The Unlikeliest

[The Skarzs]

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

    Near the evening, when they had been travelling on the path they had come across for some time, the gray clouds finally began to release their rain upon the earth below, and soon the nine travelling beasts were thoroughly soaked.
    Burian didn't mind the wetness very much, but the dark day was not improving how he felt. "How much longer, Tebian?" he asked the lieutenant.
    "Not long," replied the hare, blowing water from his nose. "If'n it wasn't raining, we'd be able t'see the belltower!"
    Burian glanced back at Ravax, who was staring at the ground two steps in front of her, looking quite miserable in the pouring rain, stuck between four armed hares.
    "So, old bean, what do you need the vermin for?"
    The otter looked back at Tebian. "Her name's Ravax. And she's been my guide."
    "Bit of a lousy choice, if you ask me, wot wot!"
    Burian frowned, touching his eye lightly. "I had no one else. And she's been a lot more helpful than you might think."
    The hare raised an eyebrow. "You actually trusted her? Why did you let her attack you?"
    Just then the forest on the right side of the path began to fade and suddenly cut off altogether. Through the rain the abbey became visible towering before them, wet, rose-hued sandstone rising to meet the gray sky. Ravax stopped short and looked up at the awesome sight, a look of abject horror plastered on her face. She was shoved from behind.
    "Keep up, wot," Perthem said.
    The group approached the gates of Redwall and crowded under the ramparts to try to escape the downpour. Ravax stood between two hares, shivering, with her dark eyes darting about desperately, looking for some last chance of escape. Lieutenant Tebian drew his sabre and pounded on the solid oak doors with the hilt. "H'open up! It's not Redwall-like t'let hungry beasts stay outside while there's a bloomin' feast going on in there, wot!"
    After a bit of time the gates opened and a mouse stepped out. He was dressed in a dark green habit, and was holding his hood slightly away from his head as if that would keep it from getting wet. "Long Patrol? Goodness, come in!"
    Ravax felt a heavy paw clamp down on her shoulder as she was pushed inside, and as the gate shut behind them, she felt her stomach tighten. She was trapped.
    The mouse hurriedly led them toward the abbey building. "You all must be soaked to the bone! I'll bring you inside so you can be taken care of. And I suppose you'll be wanting food, too. Well, supper is nearly ready, so you're just in time, as always."
    "You know us hares, ol' bean," piped up one of the Long Patrol. "We can smell vittles out two miles away!"
    "And good thing, too. Gives the poor, defenseless food a chance to escape!"
    They all hurried inside the large front doors and into the Great Hall. Once out of the rain Ravax shook her head and her tail, sending droplets flying everywhere, and proceeded to run her claws through her fur to help dry it out. The mouse started, noticing her for the first time.
    "How did you get in here?" he cried.
    Ravax stiffened and her ears pinned back. She took two steps back and ran into one of the hares. She jumped, tucked her tail between her legs, and bolted, darting around a pillar and through a doorway before they could stop her.
    "Ravax!" Burian shouted as he ran after her through the doorway. Ravax ran down the hall, shoving past two mice in habits who she left screaming in her wake. The otter chased her down the hall and through a door into a large cavernous room filled with tables laden with food. A squirrel lay on the ground with the contents of a tray of food spilled around him, and Burian could hear shouts coming from an adjacent room. He hurriedly apologized to the creature before rushing past them through the doors and into the kitchens. He could see the path of disgruntled creatures and disturbed items Ravax had left in her wake, which lead to a door on the far end of the room. 
    He approached the door and tried the handle, but it wouldn't budge. "Ravax!" he called. There was no answer from the other side, and Redwallers were beginning to gather around. "Ravax, I know you're in there," Burian pressed. "You're only gonna make this harder on yerself!"
    "Leemee 'lone, yew stupid waterdog! Ah diddent want t'come 'ere anyways!"
    There was some movement behind Burian, and he turned to see the hares push their way through the Abbeybeasts, Lieutenant Tebian at the head. "Alright, step aside. We'll handle the vermin, wot!"
    "What're you gonna do? She's locked herself in there," said Burian, still standing in front of the door.
