Redwall Abbey

This is a story that I've been meaning to write forever (well, not really, only after I discovered this forum). This will introduce a new animal into the story unheard of in any of the books, and actual sizes have been altered to make this more, shall we say, even. I hope any who read will enjoy; any constructive criticism is appreciated.
I'm unsure of the way that other members enter their stories, so if this is not correct, I would greatly enjoy info on how to do it properly.

Tell other members about it if you liked it please. ;)

Also, if you enjoy this, please be sure to check out my other works:
http://redwallabbey.com/forum/index.php?topic=5786.0
http://redwallabbey.com/forum/index.php?topic=5834.0
http://redwallabbey.com/forum/index.php?topic=6272.0

Hi Skarzs, welcome to the forum!

Regarding how to post fanfictions to the forum, you can do that however you wish; you can put up your story in this thread, or make a new thread specifically for your story, and if you want to keep a separate thread for commentary from readers, you may do that also. Whatever works best for your personal organization methods.

If you haven't already, please familiarize yourself with the forum rules (http://redwallabbey.com/forum/index.php?topic=86.0) prior to sharing your works. :)

Sounds like you've got some interesting twists in mind -- I'll keep an eye out for your fic when you post it!

Thank you for the most cordial welcome. Unfortunately, I accidentally deleted all progress I made on the first chapter.  >:( But it will be posted soon, hopefully.
Also, I would like to ask for some help for names of bad creatures and good creatures alike from any who are feeling creative.

-Yay, the chapter was found again!  :) No more deletions, I hope.
Also, this prologue has been added due to some things requiring clarification.

Prologue
   "Father Abbot, Father Abbot!"
   Abbot Nart turned around to face the distraught young mouse who had called out his name. He smiled good-naturedly, remembering the last time this same mouse, Cavaer, had come calling desperately to him; a Dibbun had fallen from an apple tree, and he had not known what to do but go to the abbot for help.
   "Yes, my son? Has a Dibbun found his way into a pudding, or tried to climb up the tapestry again?"
   But Cavaer's expression said otherwise. The young mouse pointed desperately at the walls; his paw shook noticeably. "There's a horde! A horde of vermin!"
   Nart clasped Cavaer on both shoulders. "A horde you say? Come, lad, tell me!"
   The mouse nodded his head sincerely. "If you don't believe me, go look for yourself! I've never seen such a huge number of vermin before, and. . . !" Nart heard several surprised cries from the battlements as many other abbey dwellers saw what had so disturbed Cavaer; word travelled fast.
   Suddenly, the Abbot remembered something. "Great seasons, Mother Retha is out there with some others gathering in the forest! They'll be killed!"
He rushed to the wall tops as some beast cried out, "Look! There below!" A horrible sight met Nart's eyes. A small group of creatures were desperately fighting their way through an ocean of vermin, hopelessly outnumbered and growing thinner. The abbot could do nothing but stare openmouthed at the terrible scene, stuck on one side of the wall. He snapped out of his daze, calling Cavaer to him.
"Cavaer, do you want to help your friends?" The mouse nodded with firm resolve. "Good; gather some creatures to help our friends inside! If we do nothing, they will surely perish!" The young mouse went off like a streak of light, running desperately and bringing a slowly gathering group down to the gates. It was a pitifully small group of brave creatures that stood boldly on the lawns, bearing any makeshift weapons they could use and waiting for the moment to try and save their dying companions.
The gates were opened, and quickly closed again as soon as they were out amidst sobs from families and friends still inside the abbey walls. Nart watched with fear as they plunged into the dark depths of the enemy, fighting beyond hope to get to the others. A roar was heard above the din, and Mother Retha, the Abbey badgermum, wounded in countless places and bleeding from her terrible wounds, charged through the vermin with the sad remainder of the little group running desperately behind her. As soon as the two small forces met, they made their way as quickly as they could back to the abbey.
Nart's heart was caught in his throat when the vermin surged forward, the Redwallers' onslaught having done nothing to their near-infinite numbers. The abbey dwellers were caught between the gates and the enemy, being slaughtered mercilessly as they slowly made their way backwards into the Abbey. Retha roared and fought on, and Nart knew what it was she was doing. The badger hit out right and left, giving the others a buffer so they could make it back safely; she was giving her life so they could live. The abbot dug his paws into the stones of his abbey, a tear of pain and sorrow dripping down his face as his lifelong friend was butchered before his eyes, taking down as many as she could with her.
The rest of the Redwallers had made it inside, and they were tended for by the infirmary keepers. Some cried silently for friends they had lost in battle, while others, like Cavaer, looked dazed and shocked from what they had seen and done while they were bandaged. Abbot Nart went to each of them, consoling them as best he could while trying to keep his own sorrow under control. When he got to Cavaer, the mouse had his face buried in his paws.
"I'm sorry I didn't. . . save them all," he sobbed. Nart put a paw on the mouse's shoulder, blinking back tears and forcing a smile.
"You did fine," he said quietly, swallowing a sob. "There. . . there was nothing else you could have done." He rose without another word, and made his way inside the abbey. He thought to himself as to what would happen in the days to come. There had not been too many young, strong beasts in the abbey recently, or any number that would be considered able to fight. They were in a siege, a siege that, judging by the huge force outside their walls, would not last long.
He heard whispers from others coming inside as he sat down in his chair, saying that there was only a deadly silence outside, as if the vermin army were. . . waiting, for something. The abbot let a tear drip unchecked down his cheek as he closed his eyes. There was a possibility that they would have to abandon Redwall.


Chapter One
   Mossflower was quickly falling to ruin. Lord Coalpaw had feared that a time such as this would come. He stood at the window of his bed chamber high up in his mountain fortress, Salamandastron, gazing out at the bleak and stormy weather. Thoughts tossed in his mind from the last ten days of destruction.  A massive alliance of vermin and evil creatures had entered the country, and wreaked havoc and death wherever they set paw. They had systematically driven a wedge between any who would oppose them, and crushed any hopes of uniting themselves against the force.  Refugees and scout reports had come in every day, bearing dark news and creating a gloomy air that was quickly heading to despair. The wild sea otters were all but eradicated, being forced to flee from the sea and making a stand with the river otters in a greatly defended holt. The river shrews of the Guosim had made an attempt to come to their aid, but were caught in a trap and force back up the river where they came. No word yet had come from Redwall Abbey, and made Coalpaw worry deeply. He was anxious about his own position as well: so far, no attempts had been made to openly attack Salamandastron, but many enemy scouts had been reported seen in the dunes and around the mountain.  
   The badger lord peered into the darkening haze far below, picking out a lone figure running swiftly toward the entrance to the mountain. Stepping back from the cool, damp sill, Coalpaw strode down the winding corridors and halls of his home to the bottom entrance to meet the newcomer. He recognized the slim hare immediately, a young scout by the name of Thaze, who jumped to attention as he saw his lord enter. The exhausted runner made his report in short gasps.
   "My lord, I have returned, from Redwall, and bear, grave news. The abbey, is under siege!" Coalpaw gritted his teeth as he bade Thaze to continue; he needed knowledge on their situation. "I could not get, too close, sah, for there were over, five-hundred vermin there, and I risked being , caught. That is all to report, sah." Thaze dropped to his knees in weariness, and Coalpaw scooped him up with two massive paws and lay him on a nearby bench, calling for water for the scout. He needed just a little more from him before he passed out from exhaustion.
   "Thaze," he said quietly but firmly in his deep voice, "Tell me, who was leading this siege; what manner of creature holds Redwall?" Thaze trembled slightly at the thought, but answered dutifully.
   "Sah?"
   "Yes, Thaze?"
   "I counted five: two wildcats, and three wolverines!" With that, he lapsed into a forgiving sleep, leaving a speechless Coalpaw. Two wildcats and three wolverines? He tried to convince himself it was not true, that he had heard wrong, but his own mind told him it was true. Who else but the most dangerous creatures could raise such an awesome force as the one told of. The five-hundred at Redwall was easily a quarter of the army that was reported from other sources. If Redwall fell, Salamandastron would be the last stronghold against the enemy. The badger lord knew that if he failed, there would be no more hope for anyone.
   The mountain fortress had four-hundred strong, able hares ready to defend it. Below, at the tideline, ten ships lay floating at anchor, manned by at least twelve score hare. Even surprise attacks, planning, and strategies would be futile in the face of the massive vermin army and their dangerous leaders. Coalpaw walked aimlessly around his home, lost in thought. He did not notice the highly decorated hare striding along beside him until he spoke up. "I say, sah, we're all in a dreadful mood, wot?"
   "Gemal, my friend, I hope you have heard of the latest report?"
   "Yes, m'lord. Nasty business, wot? That is why I've come to you.  In the face of such an overwhelming predicament, what do you propose we do, sah?"
   Coalpaw shook his great striped head despairingly. "I was hoping you had an idea. My mind is muddled with this whole thing, and this is beyond any experience I've gone through. The only hope we've got is to remove the head of the snake, but how do you kill two wildcats and three wolverines, I ask you? Only three wildcats have been recorded as threats to Mossflower, each costing too many lives. Two wolverines were ever found here, and they were as terrible as the cats. No, my friend, I have no plan, idea, or hope on this."
   Gemal twisted his gray-flecked mustachio, giving Lord Coalpaw the best advice he could. "Get some rest m'lord. This bally rain has everything stopped except the sea, which is rougher than any storm I've seen. Perhaps, when you wake, you will be able to think more clearly. Goodnight sah!" The officer did an about-face and marched off.
Walking slowly into his bed chamber, Coalpaw lay down on his bed, a slab of rock covered in blankets and padding. He lay there for an hour, then, knowing he could not sleep, he went to a place where only badgers could. He remembered first entering the resting place of his ancestor, Lord Brocktree, and did it again. Setting his blunt claws into a crack in the wall, he hauled back, heaving and straining against the massive slab of rock. It swung slowly outwards, and when there was a wide enough gap for him to squeeze through, Coalpaw entered the dark corridor.
A dry torch and some flint and steel lay close by, and when it was lit, the badger lord lifted high the light, illuminating the whole scene. The walls on either side were covered in pictures, carved into the ancient rock by his predecessors. He traced his paw along them as he walked toward an old lantern and a bowl of herbs at the feet of an aged suit of armor sitting upon a stone chair, inside which contained the skeletal remains of Lord Brocktree. Coalpaw bowed reverently before picking up the items and moving to the side. He lit the lantern and sprinkled the flame with some of the herbs. He sat with his back to the wall as a sweet aroma filled the room. Then the badger was asleep, dreaming he was walking on the beach before his mountain. Out from the still waters came one he knew to be Russano the Wise. He spoke to Coalpaw in a commanding voice, soft, but unignorable.

More mighty than a badger lord,
Near tall as any tree,
He evil looks, but for
The true good he fights.
Trust ye this friend of a vermin,
From mountains west he come,
Shall help you in your time of need,
And leave when he is done.

VERY GOOD! ;D
I really enjoyed it!
I have a few names that you could might you.

BAD
Mithino
Darlex
Broblez

GOOD
Snowflake
Nart
Hivey

I'm glad you enjoyed! Thank you for the names; it helps not having to make them yourself. The rest of chapter one will be finished in the next few days.

Chapter Two

    Thaze was correct in the five beasts that commanded the enemy army, except that one was missing from the siege at Redwall. This latecomer arrived in an impressive force, twice as large as the one present there, and had entered Mossflower woods to the north of the abbey. A lone figure, huge even compared to the biggest vermin, walked still forward as the others stopped around him. Cloaked in a black cape that hooded his entire body but the tip of his muzzle, he seemed the angel of death himself. No beast dared go near him, so a path was cut before him, leaving him to walk unhindered. He did not stop until he had reached the edge of the trees, looking up at the great sandstone building that stood above him. Drawing back his hood, he revealed the nature of his appearance. He was a wolf. His face was handsome, gray, black, white, and brown fur all beautifully aligned; but this could not hide his cruelty shown in his orange-hued eyes.
    He had lived in the harsh northland mountains for seasons, fighting for survival, feeding upon the weak and growing strong on their blood. For countless hours he had dreamed of the day he might set paw in the warm south, relishing the idea that he might even rule it as king. His ideas became ambition, which turned into obsession, bordering insanity. He had gathered into his service any who had the urge to kill, loot, or simply destroy, and had sent some to investigate this new land. As eager as he was, he was not about to enter the land without knowledge of its inhabitants, where they lived, and, if possible, their weaknesses. In one season, he had learned much more of Mossflower than he thought he could have discovered.
    And then he was given a little treat. A path crossed the river called Moss, and south along this path was a sandstone abbey. They were peaceful, happy creatures, mice, squirrels, and other such small woodland animals. The place could house an army, and was the perfect command center of the country. Much planning had gone into his scheme, and was well prepared for conquering the country. His army was a force of over three thousand, and many searats had offered him their service in the knowledge of his power. They could move in from the sea, and strike the creatures living near the water. They carried with them on their ships war machines: giant catapults and crossbows. The wolf was fond of their power to kill and destroy, and would not have them left behind. All of this was brought about by his greatness and the fear of others.  Not only was he unchallenged in his fighting skills, but he possessed more strength in body as well as in mind than the wolverines and wildcats that served him. Such fear was sown and grown within every soul that he had become a legendary terror to those who knew him.
    Grungath Deathcaller!
    He smiled in his inevitable victory. His plans had all gone perfectly, and by his cunning he nearly owned all of Mossflower. The fighters of the land were scattered, the peaceful creatures of Redwall were almost defeated, only saved by their strong walls. Grungath deemed it unnecessary to construct any means of entrance over the wall from the scarce wood of the north until they came here. Even then, as he was told by a returning scout, the occupants of the abbey were unprepared for the sudden attack and were forced into a siege the first day. The only true danger was a big, female badger, but she was killed defending the main gate as it was closed behind her. Her body was laid on the path as a warning to any inside of their own eminent death.  
    The cloaked wolf strode boldly to the main gate, exposing a shirt of dark chainmail underneath the garment as it fluttered behind him. At his side, hanging from a thick leather belt, was a heavy broadsword proven to be wielded by no beast except him. Drawing in a deep breath, he yelled with a voice like thunder.
    "Inhabitants of Redwall, hear me! I am Grungath Deathcaller; fear my name. You are to surrender your home entirely to me, or suffer the consequences. If there is one who hears me, he will come forth and surrender your home and save your lives, or doom you all to a long and painful death, for we will enter, and take you all." Minutes passed, and no beast came. Drawing back two paces, Grungath charged the main gates with the strength of only a wolf. The thick wooden beam keeping the gates shut splintered and broke, leaving them open for the enemy army. Shaking off the impact, the wolf entered Redwall, with his army quickly coming behind him.
    The grounds were checked, and the building was found unlocked and abandoned. There was no beast left in Redwall. Greatly upset at this, Grungath called his captains to him in the Great Hall, the two wildcats and the three wolverines. He questioned them slowly. "So, where are they?"
    The wolverine he had been looking at rasped back at to the wolf. "We will find them, master; they must be here somewhere."
    "Here!" the irate Deathcaller roared. "They're gone, you fools! Your reports said that there were three exits to this place, one on the north, west, and south walls. There must be another, because all three were guarded!"
    A stoat ran in and went on one knee before Grungath. "Master, I have news from the outer wall. There was a fourth entrance, on the east side. It was found unbarred and open, the outside being covered in vines, hiding it from view. There were tracks leading into the woods, but were erased and made unable to be followed." He rose and left hurriedly. Grungath rubbed his chin thoughtfully. So, they gave him the slip. It was no large matter; they would be found eventually, and he owned Redwall. Now the only place left in his way was the mountain Salamandastron. This would prove the most difficult task, but he was prepared. While he did not have as many ships at his disposal as the Badger Lord did, he could unload them of the catapults and crossbows from the River Moss. From there, they would be transported across the flatlands to the mountain and used there.
    Grungath Deathcaller chuckled darkly after he dismissed his captains, and heard thunder crash. A violent summer storm had begun; but he was dry inside his newest victory, in the center of the land he now had conquered. The fate of Mossflower lay in his paw, and he would be absolute ruler from his sandstone fortress. Seasons of pain had hardened him; seasons of fighting had trained him; and seasons of planning had made him the most powerful creature ever to live in the land.

very, VERY, good!!! :D

Thank you for the feedback; I'm glad you are enjoying it. Please make sure to check back every so often, as chapters will be going up pretty quickly.

Chapter Three
    For a mouse, abandoning Redwall was like abandoning a parent. To Nart, it was all that and more. He felt as if he would be better off dead. Badgermum Retha had been like a mother to him from the moment he was found floating in the River Moss in a little boat and brought to the abbey. She had given her life that those outside might save their own. Her loss and the loss of others were still fresh in his mind from the last couple of days spent in an awful siege. The fleeing of his home weighed down on him possibly more heavily on him than any other creature, for he was the abbot.
    Decisions had to be made quickly, for he knew time was short. The only option was to leave Redwall, and he wracked the old gatekeeper and recorder Mekus with urgent questions of anywhere they could go, hidden from the army amassed outside, and able to do so for an unnumbered amount of time.  The answer had finally come. Brockhall: the ancient home of badgers. There was a chance that the underground ways had collapsed and the entrance was hidden, but under the circumstances, it was a risk he was willing to take. Every available creature was loaded with food, sparse amounts of blankets, and a few personal belongings. That was all that was dared to be taken, except for the fabulous sword of Martin the Warrior. Such a meaningful object could not be left behind.
    It was with much relief that they found the east wicker gate was unknown to the enemy, and left unguarded. The second night of the siege, Abbot Nart had every Redwaller slipping out as quietly as possible into the safety of the woods, where they were left to follow the old squirrel, Mekus's directions. The moon was hidden by stormy clouds, and made it impossible to use a map or navigate the uneven forest floor. By dawn's first gray light, the tired, scared and desperate refugees were deep in Mossflower Woods. It was either by chance or the guiding spirit of Martin that they stumbled upon Brockhall.
    It was a massive oak, still alive after ages of its planting; great care had been taken to carve a cleverly disguised door at the base of the mighty trunk. When they finally found it, it took quite a lot of pushing and straining to open it. All entered the dark interior, making makeshift torches and using candles brought with them. Now that they were safe from immediate danger, curiosity overcame them and they explored the place freely, all the while being warned by Abbot Nart. He was not about to let any of his creatures get lost in the underground. Scurrying about, he completely wore himself out.
   There were chairs in plenty where he was now, and he slowly lowered himself into one. The old piece held, and Nart allowed himself to relax a little. His creatures were safe now, and would hopefully adapt to their new home quickly. His eyelids drooped, and was about to drift off to sleep when a horde of excited Dibbuns pounded into the room. It was inevitable. Wherever he went, they would find him.
    "Favver Abbot, see, see! There's a big room wiv' cobwebs, and a big chair, and Grufo was jumpin' on it!"
    The little mole accused tugged at the abbot's tunic. "Hurr, that'n be a gurt fibber. She made me jump on it, bo urr!"
    "Dibbuns, please. . . "
    "There's more, Favver, there's more! There's a kitchen, and a, a, a dormitory, and a big table, and a. . . "
    "Naw, 'e needs t'see the other place, with the other thing."
    Nart was saved from insanity by Cellarhog Derffy, who came walking down the hallway at the time of the stampede. He reached into his apron pocket and pulled out a pawful of candied chestnuts. He rattled them together, drawing their attention. "Hey, you little villains, I've got a game for you." They were delighted at the prospect of a game, and immediately listened attentively. "All of you get a chestnut if you help me get all the chairs upright and clean them of all that dust. Whadya say?" They all roared off down to the right, not even knowing where they were going. Abbot Nart smiled fondly and shook his head. "You owe me for this one Father," joked Derffy. "Those ruffians will be the end of me. Oh well, at least some of us will stay sane."
    Nart laughed as he thanked his good friend. "Thank you Derffy. Even in the midst of sorrow, at least we have a joy that won't be forgotten." He listened as the cellarhog walked after the path of destruction left in the wake of the overzealous little ones, mumbling something about gray spines before his time.
The abbot walked out of the room in the opposite direction of the marauding Dibbuns. Much to his surprise, he bumped into two squirrels that were not in Redwall at the time of their departure. He regained his composure and stared down his nose at the two newcomers. "Limbjumper and Spruceclimber. How did you two ruffians find your way in here?"
    Spruceclimber, a tall, strong, experienced red squirrel answered for both of them. "Why, we followed you, Father Abbot. You all left a trail even a blind weasel with half an ear and one paw could follow. It was only a matter of time before someone found it."
    Nart gasped, "You mean they know where we are now because of our tracks? Good heavens!"
    He tried to rush past them, but was caught by the strong, reassuring paw of Spruceclimber. "Ho my, no. What I mean is that could have happened. You're just lucky me 'n ol' Limbjumper here found it first. We knew about the siege, and were wondering what we could do to help. It was just before dawn when Limb found your trail, and we disguised it best we could. Don't thank us, though. Thank the rain; without it, a good tracker might have found the trail anyway." He began walking around, looking at the woodwork that made up the walls. "Nice place here. It'll do to hide you against that wolf, if at least for a short time."
    The mouse's brows furrowed. "Wolf, you say? No, that can't be right. The creatures who besieged us were wolverines and wildcats, though I can't see any being preferable." Seeing the serious look on the squirrel's face, Nart let Spruceclimber explain.
    "It must've been an hour after you left, when we were ordered to take a look at the going's on over here. Limb and I were going from tree to tree, trying to keep out of sight. We hear a lot of noise coming from the northwest, and see a huge army of vermin, and out comes the biggest creature I've ever seen. We knew he was the leader, and even I, a veteran of a dozen battles and fights, when I saw him, was scared. He walked right up to the gates, and broke them. He ran and just shattered the wooden beam. The whole of his army walked in, and that is when we scouted around the side for any signs of survivors." The soldier squirrel breathed out slowly. "Thank the seasons you are alright."
    "No, not everybeast," said Nart solemnly, as he sank to the floor. "Old Retha didn't make it. Her body's out on the path." He sniffed, and the squirrels realized he needed to be left alone to his thoughts.
    If the size of the army that now was in their home was as big as Spruce and Limb claimed it was, and it was commanded by the most dangerous creatures to ever walk Mossflower soil, and a wolf of the size and strength described. . .
    "Martin, please help us," he whispered.

a nother good chapter! would you like me to draw some of the characters?

