Redwall Abbey

It had been many years since that fateful day, the Sundering of Salamandastron. Many hares have fallen since then, and many hares have filled their places, so that, as it is with all things in life, only a few are remembered to this day. This tale begins in the north of Mossflower wood. A band of nomad hares are trying to settle down and build a home.

An ancient hare by the name of Gerald Willowworth was dozing in the afternoon sun. You could tell by his face that he had been through many years, and was well-learned in all of them. A mockingbird sang in the forest and the hare sat up blinking and said to himself, "Dear me! I wonder how long have I been sleeping? There are things to do while the sun dances around the earth! Save the sleeping for the moonlit hours you old fool!" As soon as he said the words he chuckled, as he always did when he was trying to be poetic. Then he rose and went off to the center of the encampment, which was several larger tents that housed the officers and their families. "Where have you been all this time?" called a younger hare. "The gatherers are back and the feast is nearly ready!" "I have been where young rascals like you can't bother me!" said Gerald laughing. "But where is the Colonel?" Then the younger hare's face grew more sullen. "He is where he usually is this time of day, walking around the woods by himself. But he'll be back in time for the feast." Gerald nodded and sat down by the fire, deep in thought. Until several leverets gathered round him, begging for a story. He laughed and began telling them stories of years gone by.

  A young hare, Brooke Featherpaw, sat apart from the leverlets, only half listening to what Gerald said. She was sharpening her spear, which did not need to be sharpened as it had never been used much, but she did it anyway. She always imagined herself to be the kind that would sit as an old one, telling the tales of adventures gone by. Her eyes flicked upwards towards the storyteller, and a smile spread itself across her face. One of these days, she'll have seen adventures like his. Even bigger, better, more dangerous one. She turned her attention towards the camp, looking for something she could help out with.

The rise of the sun found Sarlamon Bluehorn sitting in her tent, eavesdropping on one of the old hares, telling a story of his younger years and all his adventures. How she hated her name, she forced all of her friends to call her Sal, though she did not have many. Her attitude and manner made her very hard to be around. Many of the other hares said she took after her father who was a warrior in this small tribe. Sal got up and walked out of her tent to listen more clearly to the elder's stories.   

OOC: Sorry for keeping us waiting - I didn't even realize you had started.  :D

BIC:

Sham Fleetfoot was doing his best to look "cool," as many young hares did at that age. As the ancient Gerald weaved a raucous tale, Sham sat nearby, hoping to look as though he too had experienced similar adventures. He ruffled the fur on top of his head and laughed along at a story involving Gerald bartering his way out of a tight fix by offering to bake three sea rats a blueberry pie. As the stories continued, he mindlessly caressed the hilt of his sword. It had yet to see any real action. Perhaps the opportunity would soon present itself.

Major Fallop Bladedancer Bushtail Ratdeath Costloff finally left his tent, having snuck away before Gerald could begin droning on. The Major shrugged his belt over his regimental tunic, before shoving a heavy saber and parrying dagger through it. Straightening his tunic, the hare ducked back into the afternoon sunlight, walking over to the main group. Celebration was not the Major's strong suit, considering he was the second-in-command of a band of hares, mostly young, with no safe place left to go. Still, Fallop was a hare, and the promise of a feast was enough to tear him away from his solitude. The Major walked over to where several hares were cooking, drawn by the wondrous smell.
"I say, cooky ole chap. Are these vittles up ta bloomin' scratch?"
"Yes, sah!"
"Well, doncha think yer offisah oughta be the one ta bloomin' well taste test 'em?"
"No, sah!"
All the Major could say was "Wot."
"Don't get me wrong, Major. There's no inso-bally-bordination in the ranks or anythin', eh wot? But you're the Major! Wot if there IS somethin' wrong with the vittles? I wouldn't want ye ta get 'urt, sah!"
Fallop's ears stood up with indignation.
"Well, that would mean ya did a bad job, cooky. Bad form, cooky. Bad form!"
The Major strode off in disgust, wishing that the food would hurry up and cook itself faster.


Meanwhile, deep in the woods, a runty weasel stumbled through the brush. This was Midgo, outcast of the Flitchaye. Midgo rubbed at the plant dyes smeared on his fur, trying to remove any reminders of his past. Mebbe, the weasel thought, I could become leader o' me own band a vermin. Size don't matter, me mudda used ta say...Well, afore I killed 'er that is. They'll all fear me, they will. Cause I'll be small an' fast an' I'll slit their throats if they disobeys me!

Sham noticed Major Costloff sneak away. He followed at a distance, wondering what he was up to. He listened carefully to his entertaining conversation with the cook, and an idea quickly formed in his mind.