    "Break the door down and drag her out of there, what else?" piped up Perthem.
    A hedgehog dressed in a white habit with a matching hat stood forwards and put her paws on her hips. "Well isn't this a fine mess! Have a vermin run through my kitchen and ruin dozens of dishes, then it goes and locks itself in my store room! And now you're going to break down the door?"
    "D' you have a better option, marm?" The hedgehog curled her lip but said nothing. "Right," said Tebian. "One of you chaps go get a big heavy stool or something we can use for a jolly ol' ram, and-"
    "She'll only be more trouble if you force 'er out," said Burian hotly.
    "What do you suggest, we talk the ferret out of there?" asked the hedgehog.
    "Yes, that's exactly what I suggest," snapped the otter. He turned back to the door. "Ravax, listen t' me. I need you to come out."
    ". . . No."
    Burian put his head closer to the door. "Come on. You're not going to be able to stay in there forever."
    "Ah can stay in 'ere 'til Ah die or they break down th' door an' kill meh," came the muffled reply.
    "They are not going to kill you," said Burian sternly, looking back at the hares meaningfully. He turned back and looked at the floor silently for a time. "You don't have to stay here," he said slowly. "Shouldn't 've brought you. If you come out, I'll make sure you c'n leave."
    There was some motion inside the room, and the voice suddenly seemed to be right next to the door. "Yew mean Ah can leave Redwall?"
    "Yes, I swear."
    There was a muffled scraping sound, then the door opened a crack and Ravax stood in the opening with a broom handle held loosely in her paws.
    "Ah'll be leavin' then," she said, looking warily at everybeast standing around staring at her.
    Burian looked at her for a moment, then turned away and started to walk out of the kitchen. "Come on." Ravax had followed Burian but a few steps when the two creatures suddenly found themselves once again surrounded by hares. "Out of the way," said Burian. "She's leavin'."
    "Sorry, sirrah, but we can't let you do that, wot!" said Lieutenant Tebian. "Good show, getting her out of there. We can take it from here."
    Burian stared at the hare, dumbfounded, for several moments, but was broken out of the spell when Ravax screeched like a banshee as she was grabbed by the others and dragged out of the kitchen. "Liar! Yew promised! Yew swore! Yew're like all the rest o' them!" she screamed.
    Burian watched helplessly as the ferret was taken from sight, and he turned back to Tebian, suddenly grabbing him by his uniform and nearly lifting him from his paws as he shoved him back against a wall. "You!" he growled in the hare's face. "I gave my word! I said she could leave!"
    The lieutenant pushed against Burian. "And she did leave- The store room. Now, let go of me, old chap." The two remaining hares flanked Burian and put a paw on each of his shoulders, and he let go of Tebian's uniform. Tebian smoothed the shirt. "Perhaps you should get acquainted with Redwall, Burian. The infirmary would be a good place to start; get that nasty eye taken care of, wot?"
    Burian glowered at him, noting again the dangerous glint that showed in the hare's eyes. He shrugged the paws from his shoulders and walked from the kitchen through the path the Redwallers cleared for him as they got out of his way.
    He wandered about the abbey for a short time in a burning temper, not caring where he was really going until he had calmed down some, and found he was completely lost. Taking a deep breath to collect himself, he stopped a pair of squirrels as they walked by.
    "Where's the infirmary?"
    They looked with alarm at his swollen nose and blackened eye, and one of them pointed at a set of stairs. "It's up that way, two levels up and to the left," she said. "Are you new here? I don't think I've seen you around."
    "Yeah, I'm new," Burian said to her. "Came in a bit ago."
    She smiled. "Well, let me be one of the first to welcome you! I'm sure you'll find Redwall to be a very nice and peaceful place to stay! But, oh, what did happen to your face?"
    "Don't worry about it. Thanks." Burian walked away up the stairs, leaving the Redwallers looking after him as he left.
    Making his way up the stairs and guessing what the squirrel's directions had meant, he finally found the Infirmary, the words neatly carved into a wood placard on the door. He pushed it open and stepped into a large room with two lines of beds along the walls, their clean sheets folded tight and neat. Only two beds were occupied, and both creatures were sound asleep beneath the covers.