If you want to, by all means! I'd like to draw them myself, though I can't figure out how to upload pictures.  :P
If you could assist me in that, I'd greatly appreciate it, and possibly upload what I think my characters should look.  :)

We'll first you need to upload your pics to the Internet
I use photobucket.
Then fare I upload them there I go to my art work page an click on the button that has a small picture on it.
You then go back and copy your pic then paste it in between the things that popped up!

I'll try, but computers hate me, so it may not work first time. Thanks!
Next chapter will be out in a couple days.

Chapter Four
       Storms on the seas are dangerous; so was sailing on them. But it was not a choosing matter for Captain Bex. The giant sea otter was struggling at the wheel, trying hard to keep it on a straight course, wherever that might be. He twisted and turned, being buffeted right and left by the crashing waves as they tried to pull him from the wheel he was lashed to.
       His boat, the Clawrudder, had been on the seas for nearly four seasons. He and the crew had stopped on several islands and small peninsulas to restock. Many inhabitants had been too happy to oblige, yet an equal amount would rather have killed them. They had made it through thick and thin, but this gale was nearly putting them out of commission.
       Bex called urgently over the roar of the wind and the water falling in sheets. "Ronhuk! Ronhuk, help me keep this steady! I can't do this for much longer!"
       A huge form came staggering into sight through the slashing rain, trying to navigate his way to the captain. Pulling himself up the stairs, he gripped the wheel alongside Bex with huge, hooked claws. "I'm here, captain! How long do you think this storm will last?" he roared, battling against the wind and the waves.
       "These are strange waters," the sea otter blew water from his snout, "I've no idea! I'm hoping it won't last past dawn, because visibility is dangerously low at night, and we could find land the hard way: running straight into it! I pray this will soon end, or we might as well commend our souls to the Dark Forest!" He was knocked off his paws as the wheel suddenly went loose, and he watched Ronhuk slide to the deck rail. The voice of the forward lookout cut through the din.
       "Captain! Turn the ship about! Land ho, straight ahead! Turn about!" But nothing Captain Bex or anybeast could do to stop the surging waters from propelling their ship toward the rocky coast at the base of Salamandastron.

   When Lord Coalpaw awoke, he knew not how long he had been asleep. The lantern had gone out, and he groped around in the dark until he made his way to the entrance of the room. Closing it behind him, he walked to a nearby window. It was still the same night, But the storm was dying down. When hit with the cool air, he suddenly remembered what was said to him in his dream, and hurried out of the room, nearly running into Commander Gemal.
   "Are you all right, my lord?" the hare asked, raising an eybrow.
   Coalpaw gnawed his lip. "Yes, and no." He decided not to tell Gemal about his dream. "Have any other reports come in?"
   "Yes, m'lord." He hesitated. "Lord Coalpaw, I fear that much at the abbey has changed. The leader of the enemy is not a group of creaures, but a wolf."
   "A wolf?" Coalpaw could not believe what he had just heard. "Gemal, repeat what you just said."
   "The leader of the great army is a wolf, sah."
   "In all my life, I have never thought the day would come when a wolf would enter Mossflower. I have heard of them, just stories and legends as a child, told to scare me into obedience. Even now, how can I believe that a creature of such power and terror has entered my homeland? Unless. . ." He trailed off hopelessly. A polite cough was heard behind Gemal, and they looked to see Sergeant Hivey, a rough, no nonsense hare with a walking cane. Bowing low, he spoke.
   "My lord, I bring news from the shore; a shipwreck has just occurred!" He was picked up and shaken by a worried Coalpaw.
   "Where? Show me! Great seasons, it could be searats; we can't have the likes of them on our paws now! Get two score hares and lead me to the place!" He ran off to the armory, with the two hares sprinting after him.

   Ronhuk woke slowly. He was face up in cold surf, looking at the lightening sky. He could not remember much of the wreck, besides being thrown overboard as the ship ran headlong into something. With a start, he lifted himself up, shedding the water-soaked cloak he still had about him. He searched the tideline for the Clawrudder, finding it not thirty paces away, keeled over in the shallows, it's forward completely imploded on a jutting rock. Other crew members had already woken, and were splashing about near the ship. There were cries for help, and Ronhuk started toward them.
   He heard the sound of marching feet, and saw two score lanky rabbit looking creatures headed by a great black and white stripe headed creature in armor, wielding a war hammer. They did not look friendly, actually rather frightened seeing him.
   He was a cougar, and stood two heads taller than even the leader of the group before him. He was armored in thick, toughened leather from his neck to his footpaws. On a broad belt was sheathed a great, two-handed broadsword, and his giant, sharply hook-clawed paws instinctively went to it. Thinking better of the action, the cougar attempted to speak to these stranger creatures. Using a crude sign language with his paws, he spoke brokenly. "We, wrecked. Can, you, help, us?"
   One rabbit thing raised a brow, speaking to the armored beast beside him. "I say, sah, he doesn't look like a searat, but he does have the strangest accent, wot wot?"
   Quite taken aback by the very proper voice in which he spoke the Common Tongue, Ronhuk talked again, this time in a regular voice. "I said, we wrecked, and need help. If you're done gawping at me, some creatures need to be kept from drowning!" He turned toward the ship and dragged himself through the water. After a curt nod from Coalpaw, the hares assisted the crew out.
   After every member was saved, Ronhuk saw the one named Coalpaw look with angry glances at some of the crew. Tracing his glare, he saw it was focused on some species in particular.
   Among the otters, mice, and squirrels, there were rats, ferrets, weasels, and even a mink.
   The "hares", the rabbit creatures, surrounded them. Stepping forward boldly, Ronhuk forced his way to Coalpaw. "Have we done wrong, in asking for help? What have we done to anger you so?"
   The beast pointed an accusing paw. "Why do you travel with creatures the likes of them? Rats, ferrets, weasels; vermin!"
   Ronhuk raised his paws in their defense. "Wait a moment. How do you know they are evil? We haven't even been formally introduced."
   The "vermin" had gathered in a group for a short discussion, and one, a ferret by the name of Splink, came up to Coalpaw, bowing low and speaking in a strange accent. "My lord, to save any mishaps from beginning, and to show our gratitude for helping us, we shall stay on the shore, and shall not bother your hospitality. In a most gracious request, we only ask for some food of any kind, as our own supplies have been ruined in the crash."
   Coalpaw was impressed. These creatures, he could tell, were not evil, and his kinder nature could not refuse shelter from those who offered not to have it of their own will. After a moment's thought, he introduced himself. "I am Lord Coalpaw, Badger Lord of this mountain, Salamandastron. This is Commander Gemal," the hare nodded stiffly, "And Sergeant Hivey of the Long Patrol hare fighters. We welcome you to this land. I ask your forgiveness, ferret. Here in our land, your kind is known as enemy. You will all be allowed inside, and given food."
"And I am Ronhuk, a cougar and the son of Nigel the blacksmith. My home is in the far west mountains, across the Great Ocean. We have travelled long, and are thankful for your hospitality, Lord Coalpaw of Salamandastron." He placed a paw on his chest and bowed in his land's salute of honor.
The badger looked at the towering figure of Ronhuk. "I have much to discuss with you. Come."
   They allowed themselves to be shown inside, and when it came time for breakfast, were sitting alongside the Long Patrol hares, eating and chatting. Splink and the other weasels and ferrets were found to be great fun by the hares, with their strange accent and hilarious laugh, which sounded like Nyuk, nyuk.  A hare, Thaze in fact, challenged Splink to an arm wrestle, with Ronhuk trying to convince him that it was a bad idea, but the garrulous hare would not be shaken. Setting up, they gripped each other's paws and started. Thaze grunted and strained as he tried to push back Splink's paw. The ferret grinned and laughed.
   "Nyuk, nyuk, is that it? Come on, try harder, harder! Nyuk, nyuk!" Thaze's companions shouted encouragement at him, urging him to better efforts, but to no avail. Ronhuk laughed at his antics, exposing deadly-looking, spear-like teeth.
   "Hah, you'll never beat him. He's locked his arm! He only has to wait for you to tire out," Thaze gulped in air as this was said, and pushed more softly, "Then he'll just end it, you being too tired to resist!" Splink strained back at the tired hare, and pushed Thaze's paw to the table. A shout went up and the contestants sat back. Standing up and extending a friendly paw, Splinka shook the hare's paw warmly.
   "No hard feelings, right. You did good, my friend, nyuk, nyuk! Not many can beat me, so there's nothing to be ashamed of."
   Thaze winked at him. "Maybe next time, wot?" His new friend went around and clapped him on the back. "That's the spirit! Until then, save your strength for something else."
   Ronhuk chuckled, turning to Captain Bex and Lord Coalpaw. "I believe you said that we had something to discuss?"
   "Yes." The badger furrowed his brow. "Captain, I believe your ship could use some repairs. I can aid you in that; we have many supplies for ships here, and you can use what you wish." The giant sea otter grunted in approval, closing his one eye. He had lost the other long ago. "You, cat. Come with me."
   They rose and exited the room, Ronhuk following close behind the badger lord. "We are at the brink of war," Coalpaw explained. "An army of huge size has entered our land, and has taken over everything, except us. They are a huge force of vermin, with a few wolverines and wildcats. But above all, there is a wolf. These creatures that face us are among the most dangerous known, and must be stopped. Before you ask, I need to know something. I have had a dream. In it, one of my predecessors came to me and told me something." He explained the rhyme. "I believe you are the creature of whom he spoke; you match the description. There is just one more thing I must know."
They were in a bare, lonely room, high up in the mountain. Coalpaw stepped to the far wall, and pointed out a crack. "You must move this stone. Behind it is a room; you must not look in there. I must know if you truly are more mighty than a badger lord. You will move this stone with one paw."
Ronhuk thougth for a moment, shrugged, then went to the crack. Setting the long, hooking claws of his right paw into it, he pulled.

I just read the first chapter, and I think its very good.

Thank you!
A bit of writer's block right now :P. Will try to have the next chapter out this week.

Just finished chapter two. This is scary! Redwall, ABANDONED!?!?!? WHAT ABOUT MARTIN!?!?!?

Chill out! :D I haven't forgotten about Martin, I just haven't integrated anything with him into the story yet. More will come soon. :)

Chapter Five will be out this week.

Chapter 5
   "What are you blabbering about, you idiot! Here we are, safe in a stone fortress, with one of the biggest armies ever to enter this land, and you, a 'mighty' wolverine, and you're worried about two squirrels? Squirrels!" Grungath turned his back on his captain. "If you're so worried about it, go on, find them! That should be easy, seeing as they have only the entire woods to climb from tree to tree in." Disgusted, the wolf sat down in his new throne, a great oak chair set in the Great Hall. His black cloak swirled about and covered his body, leaving him looking ominous and mysterious.
The wolverine captain, by the name of Hurra, swallowed nervously. Some scouts had seen a couple of squirrels spying on them, though no attempts had been made to attack. He had thought at the time it would be a good idea to report the matter to his master, but the Deathcaller was in a testy mood, and had exploded in anger at this seemingly insignificant news. Hurra knew he would be punished in some way, and waited in stiff silence.
Calmed from his outburst, Grungath rose and walked the few paces between him and Hurra; not even the dark chainmail under his cloak made noise. He gazed at Hurra in silence, then lay a paw on his captain's shoulder. "Hurra, you know that in two evenings, an assault will be made on the mountain fortress, Salamandastron. This will be the most dangerous of our battles, and I need somebeast, one of my own, trusted captains, to go on this attack. I have decided that you, as one of my captains, to take this honor. Don't worry, you'll have a fourth of our force here to help you; the ships will be dropping off twice that many. That will be more than enough to take the mountain, and if needed, destroy every last inhabitant.
"And I give you this order: The badger will be yours to kill. You've always dreamed of that, haven't you, showing the world that a wolverine can best a badger." The wolf saw a slight grin break on the wolverine's ugly face and his paw go to his falcate; his honeyed words were working. His grip on Hurra's shoulder tightened, and his other paw grasped his shirt. Lifting him off his paws, Grungath held his face close and spoke quietly to the helpless wolverine.
"But if you lose, or fail to kill the badger, I will kill you with my bare paws if he doesn't. Go!"
Hurra scrambled off, exiting out the door and onto the damp lawns. Seeing the other captains in a group by the pond, he headed off in that direction.
One of the wildcats, Zil, was speaking in a low tone to the other captains. "Grungath is becoming too dangerous; after he conquers Salamandastron, what next? He might be content with his victories for a while, but how soon will it be before he wishes to expand his reign to the south, the east, or even across the seas! He must be removed."
One of the other wolverines and the remaining wildcat thought otherwise. "The master will not be stopped," said the wolverine. "He is a Deathcaller, the highest name of power in the North! Only three have been named such, and we have sworn to obey him until we draw our last breath!"
"Well spoken, Farag," hissed the second cat. "Grungath has saved our lives numerous times, and has led us to victory, never knowing defeat! Our lives are his to take, and we will not help you to remove him. Forget these silly ideas, companions, and learn to serve the Deathcaller with more respect!"
Hurra looked at his brother, Gurra, the last captain. The wolverine rarely said anything, and stood with his arms folded in stubborn silence. They dared not face Grungath in open combat; he could kill two of them with his massive broadsword before they could make a cut at him. They were left only the choice to stay obedient to their wolf overlord.
A female ferret hid behind the trunk of a tree; she had heard the captains' words. As much as she did not want to be part of the Deathcaller's army, she did not wish death against any other beast; it was wrong to wish that somebeast die.
She had been a traveler from the day she was old enough to walk, wandering off from her family and being brought back only to do it again. This gave her the nickname Presel the Wanderer. Being able to take care of herself, Presel had left her parents' home as soon as she could. Many seasons later, she was unfortunate to be in the path of Grungath when his army came down from the north. They had been, insistent, that she join their ranks, whether or not she wanted to. Trying to avoid any fights, she had stayed unnoticed and unwanted.
Presel did not know the creatures inside Redwall; what she did know was that they were peaceful and were either unwilling or unable to fight. Feeling a deep resentment for being part of the "bad creatures", she wished now more than ever that she had not been found by the army. Sighing, the ferret walked away to a corner of the walls, drawing aimlessly in the dirt with her dagger point and trying to think of a way to desert the place and travel elsewhere, to a land of peace free from evil.

Holt Widetail was set in a good defensive position. A hidden entrance in the bank of the River Moss made entry difficult for any but an otter, and the second entrance was concealed as well, a tunnel leading from a hollow stump into the holt. It was essentially a hill, built up by branches, mud and stone, and, while it took many seasons, it eventually took the shape of a round, tall stone fort. Javelins stuck in the side of the walls outward discouraged climbing, and well-aimed slingstones kept attackers away. But the vermin keeping them in were not unduly worried. Their numbers were many, and the defenders were few. They could wait as long as they needed.
   Skipper Widetail knew this, and was very worried for the safety of his home. While they were safe for the moment, no attacks, no negotiations, no sound was heard from the enemy. They were obviously content with keeping them inside, and knew they could take any beating given. Now, great ships were being brought up the mouth of the river, and were loaded with scores of vermin and deadly-looking war machines. They were unloading them on the flatlands on the south side of the river, and began rolling them on broad, flat wheels across the dunes.
   They were designed specifically for this, their wheels made so as to not sink in the sand when being transported. Only one place required that travel and such weapons: Salamandastron.
   The skipper remembered not believing the beleaguered sea otters when they first came asking for help. It was hardly possible that they were attacked by such a large force as they described, and was unwilling to believe it until he saw them for himself. Troubled in his mind, the otter sought sleep. After tossing and turning for a while, he slept. In his dream, he saw a tapestry with a mouse in armor and a magnificent sword. It seemed familiar, just like the one he had seen hanging in Redwall.
The mouse stepped forward, and took Skipper's paw; he did not question the friendly-looking mouse. He seemed to radiate confidence and kindness, but he also had the look of a warrior. He led him to a window, where he saw a creature, larger and stronger than any he had ever seen. He wore a black cloak that covered his features, and the tip of a great broadsword stuck out behind.
   The mouse pointed, indicating another huge creature carrying a sword, and a ferret walking beside him, both striding purposefully toward the cloaked figure. The two giants both drew blades, and clashed in combat.
   "Who are these beasts?" Skipper needed to know.
   The mouse said only two sentences. "Watch for the cougar, a friend of a foe. Aid him against the wolf, and free Mossflower of evil."

In Brockhall, Abbot Nart was having trouble sleep as well. Caught in a half-consciousness, he thought he heard somebeast talking to him. Opening his eyes, he saw Martin the Warrior standing next to him. He spoke to him like an old friend.
   "Nart, your creatures are safe, but the evil you have escaped cannot triumph. One will come seeking your aid; you must help him despite his appearance. A ferret will come looking after him; ask him the name of their ship. If he answers 'Clawrudder', then you can trust him. These foreigners will help you regain your home." The warrior mouse walked slowly away, and Nart slept in peace, forgetting the visit until the morning.


Short chapter, I know. Ran out of ideas to fill the gaps. Hopefully the next chapter will be longer.

Triple post, but its my topic ;D. Please tell me if you want me to do some more in-depth back stories for the characters, cause I haven't done much in that. Let me know if this is a good idea, and if more than two people give a thumbs up on the idea, I'll start another topic in the Fan Fiction for that only.

I am planning on drawing Grungath and Nart. if you want anymore drawn just tell me ;)

Great writing! Is this set in a time after Triss. There were snakes living in Brockhall at that time period.

No, its set after the latest book in the time period, beyond the living memory of any alive after the Rouge Crew. I'm glad you enjoyed! Please tell if you would like to see some character background writing. :)

K, the snakes died at the end of Triss. I forgot about that.  ;)

Right. If any beast has questions, please ask, and I'll be more than happy to answer. ;)

Sorry for the long wait for chapter 6, I'm working on it but am trying to improve it (is a bit rough right now). Hopefully will be out this week.

Just finished chapter 3! The quality of your writing is really good and makes the story even more fun to read! I have a question, too. Why, after only 2 days of siege did the father Abbot evacuate? Couldn't they have held off longer (though the wolf would've simply knocked the gate down anyway)? Why did they not hesitate to leave, was it the shear enormity of the opposing army? Because they sound terrifying!

Again, really good work here! ;)

Yes, after looking back, it was rather quick, but what I neglected to explain was that the amount of creatures in Redwall at the time able to fight at all was too small, and it would have been in vain to give any resistance because of the army's sheer size, and those able to fight would have certainly died whn they would be needed. The decision to abandon Redwall would cause less bloodshed, and was at the time the best choice they had.

