“Listen up!” I yelled. The back ranks and far end quieted down last.

  “We’re almost out of time. Before we go, I’ve got a couple things to tell you. First, we’re going to use every advantage we can get. We’ve asked Father Stoddard to bless us before we move. That will give us a buff…an increase in our abilities.” I motioned for him to come forward.

  He came around the line like he was walking down the aisle to begin Mass. Gaylord followed close, almost like a choirboy, matching his pace.

  “Second. I want to scare the shit out of them as we come around that corner. Anybody here not know the beat to the song ‘We Will Rock You’?” I clapped twice and stomped. Did it again. I didn't see many that looked totally confused. Just scared for a lot of them.

  “We’re gonna march on that beat. Step, step, stop and stomp. Repeat. Bang your shield, your weapon…or just clap your hands on the stomp. That means we move two steps…then stop and repeat.”

  “It’s slow, but it’ll grab their attention…and hold it. The Stealth Squad will use that time to get behind them. Our Bard, Gaylord Nimblefingers, will lead the chant and set the beat. That’ll also give us another magical buff. We’ll go in stronger than we are now. I doubt they’ll have anything like it.”

  Now came the hard part. The thing I didn’t want to say… but had to.

  “The last thing is the hardest. People are going to die today. It may be some of you. It may be me. If any of you remember the George C. Scott movie Patton, it opens with him alone on a stage, in front of a giant American flag. Do you remember the line most folks remember from the movie? He said, 'I want you to remember that no bastard ever won a war by dying for his country. He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his country.'"

  “Well, I don’t want any of you to die for Eddington…and sure as hell not for me. If you want to leave now because you might die…or because you might have to kill someone…or because you’re not sure you can handle what comes after…please. With my blessing. Go now.”

  People glanced around. Some looked down the line. I could see the gears turning. I hoped they’d stay.

  Finally, all eyes turned back to me. No one had left.

  “So be it. Lok’tar ogar. Victory or death. Their death. Father Stoddard, Gaylord…take it from here.”

  Head high, I passed around and behind the shield line to take my place beside them.

  Gaylord walked beside the priest, then stepped aside to let him go first. Father Stoddard stopped in front of the line, standing tall in his traditional black cassock, a heavy wooden crucifix hanging from a thick white cord around his neck.

  His voice rang out like he was giving a sermon. “Priests have blessed armies going into battle for thousands of years,” he said. “They prayed to their God for victory. Sometimes, it was the same God on both sides.”

  “I’m not Catholic,” someone called out. “I don’t worship your God.”

  “I pray for his divine support and blessing, not because you worship him,” Stoddard said, calm and clear, “but because what you are about to do…is not for you. Not for him. But for all of us. We do this for the people of Eddington, even those on the other side. For our state. Our country. Our world.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  He looked along the line like he was speaking to each of us, one by one.

  “We do this not because someone forced us to be here. For some, this is your duty…to protect. For others, it’s a choice. You came when others called for help. People you don’t know. People you do. You volunteered to put your bodies and your lives on the line.” He paused, smiling slightly, then his hand gestured down the length of our formation. “Literally on the line.”

  “I’m proud to stand here with you today. Christ told us to love one another. Do not hate them. Love them. But stop them…from hurting others.”

  He pulled the crucifix from his neck and over his head, holding it high with both hands.

  “This I pray: Heavenly Father, bless those who put their lives on the line to protect others. Bless the Healers. Bless those who shield others with their bodies. Bless those who wield their powers for good. Bless those whose very forms have changed so they might protect others. And finally…bless those who, today, must harm others of your heavenly creation…for the greater good of all.”

  He stopped. I think even he was moved by the words. He made the sign of the cross with the wooden crucifix.

  His voice was soft but firm.

  “Our Heavenly Father’s blessing on all of you. May it protect and keep you safe. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit…Amen.”

  As he finished, golden light shimmered around him…and then spread across our line.

  Some crossed themselves. Some said “Amen.” Then more followed.

  I’m not Catholic…but I did too.

  I felt…better. Protected. I checked my Character Sheet. +1 DEFENSE to everything, +5 to all Resistances. Much more than I expected.

  Father Stoddard looked stunned. He’d felt it too. Moving slowly, he made his way to the end of the line and behind it to join the other Healers.

  Gaylord had stayed silent through it all. Then he shook himself, grabbed his lute, swung it around, and stepped forward with a flourish of notes.

  He was in his element, on stage, in front of a crowd.

  Doffing his feathered hat, he gave a sweeping bow. “I am Gaylord Nimblefingers, Elf Bard extraordinaire." He looked toward where Father Stoddard had gone. "Thank you, Father. That was…that was like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

  He turned slightly to face the rest of us. “Now. Good William, your Warchief, has tasked me with inspiring you…and striking fear into the hearts of those huddled behind that building.” He swung the lute to his back and lifted his side-drum.

  “You’ve heard it before. You’ll hear it again. Our marching song.”

  He hit the drum twice. Then stomped once and struck it. Did it again.

  “Join me!”

  We did. Ragged at first…but quickly we caught the rhythm.

  Smiles spread along the line.

  Once the beat held steady, he started singing, and we all joined in the chorus.

  We will, we will rock you.

  We will, we will rock you.

  Sir Andrew shouted, “On the drumbeats...two steps and clap. March!”

  The front line moved: two steps, clap…banging shields, hands, or weapons. Gaylord kept drumming and shifted to my side of the line as we marched.

  There was no doubt everyone on the other side of City Hall could hear us now.

  Gaylord sang the next verse. After the first two lines, he shouted, “Everyone!”

  We roared it back:

  You got mud on your face, you big disgrace…

  Kicking your can all over the place, singin’…

  We will, we will rock you.

  Sir Andrew stepped ahead, guiding the curve of the line around the building.

  Looking up, I saw the reporter and her cameraman on the roof. The camera was pointed almost straight down at us.

  We finished the chorus one more time…and the buff hit. The numbers flashing before my eyes.

  +1 To Hit. +1 Damage. +1 Healing.

  “Shit! It’s working.” I couldn’t help saying aloud.

  And then…we saw them.

  The gangs. The ones who came to take Eddington.

  They' mostly pulled away from the doors of City Hall…moving to face us.

  That’s when the system alert hit. In front of me, big green letters lit up:

  “PvP BATTLEGROUND ENTERED”

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zBUJztI884M