Sham was always looking to prove himself. The lack of enemies made it difficult to do so, but this opportunity was perfect. He could show his nerve and perhaps make friends with a high ranking officer. Not many of the other young hares had that kind of connection - perhaps Sham could stand apart that way.

As the cook rambled on about "Inso-bally-bordination," Sham snuck several scones and a salad from behind him, and darted nimbly away.

As the major walked away, Sham jogged up level with him.

"Wot - ho Major Costloff old chap! Thought you were bally well right about offisah's deserving a chance at beein' the first to try the vittles. I nicked some while you were kindly distracting the bloomin' cook chap - wot!"

He cast a furtive glance over his shoulder.

"Fancy a tad? Just don't tell anybeast! That cooky's wooden spoon looks downright dangerous, sah!"

Colonel Harold Springpaw was out walking, as he always did at this time of the afternoon. He enjoyed being alone with his thoughts and listening to the bird songs. He had been walking for about an hour, and could see the camp ahead of him. He heard Gerald telling a yarn of times long past, he smiled a little, "Could it be that it was only a few years ago?" He glanced around the kitchens and saw that everything was ready. "Haven't burnt anything this time I hope." He chuckled at the cook's expression and walked over to the table, motioning to Gerald that things were ready.

"Well now all you young leverets and inexperienced buffoons!" Gerald shouted in a voice that was unexpectedly loud for one of his age. "This is the time I am sure you've all been waiting for! Especially you I guess Major! As soon as the food arrives we shall begin the most important time of any day!" As he finished speaking the banquet approached on the shoulders of various cooks attempting to shoo the hares that were prancing about them away. Then all was silent as the hares tore apart the meal with their usual gusto!

OOC: @Groddil - looks like the meal has already begun. Don't mind my last post.  :D

Sal sat and listened to the elder for the morning until she heard the young Gerald calling everyone up to feast.

Sal ran up to the tables and at down next to a young hare whom she thought was Brooke Featherpaw. She only knew her from slight interactions, but that was better than most people.

OOC: @Rosie Willowwater  Gerald is the elder. :)

OOC: Oh... :P Well then

Sham had tactfully chosen a seat at the banquet across from the two young haremaids - Brooke and Sal. Grinning cheerily, he plowed through his meal, hoping to look like a champion food-eater.

He inquired neither of them in particular over a delicious pasty -

"Hear anything about the jolly old vermin in these parts? Major said there were a few of the blighters flippin hanging about, wot!"

His expression became serious - "I hope I get a bally chance to fight one of 'em. Just to show I'm ready to be a part of the patrol. Always wanted to be in the Patrol, wot? Same for you chaps?"

The Major, usually a distinguished and cultured creature, abandoned his stout outer resolve once the food arrived. Pilling his plate high with salad, pastries, and trifle, and balancing a bowl of soup in his other paw, the aging hare finally reached the large rock where he had decided to eat in peace. Setting the food down, the hare scrabbled up to the top, before reaching down and hauling his dishes up to the top with him. Finally undisturbed, Fallop launched into what he would chide many of the younger hares for: scarfing down food like he'd just came out of a famine. In minutes, The Major had already demolished the salad, and tossed the last piece of soup-dipped pasty into his mouth. Fallop's ears shot up straight, as he began complimenting the food. Talk; however, was quickly forgotten in favor of a second helping.

Sal started and looked up when she heard Sham talking to her. "You should already know that I've been working towards patrol for years. If you know any way to get into there then I'm coming with you."

Sham's eyes lit up and went dreamy, and he pushed away the remains of his pasty - food forgotten, as his deepest ambition took over.

"Ahhh, the ol'  patrol. Fame, glory and friendship. Courage, fortitude and valor, wot!? The most elite group of fighters in the land, a blinkin' honor just to be associated with the blighters. Mark my words, Sal, I'll be a patroller one day, and it'd be corkin' if you and Brooke got in to!"

"Well I don't know about Brooke, but I'll sure get in." Sal said, picking at Sham's pasty, then leaned in closer.  "Do you know any way to get in easy like?

       Brussel had risen early that morning, only moments ago returning to the encampment. He had plopped himself down next to Sham and consumed his soup in relative peace. However, the conversation going on to his left sounded rather amusing, and he interjected, "I wouldn't count on any vermin within about 2 miles a' here, this 'ere red spot on my hand is probably the only thing left of the last one close by. Jesse an' myself made sure of that this morning." He couldn't hide his wry smile as he finished, batting Sham's long ears good naturedly, "Don't you worry though, they'll be back 'afore you can say 'Goodness! Me pastie's been stolen wot!'"

Sham shook his head at Sal - "T'aint no easy way into the patrol, miss. Gotta prove ya blood 'n vinegar, wot?"