    At the opposite side of the room sat an otter tending to a little mouse's paw.
    "There you go! Now don't play in the gorse bush next time," she was saying as she shooed him off, and she looked up at Burian. "Oh, hello- Goodness! What in seasons' name happened to you?"
    Burian began explaining when she pulled him to a stool and sat him down. "Now you be still while I get a poultice ready for that black eye; it's a wonder you can even open it!" She was older than him by several seasons, though by exactly how many he couldn't tell. From the look of her worn paws it may have been upwards of ten.
    Burian waited as she busily prepared a bandage and handed it to him. "Alright, rub this gently below your eye. Ooh, now your nose needs to be cleaned. . . Here, I'll just wipe it off with some rose water. . ." She carefully washed the dried blood from his snout, and Burian couldn't help but notice her glancing up at him every once in a while.
    "So then, what happened?" she asked.
    "I got in a fight," Burian said simply.
    The other clucked disapprovingly. "Tsk tsk! Was it with a vermin?" She continued before he could answer. "Rotten, nasty creatures! Always causing trouble. Here, I'll take that," she said as she took the poultice from Burian. "Now we'll put some lavender oil on the bruise . . . Where did you come from?"
    "I used t' live on River Moss, but I've been travellin' around for. . . I dunno how long." He looked at her as she put the oil away, noticing her glancing back at him again. "I just came up from the South Stream . . ."
    "The South Stream?" she asked, turning around quickly and sitting down on a stool in front of Burian. ". . . You didn't happen to see any other otters while you were there, did you?"
    "Ah. . . Yes." Burian leaned back a little. "Why?"
    "I used to live on the South Stream, a long time ago. When my sister married an otter from another holt, I wanted to go with her. Then there was a plague, and some of us left to find a cure. . . My sister, her child and myself, went together, but we were attacked by vermin and I was the only one left alive. I've spent so long here that it has kind of faded in my memory, but I've always wondered what happened to the holt. . ." She looked up from the blank space behind Burian where she had been staring as she recounted the tale, and smiled faintly at him. "You know, it's funny. . . You remind me of someone."
    Burian looked at her, digesting her story, and he grabbed his tail and pulled it in front of him. "Did your holt have this mark?"
    The female otter looked at the tattoo on Burian's tail, and stood up quickly, knocking over the stool she had been sitting on. "Mirrik?" She grabbed his face and looked him straight in the eyes. "Mirrik!"
    "What the-!"
    "Oh, you survived! How did you survive? Margaret told me to run and I never saw her again but you're alive!" She hugged Burian tightly, crying. Burian almost fell over from the embrace, and he awkwardly tried to pry her off himself. When she finally did let go, she held him by the shoulders and looked at him with a tear-stained face.
    Burian awkwardly met the gaze. "So. . . You're my aunt? They said my mother's name was Margaret, and my father was Harranah. And yer from a holt with an otter named Torev?"
    "Yes, yes! You must have been to my old holt, Riverdale!" The female otter nearly jumped in the air, but sat back down. "And. . . Holt Mortec?"
    "Gone," said Burian sadly, shaking his head. "They all died, it seemed. But it looked like somebeast survived, so that's why I came 'ere."
    There was some silence in the infirmary as the two otters sat, neither sure what to do or say, until the female otter spoke. "It seems we're the only ones left from our family, Mirrik."
    Burian straightened. "I'm sorry? My name is Burian."
    "Oh, yes, of course," said the other with a small laugh. "You wouldn't have known your real name. Who raised you and gave you your name?"
    "It was an old watervole. All I knew was that I was adopted. I grew up on the river with them. . . Until they started a war with the Guosim." Burian scoffed. "I could hardly believe them. . . there was always talk about bein' good to each other, but soon as they started arguin' with the shrews about what part o' the river was 'theirs', they started a feud! Every chance they got they were at each other's throats. So I left." Burian stopped and shook his head. "Sorry. . . It's always somethin' that's bothered me. What's yer name?"
    "Silia." She smiled again. "Don't worry, Burian. You won't find any fighting here at Redwall. Everybeast is treated like a friend!" Silia stood up. "Come on! Supper should be ready by now. I'll show you around the abbey tomorrow."

