Redwall Abbey

The poem:
When three families join as one,
A champion will be born.
Two warriors stand at the end of the world,
One living, one long gone.
Together they stand, together they fall,
Hearken now, hear their call.
"Eulalia! Remember Redwall!"
Back-to-back, against the forces of Hell.
Together they stood, together they fell.
- The Verse of the Champion, as read by Marcus the Warrior in the Autumn of Everlasting Fire.

The cover:
(http://i.imgur.com/aV5yFEW.jpg)
Dragon Age fans might recognize this...

Teaser #3 - Book names:

Cool! Sounds interesting, Groddil :)

Prologue
"He...he's beautiful..."
In Redwall's Infirmary, several creatures were gathered about a bed, where a mouswife sat clutching a tiny child. The father forced his way through the crowd. He took his wife's paw.
"Yes, he is. How are you feeling?"
The mousewife shook her head sadly.
"I was never very strong, was I? Give him a name, tell him..."
The mousewife coughed roughly and began to shake.
"Tell him his lineage. Tell him to be like his mother would always have wanted..."
She forced the baby into his father's arms. He shook his head.
"No! You can't. We'll see him grow up together! Mary!"
The mousewife was fading. She closed her eyes and smiled. Mary, mother to Marcus the Warrior, had gone to the Dark Forest. The father sniffed. He embraced his dead wife one last time.
"Marcus. I shall call him Marcus."
Further grievances were forgotten as a tall, burly otter burst into the room.
"VERMIN! VERMIN AT THE GATES! TRISTAN, GIVE US A PAW!"
Tristan, the father, wiped a tear from his eye and ran after the otter. He snatched the Sword of Martin from the wall and the two warriors made their way to the gates. Tristan nodded briefly to the gatekeeper, an old vole, who shoved the bar up as Tristan and the otter, along with the other able bodied Redwallers, burst through the gates. The vermin band notched arrow to bowstring, sending barbed shafts into the ranks of Redwallers. Tristan took one in his shoulder, but rushed the bowbeasts, his blade shining in the sun. Martin's blade clashed with those of the vermin as the mouse fought fiercely. The vermin ranks, urged on by their leader, closed in on the mouse warrior. The Redwallers desperately tried to force their way in to help him, but Tristan has been overwhelmed. The mouse had given up on life when Mary died, so now he resigned himself to his fate. As he took slash after slash, Tristan used his last ounce of strength to throw the sword in a wide arc, cleaving through the tightly packed vermin and beheading the leader of the horde. Disheartened and hard-pressed by the furious Abbeydwellers, the vermin fled. But too late for Tristan. By the time the last rat had been driven far from Mossflower, Marcus had lost his family. The otter stood weeping over Tristan's body as an old squirrel joined him to pay respects.
"He did it to protect us, Skipper."
"I know that, mate. But it ain't right. That babe lost 'is mother an' father in the space o' a few minutes. It ain't right!"
The squirrel smiled.
"Then you raise him, Skip. Tristan would want that."
"Aye, Father Abbot. I think 'ee would."

Interesting start. The battle seemed a little unrealistic, though, as Tristan's envelopment seemed a little fast paced and I am opposed to swords being thrown.

This is pretty good. ;D

That was quick.

I'm still mostly intrigued by the fanfic title, as well as the titles of the three books in the fanfic, the poem, and the art. They're all cool ;)

I personally think it could be longer and more detailed, and it seems a bit too fast-paced. But that's coming from the writer who posts walls of text all the time, so, it could be a Skyblade thing :P

The prologue is not the story proper. It simply sets up the events of the main story, because without his parents, the protagonist doesn't know his lineage.

I found what you did to be kind of interesting in. You've set up the story in a way that did not drag on for ages and make us think "when will you get to the actual story? While this first installment is fast-paced and not bursting with detail, I imagine the story like this is somebeast trying to retell what happened that day to the reader, perhaps seasons after the actual incident. There was just so much chaos going on - the mother's death, the vermin outside of Redwall, the father's reckless attack - of course things start to bleed together. It was a chaotic situation and you did a nice job setting a chaotic atmosphere. Whether that was your intention or not, I thought it was cool!

Book 1: Redwall's Fall

(http://westcummingtonchurch.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/church-burning1.jpeg)

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Chapter 1 - Young and Eager

Tazzler Fleetpaw, newest recruit to the Salamandastron Scout Patrol, leaned heavily on a tree limb. He stroked his soft, golden chin as he tried to think of a story to explain why he was so far behind the main Patrol.
"Stupid Berro, make this out to be the best thing I'd ever do, wot. By the Dark Forest's gates, he'd better be coverin' for me up there...and maybe saving some vittles. He better save me some vittles. Oh, to think if I starved to death out here, that'd show him. Curse that Berro..."
Still muttering darkly, the hare stumbled over the beaches towards Salamandastron as the sun began to set. Tripping over, Tazzler landed face first into a creek, lapping up water earnestly.
"Ooh, that hits the spot, wot wot? Nothin' to wet one's lips when your "mates" leave you behind to die. Uck, salty! I bet Berro's dinin' on sweet, sweet wine, with the blinkin' badger lord peelin' 'im grapes. So what if he did something great or not, I helped him. If it wasn't for me, he would still be polishin' dishes in the kitchens. Or is that the other way round? Yeah, that was me. Mmm, crumbs...Wish I had some o' those..."


Redwall Abbey, the shining jewel in the darkness that was Mossflower, was in the middle of joyous partying and feasting, for it was the nameday, and the Abbot would name the Autumn to come. In the middle of this ecstatic uproar, off in a forgotten corridor, plates of food lay forgotten.
*CLANG!*
"Good, Marcus, very good. A little more to the left..."
*WHOOSH...SHING!*
"Perfect, just wonderful. Fightin' must be in your blood, mate. A little more practice every day and you'll be a better swordbeast than Tristan was."
Marcus was exhausted. A part of him longed to be back at the feast, but the voice inside his head told him that training with Skipper was a better pastime. The mouse hung Martin the Warrior's spectacular blade back upon its hook and wiped large beads of sweat from his forehead.
"I don't see why we didn't start this sooner. Maybe if I started when I was still practically a Dibbun like my father did, I would already have surpassed him. Instead you have me starting first training when I'm already 15 seasons old."
Skipper shrugged guiltily.
"In truth, we haven't had to worry about vermin since your father's time. Me an' a couple otters were enough to protect us from the occasional rat who hasn't heard the legends about this place. Tristan always used to say that no living creature could ever harm this Abbey, and I daresay he was right."
Marcus and Skipper walked back into the Great Hall where much merriment was still taking place. The mouse lowered his voice to a whisper.
"If that was true, why did he bother becoming a warrior anyway?"
With nothing more to be said, the two creatures went their separate ways.