Then a squirrel with bright yellow eyes and fur like an oak tree on his right joined in.

After listening to what he had to say, Sham quickly checked his pasty, to ensure it was not, indeed stolen.

He adopted a look of mock horror, grabbing his ears: "What sort of a bally creature would box a chap's ears and make grabs for his pasty? You must be a 'orrible creature indeed. Name's Sham, what's yours?"

He couldn't hide a slight tone of longing and admiration at what Brussel has said: "So you've actually done battle hand to hand with the blighters, wot? Only wish you'd taken me with ya. I'd give half my left ear for a chance at one of the bloomin' scallywag types."

OOC: What does the hares' camp look like?

OOC: Tents, lots of them, around little fires, then there's a clearing in the center with a larger fire, and that's where the banquet is being held.

       Brussel eye-balled Sham manically, adopting the Hare's dramatic response, "I'm the worst of the worst, why'd you think the officers let me in eh? 'Tis death on the wind and all that bally nonsense," the squirrel startled himself for a moment, "Good heavens, I'm starting to talk like all of you!" He shrugged with a chuckle, turning back to the hare before answering his question, "My names Brussel, though there are a few who've taken to just callin' me Bruss..... I wouldn't necessarily call it hand to hand, more like foot to face, but you're pretty close. Those last two weren't much to speak of though, the splotch on my paw was from a varmint that only had three notches, pretty low marks for a vermin 'is age. Word of advice though lad, appreciate the peace while you got it. It ain't gonna last forever."

Sham shook his head.

"Peace, shmeesh. Give me a bally battlefield, and a heroic death any day of the week, wot?"

Seeing skeptical looks, he elaborated: "Besides, living out in the wilderness is dreadful boring - like. Most exciting thing ta do is sentry duty, and they won't even let me do that. 'Sides, ain't nobeast other than us silly enough to be out here. And every day in and out it's the same news: 'be quiet Sham.' 'There may be vermin, be good and don't wander Sham.'"

"How's a creature to explore and learn if he has to spend every blinkin' second on lockdown, wot?"

Before waiting for an answer, he lowered his face, slightly embarrassed. "Sorry sah, I know we're all out here for the best. Just wish I could be a proper warrior like all the other hares back at the bally mountain."

Sal smiled and patted Sham on the back. "Its a fine thing to crave adventure. And something bad is bound to happen someday". Sal picked up Sham's pasty and walked back to her tent. "I'll be watching for it" she called back.

Brooke finally spoke up. "If anyone's gettin' in the jolly ole patrol, it'll be me. I'm fast and I've been training a lot lately, wot. So if there are those stinky-tailed frogwallopers around here, I'll be the one to get to 'em first and get in the patrol as a galloper or a scout, wot wot." She quickly devoured an apple and blackberry muffin before speaking up again through a full mouth, spraying crumbs everywhere. "I'd sooner die than not be in th' jolly patrol, wot. I say, this muffin is top hole. Are you going to finish that cheese?" she asked as she piled a salad onto her plate.

Sham shook his head in amazement, pushing his cheese towards her.

"Nah, all yours Brooke."

"A galloper? After eatin' all that? I'm in for the same shabang, doncha know! Now that you mention it though... " He reached for his pasty, and then realized it was gone.

"Bloomin' backstabbers and mutineers! Somebody's nicked me pasty! 'Oy, Brussel did you spot the confounded blighter?"

As Sham asked Brussel a question, Brooke seized the opportunity to grab another pasty. She ate it in two bites before getting to work on the cheese. "Hmm, what a jolly mystery. I say, did you see Sal walk away with one, wot wot? Maybe it was two... or three," she said as she eyed his food.

Sal trudged into her tent and flopped down onto her bed, cramming the last bit of Sham's pasty down her throat. She sat there for a while listening to the distant chatter of the banquet eaters while she continued whittling a flute she had been working on for a while, testing it out every once in a while.

Sham had stood up, surveying the area.

"Not a trace of the confounded blighter, wot? I alus thought Sal had a keen eye for my poor delicious pasty. Luckily, I've set aside a few pasties just in case someone tried to- Oy! Somebeasts' nicked me other pasties!"

He glared around at the laughing faces around him.

"Conspirators! Murderers and thieves! This place is full of bloomin' devils in disguises!"

Luckily the cook was passing by, and passed him another pasty.

Sham hunched over it protectively - "Ain't no bloomin' blighters gettin' near this 'un, I'm makin' jolly well sure of it, wot!?"