Just finished 5!! ;D

Thanks so much!
Been sick, so next chapter will be late. :(

Chapter 6
   The great stone moved.
   Ronhuk concentrated all his energy against the monstrous wall of rock, willing himself to strain his muscles to their limits and beyond against the grinding stone. When he felt a slight movement, he hauled harder.
   One inch.
   With a low growling sound starting deep in his chest, the cougar from the far western mountains thought of nothing but the rock, breathing great gasps of air.
   Two inches.
   As it came further out, Ronhuk put in more and more effort. He remembered the fights he had been in, all his training, every scar he bore on his huge sinewy frame.
   Three inches, four, six, a foot.
   Finally, yelling out with a great sound, a nerve-chilling mix between a scream and a roar, he pulled the rock away from its resting place wide enough to allow even his bulk in. The cat gasped in air, and sat down, not looking into the dark interior of the room. He looked at Coalpaw. "Are you satisfied, Lord Coalpaw?"
   The badger was more than satisfied; he was impressed. Even he had to go into the bloodwrath to open the stone entrance; this cougar had not needed the berserk strength that came from it. "Indeed I am, my friend. You have proved yourself the one who was told of in my dreams; I cannot doubt the words of my forefather and disregard the open facts. I am honored to have you here, Ronhuk from the western mountains."
   "If that is your thoughts, then I must tell you something. I did not tell you before because I feared for the lives wasted on a foolish and rash decision. Where I come from, we have a lord, much like yourself, who protects those under his charge. This lord is a wolf, and one of the best creatures ever to live. Had it not been for him, innocents would have been enslaved, hopeless battles lost, and a tyrannical reign over the land we call home.
   "I did not tell you because, in moments of misunderstanding, explanations are not allowed to be said. You said this wolf has killed many, and lay siege a stone 'abbey'. Were the inhabitants of this 'abbey' of peace?"
   Coalpaw did not hesitate. "Yes, and unable to hold out for long. They need our help, and as soon as possible."
   "I understand the urgency," assured Ronhuk. "If they are as such, then he is no creature of honor. Now I must ask you something that may seem against all rules you may have." He waited as the badger nodded slowly. "Can you place your trust in those I travel with, despite their species, despite their oddities?"
   Coalpaw considered: One part of him thought off that ferret, the one called Splink. If he was anything to gauge upon, these newcomers were not a bad bunch. The other part could not break past the fact that they were vermin, backstabbing, murdering, pillaging, and incapable of anything but evil. But then, how could Ronhuk, the creature that looked for all the world like a spawn from hell with his hooked claws and sharp fangs, be good? "Yes," he said quietly, but again, this time louder. "Yes, I can trust them." He was placing a lot of his trust in them; never in his entire lifetime had he thought he would ever say those words. But then, never in his lifetime did he think there would be a time that the protectors of Mossflower could be on their knees, or that he would see a creature such as Ronhuk.
   The cougar relaxed his thoughts; Splink and the rest were like family to him, having travelled together for seasons, fighting and eating together as if they were siblings caring for each other. He would once again be able to fight with them. "Alright, I can be ready whenever you need me to be, as well as part of the crew. The others will be needed to repair the ship. We wait upon your word, Lord Coalpaw."
   Suddenly, a scout came running into the chamber. "Sah!" He spluttered. "Vermin! A bally snub-nosed, dittle pawed bunch of vermin are gorging themselves on our breakfast, wot!" He ran slap-bang into Ronhuk. Rubbing his head, he excused himself. "Sorry sah, didn't mean to run into you, sah! But there is. . ." He looked at what he ran into, then up at the towering figure of the cougar. "Great seasons! 'Tis the devil himself, wot! Right, you might eat my food, you might take my home, but killing the badger lord is going too far! Take that, beast!"
He pulled out his dagger and stabbed at Ronhuk's belly. The blade stuck in the toughened leather, and stayed there. The cougar plucked the small weapon out and gave it back to the open-mouthed hare. "You have heart, little one, I'll give you that. But if you wanted to kill me, you would have to get my feet out from under me, then slit my throat. But I don't think you will be doing that since I did not kill Coalpaw, and the 'vermin' in the mess hall might be the reason you live the next few hours."
The hare looked behind Ronhuk to the stern face of Coalpaw. He stiffened to attention. "M'lord, I have news from the fringes of Mossflower woods. There is a great army one day's travel from here, well over two thousand. They have machines for war, like crossbows and catapults. I think they intend to lay siege, sah."
"Well, we aren't going to let them." Coalpaw cried. "Gear up! The enemy will be upon us soon! Long Patrol hares, run like you have never run before! I want every available creature to be out on the sands immediately!" He roared off down the halls. "Sargeant Hivey! Commander Gemal! Form up the ranks! Gather all! Now!"
Ronhuk looked at the bewildered hare runner. "Best do as he said, soldier."
Confused, the hare saluted the cougar for no apparent reason, then, out of young curiosity, pointed at his huge broadsword sheathed on his waist. "I say, can you wield that thing, sah?"
The mountain cat drew forth the great blade with lightning speed and spun it around over their heads, whizzing by the runner's ears then bringing it down to rest a fraction from the floor. "If I could not wield it, I would not have it. Ye'd best put a new edge on your dagger before the fight; it felt a little dull."
Saluting furiously, the young hare wiggled his ears in respect. "Well, it's a bally good thing you're on our side, wot? Well, got to go, wot, orders'n all." He careened off down the hall to do his lord's command. As Ronhuk left off after him at a slower pace, he met up with Splink.
"Ah, Ron, I've been looking for you. I presume you have heard of the upcoming events, no? Some of the crew has volunteered to help the 'hare' creatures; they are funny, nyuk, nyuk. Unfortunately, most of us 'vermin' types need to stay, for the confusion in battle would not benefit anyone if a ferret on our side is killed as one of theirs, or any of us. Great as the risks may be, I will be fighting at your side, just as always."
Ronhuk smiled. "Yes, just like always, my friend. Time to even the score; I got ten last time, and you got eleven. Those frogs left before I was done." The two friends chuckled at the memories. The ferret suddenly remembered something, and took a bag from his belt, tossing it to the cougar.
"I almost forgot; last of the venison. We've rationed it out to those who eat it. Shame; but a good thing we'll be going home soon, no? Nyuk, nyuk! C'mon, let's show these longears what we of the far west mountains are made of!"

The Long Patrol hares had lined up quickly, each stiffly at attention with their eyes forward and their free paw at their side. Their spears shone bright in the sun, reflected in their eyes with the light of the upcoming battle. They were lined in straight lines, and saluted as one as Lord Coalpaw came out of the mountain's entrance. The badger lord looked every inch the part, from his shining breastplate to the steel-headed war hammer he carried easily in his right paw. He strode past the front ranks until he was in the middle of their sight.
   "Hares of Salamandastron!" He addressed them. "Today, we march to war; tonight, we will fight for the freedom of evil from our land. I know that many of you have never fought in a battle; I also know that many of you will not come out of this fight unscathed. But know this: no matter what odds, no matter who you fight, there is no risk that cannot be taken to save the life of another. I know you will obey me to the last, but I cannot order you to die. If any of you would not fight, I will not blame you, for we are facing a force yet to be tested. If you would like to stay, then say so now."
   No hare stepped forward.
   "Very well then," Coalpaw said solemnly. "My hares, my friends. . . I salute you for your courage." He raised his paw to his head, and his ranks saluted back. With a nod to Sergeant Hivey, the badger began the march.
   The sergeant started them off. "All right you slack-pawed, daisy picking, good for nothing babies! Let's see some hustle! Let's move! Are you soldiers, or are you dirt? Let's go!"
   Ronhuk chuckled softly and turned to his volunteers: about thirty. "Are we going to let them beat us?"
   "No we aren't!" came the eager reply. They started singing a fast-beat marching song, keeping their feet to the rhythm and staying even with the well-trained Long Patrol hares.
   "Mountain high that we call home,
   Mountain high that we call home,
   Will we reach you where we roam.
   Will we reach you where we roam.
   Through the rain and through the snow,
   Through the rain and through the snow,
   Up the high and down the low.
   Up the high and down the low.
   When we reach you mountain home,
   When we reach you mountain home,
   Away again we'll surely roam.
   Away again we'll surely roam.

The squirrels Spruceclimber and Limbjumper were still scouting Redwall. The stubborn beasts would not listen to Abbot Nart, who tried to convince them there was nothing anyone could do at the moment. The veterans knew that every enemy had a weakness; they were just stuck finding Grungath's. It was morning of the second day of the evacuation of Redwall, and they were hard pressed to keep hidden. Every inch of the walls was patrolled, and taking out one or two of the guards would only aid them in getting caught. For now they waited.
        Spruceclimber sat in an old maple on the north side, looking down into the lawns; a mass of soldiers were gathering, and were now leaving via the main gate. He rose from his perch and darted along the trees until he met with Limbjumper at the west side. "So Limb, where are they going?" he asked.
"Seems like they're going to cut off into the woods; see, there they go. They're heading at a south-westerly path; could be going to the badger mountain." His face was grim. "If that falls, we're doomed."
        Spruce was more optimistic. "Don't say we've lost until we've lost, old friend. Come, we'll beat them there. If the lord needs a warning, then we'd best give him one. Let's go!"
        Both parties of creatures were travelling at a good speed, and Spruceclimber guessed they would meet the flatlands by nightfall. The vermin army did not stop for food; they ate on the way so the squirrels did too.  The squirrel veteran was right: they reached the flatlands by nightfall; he could see the light of the sun fading in breaks of the trees. But when they broke through the trees, he groaned inside. The sun was now far gone. The light he had seen was from thousands of torches in thousands of paws, lighting the surrounding with a wavy light. The army was marching for the destruction of Salamandastron.

Wow, great chapter!  :o

Why thank you ;D

This is some pretty awesome stuff! You have a pretty unique concept going here!

That means a lot to me, seeing as you wrote the 'Origins of Simon'. :)

Quote from: The Skarzs on February 27, 2014, 09:36:17 PM
That means a lot to me, seeing as you wrote the 'Origins of Simon'. :)

You mean you liked it?! :,D

I've not finished, but yeah.  ;)

That's great to hear! You'll have to let me know what you thought about it once you're finished or feel free to post/PM me anytime!
But back on topic, after all this is YOUR fanfiction we're talking about.

What plans do you have for this story? Do you have everything all planned out or have a certain page number you want to reach in length? Can you give us a sneak peak of what's to come? ::)

Well. . . This may go on for a while. Like, maybe even 10 more chapters ;D. The direction I want it to go is there, but sometimes I make up a lot of the details as I go to make it more interesting.
As for a sneak peek. . . Pain.

???

;D

Sorry for the long wait for the next chapter. I hope no one minds too much.

A little short, bet here it is!

Chapter Seven

   Both the Long Patrol hares and the creatures from the far western mountains were driving themselves to their limits. They all knew of the risks ahead, and were anxious to reach them. At the same time, there was a certain stubbornness and competitive air that made neither stop before the other. It was already dark, and the moon shone with it's eerie light.
"We must take a rest, sah. If we keep going like this, we won't have enough energy to fight if any comes our way!"
Commander Gemal marched in step with Lord Coalpaw.
"But if we stop now, we won't be able to get far enough by tomorrow, Gemal."
"Sah, don't forget they are moving toward us as well.We might even run into them in the dark, wot! Then where will we be? Forgive my saying, sah, but you might be putting every beast here in danger."
The badger sighed. "You're right of course, old friend. Tell the sergeant to call a halt."
Gemal saluted, and waved his cane to Hivey. Nodding in acknowledgement, the hare roared out the order. "Alright, soldiers! 'Ten-tion! Front ranks, slow. . . and halt! Straighten those lines, and await dismissal!"
Coalpaw turned and waited for stillness. Then he raised his paw. A sigh of relief was heard through the ranks as they all eased up. Food was passed out, cold, lest any fires give away their position.
Ronhuk halted his group at the same time as Hivey's order, allowing his thirty to disperse through the hares. Hushed conversations were held, a few stories shared, but nothing stopped the knowledge of imminent death for many. Ronhuk silently made his way to Lord Coalpaw as only a cat can and sat down next to them. The light of the crescent moon reflected in his eyes as he stared blankly at the flatlands in front of him.
"Tell me, friend. How long have you been lord of Salamandastron?"
The badger looked up into the stars.
"Fifteen seasons is what I count. For that long there has been peace throughout the land. But now this happens." He looked at the cougar. "How long have you known battle? You cannot be much older than 20 seasons."
"Ten and nine seasons. My father's friends have trained me since I was a child. Our land has seen much battling, and it was out of kindness they trained me, and necessity. Not only that, I wanted to be like my father, to help people in their time of need and fight against injustice and tyranny.
"My father, his name is Nigel, served in the Returning War. This war set the rightful lord on the seat of honor, and made the Barkhills a place greater than before. My father was the closest friend of the creature who began the war, and united the cats as the legendary fighting unit known as the Hammer Warriors, fighting to smash flat and destroy the iron paw of evildoers. It took seasons to end the war.
"Now our worries are pirates and groups of creatures who would kill and burn." He paused. "My first real fight nearly killed me; the only thing that saved me was something my father taught me, to get angry. I lost control, and killed like never before." Ronhuk closed his eyes. "I never want to do that again."
"Do you speak of the Bloodwrath?"
The cougar lifted his head. "Bloodwrath? What is that, an affliction of some kind?"
The other nodded. "Yes, it is an affliction. All badger lords have it. When in the Bloodwrath, our vision reddens, and all we see is what we need to get to, or do, or kill. We fight with boundless energy, and nothing can hurt us. But it will run us to our deaths; and, while we do not feel it, we are losing blood and life." Coalpaw looked at Ronhuk seriously. "Does this sound like what your father had?"
"More or less; he never let anyone see him like that unless it was impossible to stay away from others, so I could not observe it much." He stood and looked out at the edge of vision. "Well, I am heading to rest. We shall post some sentries of our own." The cougar walked away, saying. "May the moon nary wake you, and the sun raise you untouched from slumber."

Spruceclimber and Limbjumper had spent the night in the trees, taking turns watching the great mass of creatures through the dark. It was not hard to tell they weren't worried about any possible threat: they were the biggest threat around, after all.
   The squirrels had been faced with the dilemma of the war machines: how could they destroy or at least cripple them? It was hardly possible, as they were well guarded even from ally paws, the operators keeping a weather eye on it at all times. The veteran squirrels were forced to give up.
   Spruce watched the sun peek out over the horizon, the bright arc creeping up on the darkness like a predator, dispersing it suddenly and cheerfully. But the presence of the foul army blighted it's beauty, like the ever-present shadowy darkness of a slime-walled cave, or some kind of contagious disease sticking out on the clean landscape.
   The squirrel poked his friend with the butt of his javelin. "Limb, look. They're moving."
   As the creatures of the horde woke sullenly, shouts and orders were heard throughout the camp. Small fires were stoked, and a quick breakfast was taken. The squirrels watched apprehensively, knowing there would be little time before Salamandastron's high sides would see battle.
   More swiftly then Spruce thought they would, the army started moving again, the great war machines being pushed and pulled along by countless paws. They kept close to the edge of the forest, making it easier for Spruce and Limb to follow them without being seen. Limbjumper went before Spruceclimber, going up into the leafy roof to get a higher view. Suddenly he jumped down in front of his friend.
   "Spruce! There's an army of hares not a league away! Coalpaw's meeting the foul army in battle on the plains!"

Hurra peered into the distance: yes there was definitely another army out there. He smiled with an ugly grin, calling out. "Those rabbits and their filthy badger lord have come out to play!"
   A chuckle was heard throughout the vermin, and a rustle of impatience for the coming battle shuddered through the army. The wolverine waved a paw. "Come on, you lot! The Deathcaller commands their defeat!"
They surged forward, closing the gap between the two forces.
They were still a ways off before Hurra called a halt, and had the catapults and big crossbows brought to the front. The big form of Coalpaw lumbering forward in the Bloodwrath was easily seen, and a huge bolt was quickly loaded into a crossbow. Hurra had used these machines before, and sighted it in; he could not miss.
"Alright, Grungath. You wanted me to kill the badger lord? I'll do that. Just. Let. Me. . . Shoot."

"Coalpaw, look out!"
   Ronhuk sprang up from behind his ranks where he had crouched to surprise the enemy. But that could no longer be done; Coalpaw was unaware of the huge crossbow aimed straight at him. With speed born of desperation, the cougar bounded toward the badger, sprinting with long, leaping steps to get to Coalpaw in time.
   Ronhuk slammed into him, knocking him over just as something came whistling in. It hit Ronhuk low on the left shoulder, and he fell to his knees.
   Both sides halted in strange silence, looking at the two creatures on the field between the armies.
   The cougar looked down at his wound: the powerful bolt had pierced his leather armor, and stuck out in front of him. He removed his paw that had instinctively gone to it, and blood oozed out in a steady stream. Coalpaw's eyes had cleared, and he saw his friend pierced with the weapon.
   "Ronhuk?"
   The cougar gripped the bolt firmly with both paws, and his face twisted in pain. Pulling downward with one paw, the wood shaft bent, then splintered. The crack it made when it finally broke fractured the stillness, and a shout rose from the vermin army. Ronhuk stood slowly, drawing his great broadsword.
   Welling up a deep breath, he roared out his challenge. "For defeat, or for victory!"
   This rekindled the action, and the armies of the Deathcaller, Salamandastron and the Barkhills clashed together.

You PM'd me asking for criticism.

I didn't read the complete thing (Fan Fics aren't really my cup of tea), but it still seems pretty good.  :) I only saw a couple of SPAG errors, and you have a nice sense of flow and enough detail to describe the scene without drawing it out too much. If you could expand your vocabulary a little bit that might help you find some more descriptive or interesting words to use to spice the sentences with, but be careful because I've found that I have a bad tendency of making things confusing because I send people to the dictionary too often.  ::)

Thank you for the feedback, no matter how criticizing it is.
I will try to add more vocabulary, but, as it is, some chapters were written at 11:00 at night. :P
But yeah, thanks for the criticism!

     I'm by no means trying to belittle the words you're using.  ;) They're fine, Jaques never used anything to extravagant himself. I'm just saying that if you'd like to throw a little more detail and intrigue in (without losing your reader base) then that would be one of your best options at this point.

FYI: If any other writers are reading this, feel free to ask for my opinion. I don't go out of my way to read most fan fics, but if you really want some feedback I'm more than willing to give my two cents.  :)

I really like this chapter! You have a writing style that's easy to follow. What I especially like is that it is not too simple nor bombastic (as many Fanfictions normally drift to one of those two), and you are dedicated to keep working at it until it's finished! Makes for some fun reading :)

Also @Danflorreguba, since you offered, I was wondering if you'd give my fanfic, The Origins of Simon, a review? I'd love to hear what you have to say!

Thank you once again for your feedback, Tammo!

Say, do fan fictions eventually get removed and marked as 'finished'?

No, they are updated on the directory and are transferred from the "in progress" section to the "completed works" section!

When I read the first and second chapters I could think of no other protagonist THE BEAR :o to bad you already have one  :(

My only problem with that is that this is a spinoff/run-in with my unfinished book, and in that book bears are, well, dumb animals. Not only that: a bear would be able to break down one of Redwall's freaking walls.

Overpowered. :D

Oh, and welcome to the forum!

Oi just arrived here, This is basically the first thing I've read. Absolutely brilliant. I applaud you sah! Now I'm off to confuse some dibbuns

Thank you, and welcome to the forums! Don't get too carried away with those dibbuns. ;) ;D

Chapter Eight
   "Grufo? Tithle?" Abbot Nart called, walking down the long, twisting halls of Brockhall. The mouse nearly walked right into Cellarhog Derffy, who put a friendly paw on his friend's shoulder.
   "Father Abbot, what's the matter? Ye look worried 'bout sumthin'."
   "It's two of the Dibbuns, Grufo and Tithle; I haven't seen hide nor tail of them for hours, and they missed breakfast," Nart explained. "Oh, I've been searching all over, but I haven't found them!"
   Derffy shook his head. "Sorry, Father, but I ain't seen 'em either."
   "Oh, I only hope they haven't gone outside; I've given specific orders to not allow anybeast out unless I say so."
   "You know little 'uns, Nart. Never do nuthin if'n they don't want to. Tell you what: I'll get those two squirrels, Spruceclimber and Limbjumper, to see if they can search around in the woods," the cellarhog said cheerily.
   Nart was not so hopeful. "I'm afraid those two old veterans have gone off somewhere; why or when I don't know, but they're gone nonetheless. We'll just have to look around in here, and hope for the best. I'll arrange a search party for those two straight away."

The two Dibbuns, Grufo and Tithle, were no longer in Brockhall.
   They were almost no longer in Mossflower woods.
   The duo had left the safety of Brockhall on a heroic mission to join Spruceclimber and Limbjumper and take back their beloved abbey. Unfortunately, they had not found either of the veteran squirrels, but had instead discovered the massive and unhidden trail left by Grungath's forces, leading straight for the dunes and shore. Tithle had immediately taken command with a stick he pretended was the great sword of Martin the Warrior, and convinced his colleague to press onward with him. But after hours of walking, Grufo had begun to cause trouble for the fearless leader.
   "Hurr, Tithle, when're we gonna stop t' eat? Oi'm gurtly hungered!" The little mole continued complaining behind his friend. "An' Oi jus' got me a stubbded paw!"
   "Jus' shuttup an' keep walkin', Grufo!" Tithle rubbed his chin thoughtfully; he was not sure how long they would be walking. "We'll eat when we finds sumthin' to eat."
   "Loik an apple?"
   The squirrel turned to see the other sitting down and munching contentedly on a ripe apple. "Where'd ya find that?" he asked while eagerly poking at the mole, for he was as hungry as his friend.
   "Oop there!" Grufo pointed to the laden boughs of a fruit tree. "Hu, huh, it landed on moi head, et did. Hu huh!"
   Tithle sprang up the trunk of the tree, hanging from a limb and shaking down more of the apples. He dropped down. "Tol' ya we'd eat when we founded food!" Both Dibbuns sat, happily eating their feast. Presently, Tithle's sharp ears picked up a new sound. "'Ey, Grufo, d'ya hear dat?"
   The mole listened, trying to hear whatever his friend had. After a few moments, he gave up. "Bo hurr, there bain't nuthin' a-makin' sound. Yore jus' an ole fussbucket."
   Tithle was shocked. "I not a fussbucket! You a fussbucket!"
   "Well, that just make you a gurter fussbucketer than oi!"
   "Shh! I hear it again! This way!" The squirrel ran off, leaving Grufo to heave his little body off the ground, not forgetting to pick up an apple for later. He trundled off after his friend.
   "Wait for oi!"
   He caught up to Tithle, bumping into him and falling back on the ground. "Hurr, watch where you be a-standin', zurr squirrel." But Tithle did not move, nor did he acknowledge his friend as he stared in silent awe. " Wot you be lookin' at?" The squirrel pointed with the forgotten stick. Through breaks in the trees, Grufo spied a sight that made his jaw drop. His ears finally picked up the sound the squirrel had heard, the source being before him.
   They gave witness to the battle on the dunes, in all it's awe, size, and horror.

