FITG- Harlapple Woes

[The Grey Coincidence]

Submission warnings as these are sometimes necessary... I feel like whenever I write Harlapple I eneter a weird sort of territory. In a way it's a parody... in a way it's not really? I don't know, he inhabits this weird place where you hate him and like him at the same time (or at the very least, that's the plaaaan). Or maybe you just hate his guts but find him fun to read Either way I hope you enjoy my entry. I'm pretty proud of it, to the point that I think I could maybe have won even if I had a larger number of competitors. Art by Jarky! And I will also do some art for this but I'm not sure if I'm allowed??? Also there's some gore and the protagonists are bad guys.

 In Which Backstab Bill Backstabs Successfully

"That could have gone better," Harlapple admitted as he trudged through the mud of Mossflower Woods.

"You think?" Garrun snorted. "It couldn't have gone worse!"

"Don' say that messmate," Bloodnose swallowed. "Ye don't wanna tempt fate. She'll do somethin' like- like makin' it rain!"

"It's already raining," the big stoat growled.

"Well maybe she'll hit yew by lightning' if ye ain't careful. Things can allus be worse Garrun."

"Lightnin's the least of our worries Bloodie. The horde's turned against us an' want us dead an' there still those damn abbeybeasts huntin' us down!"

"They probably won't chase us through this storm." A branch above the trio succumbed to the weight of mounting rainwater and drenched them further. Harlapple sniffed. "It makes poor weather for travelling."

"Which is why we're still walkin' around." Garrun grumbled, shaking wetness out of his fur. "If we don't get killed before mornin' we'll catch somethin' narsty. Me ole gran stayed out in the rain too long once- she was dead by dawn!"

Bloodnose sneezed and shivered violently. "W-was it that cold?"

"No, she got 'it by lightnin'. An' then a tree fell on 'er." Garrun shrugged, and allowed his fur to sag. "Twas still the rain's fault."

The three continued to bare the brunt of Mossflower's worst weather in silence. The path ahead was dark and damp, illuminated only briefly by the occasional lightning flash. Thunder rumbled overhead, like the stomach of a voracious hare, and the earth beneath them grew only more slippery as mud turned muddier.

Inevitably, being the largest and least nimble of the three, Garrun slipped, sending liquid filth flying in all directions.

"Let's conquer Redwall 'e said, it'll be easy 'e said." The big stoat spat.

Harlapple rounded on him, scowling. "It isn't my fault the siege engines collapsed."

"Yes it is." Garrun growled back. "Yew didn't let me add the bracin'!"

"It would have delayed my invasion! And you wanted to chop down that fine oak tree-"

"Aye te make the damn siege engine!"

"Well I want to rule Mossflower Woods- not Mossflower Meadow. And how was I supposed to know that Backstab Bill was going to lead a mutiny."

"Well 'arl," said Bloodnose scratching his nose. "There's his name for one."

"An' if yew hadn't killed Spymaster Gibbons-" Garrun went on.

"He interrupted me during my speech!" Harlapple protested hotly. Lightning flashed. "I had to lay down the law."

"Well yew didn't have te lay him down!"

"Shhhhh! I think I 'eard somethin'!"

The three grew silent until only the rain could be heard, pitter-pattering over the whole of Mossflower Woods. Garrun crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the weasel. Bloodnose scratched his nose sheepishly, having evidently made a fool of himself. It was only Harlapple who noticed the steel glinting in the moonlight.

"REDWAAAAAAAALL!" A squirrel leapt down from above, with a battle cry that could have been mistaken for thunder. There was a clang of steel as Harlapple moved his axe to intercept the killing blow. Then a brief pause as warrior and warlord glared each other down from behind their blades.

Lightning struck.

The squirrel drew back, red fury burning in his eyes, and went hard on the offensive. His blade hammered down on the warlord with all the brutality of a badgerlord in bloodwrath. Mud flew as Harlapple stumbled backwards, hating his horde, the rain and the squirrel.

"Demon! Villain! Scoundrel!" his attacker snarled, an impenetrable wall of offensive swordwork. Round and round the blade twirled and down and down again it struck.

Harlapple snarled back with comparable hatred, though much less verbiage, and raised his axe again and again to catch the sword before it could split his head in two. The Redwaller fought too hard and too quickly for the mouse to do anything but stay on the defensive and hope there weren't any more woodlanders.