       Brussel was hard put not to giggle when he spotted Sham's pasty being whisked away by Sal. When the victim of the theft finally realized what had happened he lost control, immediately falling into a fit of laughter at Sham's plight. After taking a moment to settle down, the squirrel seized the opportunity to interject again, "I can't say I've had had the same longing as the rest of you, seeing as I grew up as a contented farmer... This life chose me in a way, and it's certainly exciting, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss my family and friends, or said that I had no concerns for the 'morrow." His jovial demeanor had simmered down, replaced with a more sober manner, "The first time you witness the bloodshed of a real battlefield, the first time you realize that some of it's yours, the first time you drive the killing blow, after all of that you'll quickly realize that each morning you wake is a little short of a miracle. You're guaranteed nothing good from war, but we fight none the less. I fight because vermin hurt those close to me, and I don't want to see that happen to other beasts." He peered at Sham out of the corner of his eye, "What is your reason for seeking the patrol? what separates you from the vermin who kill for joy or to steal?" He didn't wait for an answer before shifting to Brooke, "And you miss, might I ask how you prepare for something you have yet to experience? Speed is good, but you will need to learn more than that if you wish so strongly to be a patroller." levity returned as he let out a quiet chuckle, "I'm neither trying to scare or dissuade you, I've worked and fought with Hares long enough to know you'll go on with your plans even if they kill you. Fight with courage and boldness, but also honor and respect, your history was forged in blood, and your future will be as well. It's the younger hares, like yourselves, looking to be warriors that hold both the responsibility and privilege of deciding just what the great Long Patrol will be to those who follow in your footsteps." Brussel paused for a moment after this, almost returning to eating, before realizing something that made him groan, "Goodness me, I sound like one of those old fogy's don't I?"

Harold had let the others enjoy the feast for a while, but he did have a reason for everyone gathering together. He then stood up and addressed the group, "Now I know that we all have had a rather rough go of it before this time of relative peace. But our fortunes will change soon, tomorrow we are going to begin working on a large fortress in this clearing. We will send some hares to Redwall to see if we can have the use of their sandstone quarry. I don't know of any reason why they should deny us the use of it, but we should still ask. The rest of us will begin hewing trees to make space and gather supplies for the rest of the fortress. Everybeast should start getting ready tonight. We'll have many days of hard work ahead." Then he sat down to listen what the other hares had to say on the subject.

Sham, who did not like snakes, had one particular thing to say on the matter:

"Er, sir. I've heard tell that there were h'adders infesting the sandstone quarry! Is that true? Are we goin' to fight the adders, sir?"

OOC: In the books, adders do indeed infest the stone quarry, just checkin' if we're going to involve them or not.

OOC: Probably not, we might add one or two though.

In the general silence that followed, Sham once again piped up, having heard wonderful stories of the food and deserts that were served at Redwall Abbey.

"Well, if there's no snakes, then I'd volunteer to be part of the party that goes to jolly old Redwall, wot?! Top hole vittles and friendly beasts all about - Count me in!"

Although Sham did not mention it, he was also secretly hoping the time away from the desolate wilderness would give him his chance to fight the vermin scum

Brooke's face lit up. "R.... Redwall, sah? The very place of feasts an' food of legend? I'd jolly well fight all the snakes in the land to go there, wot wot!" She stuffed almost an entire slice of bread into her mouth, then finished off her drink in one gulp. "I'll get ready this very second!.. Right after I've finished eating!"

OOC: Del, do you need some characters to stay behind? I can make a second character.

Major Fallop, having vacated his rock after the orders were starting to be dished out, now stepped forward.
"How many of us will be goin', sah, an' led by who? D'ye need anybeast ta stay be'ind, wot?"

OOC: Or...I could make a third... (http://soopergrape.com/green/gwink.gif)

OOC: Sorry for not being very active of late, and yes we do need some characters to stay behind.

BIC: "No more than two scores should go, and I had hoped that you would lead them Major!" said Harold quickly, trying to get in a sentence or two before the other hares interrupted, falling over each other and themselves trying to volunteer.

Sham was already packing his bag.

"Right ho, major. Lets bally well get a move on then! You won't find Sham waitin' around when there's Redwall vittles to be had! Best scoff in all the land! What ho! Last 'un there is a rotten egg, wot!"

Fallop stared down at Sham.
"Lust 'un there is a rotten egg? If'n ye break march, ye'll be eatin' th' first rotten egg I finds. Pack yer bags, get some rations an' form up inta ranks by th' big rock, wot wot? First 'uns to actually be ready'll be goin' wid me."
The major withdrew to his tent to start packing.

