy explained.

"You don't want to fight this war. I understand. I don't want you to fight either. But someday, this war will find you. We've admitted that." 

Some of the leaders began to object, but Thingguy forged ahead, raising his voice. "You just declared that IF you were found, IF you were unable to hide anymore, YOU WOULD RATHER FIGHT AND DIE THAN GIVE UP YOUR FREEDOM AND STILL DIE, LIKE THE MONKEYS."

The bizzare recall of the monkeys stopped the various objections just long enough for Thingguy to finish.

"All I am asking is that you be open to preparing for such a worst-case scenario NOW, rather than waiting for it to come to you in the future. MORE than what you are doing now, with your defenses, your perimeter patrols, your scouting, your armaments, your technological experiments, et cetera, et cetera."

Carlos frowned. "How do you k-"

"Strider told me some, and we've been touring the caravan waiting for this meeting."

"...Ah."

"I'm not asking you to be warriors!" Thingguy continued. "Crux forbid that it come to the Merry Band becoming frontline soldiers!" 

Thingguy turned around and stepped away from the table, taking a deep breath to calm his own nerves, as well as for dramatic effect. Briefly, he looked up at Stirling, who seemed... shocked. Amazed.

Feeling somewhat more confident, he turned around to his audience. The general consensus amongst the table was much more difficult to ascertain, but he definitely had them all thinking.

"I'm asking for allies. Not just because I need them. But because YOU need them. All of Militiregnum's free spirits will need each other." Thingguy smirked. "Though I'd be lying if I said that the Merry Band would be a small part of whatever alliance we would make."

The silence filled the room again, but this time, Thingguy didn't feel any animosity. None of the leaders were looking at him, but instead at themselves, or the floor. They were all looking internally. Thingguy wondered if there was anything else he should say, but no other thoughts came to fall upon his lips.

He felt a mailed glove weigh down his shoulder. It was Stirling. 

"Come on. Let's let them think."

Thingguy hesitated only briefly, then nodded. 

The two stepped outside the room, leaving the leaders to consider what the Knight had said.

Chapter 5: In which our heroes wait for a verdict.

As Thingguy slid the door shut behind him, Strider rounded upon him.

"Ok, first of all; that was amazing- good job-"

"Why thank you."

"Second: What the heck?! Where did that all come from?!" Stirling whisper-yelled.

Thingguy shrugged.

"Why??? Why go off-script like that?

"That, I can answer!" Thingguy replied. "I was going to do our specially prepared speech, but when I actually got into that room and saw them, I realized that the logical, accurate, lecture-type approach wouldn't reach all of them," explained Thingguy. "So I thought of the first thing that I could bond with all of them over."

"Monkeys?"

"Monkeys."

Stirling sighed, his gaze dropping, and his hands on his hips. He smirked. "Well, I mean... I have to admit, it worked."

"You think so?" Thingguy asked.

"Oh yeah," Stirling said. "You really worked them up. They're going to want to take some sort of action, and hopefully, they'll take your advice, instead of just enacting some new safety protocol or security measure."

Thingguy grinned. "Good. And hey, a new defensive measure isn't bad. I'm not asking for an immediate offensive. Just for a future." He punched Stirling's shoulder. "Like you were saying before, hope. A reminder that this isn't the way things are supposed to be."

The two started walking up the corridor, both assuming the other knew where they were going, as they continued talking.

"Just like you," Thingguy continued. "They're got stuff going on; they don't want to join KOTOS right now. And that's fine! To be honest, we're not ready."

Stirling nodded. "Right now, what does KOTOS even consist of? You?"

Thingguy's pace slowed, and Stirling matched it. "I personally know...Perhaps a few hundred lonely, brave souls scattered across Militiregnum who would call themselves KOTOS." 

"I expected as much." Stirling said quietly.

"There's more, I know it!" Thingguy assured him. "They just haven't been woken up. Or freed. Or found. Take Sir Talmid for example!" He picked up speed again. "The general word is that he's not dead, but a prisoner in Orlan!"

Stirling scoffed. "Is that really better?"

"Yes!" Thingguy said, grabbing his dour companion by the shoulder and shaking him a bit. "If the 'Legendary' Sir Talmid still lives, then it's all the easier to rally hope!"

Stirling frowned, as he re-oriented his mind around this. "So, he's not available as another soldier, or a physical leader, but what you're saying is that he's still helping, just by living?"

"Exactly! Hope! That's what our battle is focused around! Hope!"

"But wern't you saying earlier that we need to focus on passion?"

"That was before I saw the Leaders. But yes. Hope is what will fuel passion, and give it a righteous fire, a courage! To do what's right."

Stirling grinned. "You really have a way with words."

"I've had practice."

"That's much more than just practice."

"Well, I've also given it a lot of thought, and it's second nature by now." 

Stirling raised an eyebrow, and a beat passed before Thingguy added, "Also, Deadbeat is a very skillful verbal duelist to hone my skills on."

"I'm sure the talking horse is very talented." Stirling said dryly. 

The two had reached the end of the hall. A narrow metal door with a porthole barred their way. Thingguy peeked through the glass, and saw the cockpit and a single pilot.

"Hey, this is the front of the ship!" he exclaimed, before reaching down for the handle and twisting it open. 

"I'm not sure we're allow-" Stirling began, but Thingguy was already introducing himself to the pilot, who had speedily put away his reading material to look busy, before seeing Thingguy.

They spent the next 10 minutes with the pilot, who went by the name of Joe Bungalow. Joe even gave them a crash-course in how to fly the blimp, having taken an instant liking to Sir Thingguy.

After a particularly fancy bob and weave done by Thingguy to the merriment, and slight worry, of the other two, another person entered the cockpit.

"Joe, what in the King's name are- Ah, I see." It was Martin, holding on to the doorframe with one hand, and stabling himself with his cane on the ground with the other. "Sir Thingguy has hijacked us, I see."

His tone was not immediately discernable, and it required Thingguy to turn around to ascertain his mood.

Martin seemed to have an ironic expression on his face. Thingguy turned to Stirling for any insight. He didn't' have any. He had a poker face on.

The only person with an obvious emotion was Joe, which was that of embarrassment.

"Ah... Uh. Thinggu- Sir Thingguy, I think I'm going to have to take over now."

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sounds good, Joe." He remarked casually.

As Thingguy and Stirling got up, and Joe settled back into his rightful place, Martin waved them over with a smile. Both Thingguy and Stirling relaxed. 

"We've all made a decision. You'll want to hear it," he said, and turned around to walk down the corridor. Stirling and Thingguy started after him, but then the old man stopped. "Oh!" He turned around and quite literally ran into the two younger men. 

"What is it Martin?" Stirling asked, catching the unbalanced Pigeonmaster. 

"I need to tell Joe to land at the next available spot. We've gone far enough."

Stirling and Thingguy squished themselves against the walls, and Martin squeezed by. 

"Go on without me, they're waiting for you, boys." Martin muttered over his shoulder. So Stirling and Thingguy went.