Lightning. Thunder. Bladelock.

"You die tonight warlord!" the squirrel spat, as once more the two matched each other glare for glare.

"Think..." Harlapple smiled, and it was a terrible smile to behold, his tail curling around the hilt of his knife. "Again!" He struck, stepping to the side so that his tail could more easily plunge the blade into his assailant's ribs. The warrior yelled in pain, his blade slipping from his grip, and Harlapple pressed his advantage and twisted his axehead so that the squirrel's sword flew from his grip. The mouse wound up, drawing his axe backwards for the killing blow.

But the warrior did not go down so easily and stepped to the side- narrowly avoiding a horizontal bisection. Harlapple stumbled in the mud, realizing with a sudden rush of panic that he had overextended. The squirrel capitalised on the warlord's mistake most crudely, and brought his footpaw into Harlapple's unprotected rump.

The mouse fell forwards, his momentum and the slickness of the mud carrying him into an exposed tree root.

BONK!

Lightning flashed. Thunder rumbled. The warlord scrambled to his feet, desperately wiping mud out of his eyes. A sudden jolt of panic told him he'd lost his axe, but before he could even think about searching for it the squirrel's fists were upon him.

Harlapple hit the ground, the root, the mud, the squirrel (or at least, he hoped it was the squirrel) before being thrown against the trunk of a particularly large tree. It spoke volumes of the Redwaller's strength that the whole thing seemed to shudder on impact.

"You Jax the Impaler! Harlapple the Warlord! You killed the woman I love-"

"Just get on with it!" the mouse spat, wiping at his eyes to better glare at his killer.

The squirrel did not obey, and pulled the knife still lodged in his ribs free. "My name is Carlson Frederick, of the Greenleaf Clan of Mossflower Country's Northeastern-"

Harlapple rolled his eyes, wondering if the squirrel intended to bore him to death.

"You know what, fine? I won't bother!" The squirrel raised his blade.

And was promptly slain in a most horrific manner too gruesome to be put into words. What Garrun could do with an axe was not for the faint of heart.

"Yew alright 'arl?" Bloodnose asked, his voice filled with apprehension.

"I'm fine." The mouse pulled himself up and threw an arm round the weasel to support himself. "Garrun, my axe- Garrun-"

The stoat was too busy with the squirrel to hear.

"He's dead Garrun! Now, do you want to get out of this rain or not?"

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A few minutes later Garrun stood to attention, covered in mud, blood and rainwater.

"Hit that tree over there," Harlapple commanded.

Garrun opened his mouth, most likely to ask 'why', but shut it again, rolled his eyes and did as he was bid. Sure enough, the bark shuddered.

"Just as I thought... Guess it wasn't just the squirrel... Again Garrun, harder this time."

Three axe blows later and something snapped. The bark gave away and fell backwards with an ominous creaking. Lightning flashed, illuminating a pit of pure darkness.


"Brockhall!" Harlapple declared with a happy cackle as thunder rumbled overhead. "Oh- I can't believe it! Brockhall!"

Garrun and Bloodnose, who were both uneducated vermin, shared a look over the top of their much shorter companion.

"I've heard stories about this place!" the mouse went on, his face spreading into a smile as childlike wonder pumped through his chest. "My mother used to- she read to me when I was little and she told me about-" Harlapple swallowed and blinked away the tears that always came with the memory of his mother. Bloodnose put a comforting paw on his shoulder, and although the mouse was too much of a villain to ever say so, he was grateful for it.

"This was a safe haven for the woodlanders of Mossflower, in bygone ages when Verdauga Greeneyes and his incompetent daughter were in charge here and put ridiculous taxes on their subjects, creatures would flee to Brockhall and hide in here. I believe it was built by a Badgerlord, though obviously it's been abandoned since then." Lightning flashed. "Care for a look inside?"

Garrun shrugged. "Better than the rain."

"I-I dunno 'arl." Bloodnose swallowed. "It looks dark inside a-an'- an' if it was built by woodlanders hidin' from vermin-"

"The Redwallers will never think to look for us here." Harlapple pointed out. "I doubt they even know this exists. We could rest and recover for a few days- at least until this storm blows over."