       Brussel rolled his eyes with a chuckle, "I ain't even been around much longer than these greeny's yet I'm still surprised by such zeal, goodness me." He had no intention of joining the party, Redwall fare was certainly a tempting offer, but he'd experienced it on occasion before and figured it'd be best to let newer recruits go on the trip. Aside from that, their current encampment gave him the willies. Whatever it was, the squirrel was unsure of, but his gut told him something was wrong, and his conscience made him stay put. He chuckled inwardly before bidding his most recent acquaintance farewell, "I'll see you by the by Sham! And whatever you do, don't kiss any of those snakes in the quarry, no matter 'ow pretty she looks!" With a smile plastered on his rugged face, he waved to any and all departing Hares, hoping to high heaven that they would all return safely.   

Sham, horrified by the idea of kissing a snake, shouted back cheerfully:

"No fear of that Brussel ol' treeskipper! No snake alive bally good enough for me to kiss, doncha know! I hope I see you again soon old chap! And I hope I'm not carrying any scones when I do see you again, bloomin' pasty - swipers!"

As the group began marching into the woods he addressed the major, not at all disheartened:

"We're in the middle of the forest Fallop, sir! If you find a rotten egg out here, I'll be very impressed. Unless that squirrel back there's cooking. Chap could burn a salad, wot?!

Zurakh watched the group of hares travelling from the forest, eyes burning with hatred. He looked back at the group of five beasts behind him, armed with bows. He nodded, and nocked his bow. He aimed at a hare, and waited for his troop to get ready. He loosed his bow, and his followers fired as well.
                                  His followers then drew their blades and started retreating to their camp, while Zurakh drew his axe.

Brooke had packed up as fast as she could, kissing her grandfather on the cheek and saying goodbye before she left. Now, she was marching through the forest with the others, bursting with excitement. This was it. This was her chance to be a true Long Patrol galloper. She proudly marched with them, thinking of what she would do when she saw a vermin. Use her spear the way she had been taught, of course. She'd earn more metals than she could carry, everybody would look up to her and see her as their hero! It was by chance that she glanced to the side and saw a group of vermin, bows ready to be fired.

  "Get down!" she cried, throwing herself to the ground. An arrow grazed by her arm, and she watched as the vermin started running off into the forest. Terrified, Brooke looked around at the others to see if they were ok.

Sal lay on her bed for a while before hearing a bit of a commotion outside. She sat up and leaned her ear close to the 'wall' of the tent. When she heard some of the hares talk about adventuring to the fabled Redwall with all its food and festivities, she got all sorts of exited and jumped towards her travelling satchel she had been longing to use for years. She had just picked it up and was about to examine its contents to see if they were all intact but she stopped herself. 'If I stay home, I'm sure to be praised and rewarded over the others when the inevitable evil shows up and I come in and defeat it' even though she knew there was only a very slight chance that that would happen, she still found the idea of having to trek all the way to Redwall just to sit around and be all peaceful and the like not much better. So she sprang back up and walked out of the tent to see what the feast had left, and to scarf down some food before the cooks took it away.

       Brussel had heard Sham's snarky comment despite having already turned his back to be about his business. He turned around with the full intent of informing the upstart of his culinary skills, especially when it came to boiling the noises of young whippersnappers. However, his ears picked up a sound that haunted his memory, the snappy twang of home-made vermin bows. Without hesitation, he grabbed the two Hares nearest him and yanked them down with himself as he shouted, "HIT THE DIRT!" He was on his feet as soon as he figured out who the targets were, and where the shots were fired from. Thankfully, the forest fringe wasn't far away from his present location, and he was in the trees in a blink. A few moments later, he gained vision of the perpetrators down below, few in number, and seemingly making their getaway. He awaited the arrival of the hares, keeping even with them well above, and being careful not to notify them of his presence.

OOC: Wasn't Zurakh getting changed? His character sheet still says "Vermin Warlord." ???

BIC:

Fallop hit the ground as soon as he heard Brooke's shout. The Major had already unsheathed his saber by the time several other hares joined him, regrouping in the trees, and pulling out their own ranged weaponry.
"Find those bally vermin, wot. Sight 'em, an' stick a few arrers atwixt their shoulder blades."

"No need for that, Major." Zurakh said as he stepped out of the forest, the smell of rotting flesh accompanying him. He hefted his axe, and said "Come at me, you traitor scum! I'll finish what Ironlimb started!"   

       

OOC: @Groddil, yes he is changed. I think he dies in this encounter, or he is double-crossed by your character and killed. Anyway, he won't be alive for long. ;D

OOC: Just realized Zurakh is a badger! Good luck Major!  :o

Sham, being well of age, well of hearing and well of instinct immediately dove to the dirt. He was already after the villains before the last arrow landed. He winced at the sounds behind him - at least one or two hares must have been hit. He'd make them pay for it though - it was time to prove himself at last. A real vermin to deal with. A victory here could be enough to land him at least a starting position in the long patrol. This was his chance!