Hurra's jaw dropped when he saw the huge cat in leather armor. As surprised as he was to have been denied killing Coalpaw, he could hardly believe what he actually had shot. Shaking his head suddenly, he broke out of his initial shock as Ronhuk roared out his challenge. The wolverine drew his falcate and pointed at the smaller force, yelling at his own army to charge.
   Not wanting to die in the front ranks, he hung back as the vermin army met with the hares of Salamandastron. He cautiously watched the tide going back and forth. The hares were constantly pushing forward with their long spears, and the vermin were fighting back with equal ferocity. That was, until he noticed a strange formation cut into Hurra's lines. They weren't hares, from what he could tell, but an unlikely assortment of woodland animals. Each carried a U-shaped shield, the front line wielding short swords, and those behind with progressively longer spears. They pierced the army of the Deathcaller like an arrow.
   Now Hurra was a little anxious; the wolverine could see the worry on his soldiers' faces. Roaring and cursing at them, he drove them onwards. He ordered the catapults and crossbows to be fired at will. He nodded in satisfaction at their results, killing many of the hares who tried desperately to dodge out of the way. This slight victory gave strength to the vermin, and they surged forward with renewed vigor.
   Releasing another bolt, Hurra was suddenly aware of the giant cat wading toward him, swinging a fearsome broadsword low at those who opposed him. Frightened, he tried to get another bolt loaded, fumbling with the large wooden shaft. There, he thought. Now to aim it. . .
   Hurra never got the chance. Ronhuk had jumped high over the heads of the other vermin, raising his sword over his head for a huge downward swipe. Swinging down, he cut through both the tough yew wood and the rope, rendering the entire crossbow useless. Hurra backed up, holding his falcate pointed at the cougar, then broke and ran for the forest. Not willing to let one of his potentially most dangerous enemies get away and cause greater damage, Ronhuk gave chase.

"Eulaliaaaaa!"
Lord Coalpaw was in the full Bloodwrath. Roaring and fighting unceasingly, he wreaked havoc on the enemy vermin. Weapons snapped before his rage, skulls and ribs were crushed as armor was bent and torn.
Suddenly, he tripped on a fallen body, and fell heavily to the ground. The badger lord's arms were pinned down, and he was jumped upon by merciless paws. Gasping for breath, he struggled to move.
"Eulalia! Forward the buffs; Lord Coalpaw needs some assistance, wot?" Commander Gemal's voice was heard above the din, and Coalpaw saw a surge in the enemy lines. The creatures from the Barkhills in their formation, led by the hare officer, fought to get to the badger. The vermin fell back from the onslaught, leaving Gemal to help Coalpaw up. "Can't have you get cut down, now can we, wot?" He dispatched a stoat with a quick thrust from his rapier. "Well, let's show these blaggarts what we can do!"

Splink had been fighting along the sidelines, not out of fear or cowardice, but because he did not want to risk confusion. Swiftly killing other vermin, whose surprise of one of their own taking them out was a common expression, was what he had been trying to do.
   He noticed a wolverine run off into the woods, and he tried to follow him. The ferret was grabbed from behind. Turning, he saw a rat scowling at him. "Where d'you think yer goin'? You aren't desertin', are ya? Cos if'n y'are, then I'll have to report you to Captain Hurra, an' he won't like that."
   "Hurra?"
   "Yeah, Hurra," the rat jeered. "Y'know, the big wolverine who's in charge o' this whole attack?" He looked strangely at Splink. "That's a funny accent you got; where're you from?"
   "I'm from the Barkhills," Splink said, swiftly stabbing his dagger into the rat's heart. "And I think your captain needs to have an eye kept on him."
   Some of the other horde members had witnessed the rat's death, and stared at the ferret. A weasel pointed an accusing paw at him. "Oi! 'E just killed Rottooth! Kill 'im!"
   Not good. Splink ran, with about seven vermin crying out for his blood behind him.

Ronhuk charged through the vermin ranks, breaking out and into the woods with the din of battle raging behind him. He peered into the forest, picking out a slight movement. Moving cautiously forward, he followed Hurra deeper.
   All at once, he heard a scream, and, rushing toward the source of the sound, found the two Dibbuns Grufo and Tithle in the possession of the wolverine.
   "Stay back, cat," the horde captain called. "Or I'll kill these two!"
   "You would kill something as innocent as a little, defenseless child?" Ronhuk said seriously.
   "I would!" He pressed his blade at the squirrel's throat. "So get back!"
   Ronhuk stepped backwards, thinking quickly. Getting an idea, he held his sword by the hilt and threw it at the desperate wolverine. Hurra ducked out of the way, clumsily dropping the Dibbuns in his haste. Taking advantage of the moment, Ronhuk launched himself at the wolverine.
   Hurra had suspected this move; he rolled out of the way with more grace than could be thought possible for a wolverine. Slashing at his opponent, Hurra's falcate cut a deep gash in Ronhuk's armor. The cougar grunted from the pain, stumbling back up and standing in a ready position. The two beasts glared at each other, until Hurra came in with a quick strike. Ronhuk dodged to the side, hitting out at the wolverine's shoulder.
   The horde captain fell to the ground, but got up quickly. Ronhuk went in for another blow, but Hurra struck lower, sticking his blade in the cat's side; he couldn't tug it out. Ronhuk wrenched the wolverine's paw from the hilt, painfully unsticking the falcate and holding the bloodied blade meaningfully toward Hurra.
   Now he was scared. Hurra stepped backwards, falling down from an exposed root. He tried to crawl away from the seemingly indestructible cat, looking straight into his eyes. Ronhuk lifted the wolverine up, raising his weapon above his head like a dagger. In one last desperate attempt to escape, Hurra scratched at the cougar's head and face, but to no avail. His screamed in pain was cut short as the falcate was driven to its hilt from his neck into his body.
   The cougar let the limp form drop, and, picking up his own broadsword, used it as a support. He reached pleadingly at the two Dibbuns. "Please. . . help me. . ."
   They screamed, and ran.
   Following them, Ronhuk tried to see where they went. As his adrenaline was wearing off, the pain grew worse, and he stumbled blindly forward. Suddenly, he heard a slight gasp, and, looking up, saw the little ones hiding behind two strong-looking squirrels. "Please. . ." he gasped, but couldn't get any further. The two squirrels now attacked him, one throwing his javelin. The weapon hit him in the knee, and he dropped to his other one, unable to stand. Looking up painfully, he only knew he was hit with something on his forehead, and he saw no more.




Yesh! It'sh out!

Yay, great chapter, ;D  :P :D ;) :)

Thank you!

Another great addition to the fanfic. Nice work!

Glad it turned out okay; I was a little rushed with this for no reason other than I wanted it to be posted for you guys, so its quality is a little. . . borderline on 'meh' status.
I am working on the next chapter. (Making more effort with it this time)

Oh, I changed the poll, so if any would like to vote, they can. ;)

Chapter Eight
   “Great seasons, what monstrous beast was, is, that?” Both Limbjumper and Spruceclimber looked open-mouthed at the huge, still form of Rhonhuk.  Limb recovered from the shock first, and walked warily towards the cougar. He poked at him with his footpaw, hopping away quickly should the creature awaken. Spruce came closer now, as the other examined Rhonhuk; he pressed an ear to his back, listening for a heartbeat. The squirrel stood.
   “You hit it pretty good with that sling stone, Spruce; he’s completely unconscious, though it was wounded heavily before we saw it.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’ve never seen anything such as this; it’s like a huge, unstriped wildcat.”
   “Better check for more; we’ve seen a wolf and wolverines, so anything is possible,” Spruce said seriously. “I’m going back to where it came from.” He bounded off, tracking the blood trail until he saw the site of a fight. “Limb!” He yelled, jumping down from the tree he was in. “You’ve got to see this!”
   After a few moments, the veteran squirrel had made his way to his companion, herding the two Dibbuns, and they looked at the wolverine Hurra’s corpse. “That strange cat must’ve killed him,” Limbjumper observed. “D’you think, maybe, he’s not on their side?”
   Spruceclimber closed his eyes and shook his head. “I honestly have no idea, Limb. If he isn’t, then he’s on his own side. If he is, we need to get him to Brockhall to have his wounds treated; he won’t last long in the state he is.”
   His friend hesitated for a moment of thought, and then volunteered an idea. “I’ll bring these two back; they will have been missing them. You stay here until I come back with help.” The tough veteran strapped the Dibbuns to his back, and began making his way to Brockhall as quickly as he could. Spruce sat down on a nearby stump and stared at the giant cat unconscious in front of him.
   “Don’t know where you came from, or even what kind of creature you are; but I do know that if you are against us, bringing you to our home will be the worst idea we have ever had.”

Slincka was out of breath, but he dared not stop. Had it been only two or three of the vermin after him he would have stood and fought, but after some quick glances over his shoulder, he counted seven. He looked behind him again; they had not slowed up. Stubborn beasts, why don’t you give up! Suddenly he tripped on an exposed root, falling heavily on his stomach. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and he gasped for breath as he stumbled up. He heard footsteps of his pursuers come close, and a rough paw shoved him back on the ground.
   “Well, well, looky what we have here; a turncoat.” The ferret’s head was dragged upward by his fur, and he looked painfully at a weasel brandishing a gaff hook. The weasel scratched Slincka’s snout with the weapon’s tip, grinning. “Let’s have a bit of fun. See that rat over there?” He pointed at muscular specimen of the species. “His name is Gepp, and Gepp here is gonna fight you. You enjoy fighting, don’t you, Gepp?”
   The large rat grunted, smiling in anticipation. The weasel let Slincka’s head go. “Gather ‘round, make a ring!” The vermin surrounded the two, as Gepp drew a curved cutlass.
   “Ain’t goin’ nowheres, ferret,” he said.
   Slincka could breathe properly now, and stood slowly. He walked sideways slowly, sizing up his opponent. Drawing his knife, he charged Gepp, only to slide next to him and slice at his leg. Gepp swung his cumbersome blade, only striking dirt as the quick ferret slashed his back. Roaring in pain, the big rat swung wildly, forcing Slincka to dodge desperately. He backed up into the weasel, who shoved him forward midst laughs and jeers.
   Slincka landed on the ground in front of Gepp, who raised his cutlass high for the fatal strike. Slincka stabbed upwards with his knife, causing a painful gasp from the giant rat. Gepp stumbled backwards, his sword still raised; his eyes rolled in their sockets, and he fell dead. Quickly, the ferret was grabbed and forced to his knees. The weasel walked in front of him. “Can’t say I’m not surprised; Gepp was a fearsome fighter. As much fun as it would be to see you scream for it, we need to get back to the battle. Farewell, traiter!”
   He raised his gaff hook, but a sound like an angry hornet buzzed in their ears, and the weasel’s eyes opened wide in surprise when an arrow thudded into his back. “Wha. . . “ He dropped without another word.
   Slincka shook himself free of the other vermin, stabbing one directly through the heart. Another fell with his throat cut open before an arrow killed a ferret to his left. The last two vermin ran, but not before Slincka hit one in his back with a well-thrown knife. Retrieving the weapon, he wiped it clean on the grass. He heard a bowstring stretch behind him, and he raised his paws.
   “Alright, alright; you got me at your mercy. Are you the one who helped me?”
   But it was not a male voice that answered him. “Yes. . . Who are you? Where are you from?”
   “Nyuk, nyuk, funny accent I have, right? My name is Slincka; I’m from very far away. May I ask who you are?”
   “Not until you tell me what side you’re on.” The arrow tip jabbed his neck.
   “Side? I’m on my side, which is the side that my friends are on which may or may not be the side you are on. You can probably tell who I was fighting, and it wasn’t you.”
   There was a pause, and the ferret heard the bowstring relax. He turned and saw a very pretty female ferret. She spoke. “I deserted the horde of Grungath Deathcaller, so I suppose you’re on the same side since you were fighting some of his creatures. My name is Presel, by the way. Presel the wanderer.”
   “Well, Miss Presel, I think we should try to figure out what we’re going to do. We’re both ferrets in the middle of a place that takes us not so friendly.”Slincka thought for a moment. “Actually, what can you tell me of this ‘Grungath Deathcaller’ that would help us?”

It took hours for Limbjumper to come back, along with as many able-bodied beasts he could find. They had brought ropes and bandages for the huge beast, and, with much strain and sweat, had secured Rhonhuk in a mobile cocoon-like contraption. Spruce had spied on the great battle still raging on the plains, neither side giving in to the other. He had slung off some stones into the enemy ranks, but quickly realized how little his small projectiles would do to thin such a massive force.
   “Quietly now, let’s get him back to Brockhall without any disturbances; you never know what else is out there.” As they dragged the cougar, Limb covered their trail with the help of a young mouse named Cavaer.
   “Look at his size!” Cavaer said in amazement. “Is it true that Redwall Abbey was taken by a wolf?”
   “Lower your voice, young ‘un. Yes, it was a wolf; calls himself Grungath Deathcaller.”
   “Do you think this beast could fight him. . . and win?”
   Spruce hesitated. “Well. . . In all truth, I cannot say. He is definitely a huge beast, but so is the wolf. Also, we don’t know for sure he is not in alliance with the wolf. I’ve seen wolverines and wildcats under Grungath’s command; is it so far-fetched that he. . .” he pointed at Rhonhuk, “. . . is also under his command?”
   “It’s better an idea than doing nothing to get back the abbey!”
   “You have the right spirit, friend, but it we would be fools to try such a hasty act; it would not gain us anything, and we would lose far more. We have to be patient with this.”
   Cavaer sighed, trying to accept what was so hard for him. “Alright; you would know far better than I, I guess. I just can’t. . . I can’t forget how little we were able to do when they first came, and what Mother Retha sacrificed so that we could. . .” he set his jaw, though a small tear was seen with the moonlight to run down his face.
   The veteran squirrel placed a paw on the young mouse’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Cav. We’ll get our abbey back if it’s the last thing we do. Redwallers have battled in countless wars, ever on the brink of failure, but always regaining what is theirs through their determination.”
   “Don’t forget the spirit of Martin the Warrior!” A light glowed in the mouse’s eyes as he spoke the name of their beloved protector.
   Spruce smiled at the young one’s faith. “Yes; Martin will help us.”

Grungath held a goblet of elderberry wine in his paw as he sat regally on his great throne. His remaining captains stood nearby, not daring to move in front of the feared Deathcaller. The handsome wolf sipped his wine; the previous inhabitants definitely knew their paw at brewing the drink. Sitting back into his dark cloak, he recalled how he had earned the title of ‘Deathcaller’, as well as the fabled tales of the origin of the name.
   The first Deathcaller to be named as such was a wolf like himself. He had conquered the harsh lands of ice and snow and claimed it as his own. Other wolves had been alive at the time, and many challenged the ruler for his powerful position. One after another they had fought him, none of them succeeding in being victorious over him. He was death to all, and he had become such a creature of legendary standards that it was thought that none could kill him. Whispered words behind shaking paw were spoke, telling of tales that were passed along. Some said he could kill you by merely calling one’s name; others claimed he had only to let you see his weapon for you to die. So did the name ‘Deathcaller’ become his title.
   As this first Deathcaller grew old, some creatures found in their hearts the bold ambition to kill the wolf and claim the legendary title as their own. Many died despite the wolf’s growing age, until one fight was the end for both opponents. Countless seasons later, the North was once again broken and unchecked. A new leader was needed for the survival of all creatures in that cold, harsh land. Up from the ashes of near-disaster, another wolf united the divided clans, hordes, and bands of creatures under his rule. He gained much power, and, upon hearing the legend of the Deathcaller, resurfaced the name and took it as his own.
        It was not until after this second Deathcaller had died when the young Grungath had first heard the tales of the land of Mossflower, holding within its borders the fabled Redall Abbey, and he begun his ambitious campaign. Already well grasping a high position in the North, the young wolf had started collecting a large force, as well as commissioning the investment of literally tons of iron and steel to be made into weapons and armor.
        Not wishing his son to become more powerful than he, Grungath’s father, at the time known as Hrugen Deathcaller, ordered a halt to his son’s proceedings. Angered at his father’s actions, Grungath challenged his father’s position as ruler of the North, and the claim of Deathcaller.
   “You grow old and fat on your throne, watching without care as the rest of us struggle to live as best we can in these lands.” His father had stood from his seat, his eyes flashing like the light reflecting from his chest plate as his offspring continued. “You call yourself a Deathcaller; you disgrace the name by breathing. That name is given only to the most deadly and powerful of creatures in the North. Have you done any conquest for countless seasons? No.”
   The Deathcaller stepped closer, his paw edging closer to the handle of a Viking-style axe.
   “Have you showed forth your power and might, the reason you are to be feared by all? No.”
   Hrugen was now not ten feet from him.
   “Have you ever considered yourself unworthy for your title? No.”
   As quick as hornets, both beasts drew their weapons, Grungath catching his father’s axe on the blade of his broadsword. The Deathcaller sneered at his son. “I am the only one worthy! I proved myself worthy when no one else could!”
   He drew back and struck with blinding swiftness, only to be blocked with equal skill and speed by his son. The servants and captains of their wolf overlord backed away, knowing the conflict would inevitably end in the death of one or both the wolves. The older wolf continued berating his son as they circled each other. “I have slayed hundreds; I bear the scars of countless battles that earned me the right of the title. My title!” Hrugen charged Grungath, swinging his axe expertly.
        Unfortunately for the Deathcaller, the younger wolf knew his father’s fighting techniques inside and out. Sidestepping to the left where he was left open, he drove his broadsword point straight into the gap in the older wolf’s armor. A gasp went up from the throats of the onlookers, as well as the mouth of the Deathcaller. Many emotions were heard from that one gasp: pain, anger, but most of all, surprise. When Grungath extricated his sword from the wolf, Hrugen stumbled backwards, somehow still able to stand despite the fatal wound. Looking up from the blood flowing from his opened side, the wolf stared unbelievingly at his son.
        “Y-you killed me. You c-cannot kill a, a. . . a Deathcaller!” With these final words escaping his lips, the former Deathcaller and overlord of the North slumped to the ground in death. Grungath stepped over the dead body, sitting down with regal satisfaction on the throne. The captains and servants gathered in front of him, bowing low in homage to their new leader.
        “Hail, Grungath, Deathcaller!”
        Now bearing the title of the invincible Deathcaller, the young wolf beckoned a servant to him. “Send word to the mines and foundries; they are to relight their fires and continue cutting into the great iron veins. We are preparing for an invasion in the land known as ‘Mossflower’.”
        Now in Cavern Hole of his newly-claimed fortress, Grungath smiled. He was now the most powerful creature to set foot in the land.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is out!
If anyone has any questions about the story so far, or anything that you would like me to clear up, please be sure to ask.
Also, if any of you would like me to write a short story on the Deathcallers, please tell me, as I will do it if you all would like me to.
Thank you!

Another well made chapter

As for that short story on the Deathcallers, I would like to see short stories on the backgrounds of the characters

Mind specifying a couple? ;)

Interesting.

So far it seems to follow the pattern of the Redwall stories pretty well: major foe attacks, with a central antagonist figure at the head of raid. It just so happens that this guy is a wolf. The addition of non-evil vermin creatures is of interest, but something that seems pretty common among Redwall fanfics as far as I can tell.

As far as some kind of helpful critique. I can say the story pacing feels... a little compressed. What I mean by that is that everything feels like it's happening very quickly: the invader cracks into Redwall almost right off the bat. The cougar and his crew wash ashore and agree to help, to risk their lives, almost immediately, and for people they haven't met, in a fight they have no real stake in. It's not a bad idea, it's a plot development that works very well, it's just the nature of the compression of the storytelling that makes things feel rushed, that make good ideas seem really awkward.

Well, that's what I got. I hope it helps!

Thank you; I realize the first chapters were compressed as you put it, and have been trying to lengthen it.  I may end up editing the first chapters and re-uploading them; then again, I may just put more effort into the following chapters as I still have a long way to go until I am finished. As to the immediate fall of Redwall, I am considering putting in a chapter before Coalpaw was introduced and everything. This chapter will explain things and put some much-needed story length and development in.
Thank you for your review.