"I'm telling you, Skipper, the boy needs to live his own life. Stop doing this training nonsense with him, Redwall has no need for a warrior. This is a time of peace, everything Redwall stands for. I will not have you corrupting the next generation by filling their heads with blood and murder. Stop it at once!"
Skipper was crestfallen. He hung his head in shame and nodded slightly.
"Sorry, Father Abbot. But its what Tristan would have wanted. You said so yourself; Let me raise him."
The Abbot gave a long sigh and wiped his spectacles upon his sleeve.
"Then maybe I was wrong, I shouldn't have let you do that. I'm just happy that you didn't try to drown him at birth to try and make him an otter."
Skipper stared at the Abbot with pure hatred. He shoved his way past the old squirrel and sat down with his ottercrew, shaking his head in contempt.
"I tell ya, mates, that old fogey gets more fed up with decent warriors every day. If we weren't around when th'vermin attacked, not even Tristan would have been able to defend the Abbey."

Chapter 2 - The Band of Vermin
The sun had set. Tazzler continued to stumble around awkwardly.
"Aaaah. Why d'ya do this t'me, Berro me ole buddy. Ye jus' 'ad to abandon me poor self out in th' dark. I'm goin' ta stare t'death in no time out 'ere, wot. Oh, poor me. Such a cruel life when one's friends abandon one, wot wot. Heh, mebbe I should just lay down an' die, that'd make him feel proper guilty."
Tazzler threw himself into the sand, too exhausted to continue. The hare made mock sobbing noises and writhed around. Shaking sand from his eyes, Tazzler's long ears shot up. Brightness, fire, Berro! With a whoop, the hare sprung upright and ran for the fire with a renewed boost of energy.
"No need to cry your eyes out chaps, Fleetpaw's back. Now where's me ole 'friend'' Berro, huh? He needs an eddication in fightin' hare justice!"
Tazzler tried to make himself look tough, hopping from footpaw to footpaw and throwing some punches at nothing in particular. A eerie cackle split the air.
"Oh, no worries, matey. We dunno about no 'Berro,' but we certainly ain't crying over yer bein' 'ere. In fact, we're glad to 'ave a visitor. Ain't that right, mates?"
Raucous cheers and evil chuckles surrounded Tazzler, coming from every direction. The hare snatched a flaming brand from the fire and waved it around.
"Er, steady on there, chaps. Show yourselves, wot."
The creatures obliged, as a small army of vermin, at least a score in number, emerged from the surrounding bushes, brandishing rusted blades and curved hooks menacingly. The speaker, a jolly-looking weasel, wrapped his hook around Tazzler's shoulder.
"Oh, don't worry 'bout them, matey. We're just 'ere fer the badger's treasure, is all. Why don't ya tell us where it is, an' we'll let ya go freely?"
Murmuring from the vermin greeted this remark, but they were swifly silenced by the weasel. He dug the hook deeper into Tazzler's flesh, blood dripping from the unfortunate hare.
"An you'd like that, wouldn't ya?"


In the vermin encampment, there was much merriment. Weasels, ferrets, and stoats all danced around, laughing like madbeasts. Two rats had bound Tazzler to a tall tree, and the hare writhed around yelling bloody murder.
"Wot ho, chaps? D'ya think we can talk about this, wot? Let me out of here, you wicked weasel! Untie these ropes you smelly stoats! The ole' badger lord chap won't like this, I tell you! HEEEEEEEEEEELP!!!!!"
The weasel with the hook advanced towards the captured hare, waving his hook.
"D'ye want me t'cut out yer tongue, ye stupid rabbit! I tries t'be civilized and eddicated, an' ye yell at us an' turn us deaf. Shuddup! 'Ere, chew on this!"
The weasel stuffed the leg of a charred woodpigeon into Tazzler's mouth. The hare spat it out roughly.
"Pthaah! Disgusting thing, eating birds. Still, at least while you're scoffin' them you ain't scoffin' me, wot?"
The weasel shook his head.
"Oh, dinna get me wrong, rabbit. We're still might hungered..."
He gave a sharp whistle, and the vermin began to shuffle towards Tazzler, their arms loaded up with firewood and kindling.
"Err...no need t'do this, hey chaps? Mebbe we can sort somethin' out..."
"I'VE ALREADY ASKED YE THIS TWICE, RABBIT! Tell me where the badger keeps 'is treasure, an' we'll let ye go..."
Tazzler shook his head.
"There ain't no badgers' treasure, how many times do you want me to say it!"
The weasel's hook glinted in the light of a torch held by a nearby stoat. He licked the cold metal and shook it at Tazzler.
"Then you burn, rabbit! Light 'im up!"
"Eulaliaaaaaa!!! Forward the buffs an' give 'em blood'n'vinegar!"
Two javelins shot out of the darkness, skewering the stoat with the torch. Tazzler kicked his footpaws wildly, trying to keep the flames away from the wood piled at his feet. Five hares bounded into the camp, spears and slings twirling in the twilight. Vermin fell left and right, as a younger hare dashed to Tazzler. He ran the weasel through and used his hook to cut the trapped hare free. Tazzler cracked his neck and stared in shock at his rescuer.
"Berro? What're you doin' 'ere, ole chap?"
Berro forced a rusted cutlass into Tazzler's paws.
"That's Liuetenant Berrilkan to you, Tazzler. Now, how 'bout we forestall further conversation until these cads have been dealt with, eh?"
Tazzler frowned, but tested the sword with a few practise swings.
"If you're a Lieutenant, I'm General Dillworthy. But no time to argue, wot. Shall we give 'em what for?"
Berro nodded, and together the two friends were a whirlwind of flurrying death, sending vermin to Hellgates with every thrust of their blades.