He entered a small clearing just before Fallop, when suddenly a giant badger stepped out from behind the tree. Sham's blood ran cold, and he stepped back weakly, leaning against a tree for support. He knew this was no fight for him, but he was ready to fight. Perhaps with Major Fallop beside him they would stand a chance.

One of the vermin that had fired the bows stepped out as well, shouldering his bow, and drawing a rusty axe. Sham drew his father's old sword. This was an opponent he could fight, despite his own inexperience.

"I'll get that'n, Fallop old chap. I'll help you out with that big'n as soon as I can, wot. If we both die here, it jolly well has been an honor, wot?." The young hare swallowed nervously and tensed his arms, awaiting his foe.

OOC: I power-played a little with one of your vermin gang, Ashwenwyte . Hopefully that's ok - I wanted Sham to fight something, anyway. Let me know if you want me to change anything. Also, do you want to control the vermin's movements / life / death, or can I?

@Lord Ashenwyte

Fallop's ears stood on end.
"That's Major to you, Sham. Err, any chap wid a bow, shoot that bally badger, wot!"
The Major stepped over to the vermin that Sham was engaged with, and kicked him in the back. While the enemy was stunned, he slipped the bow from the vermin's shoulder and pulled an arrow from the quiver.
"This'n's all your's young 'un!"
Fallop pulled back the arrow and let it loose towards Zurakh. Two other hares, also armed with bows, let their projectiles fly.

OOC: Same, except with more PP-ing.

Sham, heart racing, approached his opponent. The villain had quickly regained his wits and balance after the Major's move, and now approached recklessly. The axe sliced through the air in a vicious arc as the vermin brought the two handed blow down from above his head.

Sham did not meet the blow - his sword could never have withstood it. Instead he took a step to the side, allowing it to sing harmlessly by. He whipped his sword backhanded after the weasel, as he stumbled forward - surprised to meet no resistance. The creature wailed as the blow sliced into his backside, chopping off his tail.

Now the two circles one another, neither willing to make such a bold move again. The weasel, short his tail, took full advantage of the power and weight of his axe. Great sweeping blows were combined with well timed back steps. Sham was unable to counter the blows, for any one of them could have shattered his father's old sword. He swayed in place - leaning back and down and occasionally stepping back entirely. His nimble movements saved him from the deadly axe. His attacks were short and precise - darting in and retreating quickly. He was fencing, just as he had practiced. Except this time his opponent was not imaginary and was also armed with a giant deadly weapon.

Sham's attacks began to hit home. Soon the weasel was bleeding in a dozen places. Sham had not been hit, but he knew even one hit would be enough to chop off an essential limb.

Finally he saw his chance. The weasel tried to chop him in half with a terrifying sweep at his midsection. Instead of stepping back as he had before, Sham ducked and stepped forward - using his free hand to hold down his ears, lest they be chopped off. The blow felt so close it may well have trimmed the hairs on the young hare's head.

Before the shocked weasel could react, Sham stepped to full height while simultaneously stabbing the sword upwards, at the lower belly.

The two creatures stood eye to eye, as the axe whirled away into the greenery. The weasel's mouth opened, and he gurgled oddly - clutching the sword that had run him through.

The light of battle left Sham's eyes, and he stepped back, disgusted, yanking his sword out of the hapless creature. Ignoring the battle just behind him with the belligerent badger, he fell to his knees in front of the slain enemy.

OOC: Ashe, I believe we are waiting for your counter! ;D

OOC: @Lord Ashenwyte, please post!

OOC: Sorry, was quite busy with starting a new grade and all that. :(

@Delthion I didn't say anything about Zurakh dying soon, or at all.

BIC:

Zurakh looked at the three arrows stuck in his leather armour, and laughed! With a might war cry he charged forward as one of the bowbeasts, who was surprised by the ferocious assault. He raised his axe high, and clove one of the hares into two, roaring thunderous oaths as he did so.
                      He then noticed that Sham had felled one of his warriors. "You have bested one of my warriors, hare! Count your days, for they shall be few!"  He said, and walked to where Sham lay kneeling.

OOC: Not a problem! I haven't started school yet so I might have forgotten all about that. ;D

Sham's shock in the act of killing another creature was lost by the small problem that a giant angry badger was approaching him.

He stood, still shaking slightly, and backed off slowly - holding his sword forward as though the old blade would somehow stop the beast's advance. He blinked moisture from his eyes, at the brutal killing of a fellow hare.

"Bloomin' disgrace and dishonor, sah! A flippin' badger killin' hares he ought to be taking care of! Fight someone your own bally size, wot! Your warrior was a cowardly murderer like ya'self, hope you go to bally join him sometime soon, wot! Eulaliaaaaa!!!!!!"