****
    Ravax was dragged down a short flight of stairs into a dimly-lit room filled with barrels stacked to the ceiling, and smelling of alcohol, old wood, and cork. Ravax kicked and continued to spout off a string of insults that would have made any mother's ears stand on end.
    "Shut your trap before I bally tie it shut myself," Perthem threatened, and Ravax became deathly silent, her insults replaced by a cold glare. Just then a hedgehog came rushing from the maze of barrels carrying a lantern.
    "What in season's n- oh my!"
    "My sincerest apologies sirrah, but do you by any chance happen t' have a place where we can lock this little beastie up, wot?" one of the other hares said.
    "Oh my, um, yes, I. . . there's a store room, this way, I keep the empty barrels there, but it should do. I'm afraid it doesn't lock though," he said leading them to a small door off to one side.
    "That won't be a problem. One of us can stick around an keep an eye on her. I volunteer Perthem for first watch, wot!"
    Perthem squinted at him. "An' I volunteer you for th' blinkin graveyard shift. An' bring me a heaping platter o' that h'abbey fodder, won't you? Actually, make that two!"
    The hedgehog gave Perthem the lantern and opened the door, as Ravax was dragged inside and unceremoniously dumped on the floor. The room was small and cramped. Empty barrels were stacked up against one wall with several others scattered about the small space upright or on their side.
    Ravax scrambled to the back corner as Perthem set the lantern down on a barrel top and sat down on the one adjacent to it. Ravax watched as the door was closed with a heavy thud, and she felt her stomach drop. She was alone, alone in this place of death, and she didn't see any way out this time.