Having dealt with the vermin in a most efficient manner, with the survivors running for their lives north along the shore, the hares sat around the fire bandaging their wounds. Tazzler sat with Berro, stuffing rations into his mouth as if facing an endless famine. Between bites, he mumbled to his friend.
"So, what's this *munch* 'lieutenant' business, eh? *slurp*"
Berro knocked the rations from Tazzler's paws and sighed.
"Because I was the one that found the thing in that cave, Lord Urthtooth decided to promote me. He said I could be an officer of the Night Patrol for half the week, when the Captain ain't around."
Tazzler's mouth dropped open, food dripping from his chin.
"Y'mean that ole Urth-thing the striped slavedriver sent you straight out on another patrol soon as y'got back from the one today? Now I'm glad y'got all th'glory..."
"I got all the glory because I solved the riddle and got us inside. All you did was blunder around until you fell into the pit. And no, he suggested gettin' some rest and starting the Night Patrol tomorrow, but I wanted to impress him."
Tazzler snorted.
"A promotion-stealin' suck-up is what you are, Berro. You're as bad as that ole cooky who never lets me help out with dinner!"
Berro smirked as he brandished his javelin.
"Insulting an offisah, that sounds like mutiny! Come here, you, its the brig for your type, wot wot!"
Laughing continued to split the cold night air as the jolly hares broke camp and started to head for home.

MAP

I demand more. ;)

Chapter 2 expanded to be a full chapter. Happy now, Ash? XD

Yeeeessssss!

Chapter 3 - The Fire Mountain's Namesake

After the adrenaline had worn off, the pain in Tazzler's shoulder had set in. Unable to walk, the hare was quickly bundled onto a makeshift stretcher and carried aloft for the remainder of the journey. As the scouting patrol rose to the top of a large sand dune, the wounded hare breathed a sigh of relief. The comforting shadow of Salamandastron loomed over the patrol from afar, a testament to the steadfast nature of both the rock and the badgers that ruled it. Berro sent the patrol's runner, a thin, lanky young hare ahead to bring news to Lord Urthtooth. As the main patrol set their footpaws back on flat ground; however, it was clear than not everything was as it should be. The Lieutenant gagged and placed a paw over his mouth. For there on the ground, littering the beach for a mile, were the charred corpses of countless hares. Tazzler's stretcher was lowered and the scouts readied their blades. Berro pulled Tazzler to his feet and slung an arm around his friend's shoulder. Setting a slow pace for their wounded, the scouts advanced across the beach, where the sand had turned to glass in places. Tazzler glanced at Berro with a look that could only be described as pure terror.
"What happened here? Th-th-this isn't right!"
Berro nodded, but further conversation was stalled as the two hares nearly ran straight into the backs of those in front. The lieutenant forced his way through the crowd.
"What in the name of Lord Brocktree is goin' on he...Oh no. No, no, no, no..."
Berro had seen the shocking sight that stalled the patrol. The body of their runner, face twisted unnaturally into a petrified scream. Tazzler began to feel faint, and clung to Berro's shoulder. The scouts looked around in horror, still not fully comprehending the situation. One of them raised a shaky paw, pointing to the sand in front of them.
"S-s-s-something's c-c-coming our w-w-w-w-way..."
Berro peered through the dark, misty night towards the dark shadow slowly advancing on them. The hares raised their assortment of weapons, ready to go out fighting, when the shape came into view. It was Lord Urthtooth, crawling through the sand, hauling himself along with the shattered hilt of a massive double-hilted blade. Giant gashes covered his body, scantily clad in the tattered rags of a tunic. Resting crookedly atop his hilt was a steel helmet, warped in on itself by some massive force. The scouts dropped their weapons and stared in horror at their leader. Three who were braver than most rushed forwards, prying the ruined helmet from his head. Tazzler could not take it anymore, he threw himself away from Berro, vomiting into the sand. For Lord Urthtooth's face had been baked inside the steel helmet, completely unrecognizable amidst the cracked black skin splattered with red. Berro averted his eyes from the gruesome sight, helping Tazzler up. No sooner than the hare was standing on his feet again was he thrown back into the sand by some unseen shockwave. A blinding flash lit up the night sky, deafening cracks like thunder reverberated through Tazzler's long ears. Then the second shockwave hit. Tazzler felt as if his entire body had been smashed by a badger wielding a warhammer. The hare was thrown off the ground and spiraled through the air like a ragdoll, hitting the ground and rolling uncontrollably. Eventually, he came to a halt with his footpaws lying limp in a small creek. The pain enveloping the hare was so strong he couldn't move a muscle as the sand began to sweep over him. But before the darkness took hold, Tazzler saw something he would not forget for as long as he lived. Tazzler Fleetpaw had seen the Fire Mountain live up to its full namesake, molten rock and flames gushing forwards from a huge crevasse in the rock face.


Being so late, Redwall Abbey had gone quiet. The remainder of the feast was being cleaned up by a small detail from the kitchen, whom Skipper and Marcus passed on their late-night walk. The otter and mouse strolled through the orchard, a soft wind rustling the trees. Marcus gave a satisfied sigh.
"Makes you feel good t'be alive, huh Skip?"
Skipper nodded solemnly, having still not revealed to Marcus the Abbot's judgement.
"Uhh, yeah, Marcus. It's nice an' all, but...Well, I was talkin' t'the Abbot, an' he said that...oof!"
Skipper had the wind knocked out of him. Marcus was nearly knocked off of his feet, but the otter stuck a paw out and steadied him. Marcus rubbed his stomach.
"What was that? Didn't feel like wind..."
Skipper shook his head, pointing to the sky above the wall.
"I don't think so either mate, but it might have somethin' t'do with that..."
The sky had been lit up on the horizon, a soft orange color licked at the darkness like flames. Marcus swore that he saw movement in the 'fire.' The mouse gripped Skipper tightly as the wind began to pick up. The trees swayed from side-to-side maniacally, leaves stripped from branches in an instant. Skipper and Marcus struggled against the wind, half-walking half-crawling back towards the Abbey. Eventually, the otter bundled Marcus inside and dived in himself, the door slamming shut behind him. The old squirrel stumbled down the stairs in his nightshirt.
"Skipper! What's going on out there? The sky..."
Skipper shrugged.
"I don't know, Father Abbot. At least we're safe within these walls."
The Abbot nodded, his face a picture of grave concern.
"I do hope you're right..."

Just wanted to say, this is really good.

Thanks, Ash!

