I often mention the Cross Militia and the valuable service they provide the town. The Militia is called upon more times than I care to think about, and they have made more sacrifices than can be mentioned.
I have been with them when they faced down creatures that escaped from Gods’ Hollow, and when things dark and fierce have arrived in Cross from doors opened by the learned professors at the Cross branch of Miskatonic University.
The men and women of the Cross Militia face these challenges with remarkable courage. Remarkable because what they see is horrific and frightening, each incident representing a disaster in the making.
Each member of the militia must be vetted, and they must be sponsored by at least four previous members and one current. As the times have progressed, so too have the tests the prospective member must face. There are stress tests and those which measure the amount of psychological pressure someone can withstand. Finally, before they can begin their training, new members must sign a series of waivers, including a promise to never speak about what they see outside of the confines of the Cross Historical Society.
When these waivers are signed, there is a last test which I alone administer. I bring them into the basement of the Cross Historical Society, and I lead them to a door which, in turn, opens upon a set of stairs. We descend these side by side, and in a disturbingly large room, I show them artifacts of the creatures we have fought.
I am proud to say that the citizens of Cross are made of stern stuff. Few are those who cannot bear the thought of facing such enemies.
Those few, I might add, never leave that room.
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