****

    Burian's aunt led him down to Cavern Hole, where most of the Abbeybeasts were sitting down at the dozens of food-laden tables. Silia all but dragged him to a table and introduced him to the creatures there, who he greeted in turn. He sat on the bench and blinked at all the food that lay before him.
    Pasties and soups, breads of all kind, cheese of many colors and texture, as well as different fruits and vegetables and sweet pastries. He almost couldn't believe this much food was possible to make, let alone eat.
Silia nudged him as he stared. "Well, don't just feast your eyes; your stomach needs it too!" She took his plate and loaded it up until it was nearly overflowing with food. The female otter watched laughing as Burian picked at the contents, not sure where to start. "Try a scone, at least!"
    She continued to laugh as Burian gradually ate more and more, finishing the plate completely and shoving it away. "Oof! That was good."
    "You ain't even had dessert!" said a squirrel opposite Burian.
    "Hurr, must bees all the travellin' yurr h'otter's done wot's shrunk 'is stummick," chuckled a mole next to him. "Wurr be you a-comin' from, maister Bur'yin?"
    Burian was about to answer when Silia called a hedgehog who was passing by. "Oh, Piff! Piff dear! I'd like you to meet someone." She motioned to Burian. "This is my nephew Burian! He just arrived at Redwall."
    Burian looked at the hedgehog, and his face went serious as he realized it was the same one from earlier, in the kitchen. Piff looked at him and then back at Silia with some surprise. "Oh, uh, yes, we met. E-excuse me. . ." With that, Piff hurried away.
    Silia sat down, looking after the hedgehog. "How odd! Piff is usually so welcoming. How did you two meet, Burian?"
    Burian wasn't listening to his aunt, and was instead watching as Piff approached the head table, where several creatures sat, including Lieutenant Tebian, and she spoke to them, pointing in the otter's direction. They all turned their heads to look at him, then one squirrel in the center nodded and said something to Piff.
    "Burian?"
    ". . . I wouldn't mind too much with Piff, Silia," said the squirrel at Burian's table. "Poor thing's probably still a bit upset about a vermin who ran through her kitchen and locked itself in the storeroom. Good thing the Long Patrol was here to help, though!"
    "A vermin? Gracious me!" cried Silia. "Burian, did you know about-?"
    Burian did not hear. He had gotten up and approached the creatures at the head table, knowing they watched him stride toward them. Tebian and the squirrel exchanged a couple words, then turned to the young otter as he reached them.
    "Hello, Burian," said the squirrel with a smile. He had graying red fur, the skin beneath slightly stretched and wrinkled from age. A pair of crystal spectacles perched on his nose, and his dark brown eyes looked over them at Burian. "I hear you caused a bit of trouble earlier?"
    Burian looked at Tebian, who was leaning back in his chair, meeting the otter's gaze. "I'm sure Lieutenant Tebian told you the whole story."
    "That is true," said the squirrel with a nod. "I'm concerned that you were trusting enough of the ferret to travel with her at all. She's a ferret."
    Burian was having flashbacks to his confrontation with Rurrock. "She ain't done nothin' wrong. Where is she? Why are you even keepin' her here, anyway?"
    Tebian spoke up. "We want to keep an eye on her, lad. There's not been many vermin in Mossflower recently and we want t' know she won't cause any trouble b'fore we let her go. We're keeping her in the cellars."
    "Yes, because lockin' 'er up after I said she could leave 's definitely gonna make 'er cause less trouble." The otter's paw strayed to his sword hilt, which was still strapped to his belt.
    "Calm down, Burian," said the squirrel. "There is no need to be hostile."
    Burian suddenly felt a paw on his shoulder, and he turned to a middle-aged mouse standing slightly behind him on his left.
    "Hello, Abbot Firrin," he said. "Young beast givin' you trouble?"
    The Abbot looked at the mouse. "Ah! Burian, this is Restonor, the Abbey Warrior. He's one of the best creatures you could know, and has dealt with vermin more times than I can count. Without him, I don't know where we would be sometimes."
    Restonor smiled and bowed. "You flatter me, Father Abbot. I've only done what I've had to." He turned to Burian, looking at the blades he was carrying. "Sorry, young 'un, but I didn't know you weren't told we don't allow weapons in the open. If you'll allow me to take them. . ."
    Burian shook his head. "I don't go anywhere without a blade."
    The mouse extended his paw toward the sword on the otter's side. "At least the sword, then? Rules are rules."
    Burian was silent for a moment, then took the sword from his belt and gave it to Restonor. "So do you have rules against ferrets as well?" he asked softly. He could feel several pairs of eyes on him, and he looked from Restonor to Abbot Firrin. "I want to see Ravax."
    Firrin sighed and leaned back into his large chair, taking off his spectacles and polishing them. When he was done, he looked back up at Burian. "Restonor, may you please take Burian to see the ferret?"
    "Has she eaten?" Burian continued without waiting for an answer. "I'll bring her food."
    "Burian. . ." started the abbot as Burian began walking away, stopping the otter in his tracks. "Vermin have never done any good. It's been proven for countless seasons that the only thing they bring is war. Why care about one ferret?"
    "Because she's my friend," said Burian without turning around, and with that, he walked off.
    Abbot Firrin and Lieutenant Tebian watched the otter, accompanied by Restonor, head off toward the cellars. The squirrel sat back, folding his paws at his chin. "What do you make of him?"
    "He's not a bad creature, sah," replied Tebian, brushing some crumbs from the table. "I must say it's sad, though. A ferret, his friend? When we found them she was givin' him that whoppin' black eye, wot!" The hare took a bite of a scone. "Some friend, if you ask me."
    "He's young," said Firrin. "I only hope he learns before it gets himself into bigger trouble."