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Chapter 4 - Chaos

Tazzler's eyes flickered, slowly adjusting to the darkness. Pain shot through his body, an immense wave of heat. The hare felt water trickling onto his cracked lips as a kindly voice whispered to him.
"Shhhh...you're safe now. You're among friends. Drink deeply, and sleep..."
Before he lapsed into unconsciousness, Tazzler made the speaker out amongst the dim surroundings; it was an old, female otter. Tazzler breathed a sigh of relief, falling back into the land of dreams.


"Tazzler. TAZZLER!"
Wha- How?
Tazzler rubbed his eyes, investigating his surroundings. He was balanced precariously on a rocky ledge, encompassed on all sides by an endless grey void. The hare stared around for the voice, who was hanging from the ledge.
"Tazzler! Pull me up!"
It was Berro. Where were they? Was this to do with the mountain? With Lord Urthtooth? No, it couldn't be. He was safe. The otter had found him. But had she found Berro? This was too much to take in...
"Tazzler! I'm no Badger Lord, pull me up before I fall!"
Dumbstruck, Tazzler reached his paw down to Berro, and lifted his friend onto the ledge. Expecting thanks, Tazzler was stunned when Berro flicked him with the flat of his blade.
"Gaaah! BERRO! What was that for, you toad-brained twit? Have you gone mad?"
Berro continued to swat Tazzler with the flat of his blade, ignoring the other hare's pleas.
"You're going to die, you dithering idiot! Wake up, they're drawing nearer. WAKE UP!"


"WAKE UP! Wretched lazy windbag, GET UP, or I'm going to have to leave you here."
Tazzler sat upright with a start, the old otterwife springing back. The pain in his shoulder was gone, but the searing heat continued to sweep over his body.
"What's going on?"
She snatched his paw and pulled him from the makeshift bedding.
"THERE'S NO TIME! MOVE!"
The two creatures dashed from the chamber, mingling with several other otters in the holt's main cavern. All of the otters were transfixed on the entrance, shrieking and running for the exit in a melee of panic and terror. Tazzler turned his eye to a far corner of the holt. Was that...fire? The deepest tunnels were lit with a warm, orange glow, and punctuated with the shadows of madbeasts, flailing around in their death throes. Tazzler averted his eyes from the awful sight; between this and the mountain...what was happening? This wasn't the Mossflower he knew...The otterwive forced him from his thoughts, shoving him roughly towards a gap in the crowd.
"There! Push through there. We have to get out of here; every second we waste increases our chances of the fires catching up."
Tazzler obeyed her, pulling her behind him as he forced his way through the horde of otters.
"Who ARE you? What's happening here?"
"Name's Janbik, I'm one of the healers at the holt. Or rather, what used to be the holt. I found you in the stream, you and several others. They were already up and about when the fires began, so I suspect they're already on the boats. They wanted to wait for you, but I told them I'd get you out. That's enough storytime, take a left!"
The hare took a sharp turn into the masses, being swept along by the crowd around a large corner. Tazzler shielded his eyes from the sky above; rather than a deep blue, it was a bright red. Black clouds of smoke towered from further into the woods, and there on the horizon was Salamandastron, a beacon of destruction, spewing forth fire and brimstone from Hellgates itself. It was like nothing that Tazzler had ever seen, nor that he suspected anybeast else had ever encountered. The crowds were all headed in the same direction; the water. Blinded by terror, the otters dived into the stream, only to be boiled alive by the scalding water. Janbik pulled Tazzler away from the mad dash to the water, dragging him towards the woods. Her eyes lit up with horror as she noticed something approaching the cave, a giant wave of writhing, orange shapes. She had seen this before. Janbik let go of Tazzler, beginning to run much faster than Tazzler would expect of somebeast her age. The hare followed her at a breakneck pace, still questioning her.
"Where are we going? What are we running from? WHY IS EVERYTHING ON FIRE?!?!"
Janbik motioned to several shrew logboats, abandoned on the bank.
"You see that? Even the shrews abandoned the water and fled. There's SOMETHING after us, all of us. Something unnatural. And it won't stop until it burns everything to ash..."

Is this turning into a horror story? o-o

I guessed correctly  8)

Uck, hey guys, the writer here. :P Sorry about the massive hiatus, and how I haven't posted a new chapter in a month. I've been pretty busy, with work, homework, and other stuff. I'm going to try and put up so more of both this and We Happy Few sometime in the next couple days, so don't worry, THIS SHALL NOT DIE!!!

Thanks guys.

Very glad you're still writing ;D

Good to knowwww!

Chapter 5 - Preparations

In the Abbey of Redwall, chaos was sinking its roots deep into the minds of the creatures that dwelled there. Skipper of Otters had finally managed to gather a team of stout beasts to help bar the doors. A team of moles had dug a tunnel to the Gatehouse and retrieved the heavy beam from the main gates, which was then used to seal the Abbey. Otters and squirrels worked together, lifting heavy objects up to block the many windows in the Abbey. The old squirrel who was Abbot, completely dumbstruck, had left the operation to Skipper. In short time, the Redwallers had all been gathered in Cavern Hole for an emergency meeting.
"Listen up, everybeast. Panickin' will not help us. I don't know what ails us, an' neither does the Abbot. But I does know that if we want t'make it through this, ye need ta listen ta me. Unless ye absolutely have ta, nobeast leaves this room. Sister Avan, the Infirmary is too unsafe. I'll have some o' me crew help you carry whatever ye need down here. Friar Glenim, how much food do we have right now, and how long will it last?"
The friar, a fat little vole, shrugged.
"Last time I checked, Skipper, we 'ad enough food fer about...three weeks?"
"Okay, have your helpers move the food into the cellar, it's nice and cool down there. We can cook more on fires if need be; the less danger everybeast is in, the better."
Finally calmed down by Skipper's logical thinking, the Abbey dwellers went about their business.