I am double posting to announce that I have made a prologue, and you can read it at the beginning of the first chapter. ;)

Just went back and read the prologue. I gotta say it was a very nice touch to the story and a great way to kick it off! It's a great hook for new readers of the fanfic :)

Thank you!

A heads up to everyone: I will be going on a month-long trip shortly, so unfortunately, I will be unable to upload any chapters for a while. :-\

Dang! Where are you going?

Michigan; it's going to be a road trip. :P

Worked on the chapter on the trip! I have a little time with internet, so I can upload it! :D
Enjoy, and if you have any comments or criticism, feel free to post!


Chapter Nine

   "Eulalia!"
   Even in the dark of night, Lord Coalpaw was a fearsome sight, charging headlong into the enemy. He was bleeding in dozens of places, and his chest plate was battered and dented. His beleaguered hares fought gallantly, crying out with the ages-old war cry of Salamandastron. Commander Gemal called a tactical retreat, getting through to the raging badger.
   "There's too many of them to face like this; we've got to fall back and regroup!"
   The word was passed along swiftly, each hare giving the order to the next. "Fall back! Regroup!
Fall back! Regroup!"
   Gradually they fought their way backwards into a more compressed group. The creatures of the Barkhills cut their way to the hares, beating a path through. When they were together, Gemal asked, "How many have you lost?"
   "Only five so far, with three seriously wounded," replied a mouse. "We'll be fine; just worry about your own troups."
   "We've lost well over three score, haven't bothered counting wounded. One good thing, though: the vermin have been dropped a third of their number, wot? Good show, chaps."
   "Sah!" Thaze came running up to the commander and saluted; the was flustered and excited about something. The commanding officer returned the salute, and let the scout continue.
   "What is it, soldier?"
   The hare was quick. "We've managed to keep two of their crossbows as well as a catapult; permission to give them blood and vinegar with the bally machines? They piled up plenty of ammunition for us, so. . ."
   "A taste of their own medicine, eh?" Coal paw stumped in and patted the runner on the back heartily, an action that nearly sent Thaze sprawling. "Good lad; we'll make a prime officer out of you. Go!" The young hare went off like a spark, setting into motion the hares by the war machines. "This might give us the edge we need," the Badger Lord mused.
   They heard rather than saw a chunk of stone scream overhead, crashing with devastating force into the remaining vermin crossbow. Cries of victory sounded from the delighted hares, and crossbow bolts struck into the enemy. Coalpaw shouted out a new order.
"Alright, the crossbows and catapults will be fired at the same time, and as soon as they hit, we charge! Form the line! You machine workers: aim high after we charge to thin their ranks! Ready?" The line of hard-faced hares tensed up.
"Charge!"
   The projectile and missiles flew overhead, killing over a score of creatures between them. The entire force charged at the distracted enemy, cutting down countless vermin as they surged forward with renewed hope and zeal. The courageous hares of Salamandastron fought with renewed hope and valor. Coalpaw crushed foes right and left with his war hammer, and Gemal effectively slashed his mark into their numbers.
   Soon the vermin were beginning to waver to the fearsome onslaught, slowly being pushed backwards by the fighting hares. They fought desperately against the perilous force, knowing they outnumbered their enemies but also knowing they were going up against hares that possessed great skill and would show no quarter. Some groups began to break off and run, having no creature to lead them since Hurra fled the battle. Eventually large numbers started to flee from the battle, and those left could not stand against the unmovable Salamandastron hares.
   As the first light of dawn began to show, the last of the army from the North that would fight had been routed. Gemal wiped blood from a stinging cut on his forehead. Seeing a survivor, a rat that was wheezing horribly and trying to crawl away. The officer pressed a footpaw on the back of the dying rat, turning him over to see his chest nearly completely blasted, presumably by Coalpaw's war hammer.
        "Where are you from?" he demanded, whipping out his sword and placing the tip at the rat's throat.
   The rat coughed, choking up blood and spittle. "Grungath Deathcaller and the northern mountains," he rasped out. "This was only a taste of what he can do; you shall all die!" He gave one last gravelly chuckle, then choked, shuddered, and lay still.
   "I say, dreadfully rude chap, wot?"
   "Gemal, take a closer look at their weapons." Gemal did as his lord Coalpaw bid him to do, inspecting an axe. There was nothing too different or special about it: a one-bladed head, curving downward at the bottom edge and a hickory handle wrapped with leather at the last foot.
   "I don't see anything of importance in them, sah, though I can say that some of the bally vermin wielded them with skill far beyond any we've faced before. (Odd, that, wot?)What's so special about their jolly old weapons, eh, wot?"
   The badger lord pointed at the metal head of the axe; except for the sharpened edge, which gleamed metallically, the entire head was a dull gray, still showing hammer marks and pieces of scale. "They've all been forged in the last two seasons; it's not often we find vermin so well equipped. Now that we better know what we're up against, I think we should be more careful as to how we battle these foes."
   "Careful? There's nothing careful about war, sah, especially the way you fight, wot!"
   Coalpaw chuckled. "The Bloodwrath is not merciful, my friend." He looked out over the tops of the ears of his hares, and he began to grow concerned, and he searched harder for something, or somebeast. "Gemal. . ."

". . . Where's Rhonhuk?"
   It was mid-morning when the exhausted creatures carrying the still-unconscious form of Rhonhuk found their way back to Brockhall. Limbjumper knocked on the door with his javelin while the others rested and peeled their eyes for vermin intruders. The cautious snout of Cellarhog Derffy poked out from the opening crack, and then the rest of his spiky body came into view as he opened the door wider.
   "'Ello, I wondered where you lot went; it's been. . . !" The hedgehog's eyes grew as big as dinner plates when he saw the cougar they had in their custody. "Great seasons! Wot in the name o' spikes is that?" he exclaimed in surprise and fear.
   "Don't worry, he's unconscious," Spruceclimber reassured him. "He's been seriously wounded, and we should try to treat him for his injuries. Can you help us get him inside?"
   The hedgehog nodded like a jittery woodpecker, then walked around the body in a wide arc. The other creatures picked up the canvas again, and slowly squeezed in through the door. Spruce noticed Limbjumper having to stifle a chuckle as he saw Derffy pick up only the cat's tail, and carry it fearfully behind the group. The cougar moaned, and his mouth opened slightly, exposing teeth sharp and long like spears and daggers. That was enough for the frightened cellarhog, and he let the tail drop as he scurried away.
   As soon as they popped through the door, Spruce led them to the large chamber that he was told had enough open space to hold the huge cat, and allow moving space around him. It took a while for them to maneuver their unconscious package around the turning tunnels of Brockhall, and they gratefully set him down as soon as they reached the wide area. Cavaer and the others went off to collapse in rest; it had been a difficult journey and they had missed much sleep. Many went off to the kitchens for some food, while a few, Cavaer included, stayed to watch Rhonhuk. The young mouse noticed something that had been overlooked in the dark.
   "What's that?"
   "Hmm?" Limb mumbled tiredly.
   "That splintered thing, sticking out of his chest."
   The veteran squirrel took a look, seeing the glint of metal mixed with nearly dried blood. "Hey, Spruce! There's a great spear tip driven into his chest; it's no wonder we took him down so easily." Spruceclimber saw it as well.
   "Aye, it looks like he's lost quite a bit of blood; we'd better get the infirmary keepers to tend to him."
   "I'll go; I'll let Father Abbot know about it as well!" Cavaer ran off without another word, leaving the two squirrels alone with the cougar.
   "I don't like this too much, Limb. We've got a cat more than three times as big as any of us, he should be healed as much as we are able, though we have not way of knowing if we're going to have him wake up and kill us all, or become our new best friend. Either way, we're going to find out." The squirrel sighed.
   "Time will tell. I'll stand ready with my javelin here just in case big, scary and sleepy wakes up and causes trouble."
   Spruceclimber had no time to respond before Abbot Nart and the infirmary sisters came bustling in bearing healing supplies aplenty. Both the abbot and the sisters stopped in their tracks and gaped at the huge size of the titan that lay before them. Nart snapped out of his shock and went immediately to Rhonhuk's side. "Sister Veshley, please tend to that bump on his head; Misant, would you clean the gashes in his side and leg? I'm going to see what we can do with the spear head."
   They worked quickly, gently unbuckling and removing the stiff leather armor that seemed to encase the entirety of the cougar's body. They set it aside in an out-of-the-way corner; it would get in the way far too easily for it to be left more in the open.  The sisters tended the lesser wounds, while Abbot Nart delicately inspected the protruding crossbow bolt.
   "It looks like it just narrowly missed his heart," he announced, wiping his paws on a damp towel. "It hit above it by about a paw's length." He held up his own paw as a way to show the length. "We'll need somebeast strong to pull it out, though I don't know any here in Brockhall who would be able to do the task. For now, we'll leave it."
   It took another hour until the abbot and the others were satisfied with the other wounds. Rhonhuk was such a large beast that it was more difficult for them to maneuver about his body and bind his wounds, having to go completely around his body to get to the other side.
        Limbjumber had become curious about the side pack they had taken from the belt around Rhonhuk's waist. Opening it up, the squirrel began to take out the items he found in it: a piece of string, a dagger (nearly a sword in Limb's paws), a small round thing wrapped in supple leather, and something that smelled like. . .
        "Animal flesh!" The squirrel hastily tossed the piece of venison Splinck had given the cougar the day they had left from Salamandastron. He rubbed his paws on his tunic as it landed, trying to wipe away the feeling and knowledge that he had touched something that had had once been a living, breathing, full-blooded creature. Nart hopped up, dropping a roll of bandaging in the process.
        "What? What do you mean by 'animal flesh'?"
Spruce poked the piece of meat with fascination. "He means that our guest here eats animal meat; do you remember the tale of Rakkety Tam and Gulo the Savage? The wolverine literally ate his enemies." The mouse stepped back from the sleeping cat, his eyes showing great fear. He looked over at the tough squirrel.
        "What should we do?" he whispered.
        "Kill him."
        Both Spruceclimber and Abbot Nart turned to look at Limbjumper, who held his javelin above Rhonhuk's chest, poised for the fatal downward strike. "We should kill him."

Grungath Deathcaller smiled. His remaining captains stood to the side, nervous about their master's almost cheerful gaze. The wolf looked down at a little family of squirrels who had been captured that morning. They shivered in a fearful huddle as Grungath stood and walked around them in his wide strides. He bent his handsome head down to them. "Tell me, did you know that my forces now inhabit Mossflower?"
   A young male squirrel stood from the group. "We did, and we weren't about to act like cowards and let others die if they needed help! The Redwallers are all gone, and we knew we should make sure they were safe."
   "But you knew what danger you might be putting those close to you in, didn't you?"
   The squirrel hesitated, the fire in his eyes beginning to wane.
   "And when my soldiers began to track you, you inevitably led them straight back to the rest of your family."
   Shame now replaced the fiery rebellious gaze, and the young one's face was downcast. Hot tears sprang unbidden into his eyes as the Deathcaller continued.
   "You cannot help your friends now; the only ones you can help are your family members. I'll tell you how." He stood. "You're going to aid me in finding the Redwallers, as well as be valuable hostages to turn their peace-living hearts toward your plight."
   The squirrel jumped up, crying helplessly. "No! I'll never help you with anything, not finding the Redwallers, not being your hostage, nothing! I'll, I'll. . . !" Here he hit Grungath as hard as he could in his stomach, his paw crumpling on the wolf's chain mail. He fell to the his knees, holding his broken paw. The wolf grabbed the squirrel; the young one's mother cried out, trying to rush forward. She was stopped by Farag the wolverine, who drove a spear into the sandstone floor in front of her.
   Grungath regarded the squirrel family with disdain. "Lock them upstairs and have them fed bread and water; we will have use for them later." As they were dragged away, the wolf put his paw over the young squirrel's head. "You're right; you won't help me in any way. In fact, you will never help anybeast again. Take one last lookd at your family; you will never see them or be seen by them again." He twisted the squirrel's head toward his sobbing mother and family, then, as the young beast gave a muffled cry of pain, the Deathcaller broke his neck with a hard, swift, twist of his wrist.
   He let the body slump to the floor for a horde member to clean up amidst the screams of horror and sorrow from the dead squirrel's family. They would get over him; grief was only temporary.  Grungath sat down in his throne with a regal swish of his cloak and a dull clinking of his chainmail.
He beckoned to one of the cat captains, Hishgr, he gave an order. "Go scouting in the forest again; the Redwallers will be found eventually, and they will have no other choice but to surrender. Besides. . ." he glanced at the dead body, "Distressed and sorrowful hostages will plague their minds." The captain bowed, and ran off to do his master's bidding.
After about five minutes, Grungath stood and left Cavern Hole, going out onto the lawns and up onto the battlements. Looking out over Mossflower, he smiled in triumph. It was his land now: his. No one would defy him; he was supreme, he was deadly.
   He was Deathcaller.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You may have noticed the ferret Splinck's name getting switched to Slincka: this was an accident. I have another character with the name of Slincka, and the names are close. You may see why I made the mistake.
(Tammo, I'm shamelessly stealing your way of putting notes at the end of the chapter because I think it's a good idea. Please don't sue.)
If you have any questions, ask away! What are you excited for? Are you worried for anything? Have any ideas you would like to share? What is the small round packet Limbjumper found in Rhonhuk's pack? Please tell.

I only found one (very minor) spelling mistake. You said "the" instead of "he" towards the beginning. But hey, if that's the kind of stuff we're critiquing, i'd say that's a really good thing! haha

Glad to see you like the notes section I do! I'm a bit concerned that the squirrel family at Redwall is going to be a bit of a nuisance when it comes to possible attacks. And speaking of possible attacks, are the woodlanders going to actually have to invade Redwall to get it back? That could make quite a battle.
I also like how the battle between the Long Patrol and opposing forces lasted a long time instead of just a paragraph or two. It gave me a better idea as to how long this thing was really going on for. As for the round thing in Rhonhuk's bag, I'm going to have to do some re-reading on that one to figure it out. Though I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that it is of great importance and from his homeland. I say this because of the reference you made from Rakkety Tam in the chapter and showed where you got some of your inspiration from and it reminded me of the Walking Stone. Also, since you're asking about it, I'm guessing it plays some role! lol

Thank you for your review!
I'm glad you took the time to answer what I said in the notes section. I hate giving spoilers, but yes, the woodlanders will fight back.
Usually the battles between the Long Patrol and vermin are short and end up with the hares winning quickly/semi-quickly. I tried to show how more formidable a force Grungath had raised up, as well as their strange loyalty to their master.
The round thing will be explained a little more in the next chapter, though it might not be quite what you expect. I'll just say this: those of the Barkhills stay true to those they honor, love, and respect as long as they live. ;)