"I'm for it." Garrun said, bluntly. Shouldering Harlapple's axe, he strode forwards and was swallowed by the darkness.

"I want that back, Garrun." Harlapple called out, limping into the tree. "It's not my fault you left your claymore back at the camp."

The stoat's voice came echoing back from the depths of hollow wood, significantly squeakier than usual. "Thanks for killin' the squirrel Garrun! He was about to end my miserable life- where would I be without yew Garrun?"

"You do an abominable impression of me."

"'S'not what the rest of the horde says."

This seemed to give the warlord pause, for after a short silence Harlapple went on in a quieter voice. "What do they say?"

It was only when mouse and stoat grew barely audible that Bloodnose gave in. He swallowed audibly, and stepped through the old, overgrown door.

As his vision adjusted to the darkness Bloodnose whistled in appreciation. Despite it's age, Brockhall was a very well-built settlement. The walls were smooth and flat despite their age, though here and there a root poked through and had to be avoided. The weasel's stomach growled for nourishment, and although the decrepit tree house likely had nothing edible to offer, Bloodnose could not help but appreciate the chairs and tables carved out of the existing trees. They were all overgrown and in need of a trim and some polishing, but were cozy all the same. Especially when one was an exhausted weasel.

Bloodnose sat his rump down on a lopsided throne big enough for a badger's buttocks and sighed in contentment. He stretched, flexed his toes and cracked his fingers. He was just beginning to get comfortable when a pair of horrific creatures leapt out at him from behind the chair, their faces twisted, their whiskers bent, their jaws forthing, their fangs gleaming!

Bloodnose screamed.

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"That wasn't funny!" Bloodnose huffed, as gales of laughter echoed all around him.

"Y-yew should've seen yer face!" Garrun wheezed, red in the face.

The weasel flared up. "On the run from our horde after a failed siege in Redwall a-an' look at the two of you! Actin' like d-dibbuns!"

"Oh relax Bloodie," Harlapple wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "No needs to make a fuss about it. We've been scaring you since we were little."

"Ye've always been little," the weasel shot back, hatefully.

Harlapple smiled fondly. "You know, if our horde was still around I'd execute you for saying that."

Bloodnose visibly paled and swallowed.


"I'm not threatening you," the mouse sat down besides the weasel on the old badger throne. "Good on you for standing up for yourself! No, I was just thinking... ever since I got the horde I haven't really had the chance to be myself. I've got to be... Jax the Impaler. Harlapple the Cruel... This is nice you know, just the three of us here. Trading insults like the friends we are. We should do this more often!"

"I've got a few insults for you," Garrun admitted.

"Well then, let's hear them."

"And... no repercussions?"

"None!" Harlapple promised, grinning.

"Well then..." the stoat put on his big, boyish grin, the one he had always worn when the three were children and he'd been the horde bully. "Yer short."

Harlapple's grin faltered. "Now hang on-"

"And yer speeches are rubbish- or, well not really yer speeches." Garrun stooped down to the no-longer-grinning Harlapple's level so that the two were nose to nose and eye to eye. "It's yer voice."

"And what about my voice... is rubbish?" the warlord demanded, rising to his feetpaws, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

The stoat beamed. "It's squeaky."

Harlapple pounced, his face burning with anger. "It is not!"

"IS TOO!" The stoat roared with laughter, catching the mouse in a bear hug and guffawing into his scowling face. He chortled and cackled and rolled across the floor, overcome by the hilarity of the situation. It was a very loud laugh, and the whole of Brockhall seemed to be sharing it. Bouncing from overgrown tree root to overgrown tree root, the cacophony was deafening. It was also a very long laugh, and quite a while longer before Garrun sighed heavily and released the mouse from his grip.

Harlapple stomped away, wondering if Bloodnose would protest him murdering the stoat.

"Oh don't take it serious Harl. It's just a laugh," squeaked the perpetually frightened weasel. "A-an' yew said no repercussions."

"Yes. I did." Harlapple gritted his teeth and spun on his heel. "Well then Garrun. There's a few things I'd like to say about you." He flung his nose upwards and crossed his arms over his chest. "You have just demonstrated, in your typically stupid fashion, that you are significantly stronger than me, yet here you are getting bossed about by a mouse. I think the insult is too veiled for you to understand, so I'll put it bluntly. You lack ambition!" The mouse grinned.