Meanwhile, deep in Mossflower woods, Tazzler and Janbik sat around a dying fire. The old otterwife stirred a large bowl of soup, crudely thrown together from shoots and berries. She pulled the meal from the last of the flickering flames and offered it to Tazzler.
"'Ere ye go, Taz. I've 'ad me fill already."
Tazzler drank deeply from the bowl, before spitting most of it back onto the coals.
"Pffft! Marm, I don't mean to insult your cookin', but that was absoballylutely awful, wot?"
Janbik fixed the hare with a cold stare and nodded.
"Aye, but in case ye couldn't tell, the world's burnin' out there. We aren't about ta get any more comfortable."
Tazzler was about to reply when a large gust of wind sent him barreling backwards into a tree. The hare winced and crawled back towards Janbik.
"Cor, looks like Mother Nature really hates us now, wot?"
Janbik clung to a large tree limb, staring at the sky. The winds blew the clouds out of sight, only to be replaced by tendrils of fire.
"Wot's goin' on here, Janbik?"
"I dunno, ye big-eared buffoon, but we need to get out of 'ere. Redwall's nearby. We can shelter there."
"An' wot about Berro an' the others?"
"If your mate 'as any sense, ee'll 'ead for Redwall too. It's the safest place in all the known land, ever since the Fire Mountain turned into 'Ellgates itself."
Though he was terrified, Tazzler tried to put on a brave face. The hare puffed out his stomach and stood up, hand on a large dagger thrust through his belt. Janbik saw through the ruse immediately.
"Don't say anything, Taz. I knows fear when I sees it. 'Tis a good thing. Ye'd be mad not t'be in a time like this."
Tazzler nodded, and the two began to struggle through the woods, heading straight for Redwall.


Unbeknownst to the two travelers, Berro and half a score of surviving hares had the same plan. After fleeing from the doomed Holt of otters, the Last of the Long Patrol had managed to link up with a clan of Guosim that had abandoned their longboats. Berro led the march, speaking his plan to the Log-a-log. The tribe's leader completely agreed, always knowing how Redwall helped those in need. Together, the shrew pledged his life and the lives of his clan to find a solution to the disasters. Even if they had to go to the Dark Forest and back, the shrews were with the hares until the bitter end. As they sheltered in a small cave hidden under the riverbank, a shrew handed out rations of shrewbread and shrewbear, with a large pot of stew as the main course. The cooks had not even needed a fire, as the sheer heat of the riverwater cooked the meal on its own. While many of the small army were grateful for a rest and a feed, Berro took it as another sign. If even the river was like this, who knew if Redwall still stood?

Oh yes, I like horror tales like this ;D The thing that happened at Salamandastron was cool.

Notice anything different about the chapters?

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Chapter 6 - Joining Forces

Janbik threw down her pack and rummaged through it.
"Runnin' low on vittles, Taz. 'Ere, 'ave an apple."
Were it not for the powerful winds, Tazzler's ears would have drooped.
"A single apple? Are ye tryin' ta starve me, marm?"
"Oh, shaddup, ye ole famine face. Fine, 'ave an oatcake as well. Now we're out o' food."
"Out o' vittles, Janny me gel? Say it ain't so, wot!"
Janbik throw the apple at Tazzler, but it was caught by a gust and flew out of sight.
"What didcha do that for? Bad form, sah. Bad form!"
"Well, if ye hadn't complained, an' had jus' taken the wretched apple, we wouldn't be 'avin' this conversation, would we? Eat yer oatcake an' shuddup. I can see Redwall o'er the trees."


The Guosim-Long Patrol force had put on a quick march after leaving their cave, and were now at the ford across the River Moss. Having boiled for so long, the water level had sunk slightly, leaving a small segment of land free from the deadly water. A shrew ventured forth, taping the dirt with his footpaw.
"We're lucky, chief. 'Tis a bit warm, but we should be able ta cross widdout burnin' our legs off."
Log-a-log nodded, stepping onto the path.
"Good. We'll be at the Abbey afore nightfall. Guosim, across the river. When we get to Redwall, we can finally rest. However briefly..."


Janbik and Tazzler were just ahead of Berro's small force. After crossing the ford, one of the hares noticed their footprints disappearing east into the woods. Encouraged by this, and knowing that Tazzler, if it was actually him, would go to the Abbey as well, Berro and Log-a-log urged their creatures onward. By the time they got to the gate, the hare and otter were already pounding on it, to no avail. After receiving a warm welcome, Berro explained what was going on, and how they had pledged themselves to stopping it. Janbik nodded.
"I'm with ye, Berro. I saw me Holt die, panicking in fear. Many Guosim have also met their end at whatever this is. If what Tazzler says is true, if Salamandastron really did erupt in flames...We need to get into the Abbey. Then we need to get as far north as possible"
Log-a-log shook his head, drawing his rapier.
"Some of us may, but I'm stayin' right 'ere in Mossflower. I'll find out what's causin' all this, an' do me best ta stop it until such time as I find meself at the Gates o' the Dark Forest. Who's with me?"
Several shrews, mainly the young and foolhardy, gave a cheer. Berro and a few hares, knowing how much of a death sentence their mission was, but also its importance, muttered their support. The rest, however, stayed deathly silent. One older shrew moved to Janbik's side.
"She's right, Guosim. Mossflower's doomed. It'll all be a wasteland soon. Our only hope is to go north, and wait out the days until the earth no longer burns beneath our feet."
Berro stomped his footpaw.
"ENOUGH! The North is a land of ice, snow, vermin, and death. Mossflower is a land of heat, fire, vermin, and death. Noplace is safe. There is no black and white, just shades of grey. The Redwallers aren't safe here, and none of them are warriors. A few hares and shrews who are too cowardly to put an end to this can go with them as guards. The rest of you have no choice. As your commanders, Log-a-log and I are ordering you to stick to your mission. Too many have died. We need to make sure nobeast else does."
One of the younger hares drew his blade.
"How d'ye suppose we stop nature itself, Berro? Why can't we jus-"
"Go home? We have no home. Whatever life we once had, its gone. Our home, our friends, our family. They're all gone. All we have is each other, and the only things we can do are cower in fear, or try and do something."
"I'd rather live a coward than die a fool. Salamandastron goes up in flames, and so the land starts burnin'. See a connection? As long as we stay away from here, we'll be fine."
Murmers began spreading through the rank of shrews. Several shrews, as well as two other hares, began yelling their support for the rebel.
"You can't stop us, Berro ole chap! After all, it's our bally lives on the line, wot. Let everybeast else be fools. Brave fools, but fools nonetheless. We may be cowards, but we're living cowards. We're dismissed, sah!"
With that, they marched off back into the woods, aiming to put as much distance between them and the Fire Mountain as possible. Log-a-log took a quick count of his shrews.
"I've got 16 shrews left, includin' meself."
"And there's 9 hares, includin' me an' Tazzler."
Janbik knocked on the gate again.
"Who cares 'ow many creatures we got if'n we can't get inta th' Abbey. Somebeast should try'n climb th' walls."
Log-a-log stepped aside to reveal a tall, thin shrew.
"This's Skinnyshrew. Doesn't speak, but 'ee's the best climber we got. Anybeast got some rope?"
"Aye, Chief. I still got the anchor line in me pack, jus' in case. Even 'as the anchor attached."
"Didya hear that, Skinnyshrew? Ye even gets a grapple!"