P.S: Have you read Ashes? http://redwallabbey.com/forum/index.php?topic=6444.0

Chapter Ten

   Just as Limbjumper was about to plunge his javelin deep into Ronhuk's heart and end the wounded cougar's life, a militaristic voice halted the tip of the weapon.
   "I say, that's a bit harsh, wot?"
   The two squirrels and the abbot looked up in surprise at the source of the voice: A tall, lanky hare in a battle-worn officer's uniform stepped further into the room, a sabre sheathed at his side. "Good mouse, young Cavaer; smart and quick, wot? If he was a hare I'd recruit him to see his potential." After a moment of inspection, Spruceclimber suddenly recognized who the hare was, and met him with spread arms.
   "Captain Gemal! I thought you had passed on to the Dark Forest seasons ago!" The two old friends embraced, then shook paws.
   "I was thinking the same thing about you, you old treewalloper. Although, it's Commander Gemal, now, wot! Rise in ranks, y'know." The hare winked, then turned more serious. "I haven't come to chat, though. " He looked at Limb and the unconscious Ronhuk, the splintered remains of the crossbow bolt still sticking out of him.
   Limbumper saluted. "Sir; it's been too long since we were all last together. I assume you're wondering about this huge cat: we found him in the forest not far from the great battle taking place on the western plains. It seems he and a wolverine got into a fight, this one winning, but taking a large spear to the chest. Also. . ." The squirrel pointed with his javelin at the hunk of venison. ". . . Whatever and whoever he is, he's a meat eater."
   Gemal was startled at the last statement, but recovered his composure quickly. "Yes; we found the wolverine's body (Never seen a beast's own sword kill them in quite that manner before, wot?), and we also followed your trail back here, despite your efforts to cover it up. This giant we have before our eyes is a cougar; his name is Ronhuk, and I must forbid that you kill him."
   Spruce raised a brow, Abbot Nart blinked several times, and Limb stepped back a pace. "You know this. . . this savage?" The squirrel asked incredulously; it was difficult for him to believe that his old friend, a battle-hardened, intelligent creature who fought vermin without quarter, would ally himself with such a beast as this.
   There was not a hint of shame or regret in Gemal's voice as he answered the squirrel. "I do know Ronhuk; as you can tell, he is not from around here, but from far over the western ocean. He came two days ago, his ship having wrecked in a storm on the shore of Salamandastron. Besides having a good heart, he saved Lord Coalpaw's life." Suddenly, there was a groan from the wounded cougar as the hare finished speaking, and the abbot quickly went to his side.
   "He's waking up," the mouse murmured, then turned to the other three creatures. "We need a creature strong enough to pull this. . . thing out of his chest before he fully regains consciousness. Would any of you. . .?"
   "Will I do?"
   The thunderous voice rumbled through the cavernous room, and Gemal stepped aside from the entrance, unsheathing his sword in a salute. Still wearing his armor, though his great war hammer was somewhere else, Lord Coalpaw strode in. The badger was followed closely by several hares, and, still further behind trailed the young mouse Cavaer and the runner Thaze. Coalpaw went to the other side of Ronhuk, asking as to what he could do to help.
   Even though the Badger Lord was used to giving orders rather than following them, Abbot Nart was the one in charge now. "Place one paw on his chest at the side of the shaft, and take the shaft itself with your other paw. Press down firmly with your paw on his chest." The mouse did the same as he instructed the other creature to do, and continued. "Now, pull out the shaft." Whilst stemming the flow of blood that began to seep steadily from the wound, Coalpaw grunted as he pulled at the crossbow bolt. A sickening sucking sound made some who were looking on, like Cavaer and Thaze, to turn away from the spectacle.
        Since Ronhuk had been brought into Brockhall, most of the creatures who now inhabited the twisting halls had awoken. Between whispered rumors and open gossip, many heard of the strange beast that had been brought from outside Brockhall. One said he was a Star Giant, and fell from the sky onto a tree that pierced him through; another said he was a pet to the creature who took their home, and he was there as a hostage.
        None of the rumors were seriously looked into until the Salamandastron hares and the huge Lord Coalpaw knocked on their door and asked for the abbot and a large cat. Now the curious Redwallers crowded the doorway of the large room, gaping, gasping, and looking with fear and wonder at Ronhuk.
        The infirmary sisters were hard pressed to keep the throng back, and Nart looked beseechingly at Commander Gemal to help stop the distracting din they were making. The hare nodded in understanding, going right up to the gathering, beginning to talk in his field voice.
        "Right; if you lot want to see the giant for yourselves, you're going to listen to every word I say! He has been wounded, and your Abbot is doing everything he can to help him, but he needs you all to do something for him: your everyday jobs. You all need to do exactly what you would do every day, wot! Do you understand?" Some mumbled answers were heard, and Gemal squinted with one eye and cocked one ear at them. "Did you say something eh, wot?" He smiled thinly as there was a chorus of "Yes sir"s from the crowd. "Good; now go along."
        As the Redwallers dispersed, Nart could concentrate better; the shaft was halfway out now, the glint of metal from the steel tip showing through the blood. Both Nart and Coalpaw were sweating, and the abbot told the badger he could pull more quickly. Tightening his grip with a sweaty paw, the Badger Lord pulled firmly upwards, his paw suddenly flinging upwards as the broken crossbow bolt, steel head and all, was wrenched from Ronhuk's chest. Abbot Nart quickly put pressure on the wound and called the sisters to help him.
        Gently pushing Lord Coalpaw aside, they pressed a cloth to stem the bleeding while Nart readied a needle and thread to sew it up. Ronhuk's head turned, and the mouse hurried to finish before the cougar awoke.
        Meanwhile, Spruce and Limb were taking another look at Ronhuk's belongings. The piece of string was nothing more than that: just a tough length of twine about ten feet long coiled up in a tight bundle. The knife, a simple, one-edged blade two-thirds the length of Limbjumper's arm, was sheathed in tough leather and held a surprisingly sharp edge for what they expected; they admired it's craftsmanship even though it was too large for them to handle. The lump of 'animal flesh' was still lying on the floor, so only one item was left: the small leather-wrapped bundle. Spruce undid the layers until he held a round copper. . . thing the size of his paw with all his claws extended. The squirrel turned it over, with Limb looking at it closely.
        "What's this?" he asked, reaching to press a small switch. There was a metallic click, and the face opened up to reveal a small painting. Both veteran squirrels stared at it: the likeness of a female cougar looked out and to the left of them, her eyes a piercing blue and her fur a light gray-gold color. Had they been of the same species, they would have found her beautiful, but Spruce and Limb had to admit that she definitely was far from ugly.
        "A. . . locket?" Limb looked at his friend, then at Ronhuk who was being bandaged after the stitching.
        Spruce chuckled slightly. "Well, it looks like Huge and Fearsome here does have a heart." As he spoke, Ronhuk groaned, moving more than just his head now, and he lifted his great paw to his head, slowly opening his eyes. What he saw was not tree branches and leaves, but the dark dirt of the ceiling.
        "What the. . ." The cougar sat up slowly, his eyes adjusting to his surroundings as he searched the room. His eyes fell on the relieved but battered face of Coalpaw. "Where are we?" he asked, wondering if he was back in another chamber of Salamandastron.
        A small, friendly voice to his right caused Ronhuk to turn to look at a mouse in a peculiar green outfit. "You are in the place known as Brockhall, deep in the borders of Mossflower Woods. You were brought here by those two squirrels over there, who found you wounded a ways from here. We have taken care of your wounds; don't try to move two much or too quickly." The mouse stood; he had been crouching next to Ronhuk's side. "My name is Abbot Nart," he said, extending a small paw.
        The cougar shook the preferred paw, his own paw more than eight times Nart's. "I am Ronhuk, from the far western mountains." He stood shakily, looking down at his bandages. "You have done well; thank you." One of the infirmary sisters pressed a cup of water to his paw, backing off swiftly from the huge cat. Ronhuk thanked the sister, drinking the water quickly.
        He turned to Coalpaw, asking a bugging question. "Coalpaw, what happened back on the plains?" The Badger Lord sat down, looking up at his friend.
        "In short: we won. It took us all day and into the night, but we did it. I lost sight of you not long after you. . . took the crossbow bolt for me; I'm forever in your debt."
        Cavaer, in his surprise, forgot that it was a badger lord that he was interrupting. "That was a crossbow bolt? That must have been huge!"
        A warning glare from Commander Gemal and a small nudge from Thaze silenced the mouse, and allowed Coalpaw to continue. "Most of the enemy was destroyed," he said, "Though a large part fled the battle, some going back to Redwall; Grungath Deathcaller has taken it, which would explain the presence of its creatures in the legendary home of my ancient badger ancestors." He rubbed his tired face. "I'm afraid I have no idea if your friend Splinck is alive or not; we were unable to find him."
        Ronhuk was silent, looking down, then across at the two squirrels. "Are the two little ones alright?"
        Limb answered for them both. "They're fine. Now, 'Ronhuk'; I've got something to ask you." He stabbed the piece of meat with his javelin and held it in front of him. "Why do you carry the flesh of other creatures? Do you eat meat?" Coalpaw looked hard at Ronhuk; there must be some reason the cougar had the venison.
        The cat hesitated, unsure of how they would react to what he had to say. He spoke slowly. "It's meat, yes, and I do eat it." Fearful looks were plastered on the infirmary sisters' faces, and they blanched. A low growl from Limb led Ronhuk to continue. "Things are different where I am from; harsh lands call for harsh measures. But we do not eat those creatures who speak with us and work with us. There are those animals who neither have speech nor intellect, walking on four legs rather than two."
        Coalpaw spoke. "How is it that the mice and similar creatures you travel with have no problems with your. . . habits?"
        "They understand our need for the nourishment that meat provides for beasts like I; we cannot live solely on grains and greens. They also know the difference between creatures like deer and elk from themselves. Imagine it like fish: they don't talk or think as we do, and I have seen many mice and squirrels eat fish. But, if you wish, I will not consume any meat while I reside here for your peace of mind."
        "You would do that?" Abbot Nart said.
        "I would."
        The mouse saw no lie in the cougar's eyes; only a firmness that showed he would not change his mind.
        "Then consider the topic moot." He looked meaningfully at Spruceclimber and Limbjumper, who turned away. Spruce decided to change the subject.
        "May I ask what this is?" The squirrel held up the copper locket containing the picture of the female cougar.
        Ronhuk blushed slightly, the red color showing a little through his fur. "It's something very special to me." He held out his paw for Spruce to deposit the item, but the squirrel held it back, opening it mischievously and turning the picture to face the cat.
        "And she is. . . ?"
        "Someone. . . very special to me." He took the locket, closing the face. "Her name is Jvealla¹, and she waits for me back home. We are to be wed upon my return." At this he smiled, opening the copper front and gazing at the picture. Ronhuk suddenly realized he wasn't the only one smiling, and shut the cover back as he enclosed the locket in his paw. The cougar furrowed his brows at the smiling faces around him, and Lord Coalpaw coughed politely as he hid his own grin behind a paw.
        "Well, Abbot Nart," he grumbled as he rose from his seat. "I would like to get some rest. Is there a bed available without pushing a beast out of one?" The mouse led the badger out of the room, directing him toward a vacant room, complete with bed.
        "Oh yes, Lord Coalpaw. Follow me," he said as they walked.
        "Thank you. By the way, how is my sister, Retha? I haven't seen her here and . . ." The pained look on Nart's face told Coalpaw all he needed to know. He sniffed a little, blinking against a threatening tear. Clearing his throat, he said gruffly, "My hares need a place to stay as well; how much more room do you have?"
        The mouse raised an eyebrow. "How many hares are we talking about?"
        "Eight hundred strong."
        Nart breathed in sharply, and then let it out as a sigh. "We have only amount for three or four score; more than that, I'm afraid we don't . . ." He was cut off by a movement under his feet, and the dirt floor began to crumble. Coalpaw grabbed the abbot and hauled him out of the way as large digging claws broke through the surface, followed by a velvety snout and small dark eyes that disappeared in the creases of his face as the mole smiled at them.
        "Oh, hello, zurrs. Moind if'n we come oop?" Several other moles popped out of the hole opening, including one that Nart recognized.
        "Why Foremole! Wherever did you come from?"
        The mole in question grinned widely, wiggling his digging claws. "Hurr, 'ave you heard o' Molerdeep? It's noice an' safe from the gurt narsty varmins; me 'n moi crew dug this 'ere tunnel right to eht. Oi hope eht will be helpful."
        "You mean, Moledeep is real? And you just dug a tunnel from there to here?" Nart asked, surprised.
        "Burr, eht be's us moles' secret; we bain't tol' none 'bout eht 'til noo. Oi heard you'm be a-needen space fer some hares when oi were under you'm. We got room back in Molerdeep."
        "Lovely! Top hole, jolly good and all that!" Commander Gemal strode toward them. "Good mole chap! Er, you wouldn't happen to have much scoff in your grand old mole hole, would you?" A grumbling noise from the hare's stomach indicated what had given rise to the question.
        Foremole winced, answering the question. "We do 'ave vikkles. Bo hurr, I forgot 'bout 'ow much haresbeasts eat, burr!"

Splinck and Presel crouched in the bushes on the southwest side of Redwall, looking at the tall sandstone wall that stood in front of them. There had been many vermin who returned through the four gates, and the two ferrets guessed that the hares had won the battle.
        The pair had come to know much of each other, Splinck telling of his homeland and his companions he travelled with, and Presel sharing her wish to wander and travel, not kill and conquer. After several groups of Grungath's army began flowing back to Redwall, she had insisted that they also go back, though Splinck was having serious doubts. "Are you out of your mind?" he hissed. "We're going right into the mouth of the beast; it sounds like something only I would do!"
        Presel sighed, turning to him. "Do you have a better plan? Neither of us know where your friends are, and even if we did find them after hours of searching these woods, they might think we're the enemy and attack us!"
        The other rubbed his eyes with one paw. "Alright; we're going in and scouting out any weaknesses and strengths that would be useful against wolf whatever his name is-"
        "Grungath Deathcaller."
        ". . . And report it back to Lord Coalpaw and Ronhuk as soon as we can. It's likely the baddies inside will recognize us or something, or that we possibly get killed because we do something really foolish finding out information." He smiled crookedly. "What could possibly go wrong, gnyuk gnyuk?"
        "Stop it; how can you joke around with this? Yes, this is very serious, and could turn out very badly, but at least we're doing something against the Deathcaller: he's evil. As much as I don't want to fight, I don't want to see innocent creatures get killed because I did nothing." After a moment of silence, she furrowed her brows at Splinck. "I can't believe you would really do something like that to me back there; I swear, if you do that again . . . !"
        "What?" said Splinck, holding up his paws. "They would've begun asking questions as soon as I opened my mouth, so I decided to leave you to your thing. Besides, I came in when you needed my help, and I don't think he'll be waking up anytime soon." This only brought a growl from Presel. "You're cute when you're angry, you know," the male ferret said.
        "What?!"
        Splinck grinned mischievously, and Presel turned away, blushing slightly, though she smiled in spite of herself. Splinck was . . . interesting, as well as being handsome and funny. She didn't want to admit it, but she really did like his foreign accent, and his peculiar chuckle made her want to laugh. Tearing her thoughts away, she motioned toward the gate. "Shall we then?"
        "Right; I'll be sure to stay quiet when we're in there."
        They walked toward the gate, both tense and nervous; they were heading into the center of Grungath's command, which was not what either would call a good adventure. Presel pounded on the oak door, calling out. "Hey! Open up!"
        The ugly head of a rat poked out over the battlements. "Oi! 'O're you?"
        "We're two little birds coming home to mommy. We're survivors from that slaughter on the plains you idiot!" Presel yelled gruffly, trying to sound tough and very much in charge.
        "A'right, a'right; don't get yer tail in a knot. I have to ask questions; it's orders!" They heard him walk down the steps, and the bolt to the gate was shoved aside as he opened it. The rat tickled Presel under the chin as she walked by. "My, aren't you a pretty one!"
        "Get off, freak," she muttered, hitting his paw aside. She didn't notice the toothy smile that Splinck gave the rat for no other reason than to send him cowering back. The ferret stared at him insanely for a moment, and then walked away after Presel.
        They spent hours looking for things that might be useful for them to know, starting at the main gate. Grungath had broken the original wooden bar that had lain across the two doors, and it had been replaced by a thick iron rod about two inches in diameter. Well, that rules out a battering ram, Splinck thought, and they moved on. The well-growing orchards were being tended to by some vermin, weeding and watering the whole thing. This surprised Presel, as vermin were not known for being farmers; serving under the wolf had done strange things to the way they acted.
        It was on the southwest corner that they discovered their first soft spot in Redwall's defenses: several huge trees had branches long enough that a well-trained squirrel could jump onto the wall from them. Presel and Splinck made a mental note of this, and continued making their way through the grounds. The two ferrets decided to split up to cover more ground, meeting back up in front of the abbey doors when it began to get dark. Splinck went upstairs, while Presel went back outside. Not really expecting to find much of anything, Splinck wandered the rooms aimlessly, until he came to the attic where two weasels stood guard by a locked door.
        He was about to ask what was so important in the room that it needed guards when he remembered his accent. Jabbing a claw at the door, he shrugged his question. One of the weasels cocked his head to one side, wondering what he meant. Pointing to his mouth and throat, Splinck made a cutting motion.
        "Oh, 'e can't speak," said the one on the right, and he leaned on his spear. "Well, mute, whadya want?" More jabbing motions toward the closed door and more shrugging. Looking over his shoulder at the door, the weasel regarded it. "Inside? Just a family o' squirrels what got themselves captured; Grungath wants to keep 'em as hostages for those Redwallers. Squeamish fools can't abide the sight of helpless creatures being threatened to death."
        This information was definitely important, and Splinck nodded his thanks. Going back down hurriedly, he slowed his pace and hunted out Presel. When he found her, she was inspecting the east wall gate, and he placed a paw on her shoulder. The female ferret spun around, fear and stubbornness showing in her eyes as she went into a fighting stance.
        "Whoa, whoa; it's just me, gnyuk gnyuk!"
        Presel breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing. "Splinck! Thank goodness. Did you find anything?"
        "Yes," Splinck said softy. "We've got a problem."

Great chapter, loved the ending with the cliff-hanger! I see you've introduced a couple of romantic sub-plots, too. Those are always a lot of fun to follow ;)

Thanks for the review! I'm going to have to put this on hold for a bit, as I have not been able to work on it much. :-\ Expect a chapter maybe within the next couple of weeks.

Chapter Eleven
   
    Abbot Nart sat with Lord Coalpaw in the badger's accommodations, talking about what they had both experienced over the last few days. "How many of Grungath's army did you kill?" the mouse asked. "More importantly, how many do you think he has left?"
   "From what I can guess, we destroyed a good portion of his command; perhaps even half! But I don't think we could last another battle like that. Too many of my hares have been lost or wounded." The badger lord sat silent, staring into the empty space behind Nart. "Have you heard anything from the otters?"
   "No," Nart said sadly. "I fear the worst for them; they've been gone since the end of summer and we have no idea if they even know about the wolf or that they might be . . ."
   "Don't think about it, Father Abbot. Those otters are a tough bunch of creatures, and I can't see them being defeated easily."
   The mouse clenched his fists. "I couldn't see us being defeated, either. For untold seasons Redwall has been defended by those who cared for it, fighting to their very last to keep their home safe. And what do we do? Leave it behind like an old cloak! I shouldn't have been so hasty in my decisions; I'm the reason we've lost Redwall, and . . ."
   "Stop this foolishness!"
        The abbot shut his mouth with a clack as his jaws hit together. Coalpaw was frowning at him disapprovingly. "This is not the way an Abbot of Redwall should talk. Think for a moment! Look at what you lost: a home that kept you warm and dry and held your food. Where are you now? Is it so different? You have friends here; nay, you have family! By trying to defend Redwall, you would have more deaths than you could hope to live down, and lost more than just your home."
        After a moment of silence, Nart spoke in a wavering voice. "You're right." He took a deep breath. "We saved lives by leaving Redwall. Besides that, it's far too late to change what has been done. But I still can't believe that Martin . . ." The mouse suddenly remembered something that his mind had been struggling to resurface. "'One will come seeking your aid . . .'" he murmured, then spoke out loud. "For a while I questioned if Martin would help us in our time of need, but he already has! He spoke to me in my sleep, telling me of Rhonhuk."
        Coalpaw smiled. "You see? Don't be so quick to condemn your actions. Let's go see how my hares are doing getting into Moledeep."
        As they two walked the tunnels of Brockhall, Coalpaw ran his paw along the smooth dirt walls, the dust of ages flaking off and falling to the ground like snow. So, this was the fabled house of the badgers of old, the tree it sat under still growing, the giant oak being an ancient totem of a time long lost, before Redwall, before Kotir, and quite even before the halls of Salamandastron were first walked. He breathed in the air and closed his eyes, imagining his predecessor Lord Brocktree walking the same path beside him. Perhaps, someday, he would walk with the ancient badger between the trees of the Dark Forest.
        As they walked by a room, they heard a yelp and the scolding of a sister. "That's what you get for being foolish and playing with something that should only be handled by those who know how, Master Cavaer. Great seasons, what were you thinking, trying to use that thing!"
        "Well, I just figured. . ."
        "Ah! That question was rhetorical, for land sakes! Now go on, off with you before you hurt yourself even worse."
        Nart and Coalpaw were still chuckling as a shrew pushed the young mouse Cavaer (whose left paw was nearly covered in a bandage) out of the room, and she stood with her paws on her hips while she shook her head at his slowly retreating figure. "What possessed him to think that was alright, I don't know. . ." The infirmary keeper suddenly noticed the pair standing by the door, and curtsied politely. "Father Abbot, Lord Coalpaw! Please excuse me."
        The badger lord nodded toward Cavaer. "What did he do?"
        "Oh, that young rip just gone and tried cutting his paw off with Martin the Warrior's sword. He insists it was an accident." She pursed her lips and furrowed her brows. "But I think he was swinging it and it bounced off something or he tried something equally stupid like seeing how sharp it is. I mean, what is it with young ones these days? If you ask me-"
        "Young Cavaer!" Lord Coalpaw called the mouse, who came scampering back as quickly as he could.
        "Y-yes sir?" he stammered.
        "Going to give him a stern lecture, are ye, my lord? It'll do him a whole lot of good," the shrew said, but was silence by a gaze from Abbot Nart.
        Coalpaw turned back toward Cavaer. "Tell me, did you try wielding the sword of Martin the Warrior?"
        After a moment of hesitation, he answered. "Yes sir."
        "Did you realize that you weren't supposed to be using it?"
        Another affirmation.
        Coalpaw nodded. "Very good; honesty is an admirable trait. I think I know what you did, and, don't worry, it's a mistake that is often done when one is being trained how to use a sword. When making a strike, always keep your paw close to your body, like tucked to your chest or held behind your back. Not only will it prevent injuries like your own, but it will be no longer a distraction."
        The shrew nearly choked when she realized that Lord Coalpaw was actually encouraging the use of the sword Cavaer had just cut himself on. "But. . . He can't. . . Father Abbot!" she cried frantically.
        "Hush now; I think we can all assume that young Cavaer has learned his lesson." Nart winked at Coalpaw. "Isn't that right, young one?"
        The mouse nodded energetically. "Oh, yes sirs! I will be sure to always keep what you said in mind, Lord Coalpaw. And . . . I'm very sorry I held the sword without permission; it won't happen again. Am I . . . to be punished?"
        Coalpaw put a large paw around the young mouse's shoulders and led him away down the hall. "Nothing of the sort! Since you showed such an interest in the sword, you will be in charge of keeping it clean, keep it from being a source of accidents, and learning to wield it. Every day, you will come train with my hares. In fact, go bring your friends as well; this will be healthy for them. Also, if you think this mishap was bad, this is what I did when I was just a young whippersnapper." He dropped to a whisper, and Nart couldn't make out what he said, but Cavaer burst into laughter.
        "Well, hopefully I won't do anything as bad as that! I'll be in the tunnel to Moledeep as soon as I can, sir!"
        The Father Abbot of Redwall walked after Coalpaw, leaving the infirmary sister still standing aghast at the doorway. The old mouse could see something in Cavaer that had not been there before, or, at least he had not noticed. It was as if the spirit of Martin was showing, if in only a small way, through the young mouse. The will to use Martin's sword could only grow, and perhaps someday . . . Who knew?

Grungath Deathcaller sat on his throne, holding his paws with the tips of the claws against each other. A sweating weasel stood in front of him; the highest ranking officer of those who had escaped from the battle with the hares. The wolf closed his eyes. "Tell me again what happened."
    The weasel swallowed in fear but answered dutifully. "We faced the force from Salamandastron, killing a good portion of their force, but they got the upper paw. There was another force, besides the hares; they were . . . foreign, and fought like devils! One of them was a huge cat; looked like he hopped straight out of hell's mouth, he did! Nobody could stand against him or even dared try; he was frightening to all of us! He mowed a path straight through us and chased after Captain Hurra into the forest."
   "And where is Hurra, now?"
   "As far as I know, he's dead, my lord."
   "It no longer matters; even if he wasn't killed, I would have slayed him for failing. Continue."
   "Yes, my lord. After the cat left, it seemed like we might have won, for a while, but the tides turned. They developed a strategy, taking some of our war machines, and launched everything they had at us while the rest of their force charged. Some of the army began to break off, and then it became apparent there was no winning. I took a portion and came back here so we can continue to serve you, my lord." He stood blinking sweat out of his eyes as Grungath stepped toward him. The wolf could see the weasel's legs shaking; it was obvious he feared the worst.
   Walking around the officer, the Deathcaller suddenly hit the weasel, knocking him to the ground. The shaky breaths of the weasel could be heard through Cavern Hole as Grungath bent down to him. "Come now . . . you don't think I'm going to kill you?"
   "I . . . failed as an officer, m-my lord."
   The wolf nodded, as if considering this new evidence. "Yes; you did. But you came back; your loyalty to your master is honorable. I'm not going to kill you, but I will never allow you to hold any authority again. Do you understand?"
   "Yes, my lord!" the weasel gasped in relief, nearly sobbing.
   "Now leave, soldier." Grungath walked back to his throne as the weasel stood up and backed out, bowing the whole way and thanking him for his kindness. Leaning his head back on his throne, the wolf looked up at the ceiling as he thought. Killing one vermin is no great loss, but sparing the life of one . . . Now that was a more valuable action.
        Grungath nurtured his troops' loyalty to him; letting the weasel live would only bolster that loyalty. No doubt many of his soldiers thought the officer would die as soon as he sent for him. Coming back alive, he would tell them of their master's mercy; this would inevitably make them bond even more firmly to his command.
        Now the wolf bent his thoughts toward these 'foreigners' the weasel had spoken of. Who were they, some strange creatures from a land far off, called upon for aid by the badger? For that matter, who, and what, was the supposed devil cat that so installed fear into the hearts of his vermin? Perhaps it was some mutated wildcat of large size that was turned over to his enemies' side. How many did they number? One, two score?
        The Deathcaller pushed those questions aside; he was confident they would be of no more consequence to his large force. Speaking of such . . . "Zil!" The wildcat captain bowed, coming forward.
        "What do you command, my lord?" he hissed.
        "Take fourscore of our forces and seek out vermin in the forest to help bolster our numbers. Make sure they are all marked; we wouldn't want our own to be mixed with them, would we?"
        "No, my lord. I shall do as you say."
        He began heading out, when Grungath spoke again.
        "And Zil? No foxes."
        "They shall be slain on sight," the wildcat purred, and he walked out. The Deathcaller watched him go, noticing the regal way the cat walked. Cats were like that, looking (or trying to look) like they were ever in charge, with an almost practiced grace.
        Foxes, on the other hand, he would never allow in his service. The wolf resented the similarities between his species and foxes. They were far inferior in size and strength, though they were one of the few 'vermin' to be more commonly cunning and untrustworthy. He had dealt with foxes; it was like pulling the teeth from a pike. They would dodge around questions, attempt to sooth you or otherwise bend you to their own wily ideas. A sneer blemished Grungath's handsome face for a moment as he brooded on the thought of foxes.
        Tearing his mind away, the wolf decided to take a walk along the ramparts. Looking out over his land made his mood brighten. As he walked on the lawns, he passed by a couple of ferrets on the lawns, who bowed as he passed by. The male one looked like he was a little hesitant and Grungath stopped. "You, how long have you been here?"
        He looked a little frightened, or something, but before he could think about it, the female spoke up. "He's my brother, lord; he's a mute. Also, he's a little . . ." she made a twirling motion around the side of her head with a claw.
        The Deathcaller raised a brow at this. "Very well. But if he does anything stupid, you will both be punished."