****
    Ravax pulled her knees up and shivered as a draft  passed over her damp clothes. The lantern flickered and Perthem huffed, muttering something about how the rest had gone and forgotten him. Ravax was silent. Her heart had stopped racing, and she had started to evaluate her situation. She eyed the sword that rested across Perthem's lap as she tried to think of some way to escape.
    Perthem's ears perked up, "Finally," he exclaimed. The door opened and a mouse entered, followed by Burian. Ravax scowled and looked away.
    Burian approached her as Perthem stood up, looking at the plate of food the otter was carrying. "Food? For me?"
    "No," Burian grunted.
    Perthem frowned. "Oh, come on now, when am I going t'get to eat? Bloomin' squad's out fillin' their stomachs and left me t' starve!"
    Burian ignored the complaining hare and walked up to Ravax. "Here's some food. I know you're hungry."
    Ravax glanced up at the plate and her jaw went slack a little; there was more good food on that plate than she had ever seen in one place. However, her gaze quickly turned to a frown.
    "Ef yew think yew can come en 'ere with a bunch o' table scraps an' Ah'll come grovellin' back t' yew, lickin' at yer boots, yer wrong. Ah do no' want yer gifts," she growled and, glancing down at her wrist, she spotted his bracelet. "An' yew c'n have this back fer all Ah care!" she yelled, tearing it off and throwing the metal band at him. 
    Burian drew back at Ravax's outburst, and he looked at the bracelet that had bounced off his shoulder and rolled to a stop on the floor. Setting the plate down and picking up the bracelet, he turned around and walked out of the cellars without another word, the mouse following behind after taking a moment to look at Ravax.
    "Hoi!" cried Perthem, hopping after them. "Tell the Lieutenant to send someone to relieve me, wot?" Once they had left Perthem turned back to the room and eyed the food. "If you're not going to eat that. . ." he said, moving towards the plate on the floor.
    "Et s'mine. Keep yer paws off, fat face," Ravax hissed as she darted forwards and grabbed the plate before retreating back into her corner.
    "Bloody vermin," Perthem grumbled as he sat back down, and the two creatures lapsed back into utter silence save for Ravax's hurried chewing.

[close]

[The Witessss]

(are we allowed to comment?) i liked this chapter immensely. Almost like BJ was writing it!

[The Skarzs]

Yes, you may comment.
Wow! That is an incredible compliment; thank you, Wites!
If you don't mind me asking, what made it that way?

[The Witessss]

the way some animals react to the vermin than others, the names, (yeah, that plays a big part in my evaluations),
the way they move, the variety of the animal species and the variety of the personalities, how they remember things from the past they never would have remembered otherwise, family reunions, tragedies, (i can't stand some stories that are all sunshine and rainbows), the little things that make up a whole. 

[The Skarzs]

Kind of a double upload. Sorry about that. I missed posting a chapter this last weekend, so here you go.