Everybeast stood back and watched as Skinnyshrew whirled his length of rope until the anchor on the end was a blur. With a grunt, he tossed it upwards, where it was immediately blown aside by the wind. It took several tries, but the shrew finally latched the anchor onto the battlements. Two muscular hares gripped the rope tightly to make it easier for Skinnyshrew, as he slowly began his ascent. Halfway up, he was caught by a gust of wind, and clung desperately to the stonework. Log-a-log's shouts were barely audible to the climber as he roared upwards.
"Come on, Skinnyshrew. What're ye waitin' for? A bit o' wind never stopped ye before!"
The shrew nodded, and took the rope in his paws once more. Heaving himself upwards, Skinnyshrew finally managed to haul himself over the battlements. Shortly after, the main gate swung open.
"Alright, mates. In we go, an' try not ta startle th' Redwallers."

QuoteNotice anything different about the chapters?

I feel like I'm missing something important, and I don't want to do heavy thinking :P The only obvious thing I notice is that the chapters are longer and have squiggly things to separate each scene (which may have been there in the first place, anyway).

The first section was funny, and I like how the story is developing. We seem to have the same tastes, because this fanfic and the vermin one are both ideas that interest me.

@Skyblade: I added chapter subtitles. ;P

Chapter 7 - Joining Forces, Part Two

Hauling a large section of fallen tree between them, the Guosim and hares battered at the main door of Redwall Abbey. Their previous attempts having failed, brute force was their only option. Tazzler found himself next to Berro, complaining as they worked.
"Steady on there, ole chap. Why're we bashin' down their bloomin' door, wot? Isn't there another way inta the bally Abbey?"
Berro shook his head.
"If you want ta try an' get their attention, shout away. Nobeast'll hear us over this wind, an' it's too hard for Skinnyshrew to reach a window."
"But, they'll be defenseless!"
"They still have the outer walls. Plus, I've spoken to hares who've been 'ere afore. None o' 'em are still alive, alas, but I 'eard enough. There's some sort o' room under the ground a bit, called Cavern Hole. If those woodlanders 'ave any sense, that's where they'll be, wot."
Tazzler shrugged.
"I suppose. Wot really gets me is 'ow ye plan on convincin' the Redwallers to leave their home an' travel to the bloomin' northlands."
"Redwall is not full of fools. If they were, the Abbey would o' fallen ta vermin seasons ago. It's only cause o' how resourceful they are that they kept 'oldin' off any invaders. Once they 'ear some sense, they'll leave."
As the hares and shrews continued slamming the tree trunk into the doors, Janbik peered closely at the timbers. She held up a paw to halt the barrage, before reaching her paw through a split section of wood. She felt around for the timber barring the doors and shoved it upwards, before delivering a rough kick to the timbers. One door edged open just slightly, revealing several bookcases and tables stacked behind it.
"Come on, ya bunch o' longears an' lazybones. 'Elp me move this furniture!"

~~~~~~~~~~

In Cavern Hole, the Redwallers huddled around several small fires, heating up the food they had moved from the kitchens. Marcus sat in one corner with the Sword of Martin the Warrior, idly sharpening it. Skipper trudged over with a platter of food, sitting on a ledge beside the mouse. He motioned to the platter, which was, unusual for Redwall fare, not stacked high with food.
"Yer'll need some good vittles, mate. Don't wanna starve, do ye?"
Marcus shook his head, taking a bowl of salad from the platter.
"I suppose not, Skip. I just can't stop thinking about something. Why is this happening? How? Even the sky is burning; how long until those flames choose to descend? All of Mossflower, gone in an instant. It doesn't bare thinking about."
Skipper shrugged, before taking a pastie from their tray of vittles.
"No, it doesn't. Hopefully, it won't happen. Hopefully. Could just be some sort o' huge storm. That'd explain the wind."
"And the fire?"
"Might just be a trick o' th' eyes. Or it could really be fire. Which makes me wonder, what could start such a blaze? Only thing I could think off to come close'd be Hellgates isself."
The young mouse set aside the empty bowl of salad and continued sharpening the blade.
"Vermin, maybe. Doin' something stupid an' bein' unlucky enough to be in a really dry part o' Mossflower."
Skipper, having demolished the pastie, stood up and retrieved his javelin from the nearby wall.
"Well, I'm goin' ta take a look, see 'ow everythin' is out there."
"I'll come with you."
Marcus stood up behind him, blade in hand. Skipper merely shrugged again, before making his way out of Cavern Hole. He squeezed through a barricade set up on the staircase and found himself in Great Hall. It was a mess. The windows had long since blown out, and broken glass littered the floor. Then, Marcus drew his attention to the large doors at the entrance of Redwall. They were ajar, and one of the bookcases...moved. Silently, the two readied their weapons and stole across the hall. Skipper stood with his back to a bookcase, as the table next to it thudded to the ground. He could barely make out a voice on the other side of the barrier.
"There ya go, miss Janbik, wot. There's a bally gap in the bloomin' barricade, eh?"
An aging, female otter leapt through the gap, followed shortly by a hare. Skipper and Marcus lowered their weapons in relief and stepped into the open.
"Janbik, was it? Welcome to Redwall Abbey. Have you come to seek shelter?"
Janbik shook her head.
"No. We came to warn you. This is Liuetenant Berrilkan of the Long Patrol."
"The FORMER Long Patrol. Call me Berro, I'll explain our goals once we get some peace and quiet. This wind is too loud."

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

Over a fresh plate of vittles, the hares and shrews gathered around a table with Skipper and his ottercrew. Having requested privacy, they held the meeting in the far corner of Cavern Hole, away from the rest of the Abbeydwellers that were just starting to fall asleep. Marcus stood to one side, practicing a few swings with the Sword of Martin. Berro pointed at him as the newcomers took their seats.
"What about the mouse? Will he be sitting in on the meeting?"
Skipper looked at Marcus, then called him over.
"Marcus! Over here. I don't see why it wouldn't hurt to have him around."
After they were settled, Berro and Janbik began to relay their sides of the story to Skipper. At its conclusion, the Abbot (having demanded a seat on the council) stood up and shook his head.
"The news you bring is indeed grave, but this talk of abandoning Redwall? Preposterous. This Abbey is the safest place in all of Mossflower."
Tazzler decided it was finally his time to speak up.
"You old, dithering fool. Did you not hear a bally word we said, wot? Salamandastron is GONE! I saw it with me own bloomin' eyes, burnin' up like a real Fire Mountain. If ye still want ta trust in the strength o' your walls after that, ye deserve wot ye get. If the wind doesn't tear this place down an' trap ye underground, the fire'll burn it ta th' ground. How could ye possibly think that this place'd stand up ta those flames, if a whole bloomin' mountain went up in flames?"
The whole table broke into bickering, especially among the shrews. Log-a-log slammed his paw on the table.
"ENOUGH! Right now, there's five options ye can take. Stay where ye are, ye die. Travel west, ye run right inta the Fire Mountain an' ye die. Travel south, where it's hotter? Ye won't even need ta wait fer the flames ta kill ye. East? Ye have nowhere ta run. Once ye make it out o' th' woods, yer on the shores o' the Eastern Sea. D'ye have any ships? No. Even if we 'ad our logboats, they couldn't last a day on the open sea. Anybeast wid a ship'll be 'alfway across the ocean by now. If they even CAN get across. We saw th' River Moss; bubblin' an' boilin' like a cauldron o' stew, dead fishes floatin' all down th' waterways. That leaves only one option. Go north, go where it snows year round. 'Opefully, the flames don't reach ye."
Skipper nodded.
"'Tis a good idea, Log-a-log. How many creatures do ye have?"
"16 shrews, an' 9 hares. But some o' our shrews are babes an' mothers."
"I've got just under a score of otters. Let me think for a moment..."
Tazzler raised a paw.
"How 'bout this, wot. Send th' babes an' mothers with the Redwallers, then 'ow many shrews are there?"
"Nine."
"Okay, we'll send two o' the shrews an' two o' the hares wid the Redwallers as guards."
"And the ottercrew?"
"Split 'em in half. Half goes with the Redwallers, especially the older otters, an' the other half comes wid us."
"That leaves... Seven shrews, seven hares, and nine otters. Twenty three of us."
They all turned to Berro.
"Would twenty-three be enough if we ran into trouble?"
"A good number, actually. Enough to handle any vermin smaller'n a horde, but not too many that it hampers travel. Select those ye want with us, we'll meet again on the morrow."