"THAT was way too close," Presel breathed as soon as Grungath was out of hearing range. She looked at Splinck, who looked like he was about to explode.
   "I'm crazy?" he hissed. "Are you kidding me? My senile grandpa could make up a better alibi than that!"
   "Well, it got the Deathcaller from any suspicions, didn't it?" Presel pouted. "If anything, you should thank me; there's a reason he's called a 'Deathcaller'."
   Splinck only grumbled in reply.
   "Come on," Presel sighed, dragging him along by the paw. "Lunch should be served soon."

On the banks of the River Moss, a young otter popped his head out of the swift waters, taking in a gulp of air. He looked behind him; far off, he could make out the shape of Holt Widetail. He turned back upstream and started swimming hard; he had to get as far as he could; the survival of his holt depended on him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yay! I got time to write!
Well, you may or may not notice, but in this chapter the main focus was for the development of characters. If you wish to tell me what you noticed that was explained here, go ahead! If there were any parts you liked or disliked, let me know. Also, any criticism is welcome.
Thank you for reading!

Chapter Twelve

   Rhonhuk sat with his elbows resting on his knees as an infirmary keeper checked on his wounds. It had been two days since he had been brought to Brockhall, and he was getting anxious to be back on his feet. "Marm, I would appreciate it if you could be a little quicker."
   By now, most creatures were a little more used to the big cat, knowing that he had shown no hostility and did not speak unkindly, though with his accent was a little hard to tell his emotions sometimes. The creatures from the Barkhills also spoke well of him, which eased the minds of the Redwallers as many of them were of the same species.
        The sister, a mouse, rebound the last bandage. "Now, Mister Rhonhuk, you should know that this kind of work mustn't be rushed, or else there might be infections, or more bleeding, or pus in the wound, or . . ."
   "I get it; thank you for your help."
   The mouse nodded politely, then left the room just as Spruceclimber walked in. He greeted the sister, and went over to sit near Rhonhuk.
   "Feel better?"
   Rhonhuk smiled.  "Thanks to your nagging nurses, yes. But I doubt you came only to ask of my health."
   Spruze sat with his paws folded, then stood up and wandered around. Without facing the cougar, the squirrel asked a question that had been bugging him. "Why did you and your companions help us? From what I gather, you had almost literally just met Lord Coalpaw when you decided to aid him in our fight. Did you just make a gamble, or . . . ?"
   So that was what it was. "I saw the good in the badger's eyes, and could tell he was just. He was serious when he told me of the troubles your land had. My conscience would never let me sleep if I did not take the steps I did, and let more creatures die than necessary. Also, there is a slight . . . weakness, shall we say, that we of the Barkhills all share: we never give up on those we call our friends." He remembered Splinck, his old friend, and vowed to find out what had happened to that ferret.
   There was another reason Rhonhuk had looked to find out what manner of creature Coalpaw was, whether he was good or bad, so he could know if he should help him. He remembered the reason why, the memory passing through his mind as if he were still there, speaking to them . . .

Jvealla held paws with Rhonhuk, both creatures standing silently facing each other. The female cougar's blue eyes searched his face. "Will you miss me?" she asked.
   Rhonhuk was earnest, knowing full well that it would be a long time before they could see each other again. "Missing you won't be enough. I will think of you every day, and every day I will wish that we can see each other, safely, as soon as my journeys are over."
   Jvealla looked downward. "I'll wait for you, Rhon. At the end of every season, I'll wait here for your return. Please . . . promise you'll come back to me."
   The male cougar breathed in, making a promise he could not truthfully make, for that which lay ahead held dangers and trials that would test his mettle. But for now, it did not matter. "I promise," he breathed, and pressed his lips against her cheek. They embraced, and Jvealla rested her head upon his tough leather chest plate.
        "Goodbye," she whispered, and they parted after Rhonhuk kissed her soft paw once more.
        As he walked slowly away toward the gently swaying timbers of the Clawrudder, he heard his sweetheart call him. As he turned, he could hear her say: "Remember this, Rhonhuk, son of Nigel, that, wherever you go, you help the righteous who are in need, in memory of your family and your land!"
        "Not only in memory my family and land, but of you, dearest Jvealla! May the night sky and the light of day see you safe for as long as I'm gone!"
        There was a sharp call from the ship, and the cougar bounded aboard. As the sails billowed with wind, pushing the craft along, Rhonhuk strode to the stern, hearing Jvealla's last farewell, both beasts waving to the other until they were lost from sight . . .

". . . So, you consider us your friends?"
   Spruceclimber's question shook Rhonhuk from his memories, and he blinked a couple of times before answering. "Well, you cared enough to bring me here to be healed, and you all have been kind to me. So, yes; I do consider you a friend, but it is up to you to think likewise."
   The squirrel nodded his head, getting up. "Oh, if your companions haven't already told you, Lord Coalpaw dragged your sword from where we left it, and it's being kept near the doorway. If you want, I can bring you to it; we'll make sure you get some proper food while we're out of here." Rhonhuk also stood, bowing slightly and putting his paw forward.
   "Thank you; please, lead on."
   As Spruce led Rhonhuk through the halls, the giant cat ducking due to the ceiling, he pointed out a few things. "If you need permission for something, you can ask Abbot Nart; for food, just ask somebeast for the kitchens, and for something related to the beasts from Salamandastron, they've been moved to a place called 'Moledeep'."
   "So I heard.  And, I believe your name was Spruceclimber, if I heard correctly."
   "Yes, but just call me Spruce; everyone else does. Er, may I call you Rhon?"
   "No." Rhonhuk growled, checking himself. "I mean . . . no; very few call me that, and I would appreciate if that number stayed few. Let's just say it's one of my pet peeves."
   Spruce grinned. "And the face of a pretty female that you have hidden in a locket wouldn't happen to be one of them, perhaps?"
   "You're walking a thin line, Spruce." The squirrel chuckled, only pointing to the massive longsword leaning by the doorway to Brockhall. Cellarhog Derffy sat snoring in a chair beside it, the only apparent guard. As Rhonhuk retrieved his weapon, Spruce patted the hedgehog none too gently on the cheek.
   "Wake up, Derffy! How the blazes do you expect to effectively guard this door when you're snoring away like you haven't slept for two days?"
   Derffy blinked several times before yawning and stretching. "Ah, come on, Spruce; it was just five minutes o' shuteye! Give a hog a rest once in a while, eh? 'Sides, there ain't nobeast gonna find this place! Why, even that big cat couldn't-" His eyes grew wide as he noticed Rhonhuk standing off to the side looking at him. "You!" he cried, stumbling backwards on the chair, falling with an ungainly thump.
   The cougar lifted him up by the apron he constantly wore, setting him back down. "Hello. What kind of creature are you, some kind of stunted porcupine with short spines?"
   Both Sprucelimber and Derffy raised their brows, but the cellarhog's rose to a near-impossible height. "A stunted whaaa . . . ?" He snapped from his confusion and began bristling up, his cheeks bulging in indignation. "W-why I've never heard of such a thing! I'm a self-respecting hedgehog, not some mutated form of a porcawhatever you called it. I've never been so insulted in my life! Why I'll-!"
   Spruce held him back. "Easy now, Derffy; he's not from around here, and the creatures he has where he comes from are also not from around here, so it shouldn't come to a surprise that he wasn't sure what you were. But hey, at least he didn't call you a bloated spiny frog!"
   Rhonhuk burst out laughing, startling both creatures. "Hah hah hah! Be glad I've at least seen something like you, or you would have been described as Spruce said!"
   All indignation was washed from Derffy as he too began chuckling. "Or, even worse, at least you didn't think I was an overgrown apple that had changed into some other form of life!" Soon all three were roaring with laughter as Spruce did an impersonation of what he imagined a live, moldy apple to look like.
   "Blagh, guhhh, my name is DERFFY! Bluaagh!"
   Limbjumber suddenly appeared from an intersecting hallway, interrupting the trio in their antics. He looked at them incredulously, shaking his head despairingly before turning down the hallway. "Lunch is being served; might want to get some before you pass out from laughing."
   Derffy glared at the retreating squirrel. "Bah; that veteran can make a daisy feel depressed. Well, I'm not about to let food go to waste. Come on!"

Skipper Widetail paced around restlessly inside Holt Widetail. He was worried not only for his own otters but for Salamandastron and Redwall. He had watched days ago as the war machines had been unloaded and assembled before they set off in a southerly direction; the only place they could use them in that direction was the mountain stronghold, unless they were planning on cutting east into Mossflower for use against Redwall.
        Either way, they were a huge danger to his allies. What made him so frustrated was how little they cared about him and his otters. The fact that the vermin considered him as such a small threat to them was strange; if it was otherwise, surely they would have used the war machines against the holt, and would have easily won. For some reason, they were content with waiting out the otters.
        The skipper stopped pacing in front of an empty shelf-bed; it had once been occupied with his own son, but he had disappeared. Was he killed on the battlements or even worse, taken prisoner by the cruel-hearted vermin? They would probably keep him as a hostage to pry the otters into submission.
But then, he had been missing for a while; why hadn't they done anything to let them know of his capture? The only logical explanation was that he was killed. Skipper slammed his paw against the wall, venting his frustration.
        Some heavy footfalls behind him caused him to turn around, and he looked at the bulky form of a sea otter. "Skipper?" the sea otter asked.
        "How many more creatures do we need to lose before this is over, Rudderpaw?" he asked, not really expecting an answer. "We've lost too many already, and now my own son is gone missing. What are we to do?"
        There was no answer from the other, who only put a paw on Skipper's shoulder.
        "We found this, Skip. You should probably take a look at it, because it's from your son."
        At this, Skipper turned around, looking down at a piece of bark Rudderpaw held in his grasp. Taking it, he read the crude writing, merely a hasty scratching of a knife on the soft bark. 'Gtting help. Don't wory bout me.' Skipper lowered the piece of bark, and sniffed slightly.
        "So; he's gone to get help, that young walloper."
        "Can't say I blame him, Skip; getting cooped up under pressure in a place like this takes its toll on creatures, especially the young 'uns."
        Skipper Widetail sighed. "No, I can't blame him either, though I wish he would have told me before. We can only hope that whatever he does helps, because by the seasons we need help." He furrowed his brows and closed his eyes, thinking about a dream he had that was still a bit of a blur. "We almost need a miracle."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Okay, I hope this chapter isn't too bad.
Also, you might have noticed that Rhonhuk's sword was changed from a broadsword to a longsword; this was intentional. I only recently discovered my mistake of what the differences between the two were. A longsword was the typical two-handed sword used in the times, while broadswords were the basket-hilted swords used by the Scots. This is just for clarification. Also, I may or may not end up fixing this mistake in the earlier chapters.

I'm a big fan of how you're weaving together different creature's paths through the little scenes or sentences here and there. It really gives the story that strong, flowing feel to it.

I liked learning a little bit more about the different characters in chapter eleven. I find that sometimes putting in a chapter of character development not only helps the reader learn more about your creations, but helps the reader create a bond with them, too.

Thanks for the review, Captain! It really does mean a lot to me that you read my story. Also, I'm glad you enjoyed that chapter, as I rather enjoyed writing something that was less storyline and more explanation and immersion.

Chapter Thirteen
   
   It was a little surprising how many vermin were in Mossflower that were able to join forces with Grungath Deathcaller. The wolf himself was pleased with the number brought in by Zil, his wildcat captain. In three days since the cat's departure from Redwall, nearly two hundred able-bodied ferrets, stoats, weasels, and rats had been enlisted and brought to the abbey. In the morning light of the third day, the entirety of the newly gathered force was now standing in a large group on the lawns, surrounded by the Deathcaller's original forces to discourage any rebellious happenings.
   Grungath observed them from the ramparts, noting facts in his mind. They were leaderless, spineless, untrained and otherwise useless. Useless, maybe, except for doing what they natural did well: killing. Under the correct leadership, they might prove to be useful pawns in his game.
   They would certainly obey him; the wolf knew they feared him. He could see it in their eyes when they looked at him, in the way they flinched when he moved. To them he was like a god, invulnerable, strong as the trees, and all stuck into a fitting body. The Deathcaller smiled; fear was good. Fear kept creatures in line when they would otherwise think for themselves: a dangerous happening.
   "Farag, Gurra." The wolf called the two remaining wolverine captains, who knelt to his side at once.
   "My lord?" they chimed with their heads bowed.
   "Begin marking the recruits; start a line. If any try to hard to resist, make an example of them." This last order Grungath knew would not be necessary; the sight of two wolverines, not to mention the one of whom they paid homage to, would be enough to stop any uprisings. The wolf's captains bowed, and went down to proceed with their task.
   The vermin on the lawns were not sure what was going to happen to them exactly, so they cautiously formed a line. As a fire was lit, uneasiness spread through them, especially with the first vermin in line, an unfortunate rat. He kept wringing his paws and looking around nervously, but his gaze ever went back to the flames of the fire.
   Gurra pulled from the coals a dully-glowing bar of iron, and the rat's eyes widened to impossible size. "Y-you wouldn't!" he exclaimed, recoiling, but was butted forward by Farag's spear. When the vermin attempted to run, he was grabbed swiftly by Farag and forced toward Gurra. The side of his neck was exposed, and the wolverine pressed the hot metal to the rat's neck briefly. A smell of burnt fur and flesh, the scream of the rat, and it was over. The newly marked rat fell whimpering to the ground, and then crawled off toward the abbey pond.
   The rest of those in line shifted nervously, knowing they would be burned as well, but that there was no getting out of it. As Grungath watched the vermin try less and less to resist until they completely resigned themselves to suffer quietly, he grew bored overseeing it, and walked down from the ramparts and away from the markings. As his stomach grew empty, the wolf walked into the abbey building to have some food made for him.
   Then I shall be able to think, the Deathcaller noted. One always has better thoughts when his stomach is full. The wolf strode gracefully to his throne, snapping his claws as a sign to have his servants get to work with his meal. Swiftly and efficiently, the silent servants brought a table up to the chair, and it was just as quickly set with wine, a plate, biscuits, and other appetizers. Out of the kitchens swept the cooks, laden with a near-fresh roasted woodpigeon, apples, pears, and some select deserts.
   Grungath smiled in satisfaction, thanking his creatures and telling them to wait to the side until he had finished. The Deathcaller ate until he was full of the good food, and sipped at his wine until it was gone. He then stood up and addressed the cooks and servants. "You may eat what is left."
   The vermin were shocked, and stood silent until one of them came forward nervously. "A-are you sure, my lord?" There was still a significant amount of food remaining.
   "Of course I'm sure, you little fool. Now, you all deserve some food; you must be hungry. Come, eat." He tapped his chin. "Besides, it will save you some cleaning up to do."
   There was a chorus of "Thank you, my lord!", and the vermin were immediately upon the delicious food as soon as their lord left them. He smiled at what he had done; they would be some of his most loyal creatures for a long while. It was not like they didn't deserve some of the food, though; he was surprised at how good the victuals actually tasted. Let them have a reward, he thought. It's good for a beast to have their treats every once in a while.
   "Now," he said to himself. "Let's see what we can do about those squirrels."

Splinck felt sick as he watched the marking going on below him as he and Presel stood guard, by order of Grungath Deathcaller, on the ramparts. Upon a glance, he knew his female companion was not any less ill from the experience, her face having gone a different pallor.
   "I think it's alright for us to leave now," the male ferret heard Presel say in a low voice. She pointed to other vermin leaving their posts along the walls. "The marking line is nearly finished."
        Splinck sighed. "Alright, let's go."
   As the two walked down from the wall, Splinck remarked, "That was unpleasant."
   "Ya think?" said Presel. "I don't want to think about that horrible treatment, let alone imagine what it would be like to be one of them! Oh, those poor, stupid beasts." She shuddered, and her companion squeezed her shoulder slightly.
   "You'll be all right; so will they . . . Oh look!" he chortled, pointing at Farag and Gurra. "The wildcat let his tail get caught in the fire, and now he's nearly run over the wolverine in his antics! Gnuk gnuk!"
   Presel chuckled as well, first at the two captains bumbling about, then at Splinck's peculiar laugh. "That brightened up things," she said with a smile.
   The other became suddenly serious and silent as they passed by several vermin. When the group had gone, the foreign ferret stayed in his serious state, though he was less obligated to stay "mute". "We still need to find a way to release that family of squirrels, though." Splinck saw the happiness in Presel's face disappear. "From what I hear they're meant to help draw the Redwallers out of wherever they're crouching. I've been able to think about it a bit, and if we could get word out to Rhonhuk, we might be able to get them into safe hands."
   "Yes, but how are we going to do that?" Presel objected, pointing out the chink in the plan. "There's a curfew, and anybeast caught trying to leave is flogged, at the least!" The female ferret didn't want to admit that she didn't want to see Splinck hurt. "Please . . ."
   Splinck winked. "Don't worry; I was born for sneaking. Besides . . ." he let his smile fade, placing a reassuring paw on Presel's shoulder. " . . . If I can help those poor creatures out, it's worth the risk."
   His companion nodded silently as they made their way across the lawns, over to the corner of the walls behind the pond. Up above their heads clouds began to gather, gradually growing into a larger mass of gray; it would soon rain. When they reached the corner, Presel took note of this. "Would it be better if you went tonight? The rain would help hide your tracks and keep you better screened from being seen."
   The other pursed his lips as he considered it, tapping his bottom lip with a claw. "Yes . . . but at the same time, I have no idea when the squirrels are to be used, nor where Grungath might plan on taking them. Also, I have one thing in common with the wolf here: not the faintest idea where the Redwallers are besides 'in the woods, somewhere'." He dropped his paws. "We're at a stalemate for a while."
   Presel set her back against the wall and slid down until she was sitting. She crossed her arms in front of her and rested her head upon them. Wind blew at the trees, making a rustling noise that was slightly comforting in its natural and careless freedom. The female ferret longed after the freedom she once had as she mulled thoughts over in her mind. After a long while of neither speaking, Presel looked at Splinck.
   "How big is your friend, the . . . um, cou- . . . Cat?"
   Splinck shook himself out of whatever thoughts he was having. "Oh, you mean Rhonhuk? (The word is cougar, by the way.) He's large, methinks a little bigger than old Death-hogger." He ignored the look Presel gave him. "Why do you ask?"
   "I think . . ." she said, allowing a smile to grow on her face. " . . . It's time to start a rumor."