Sham advanced - swinging his sword ferociously. He knew the attack would do little more than slow the badger, but perhaps the cry would draw more fighters. He stood poised to jump in any direction to evade the axe blow that he knew would soon be coming.

OOC: Hey Ash, just pointing out that your character description never mentions armor (or any clothing for that matter), do you mind giving us details so we know what we're fighting here? BIC:

       Brussel saw the badger turn, but his band had drifted a little farther back, better opportunities did not exist. The squirrel dropped levels quickly, using a low hanging branch to change the direction of his momentum, catapulting straight into one of the vermin. Both of his feet made contact with the unfortunate beast who was thrust by them into the tree he and his cohort had stopped by. The vermin's chest cavity was completely caved in, a sentence to certain death finalized by a left backhanded, spinning fist-whip to the side of the head. The squirrel did not stop the spin though, as his right hand reached forward to pin the incoming spear thrust to the same spot the first vermin had been a mere moment ago. Brussel's left foot came up behind him and connected with the jaw of the second foe who lost control of the spear as he was spun around by the force of the blow. Brussel didn't give him time to recover, continuing the same motion he had started with the first, he brought the spear in his right hand all the way around, grabbing it with both hands, and thrust it with all of its momentum straight up the middle of the second vermin's chest. The poor beast fell backwards, and felt the grip of the squirrel's paws on his shoulders for a brief moment as those paws were used to slam him to the ground, sending the spear all the way through the vermin's chest. Brussel propelled himself off the stomach of his foe, shoving the just re-attained spear straight into the other's face, using the leverage to finish the leap over the corpse. As his feet reconnected with the forest floor, he yanked the spear out, having just heard Sham's cry after the debacle by the badger. He hurled the spear towards the hulking vermin leader in the same motion as the yank, refusing to lose any of the force, shouting as he did so, "Hey fatty! Catch this!" His back foot came off the ground after the throw, which he promptly stomped onto the handle of the first fallen vermin's axe. After catching it by the loop off the handle, he whipped it into a violent spin and flung it sideways at the badger's torso, followed up quickly by two knives aimed for the eyes.

OOC: How is this battle going to end, anyway? Because I don't really understand what Zurakh is actually going to do after this, as he can't be the vermin warlord (which is what he seems to be, now anyway).

BIC:

Fallop took advantage of the fact that four projectiles were hurtling towards Zurakh, lashing at the badger's leg with his sabre.

@Lord Ashenwyte: Hey buddy there are at least 3 of us waitin' on you man.

OOC: Sorry, gotta go to bed. I'll post tomorrow.

Zurakh was irritated with the puny creatures attempting to take him down. He lashed out with his axe, killing three hares. He roared in rage as he was hit by three arrows, and watched another thud into the ground in front of him. He looked down and saw a hare slashing at his heel, then he felt the burn, he kicked at the hare, sending him into a nearby tree.

OOC: Sorry for the PPing.

OOC: Ouch.

BIC:

Fallop slammed into the trunk of a large oak, becoming wedged in where the tree split. He noticed a vermin coming towards him and lashed out with a footpaw, hooking it around the vermin's neck and dragging him closer. With his un-pinned paw, the Major took out his sling and wrapped it around the neck of the struggling vermin, who had been disarmed by his footpaw. The hare wound the sling around a thick branch and kicked the vermin outwards, holding him as far back as possible, until eventually, he slumped to the ground, suffocated. With a sigh of relief, Fallop began trying to free himself from the tree.

OOC: How many hares are left?

Zurakh walked up to Fallop, and said.
                                                                                                                                                                      "So much for the famed Long Patrol, eh? Tell your traitorous masters that retribution comes for them! Eulalaliaaaa!" With that, he signalled the surviving members of his band to retreat, and as they did, he took the corpse of a hare from the ground and said "I must thank you for the new cloak, Major!", and retreated to the forest with his band, too fast to be caught.
               

OOC: Ashe, this Zurakh cannot be a major threat later on. That role was given to Groddil, so please just remember that. Most of the hares are left, only a few were killed, or even wounded, the vermin were the losers in this engagement.

Sham had been knocked to the side by the massive creature. He glanced down at his father's sword. The old blade was still in one piece, beyond all expectation. He shrugged and wiped it on the overgrowth. The initial shock of his first kill was wearing off and he was more of himself again.

"I say, chaps. Best give our's a proper burial. Leave the vermin scum to rot." He kicked a fallen spear into the bushes - "Battle is bloomin' awful. Not at all like I imagined. Only the bally thought of that wicked creature terrorizin' farmers and families'll put me into another one, wot?"