~~~~~~~~~~~

As the warriors began to disperse, Marcus sought out Skipper, clenching the Sword of Martin.
"And what of me? Am I to come with you?"
Skipper shook his head sadly.
"No. You're still young, and we need you to help defend the Redwallers."
"Actually..."
They both turned to the speaker, the old squirrel who was Abbot.
"He shouldn't come with us. I believe his fate has something else in store... Marcus, I want you to have this. It was your father's."
Marcus took a small parcel from the Abbot, the disbelief on his face.
"What...why? How do you?"
The squirrel silenced him with a nod.
"It doesn't matter. That's yours now, take it. You have to go on your own, do not go with Skipper, nor with I. If the prophecy is true, then I fear what will happen if you fail in your task. Skipper, my mind is changed. We will leave as soon as our belongings are packed..."

I really need to catch up on this. >.<

Ooh, nice. I like this development, except I'm confused why everyone's splitting up. It's probably just me missing something :P (I read fast, so sometimes I skip things)

The Guosim/Long Patrol knows that if the Abbeydwellers stay here, they'll most likely be in danger, and the Abbey Walls probably aren't going to hold against whatever destroyed Salamandastron. So, some of the warriors are going to guard the Redwallers, who are journeying to the North where they'll be safer. The others are staying in Mossflower to find out what the heck is going on, and when it'll stop.

IT WILL NEVER STOP!!! ;D

Waiting for the next part...that's what'll never stop...

Bit of a short chapter today. But it doesn't need to be long to get its message across...

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

Chapter 8 - Separation

Some time had passed since the meeting. Redwallers stood at the treeline, staring sadly at their home for countless seasons. Tazzler shook Janbik's paw, Log-a-log waved goodbye to Skinnyshrew, and the Abbot nodded warmly at Marcus. Nobeast knew how long it would be until they saw their friends again. The Redwallers dried their tears and began to move north through the woodlands. Marcus said his goodbyes to Skipper and struck off into the woodlands. He soon found a sheltered cave, and decided to rest, while opening the package the Abbot had given him. Inside, there was a roughly-scrawled note, a strange vial, and a huge, red gemstone. Marcus squinted at the note, trying to read the rough writing.

If 'tis prophecies te seek, head east.
Ta th' Moss River, on th' banks.
In a cave, yer'll find me.
An' I'll tell ye o' yer destiny.

The mouse folded the paper back up, rewrapping the parcel. He stood up, scarfed down some food, and set off into the woods.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Once the two groups had split, Berro's team decided to go to the south, to try and make new allies from the many woodlander clans scattered about. If they were still there, of course. Tazzler and a shrew found themselves scouting ahead of the rest, weapons drawn. Then the shrew's keen eyes spotted something in a nearby bush. Something... bright.
"'Ey, Tazzler. Ye see that?"
"Aye. Looks like a campfire. Get ready t'sneak up on th' blighter. On three, charge 'im."
The shrew nodded, squatting behind a tree.
"One..."
The shrew notched an arrow to his bowstring.
"Two..."
Tazzler nodded, standing straight up.
"Thr... Umm..."
The shrew stood up next to Tazzler, staring at the thing past the bushes. It was a rat. A large, rat, who appeared to be made out of fire. His "fur" was bright orange and red, and danced about. A thin stream of smoke was even coming out of his ears. Tazzler extended his spear and called to the thing.
"You, there. Rat! Paws up, y'villain. Who are you? What's wrong wid ya?"
The rat made no noise, but stood up, its claws raised. The shrew pulled his arrow tighter.
"Ye heard 'im, rat. Speak up!"
The rat let out an ear-splitting roar and charged the two scouts. The shrew loosed his arrow at the rat, but the projectile appeared to pass right through him. After passing through the rat, the arrow's shaft caught flame, and thudded into a tree. The fire was unlike any blaze the scouts had seen before, as the tree it touched burst aflame almost instantly. Tazzler and the shrew started to back away, before Tazzler threw his spear, and they turned tail and ran. The "rat" caught the spear mid-flight, setting it ablaze. One throw later, and Tazzler was on his own. The shrew's corpse starting burning, spreading fire to the grass as well. Tazzler put on an extra burst of speed, crashing through the undergrowth and slamming into Berro.
"Tazzler? What's go-"
"Run! Just run! That way!"
Led by the terrified hare, the army broke into a run. Whatever this unkillable flame creature was, they did not want to meet it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The Redwallers had already begun trekking north, until they eventually came to a large hill. Skipper decided to recon the area, and had soon hiked to the top. What he saw was a shock. From that moment on, the otter would never think that the Redwallers were safe, no matter where they were. The sky was no longer lit up by flames. There were several blinding flashes, and what happened next left Skipper completely dumbstruck. On the horizon, he had seen a small blaze at one fringe of the woods. After the flashes, it was gone. But a huge section of woods surrounding Redwall was ablaze, and the Abbey itself... began to melt. The red stones glowed a far brighter red than they had ever been. The rocks themselves liquefied as Skipper watched, rooted to the ground in fear. Soon, the building's tall spires could no longer be seen. Redwall was no more.

