I know there are at least six hundred proxies nearby.
I read about their little pow-wow on The Eldritch Post while I was in prison.
Join me, proxies. Rally to this New England battlefield as falcons descend upon their prey.
Fight for me; die for me; be reborn for me.
Keep your boots tight, keep your gun close, and die with your mask on if you've got to.
Speak Eldritch of die, my twelve angry Camper fiends.