Were Brockhall home to crickets, crickets would have chirped. Harlapple frowned, and lowered his snout, the better to scowl at his companions.

They were sharing a look of worry, which only irritated the mouse further.

"Did ye-" Bloodnose began.

"Alright wait, shut up. I can do better than that. No needs to be concerned about my ability to insult others." Harlapple cleared his throat. "I'm a warlord, all warlords are good at taunting the enemy. Not that you're an enemy Garrun, you're far too thick-skulled to be one!" He looked at them expectantly.

"Harl... there's somethin'-"

"I can do better!" the mouse snapped. "J-just give me time to think, alright? Garrun you... stink! Yes! You're a filthy creature and you reek of- of stoat! But... worse!"

Bloodnose swallowed and raised a shaking paw to point.

"Oh come off it! His insult was not better than mine, okay? It was not better, it was worse! He only mocked me, I destroyed his will to live!" A shadow fell over the mouse, and Harlapple finally understood what all the concern was about. "There's something behind me, isn't there?"

Garrun screamed, and for such a large, muscular creature it was very girlish. Bloodnose threw himself into the stoat's arms, also screaming. Harlapple merely sighed as the jaws of a snake snapped shut over him.

"HAAAARL!" the mustelids shrieked in unison, the panic in their voices echoing throughout the chamber.

"HARL!" they exclaimed in unison, as the snake's jaws were thrust open from the inside.

Harlapple was covered in spittle and wearing a scowl fierce enough to incinerate a lesser beast. "Next time!" the mouse snarled, red in the face from anger (at Garrun), humiliation (it was the height of humiliation to nearly be eaten alive), and the effort of holding back the maw of an adder. "Yell 'snake'!" His tail snatched the knife from his belt, and brought it as hard as he could into the floor of the serpent's mouth.

Harlapple was promptly spat out with as much prejudice a snake could afford, and went hurtling through the air until he came crashing into his stunned companions.

"Don't look so stupid!" he snapped, rising to his feet and sprinting for the exit. "Run!"

Luckily, Bloodnose and Garrun did not need to be told twice and bolted off without a second thought. The snake withdrew the blood-soaked knife from the base of it's maw and threw it aside. Hissing, it shot off in pursuit of it's prey.

"If we die!" Harlapple snarled, limping as fast as he could. "I just want you to know Garrun that this is all your fault!"

"Yer the one who found the tree door!" the stoat shot back.

"Quit bein' dramatic," Bloodnose whined. "We're not gonna die."

"Shut up Bloodie!" mouse and stoat snapped in unison.

"I mean there's a door just up ahead!" the weasel hissed.

"And a snake right behind us!" Harlapple pointed out, pulling his tail just out of reach of the serpent's snapping jaws.

"Just run 'Arl!" Bloodnose whined, tearing his eyes away from the mouse and towards the exit.

"What does it look like I'm doing!?" But it was no use. Even without the injury he was the smallest of the three, with the shortest legs and the poorest night vision. The serpent was poised to strike again, recoiling, it's jaws wide open, it's fangs gleaming, and Harlapple stopped.

"Mother?" He squeaked, drawing his paws inwards, his eyes wide with fear, his ears flat against the top of his head and his tail stiff. For the first time since he was five, Harlapple was scared.

As the serpent struck, an axe flew past the mouse and hit flesh. The scaled monster hissed, and reared back as far as the tunnel allowed.

"Come on!" Garrun urged, standing besides Bloodnose with the door ahead held aloof. Harlapple blinked into reality and with renewed vigour the mouse forced himself up the final stretch of tunnel. Every step came with a sharp pain on his injured leg, but the adrenaline coursing through him kept him going until Garrun had clamped his paw over his and was pulling him to safety. As soon as he was through Bloodnose slammed the door shut as hard as he could. The wood shuddered at the snake's final thrust.


"You might stink Garrun," Harlapple huffed, sitting up with some difficulty. "But at least you know how to throw an axe."

Click!

"Yes he was always very good at that wasn't he?"

Garrun groaned, Bloodnose whimpered, Harlapple scowled.