This entire chapter was great. Each section provided an exciting new part of the plot.

Critique:
Marcus isn't a very interesting character, in my opinion, because he seems to follow the Martin-Matthias-Mattimeo archetype of the Redwall series. That's not a bad thing, of course - it just isn't my cup of tea. I prefer original ideas. Prophecies, while not really unique, still manage to intrigue me, though.

On that note, I'll say again that yor fanfic conveys a very creative idea and the last paragraph is amazing.

Quote from: Skyblade on August 25, 2016, 03:05:40 AM
This entire chapter was great. Each section provided an exciting new part of the plot. Cheers.

Critique:
Marcus isn't a very interesting character, in my opinion, because he seems to follow the Martin-Matthias-Mattimeo archetype of the Redwall series. That's not a bad thing, of course - it just isn't my cup of tea. I prefer original ideas. Prophecies, while not really unique, still manage to intrigue me, though. Oh, I know. He's a copy-paste, stale protagonist for a reason. You'll see...

On that note, I'll say again that your fanfic conveys a very creative idea and the last paragraph is amazing.Cheers again.

I'll update this soon. In the meantime, keep on eye on We Happy Few.

Chapter 9 - Ave Atque Vale

*Cough*
"Where?"
A lone hare, covered in blood, hauled himself to his knees, trying to brush off the thick layer of ash that covered him. Where was he? All around him were... no, those weren't trees. Charred, wooden husks. Hundreds of them, standing tall and broken like a reminder. But a reminder of what? He tried to take a step, but his leg gave way and he fell, sending up another burst of ash.
"What... happened?"
He noticed several lumps in the ash, and crawled towards them. He brushed the ash off one to reveal the blackened skeleton of another hare. He felt sick. Who was this poor creature. What was going on?
"Tazzler!"
"Huh? Who... Where?"
"It's me, Berro!"
"I... I recognize that name. No... I see it. I see it all."
Hundreds, no... thousands of those... things. Fiery Hellspawn. Like rats, but clearly not. They were... running. Running from the things. Hares. Shrews. They were overwhelmed. The Hellish creatures tackled his friends to the ground. Resistance was pointless. The fire claimed them just as it had claimed his home. They were sent out to stop those things. They failed.
"Why didn't you help me, Tazzler?"
"I-I-I don't understand."
"Then THINK, you fool!"
"No. No, I don't want to remember. Get out of my head."
The hare, Tazzler, clenched his fists, striking himself repeatedly.
"Want to forget. Don't want to remember."
Screaming in pain, he started to run through the forsaken woodlands. Past the dead trees and the bones of his comrades.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ashes to ashes..."
Somewhere else in the woods, a young mouse let ash seep through his fingers, as he stared around at the devastation. This was once his home. A huge, sandstone abbey. The huge, pink bricks had melted with shear heat. They must have. They didn't just... disappear. What remained of the abbey's foundation had been scorched, or melted. To think what could do this. Turn solid rock into sludge. Turn Mossflower Wood into a wasteland. It didn't bear thinking about. He had seen them. Seen them wipe out entire settlements. He didn't want to die like that. Better to go out on his own terms.

~~~~~~~~~~~

He didn't know how long he'd been walking. But he'd finally left the woods behind. He was starting to wish that he'd stayed there. He stood atop a ridge overlooking the western flatlands. There, on the horizon, was the fire mountain. Still spewing molten rock. How long would it do that for? He didn't want to know. He could feel the blistering heat even here. He took a deep breath, but wished he hadn't. So much ash. He unstrapped the sword from his back. It was said to be a legendary blade, but it was just as useless against those Hellrats as throwing a rock at them. He stabbed it into the ground and teetered dangerously on the edge of the ridge.
"Goodbye."
He fell.

~~~~~~~~~~

Many Seasons Later...

It had been a brutal winter. The old otter, in all his seasons, couldn't remember a time when it was that cold. Huddling in that cave on the northern shore, all alone. The older ones had all died long ago, and the younger ones left many seasons back, trekking into the dried-up seabed in search of a myth. An oasis. A place where ash no longer covered the soil and you couldn't see the fire mountain every night. Still burning with the fury of Hellgates, even after so long. His world was nothing now. For all he knew, there was nobeast alive anymore. He was the only creature he had seen since the young ones left. Groaning, he hauled himself up onto his arthritic legs and began the trek up to the clifftop. It seemed to take longer every harvest. Eventually, he made it. He pulled a javelin, almost as hold as himself, from the ground, and speared it into a lump beneath the ash. He pulled the lump, a potato, from the weapon, and brushed off the ash. It was tough. The vegetable was tasteless and had broken his teeth on many previous occasions. But he wasn't about to cook it. He was already terrified of the Fire Mountain, the flames of which were still visible no matter how far he ran. Even when the mountain was lost to sight, the fire still called him. Was it a sign? He was old, maybe it was his time to go. He looked out over what had once been an ocean. Down at the sand, parts of which had been turned to glass. Down at the charred bones of ancient leviathans. Down at the ash. So much ash. It was all that was left of the world. Death, fire, and ash.
"Dust to dust..."