Rhonhuk crouched at the bank of the River Moss; he had grown tired of staying cooped up in the cramped confines of Brockhall, despite the Redwallers' hospitality. He longed to be out again, and had left the hideaway in the early morning with Spruceclimber as a guide. The cougar did not care much if he was seen by the Deathcaller's patrols; however, he did care if he was seen near Brockhall.
   With this in mind, Rhonhuk had asked Spruceclimber to show him somewhere that he could be without any worries of revealing the Redwallers' position. The squirrel seemed to know just the place, and had taken him to the wide river that ran through Mossflower Woods. Rhonhuk was pleased at the sight; it had been a long while since he had been near a river.
   Whilst he sat running his paw through the running water, Rhonhuk recalled the river he had back at his homeland, with its rocky banks, its ever-cold waters, and the sight of fish in its waters. "What do you think of when you think of home, Spruce?"
   The squirrel, who was sitting on the limb of a tree above the cat, raised his head and looked at Rhonhuk. "Home? Well, I've never really had a home; always goin' off, never staying in the same place for too long. But if I had to choose a place that I will always call home, it would have to be a tree."
   "A . . . tree."
   "Yes." Spruce smiled as he rested his head back again. "They're always around when you need them, with big branches to sit on or sleep on, and a leafy roof above your head shading you from the sun and blocking the rain. A tree will always be home to a squirrel."
   The cougar chuckled. "And perhaps only a squirrel."
   Suddenly the two beasts were disturbed by a faint but frantic cry for help. "What was that?" said Rhonhuk, standing up and drawing his sword.
   "I don't know . . ." Spruce answered. ". . . But it's coming from down the river; let's go!" Hardly had the squirrel spoken the words than his companion went sprinting off along the river side, leaving the squirrel to hop swiftly from tree to tree in an attempt to keep up. "He's fast," the squirrel mumbled as he leapt to another branch. "I might not even get there in time to see what's going on."
   Several minutes later found Spruce discovering what the cries were about. A young otter was swimming in the river, desperately fighting off a group of pike. The ravenous fish attacked the exhausted creature mercilessly, wearing him down until he would no longer be able to fight back. It would not be long before they would inevitably go in for the kill.
   Rhonhuk had assessed the situation a short while before the squirrel had gotten there, and he had unbuckled his armor, tossing it aside as he bounded into the water. Wading against the moving water, the cougar struggled his way to the battling otter. "Hold on! Don't stop fighting!"
   The young beast looked up for a moment to where the voice had come from, and cried out in fear as he saw a massive cat coming straight for him. With that last yell, the otter dropped back into the water, completely passed out from the exhaustion and fright. Rhonhuk roared as he surged forward as quickly as he could while the water predators around the unconscious otter struck. But as the first pike sunk his sawing teeth into the flesh of the otter's arm, the cougar reached to grab the victim.
   Spruce, who was now standing on the bank watching with anticipation at the whole thing, jumped in shock as he saw a limp form come sailing out of the water towards the bank. Dropping his javelin and pack, the squirrel splashed into the water as the otter smacked against the surface not far from the water's edge. As quickly as he could, Spruceclimber dragged his unconscious load to shore, and made sure he was breathing. Sighing in relief as he heard steady breath coming from the otter's mouth, the veteran squirrel turned his gaze back to where Rhonhuk was. "Mate, are you-?" His call was cut short as Spruce saw his companion splashing frantically about in the water.
   "Rhonhuk! Come on, get out!" The squirrel scampered back into the water and tried to swim toward the cougar, his soaked brush weighing him down as he floundered. "Rhonhuuuuuk!"
   The cougar turned to the other. "Go back to shore; I'll be fine!" he yelled as he slammed his fist with a crunch against the silvery head of a pike. "Get out before you drown yourself!"
   Curious as to what the cougar was doing, Spruce climbed reluctantly out of the water. "Hell's teeth, he's gonna get himself eaten."
   "You hear that? You're going to get yourself killed!" he yelled. "Crazy cat," he muttered.
   A few minutes later, Rhonhuk crushed the skull of the last pike that stayed to fight him, grabbing it by the head and squeezing. He smiled in satisfaction as he looked at the fish blood that stained the water, running downstream and mingling with the rest of the liquid. The cat swam back to shore, stepping onto the bank and sitting down in a wearied heap. "How's the victim?"
   Spruce folded his arms. "You mean the otter? He's fine. It's you that I'm worried about. What in blazes were you thinking, you crazy beast? I told you to get out, and nearly got dragged under trying to reach you."
   "It's your tail."
        Rhonhuk winced as he inspected the numerous cuts inflicted by the vicious carnivores. "Quite the fish, aren't they, pike?"
   "You're a madbeast! You nearly got eaten."
   "But I did not; and I am pretty sure they are the ones that are being eaten."
   At this he held up three of the fish by their tails, each of them dead and bleeding. "It has been a long time since I have had pike. I hope you do not disagree, as fish isn't exactly meat."
   Before Spruceclimber could say anything else, the young otter behind him gave a groan and began shifting. Rhonhuk moved around to sit with his back against a tree while he waited for the youth to fully recover consciousness. When he did open his eyes he took a moment to recognize that he was, in fact, on solid ground. He bolted upright, crying out in shock.
   Spruce took hold of his shoulders firmly. "It's alright, lad; you're fine. You're not in any danger of those pike anymore." He took at look at the ragged bite on the otter's arm, taking a length of bandage from his pack and binding the oozing wound. "Didn't see that before; sorry, lad."
   The otter shook his head slowly. " . . . I thought I was a goner; those pike had me good, mate. Then I blacked out when . . ." He jumped slightly. "Did you see a big cat? In the water, near where I was, there was a huge cat."
   Rhonhuk chuckled. "Yes; I'm right behind you."
   The young beast sprang up when he heard the voice, and stared slack-jawed at the cougar. "'Ow did . . . what just . . . 'O're you?"
   "My name is Rhonhuk; it is a pleasure to meet you. You certainly got lucky, otter." He allowed the otter to stare at him; it had become a common occurrence in the past few seasons.
   "'E got lucky? You got lucky!" Spruceclimber turned to the otter. "This beast went and jumped into the water to save your life, lad, and for that you must thank him. But then he proceeded to beat those pike to only a few survivors, and there you can see a few of his . . . catch."
   "Mr. Rhonhuk, sir, I'm forever thankful that yer saved me life." Now the otter looked with admiration at Rhonhuk and his haul of pike. "And you killed pike! Mate, that's something an otter allus dreams about: it's the ultimate thing a fisherbeast can do, and as otters, we feel that the beast who kills a pike should get the highest of honors! If you ever meet my father, you ought to have a boast battle with 'im; he's killed pike, tho' I don't know 'ow many."
   "Well, I'm flattered, master otter," laughed Rhonhuk. "And your name is . . . ?"
   The otter saluted. "Gulindal Widetail, sir."
   Spruceclimber turned the otter to face him. "Wait . . . Did you say Widetail? Isn't that the name of the Skipper of river otters?"
   "Y-yes sir; Skip's my father. He's held up downstream in the Holt Widetail; you could call it a siege, I guess. I snuck out and swam upstream here to get help from the Redwallers, or anybeast. Ain't heard anything from the Guosim, either."
   "Guosim?" echoed Rhonhuk. "What's a . . ."
   "I'll explain later; we need to go," Spruce said firmly. "We're going back to Brockhall now."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Holy cow it's been a while. Hopefully this chapter will be enjoyed, as I have finally gotten to bring together some ideas of mine.

Wow, nice story, I typically don't like stories with Redwall falling, but hey, atleast you used Brockhall, a place not many fanfiction author visit. You have given a gentle hook to the reader and the temptation to read the rest of your story is irresistible. Congratulations on that.

Many, many thanks, Ashen. I'm glad you like this story, and I hope to continue it's hooking nature as I progress toward the end of it.
And yes: I liked the idea of Brockhall being brought back into the picture as a place of refuge.

Quote from: The Skarzs on December 29, 2014, 05:25:15 AM
Many, many thanks, Ashen. I'm glad you like this story, and I hope to continue it's hooking nature as I progress toward the end of it.
And yes: I liked the idea of Brockhall being brought back into the picture as a place of refuge.

Cool, but I can't wait for the next chapter, a likkle preview maybe?  ;)

Another great addition! I was pretty excited when I saw new next to this topic ;D

Wait, what new creature is it?

Quote from: Lord_Ashenwyte on December 29, 2014, 05:31:02 AM

Quote from: The Skarzs on December 29, 2014, 05:25:15 AM
Many, many thanks, Ashen. I'm glad you like this story, and I hope to continue it's hooking nature as I progress toward the end of it.
And yes: I liked the idea of Brockhall being brought back into the picture as a place of refuge.

Cool, but I can't wait for the next chapter, a likkle preview maybe?  ;)

Okay: There will be both fortunate and unfortunate happenings. ;D In other words: NO SPOILERS. >:D

Quote from: Captain Tammo on January 01, 2015, 05:40:37 PM
Another great addition! I was pretty excited when I saw new next to this topic ;D

Nice to see you liked the chapter, Captain! :)

Quote from: Sagetip, the hare on January 01, 2015, 06:06:20 PM
Wait, what new creature is it?

Um. . . You could read and find out. . . :P

This is very well written, I really like it!  ;D

Well, this is certainly a late response, but. . . Glad you liked it! Now I hope you will like this next, long-overdue and slightly short addition to my fan fiction.

Chapter Fourteen

   Ronhuk stood to the side of the underground room in Brockhall, his wounds from the pike being sewn up as Coalpaw and his leading officers, as well as the Abbot, Sprucetail and Limbjumper, had their discussion.
   Coalpaw put his paw solidly down on the table. "We can't just lead a force upstream to help the Guosim; that's asking to get caught! With all the patrols wandering around, it's a wonder nobeast has been discovered yet."
   "At th' same time, we do need all the help we c'n get, my lord," said Commander Gemal.
   " . . . And you will not leave those poor creatures at the mercy of that terrible wolf!" Abbot Nart folded his arms. "I don't see how you don't see that, Coalpaw."
   The badger sat down, rubbing his eyes. "Nart, you must understand I'm not only trying to plan ahead for future survival, but trying to keep everyone who is already safe safe. I know those shrews won't be able to last much longer, but until I . . . we think of something that won't get anybeast here killed or captured, the wisest decision will be to stay put."
   In the light of the serious predicament, Ronhuk took a moment to think. Two of their most likely allies were help up at opposite ends of the River Moss. From what Gulin had recounted the otters had to deal with a considerably large force, so a frontal large attack might be the only option to aid them. The shrews, however, might prove less of a problem.
   "Friends, I have something to suggest." Everybeast turned to the cougar's voice voice. "I think we might be able to help the . . . Guosim if we use a small force to get them out of the situation they are in. Now, we have no idea exactly where they are exactly, but that is where a small force would be useful. They would move quickly and cover ground, and while the shrews might not have been able to break out of what they are in, I do not think our enemies will be expecting help coming from outside."
   Gemal rubbed his chin. "Was thinking of something quite similar, actually, wot! Decent plan, if we c'n get a good force."
   Ronhuk raised a paw. "I volunteer as part of that force. I may be large, but I can go unnoticed when need be."
   "You shall do nothing of the sort!" Abbot Nart stood up in objection. "You're hardly halfway recovered from your injuries from the battle on the plains, and those bites from the pike aren't fully tended to yet."
   The mouse taking care of the bites poked her head out from behind Ronhuk. "Well, actually they are . . . I just finished, Father Abbot."
   Nart huffed and folded his arms firmly. "Well . . . Regardless! You are going nowhere, master Ronhuk."
   "I shall grow increasingly restless unless I move somewhere, and if I am seen in the woods on the way, it will lead any force away from this place. Please, let me do this."
   "I'm sorry to disagree, Nart, but I'm inclined to go along with the cat." Lord Coalpaw coughed awkwardly. "If he really can go unseen as he said, then he would be useful in helping the Guosim. At least they'd be able to grow more accustomed to him, and know he would be on their side."
   Ronhuk smiled thinly and crossed his arms. He knew it would be dangerous, and he was taking a risk even going out into the forest. Of course, he had been taking risks since as long as he could remember, something his father had always warned him about, and what had helped endear Jvealla to him. But he could not stay cooped up; it wasn't how he could live.
   "Oh, so be it," Abbot Nart said, his disapproval obvious. "If you want to go off despite all my warnings, then I guess that's fine by me." The mouse stalked out of the room.
   Ronhuk started to go after the mouse, but Coalpaw put a paw on his arm, shaking his striped head. "Don't go, my friend. A very old friend of his died when Grungath took Redwall, and it takes much time to heal wounds like that."
   "Yes . . . it does." Ronhuk sighed and turned back to the others. "Well, I guess we should finish deciding who shall go. I know we will get volunteers from the group in Moledeep, but I would like to check if we have anybeast here who would join us." Ronhuk looked around the room.
   Both Limbjumper and Spruceclimber spoke up at once. "I'll go!"
   Spruce turned to the other. "Mate, I'm not sure if both of us should go."
   "You're right," said Limb as he picked up his javelin and stood beside Ronhuk.  "Which is why I'm going, and you're staying, mate."
   "But . . ."
   "Spruce, we've been through a lot together; you should know I'm not changin' my mind. Besides, you always go out on these things, and I know the Guosim better than you." Limbjumper jabbed a claw at Ronhuk. "And I'll keep a better eye on lover-beast here."
   "Don't get your locket ruined if you hop in the river again ol' bean." Commander Gemal beamed, waggling his eyebrows cheekily. "Would be quite a shame, wot?"
   Ronhuk rolled his eyes and sighed inwardly. "Oh for the love of-"
   "Ha! You said 'love'!" The squirrel whacked the cougar's belly with his javelin before turned back to the crestfallen Spruceclimber.
"I'll be back, mate."
   The other nodded slowly. "Alright. Well, you two had better go collect your group. Those shrews aren't saving themselves."

A few hours later found the group picked for aiding the Guosim walking carefully through the peaceful forms of the trees of Mossflower woods. They had crossed the river not long before, Limbjumper insisting that it would have been easier to cross there than most places further upriver.
Rhonhuk looked from side to side over the heads of the other members of the party, knowing it was crucial that they stay hidden, at least until they were far enough away from Brockhall that it would leave very little for trackers to go on. He noticed some big sandstone boulders becoming evident here and there, but he passed it off without much care; his own land was full of diverse rocks and dirts, it was not too outlandish to think the same was of here.
   At the crack of a twig the cougar ducked behind a tree, motioning for the others to do so as well. Pawsteps in the bushes to their left, as well as the spattering of hushed conversation between two enemy patrollers, met the keen ears of the cat.
   "D'you think that ferret, wotshername, Presel, was tellin' th' truth?"
   "Whadya mean?"
   "You know, about that devil from the battle at the plains, the one wot killed Captain Hurra, th' wolverine. I hears he's as tall as the red castle's walls, and carries a sword the size of a tree, and-!"
   The other interrupted the excited vermin. "Hush! We're on patrol, not a drink an' story table. And how c'n you believe such ridiculous stories? I hear he was shorter than Grungath . . . at least by a bit, I dunno, but he's got a sword as tall as he is."
   "Still sounds mighty dangerous, I guess . . ."
   Ronhuk listened after the fading voices, and motioned to the rest that it was safe. Devil? What devil? The cougar shook his head at the strange conversation; such peculiar stories could pop up during war.
   As the group moved after Limbjumper in the direction guessed as to where the Guosim were, Ronhuk watched the young mouse Cavaer. He had caught the cougar's eye, with his energetic personality, quick thinking, and growing list of other attributes, and Ronhuk didn't want those to go to waste. He had been in Moledeep training with the young scout Thaze when Ronhuk had gone to assemble the group, and when he heard of the peril the Guosim were in he had nearly leapt forward to volunteer.
   Of course, Thaze was not going to allow his friend to go off on his own, so the hare volunteered as well, insisting to Ronhuk that a scout such as himself would be useful. Ronhuk smiled. Such friendship was admirable, and the two would become strong companions in seasons to come.
   Limbjumper caught his gaze and Ronhuk moved up to the squirrel. "What is it?"
   Limb pointed. "Keep an eye out on yer right, cat. There's something you might find interesting in a little while."
   Curious as to what the squirrel meant, Ronhuk went back to his previous spot and walked along, checking his right side every so often. When he did see what the squirrel was talking about, he was indeed interested.
   Miles of the perimeter of a curving hole in the ground stretched before him, like a bite taken from the earth by some giant beast or scooped out by a massive paw. Despite the dim shadows cast by the cold sun fingered along the walls. While they were covered in slime, weeds, and dirt, they were an unmistakable pinkish tone, the sandy texture convincing Ronhuk that it was indeed the same sort of stone he had seen earlier. Down at the bottom, many feet below, murky water had collected and was moldering, nowhere to go from such a low point.
   "Pretty amazing, huh, cat?" Limbjumper leaned on his javelin as he too stared out at the open expanse.  "Been here for as long as anybeast can remember, and further back than any written records. Was used as a quarry 'til beasts didn't need it anymore."
   Cavaer, who was lingering nearby and gazing in awe at the pit, noticed something and pointed a claw at it. "Is that a cave?"
   Limb followed the direction. "Aye, that it be. There's plenty more where that came from, lad. This place is pitted with those dark holes."
"Mind if Thaze and I climb down there for a moment?"
"Sure, go right ahead."
Cavaer placed his sword he had borrowed from a hare down on the forest floor (he knew it would have been foolish to bring along Martin's sword), and began clambering down the side of the quarry, Thaze doing the same.
"Jolly big place this quarry, wot? Could fit Redwall in it! Looks like the same sort o' stuff used for the grand ould abbey too."
"Just one thing though . . ." Limb leaned over the edge where the mouse and hare were climbing and whispered loudly. "You wouldn't want to be 'round here at night, though. That's when the adders come out o' those holes and hunt for food."
   The squirrel laughed as Cavaer and Thaze nearly flew back up the slope, Cavaer grabbing his sword and pointing it shaking back where he had come from. Limb, still laughing, patted the mouse's shoulder heartily.
   Thaze glared at him. "Sah! I must insist that you nevah do that to my heart again!"
   "Relax, scout." Ronhuk chuckled. "I am sure he was jesting. Besides, it's not often Limb gets to use his sense of humor anyway."
   The veteran in question huffed, turning sharply and muttering something about them going on as the group moved after him.

"See that? Climbing marks on the side, clear as my old mum's warts."
   The two patrollers Ronhuk's group had passed before hunched at the edge where they had been looking at the quarry. The rat was crouched over the edge while the other, a weasel, held both their spears.
   "Aye, yer right, there, messmate. Lucky thing we came back after you heard that rock fallin', or we mighta never found this, especially after that rain from last night."
   The rat stood up but continued looking at the disturbed earth. "Strange, though . . . Ye'd think we'd've found sumthin' like thise before. They do look like youngbeasts, though . . ."
   The weasel snorted. "Aye, them young 'uns were probably goin' out without permission- didn't cover their tracks. Lord Grungath'll be mighty pleased."
   The rat turned, still looking at the ground. "That, or it was this bigbeast here. Hellsgates, lookit that print in the soft dirt here!"
   "D'you think . . . ?"
   "Doesn't matter; the Deathcaller'll take care of 'im. Let's get outa here!" The two immediately began jogging back to Redwall.

I was wondering when you'd get around to this again!

So was I. :P

Finally got around to reading this. Honestly, the first few chapters took a little effort to forge through, but your writing has really shaped up since those early entries. This has been very enjoyable, great work!

I'm glad you found it enjoyable.

I would like to know, though: What made the first chapters hard to read? I'd like to know for future writing so I can improve even more.

As others pointed out, the pace was pretty quick at first. Also, the characters all seemed the same, and they had very little development or interaction. In other words, it felt like the plot was being forced forward by characters I didn't know well enough to care about. Later chapters do a much better job in those aspects; the pace has been relaxed and we're starting to get to know the characters and grow attached to them as a result without having the story slow down. The scene in the quarry with Cavaer and Thaze is a good example of what I mean: their antics not only let us get to know the group better, but also further the story by alerting the patrol to their whereabouts. That packed more punch than if the patrol had just found a stray track or if the quarry escapade had accomplished nothing more than character development.

Smaller details like this also help:

Quote from: Ronhuk"I know those shrews won't be able to last much longer, but until I . . . we think of something that won't get anybeast here killed or captured, the wisest decision will be to stay put."

For some reason, his hesitation and switch from "I" to "we" made Ronhuk seem that much more real and likable. Another small-yet-significant addition is the explanations behind Grungath's minor decisions (such as when he let his servants eat his leftovers to foster loyalty); it shows that he never takes his mind off of what he wants, and every one of his actions is single-mindedly calculated to achieve it. That, more so than the early descriptions of his appearance and strength, make him feel like a worthy main villain.

In short, the early chapters felt too fast paced and the characters were dull, but the later chapters are much better.

  Yes, I realized that after I had posted those chapters. . . (Mea culpa, mea culpa.) The first chapter was one of the first things I had ever posted on the forum here, so I was trying to get somewhere with this place and get this idea I had in my head on paper, erm, screen.
  I was learning through experience about character development and whatnot, so that's where the chapters started to improve, but Ronhuk was beginning to get a little Mary-Sueish, so I have been working on that. Unfortunately I cannot change what has been written, so one must deal with the Sue-ish cougar for the first chapters, as well as me trying to get to the "next thing" too quickly to worry about character development.
  I must say that I like Grungath; I don't really want to explain why (as some things will be revealed in later chapters), but I'm trying to make him far different than other villains in the story (like with letting his servants have his food), making him a more forbidding enemy.

  Thank you for your review/thing, as I will definitely keep those issues of the earlier chapters in mind, and I hope the later chapters will keep your attention. :)

Any news on finishing this story, Skarzs?

I'm half tempted to end the continuation. . . There are so many problems with the story, the characters, the plot, that I'm not sure if I want to finish it because of those. . . severe imperfections. However, I want this idea to be finished, so I'm struggling in my mind on whether I will finish it, and I'm also struggling with having to decide on whether I will finish this or my actual book.

You could always rewrite it.

I haven't read the story in a good while, but from what I remember, it's quite good.