       Brussel materialized right behind Sham and patted him reassuringly on the shoulder, "Are you starting to understand what I meant now Sham? The reasons we fight are not reasons that we should take any joy in, war is unmerciful, brutal, uncompromising... Nice job though, not too shabby for a first fight." He retracted his hand and made his way towards Fallop, "Sir, might I suggest sending Jesse after the vermin? The badger's big, but not invincible... and we've worked on a couple things for dealing with monsters like that. She should be back from the mop-up this morning shortly, and the scent those vermin are leaving is quite easy to follow. I wager she could have their leader dead by sunset."

The day which had started, it seemed just an hour ago, was now dwindling, the hares would have to stop for the night and wait for the next dawn to come before they would arrive at Redwall.

Fallop continued to trudge along with the other hares, when Brussel appeared. He listened to what he had to say, then shook his head.
"No. I don't want anybeast else dyin' t'day. We're close enough ta th' original camp that a quick messenger back should handle it."
He beckoned a small hare to him.
"Run to camp, fast as you can. Tell them to keep a lookout for that... monster."


As the sun began to settle on the horizon, the Major called a halt. He dumped his pack in a clearing and signaled to the others to do the same.
"Okay, hares. Set up camp 'ere, we'll march th' last stretch fer th' h'Abbey on th' morrow."

Sham nodded, and set about his tent.

Perhaps the major would allow them to make a fire. Some warm food in his empty belly sounded enormously helpful at the moment.

He shivered momentarily as he looked around the camp. They had practiced setting up camp many times - and the setup was always the same. For the first time, it no longer was. Four tents were missing in the formation, their owners gone and dead in the day's havoc. He thanked his lucky stars that he was still around to set up his.

Now he sat on a boulder with a sharpening stone and his father's sword. Sparks and scratching could be seen and heard as he sharpened the blade. It seemed to glow - excited by the slaying of an enemy. With every stroke Sham strengthened his resolve. One stroke for each hare that had fallen. One stroke for each foebeast who's fall had not yet come, but was coming swiftly...

   The sun finally set on the hares camp, most of the hardened veterans were already sleeping, and most of the leverets cried themselves to sleep that night.

   As the sun rose, the hares were already taking down their camp, they would reach Redwall late this afternoon, but who knew what other dangers were to be met along the way?

Fallop, letting out a yawn, watched the hares pulling down their camp.
"Okay, me buckoes, hurry it up now. Those who've finished 'elp pull down th' rest o' th' tents. We start marchin' afore the sun's made it 'alfway ta noon."


Meanwhile, much closer to the hare's original camp than would have been a good idea, Midgo the weasel shoved his way through the brush.
"Looks like creatures 'ave been this way. I'll find 'em, take 'em over. Then comes th' murder an' th' fun..."
He peeked around a tree, looking at what remained of Zurakh's force.
"Perfect..."
The weasel clambered up into the tree like a squirrel, watching. Waiting.

OOC: @danflorreguba, @Lord Ashenwyte, @Rosie Willowwater, @Fatch of Southsward. I need you guys to post! You're very close to Redwall now.

OOC: I can't  ;D

Sham, still light of breath despite being far enough along that a few of the bulkier hares were gasping heavily, let out a whoop when he saw it.

A clearing in the woods lay up ahead. The woods thinned and a winding path led to the gates. An oddly familiar ditch that had once housed Cluny's tunnel lay on their right. Up ahead, reaching into the sky were the towering walls and towers of Redwall Abbey. The solid gates were closed, yet no one seemed to be guarding the walls. This was a place of peace, not war. Far to the (east?) they could see the crumbled remains of St. Ninian's church. The arrival was fantastic. They had all heard the stories and read the tales. Now, finally, they were approaching a home they had never frequented. Despite this, Sham felt a strong sense of familiarity and he cried out cheerfully "Ho, we'll be there within the minute chaps! Last 'un there's a rotten egg, wot!"

Remembering patrol protocols, he contained himself, and helped speed the column to a brisk march.

After marching for several days, the body of hares saw a tower looming up on the horizon. "Redwall!" They all thought, and their hearts were lifted with thoughts of the feasting, warm beds and the task's completion.

At the head of the column, Fallop called a halt as he marched up to the Abbey gates and knocked stoutly.

Quote from: Delthion on September 18, 2016, 02:54:58 PM
OOC: @danflorreguba, @Lord Ashenwyte, @Rosie Willowwater, @Fatch of Southsward @Delthion. Don't let it die.

Quote from: Delthion on September 18, 2016, 02:54:58 PM
OOC: @danflorreguba, @Lord Ashenwyte, @Rosie Willowwater, @Fatch of Southsward. I need you guys to post! You're very close to Redwall now.

OOC: Both of my characters are at the campsite, so unless we flesh out a story back there, I playing the waiting game until the Redwall group moves along.