In all his treacherous glory, Backstab Bill came out from behind a tree.  The fox had always taken great pains to look the part of an emperor, and today was no different. He was adorned in fine silks, embedded with choice jewels, and wearing a grin so smug Harlapple wondered why he had never had him executed.


"Yew left a pretty easy te follow trail," the fox sneered. "Hidin' out in this ole tree could've worked. But yew left a corpse just outside an' I know Garrun's work when I sees it. Oh look Apple! Yew've been injured! Haha! Just makes me job easier then, as I sees it."

"Mercy Bill!" cried Bloodnose, thinking fast. The weasel's paws were a whirlwind of motion. "Ye've got the horde! There's n-no need-"

"No can do Bloodie. Ye'd all come an' kill me soon as ye thought ye could. I kill yew three now an' I rest easy for the rest of me days."

"Until Traitor Tom murders you in your sleep." Harlapple retorted, not at all phased by the fox's arrival. The mouse did his best to scowl imperiously, covered as he was in layers of mud and saliva.

"Please Bill!" Bloodnose insisted, as Garrun inched towards the fallen squirrel's sword.  "W-we can give yew the treasure!"

This, of course, got the fox's attention. "Treasure?"

"Bloodnose," Harlapple warned, catching the weasel's eye.

"I'm sorry 'arl..." the weasel scuttled away from the mouse and stoat, but stayed just out of the fox's reach. "W-we knew ye was gonna stab us in the back Bill- it's in yer name see? So we was never really plannin' on takin' Redwall- only stealin' the treasure. A-an' we managed, w-which is why that squirrel followed us b-b-b-"

"But I caught up t'yew." Backstab Bill interrupted, grinning. "Alright Bloodnose, I might consider just banishin' yew instead if this treasure's worth anythin'."

"It's over there, b-behind the door." Bloodnose pointed at the door they had only just managed to close on the adder's face. "I-in a place called Broccoli!"

"It's pronounced Brockhall," Harlapple pointed out.

"Shut up Squeaky," Bill snapped, firing a bolt into the mouse's injured leg. "Always hated yew."

"The feeling is mutual..." Harlapple hissed.

"I'm still going to kill you all," Bill added, thrusting the door open.

"We figured," Bloodnose swallowed.

"Which is why we're killin' yew first." Garrun grunted.

Backstab Bill whirled around too little too late. Garrun's fist sent the vulpine sprawling into the tunnel and together with Bloodnose, slammed the door shut.

"There's nothin' here!" Bill snarled, rising to his feetpaws. "Yew tricked me!"

"How did we get stabbed in the back by a beast this stupid?" Harlapple wondered aloud. "And actually Bill, there's somebeast we'd like you to meet!"

There came the tell-tale hiss of a serpent and the tell-tale scream of a fox. Bloodnose winced, looking faint. Even Garrun was pale in the face. The door shuddered.

Harlapple smiled despite himself. "Well it sounds like Bill won't be bothering us again."

Bloodnose shuddered. "A-aye. Th-that's good 'Arl. N-now can we please go?"

"Waaay ahead of yew there," Garrun insisted, picking up the injured warlord and cradling him in his arms.


The storm had given away to sunrise. Orange light flitted between the trees, painting them a mirage of colours. Just before Brockhall faded from sight, Harlapple sighed, a sad smile on his face. "Mother would have wanted to see it."

"Looks like any other tree," Garrun grunted, turning to give Brockhall a final roll of his eyes.

"But that's the beauty ain't it?" Bloodnose sighed wistfully."It's just an old oak! All it's history. A-all it's secrets! All it's ghosts an' mysteries b-buried forever in the depths of woodland! A-an' after we leave i-it'll all be lost." The weasel swallowed and went on, his voice spiked with excitement. "Ye know, the three of us might be the last beasts te ever set foot in it? T-te walk through it's halls a-an- an' just te see it all!"


"Perhaps," Harlapple allowed. "It's almost sad the way you put it Bloodnose." He paused to scratch at a whisker. "But maybe some things are better off lost...like... the horde... Redwall..."

"Backstab Bill." Garrun grunted, and laughing with more joy than three fellows as despicable as them deserved, they left Brockhall behind.

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[Jarky Thistlebrush]

And the art:

Spoiler

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