Chapter 8: The First Wave Advances
"Firstly," Shivan said from the stage. "I must choose who will command my mighty army!"
"Army?" asked Burgess. "Where?"
"That too," Shivan remarked. "Now. Burgess, Magna, Void, and Mysty: you're the Captains."
They stepped up beside him.
"What about me?" Celtic asked.
"You can watch," Burgess said.
"You want to be a Captain?" Shivan asked her, ignoring Burgess.
"Um. Duh."
"Fine then. D'you have a weapon?"
".Not currently."
"Shivan, I doubt half of the YSBers have a weapon," Magna pointed out.
"I bet they do," Shivan said. "Fine, you're a Captain Celtic. But if you get hurt, I will kill you in your sleep."
".How does that work?" Burgess asked.
"Beats me," Shivan said.
"Don't we need a sign or something," Mysty asked as Celtic joined the other Captains, "to mark us as Captains?"
"Who here makes funny hats?" Burgess shouted. Everyone looked at each other.
"We'll figure that out later," Shivan said. "Crazyace and Temp are Captains too, once they get back from their errand."
"I say we give them a new errand," Burgess said.
"And what would that be?" Shivan asked.
"Learning to walk."
Burgess pointed to where two figures stumbled through the crowd in great haste, pushing people aside as they limped. When they noticed that Shivan's eyes were upon them, they shouted desperately: "The WWESBers are coming!"
"Cliché," Burgess said. "But I'll let it slide."
"Crazyace, Templarle -" Shivan began. He was cut off by gunshots.
***
"What do we do now?" Crazyace asked.
"Wait a second," Temp said. He took out his ID card.
"What the Hell're you doing?" Crazyace asked.
"I'm loading AIM."
"With your ID card?"
"No. My ass."
".OK then."
Templarle fumbled with it for awhile. Crazyace leaned on his pike and watched.
Finally, Temp looked up. "I got Raptor to come."
There was a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder.
"."
"."
Then both looked towards the edge of the field. A clumsy looking man stumbled up to meet them, cloaked and hooded in violet, with really, really, ugly brown shoes.
"Duel me!" he said as he walked up to Templarle. "NOW!"
"OK," Temp said. In one swift motion he drew his sword and shoved it into the man's stomach. He collapsed into the ground. Temp turned to Crazyace.
"Show off," Crazyace said.
"He asked to duel," Temp protested. "It's not my fault he didn't have a sword."
There was a beating of drums.
"Who called a Mod this time?" Crazyace wondered aloud.
"No one," Templarle said with a flat voice. "Look."
Marching towards them from the edge of the field was an army. Each soldier was dressed as the man Templarle killed was. Their hoods hid their faces and veiled their bodies. In the front lines, each soldier held a deck of cards flat in their right hand. Behind them, warriors carried bows, guns, swords, and all other weapons conceivable. Five standards waved in the breeze, each of the same design: a gilded 'W' upon a blanket of black.
"They carry cards?" Templarle asked.
"The first must've been from the front lines," Crazyace observed.
"But Raptor won't be here for another fifteen minutes."
"We must make a stand."
"And do what? Kill ourselves?"
"If that's what you want."
Then the archers in the second rank raised their bows and launched a single round of arrows.
"Not good," Templarle said.
"Let's get our asses out of here," Crazyace decided. They turned tail and began to run. The deadly shafts were slicing through the air.
The hyperlink to the Vale was only a few paces away. As they dived through, the arrows struck their legs, cutting deep gashes into the flesh.
The first wave was advancing. War was upon the YSB.
"Firstly," Shivan said from the stage. "I must choose who will command my mighty army!"
"Army?" asked Burgess. "Where?"
"That too," Shivan remarked. "Now. Burgess, Magna, Void, and Mysty: you're the Captains."
They stepped up beside him.
"What about me?" Celtic asked.
"You can watch," Burgess said.
"You want to be a Captain?" Shivan asked her, ignoring Burgess.
"Um. Duh."
"Fine then. D'you have a weapon?"
".Not currently."
"Shivan, I doubt half of the YSBers have a weapon," Magna pointed out.
"I bet they do," Shivan said. "Fine, you're a Captain Celtic. But if you get hurt, I will kill you in your sleep."
".How does that work?" Burgess asked.
"Beats me," Shivan said.
"Don't we need a sign or something," Mysty asked as Celtic joined the other Captains, "to mark us as Captains?"
"Who here makes funny hats?" Burgess shouted. Everyone looked at each other.
"We'll figure that out later," Shivan said. "Crazyace and Temp are Captains too, once they get back from their errand."
"I say we give them a new errand," Burgess said.
"And what would that be?" Shivan asked.
"Learning to walk."
Burgess pointed to where two figures stumbled through the crowd in great haste, pushing people aside as they limped. When they noticed that Shivan's eyes were upon them, they shouted desperately: "The WWESBers are coming!"
"Cliché," Burgess said. "But I'll let it slide."
"Crazyace, Templarle -" Shivan began. He was cut off by gunshots.
***
"What do we do now?" Crazyace asked.
"Wait a second," Temp said. He took out his ID card.
"What the Hell're you doing?" Crazyace asked.
"I'm loading AIM."
"With your ID card?"
"No. My ass."
".OK then."
Templarle fumbled with it for awhile. Crazyace leaned on his pike and watched.
Finally, Temp looked up. "I got Raptor to come."
There was a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder.
"."
"."
Then both looked towards the edge of the field. A clumsy looking man stumbled up to meet them, cloaked and hooded in violet, with really, really, ugly brown shoes.
"Duel me!" he said as he walked up to Templarle. "NOW!"
"OK," Temp said. In one swift motion he drew his sword and shoved it into the man's stomach. He collapsed into the ground. Temp turned to Crazyace.
"Show off," Crazyace said.
"He asked to duel," Temp protested. "It's not my fault he didn't have a sword."
There was a beating of drums.
"Who called a Mod this time?" Crazyace wondered aloud.
"No one," Templarle said with a flat voice. "Look."
Marching towards them from the edge of the field was an army. Each soldier was dressed as the man Templarle killed was. Their hoods hid their faces and veiled their bodies. In the front lines, each soldier held a deck of cards flat in their right hand. Behind them, warriors carried bows, guns, swords, and all other weapons conceivable. Five standards waved in the breeze, each of the same design: a gilded 'W' upon a blanket of black.
"They carry cards?" Templarle asked.
"The first must've been from the front lines," Crazyace observed.
"But Raptor won't be here for another fifteen minutes."
"We must make a stand."
"And do what? Kill ourselves?"
"If that's what you want."
Then the archers in the second rank raised their bows and launched a single round of arrows.
"Not good," Templarle said.
"Let's get our asses out of here," Crazyace decided. They turned tail and began to run. The deadly shafts were slicing through the air.
The hyperlink to the Vale was only a few paces away. As they dived through, the arrows struck their legs, cutting deep gashes into the flesh.
The first wave was advancing. War was upon the YSB.