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

     It was still dark out when Amerun rose from his pallet near the fire and stretched, rubbing the dust from his sleep-heavy eyes. He grabbed a fire poker and stirred the embers, adding another log to fuel the dying flames. He then rolled up his pallet, stashed it in the corner and then carefully made his way around his sleeping mother and the snoring Mank to get to the door. He removed the lid from the half-empty water barrel, and, using the ladle that hung from its side, he drank his fill before dumping the rest on his head. He filled the ladle once more and walked inside to pour it over Mank's head.
     The ferret spluttered and sat up with a jolt, arm and stub flailing wildly. "Blrrbl! Glak!" He wiped the water from his face and looked up at the wearet with bleary eyes. "Aah! What'reyounoget-!" he cried, scrambling backwards. Mank knocked his head against the wall and held it as his mind cleared. Finally, standing up, he grimaced at Amerun. "Whatja do that for?"
     "You were snoring," Amerun said, grabbing his shirt from the back of a chair and pulling it over his head. He grabbed a bucket from the corner and threw it at the ferret. "Catch. I am going to get water, you can come wid me."
     Mank picked the bucket up from the ground. "Watch who yer bossin' around, boy," he grunted.
     "Whatever happened to, 'I would like to sleep in today'," Jessela muttered, rolling over and propping herself up on her elbow. "Oh it's you," she added when she spotted Mank.
     "Yeah, me. Just the creature what saved your lives." Mank walked out the door after Amerun.
     Amerun was on the side of the house where he took a yoke down from the wall, with two empty buckets on either end, and rested it across his shoulders.
     "So whad do you plan on doing nexd, afder you leave 'ere?" Amerun asked Mank as he started into the woods. They were walking down a small trail which looked as if it had been worn out of the underbrush from years of use.
     "Get as far away from Redwall as possible. An' then," said Mank, gritting his teeth and holding up his arm stub, "I'ma get back at th' creature 'o did this to me." The ferret looked up at Amerun. "You ain't gonna stay with yer mother forever, are ya?"
     Amerun glance back at Mank and his brow furrowed "I. . . I guess nod forever, I don'd know. I doubd de resd o' de world would accepd me." He shrugged.
     Mank was beginning to see Amerun in a different light. "You ain't the first wearet t' roam th' earth, y'know. I've heard stories o' wearets what done great things. Imagine what ye could do if you 'ad creatures who would follow ye, respect ye."
     The ferret glanced backwards, checking to see that they were alone. "You oughta come with me. You ain't seen nothin' o' th' world, and I've been all over."
     "You mean dey would acdualy lisden do me?" Amerun asked, cocking his head.
     Mank had to think about that for a moment. "Not everyone. But that's where strength comes in, y'see. Yer big, an' ya don't seem dumb. So ye'll get some respect just from that. An' the more creatures you have, the more ye'll get."
     "Ma says large groups draw doo much addendion," Amerun said, and stared ahead at the path, though Mank got the feeling that he could have walked this path with his eyes closed. Finally he added "Bud I don'd know, more creadures mighd make one sdronger, safer."
     Mank nodded in encouragement. "It does. You wouldn't hafta worry about thugs tryin' t' pressure you or yer mum fer payment when ye've made yer own." He stepped around a trunk and waited to hear what Amerun would say.
     Amerun gave him a sidelong glance "I 'ave wondered w'at de world beyond Mossflower was like."
     They may have talked further but Amerun reached out his paw and stopped Mank, stock still. Mank listened intently, hearing sounds of yelling.
     The two creatures approached the source of the noise quietly. When they found it, it was the pair of vermin who had been attacking Jessela and Amerun the day prior being harassed by three others.
     "Last chance," said one of the aggravators. "You join us or die!"
     "C'mon!" whimpered the stoat, gulping against the spearpoint at his throat. "We don't wanna join no warlord!"
     Mank recognized one of the vermin, a fox, and a member of Jarral's horde. "Uh oh," he said aloud.
     "Whad are dey doing?" whispered Amerun to Mank.
     "Called 'press gangin'," Mank whispered back. "Those ones with th' weapons 're tryin' t' force those other two t' join their horde."
     "Just let us go, muckers!"
     "Orders is orders!" grunted the fox, brandishing a billhook. "Let's get movin', mateys; these un's ain't gonna be much use to 'is lordship."
     As soon as the fox spoke, Amerun growled and dropped the yoke, charging into their midst with a frightening roar. "Grraaahhhh!"
     Every creature was caught off-guard by the sight of the huge, deformed wearet coming at them. The fox stood no chance as Amerun grabbed his head and crushed it into a tree, dropping the limp body before turning to the other two, who pointed their weapons at him.
     "D-don't come any closer!" squeaked the ferret holding a club. Amerun walked up to him boldly and pressed himself against the outstretched weapon.
     "Whad are you waiding' for?" he asked as the ferret gaped up at him. "My turn, den."
     Mank watched in fascination as the wearet once again deftly snapped his opponent's neck, but turned his attention to the last vermin, a rat, who was sneaking around behind Amerun with his spear. Mank came running out the bushes, tackling the rat and stabbing him in the throat with his knife.
     He looked up at Amerun, breathing heavily. "That's two, youngster!" he said.
     All three of the hordebeasts were dead, and all that remained were the two they were trying to recruit. Mank and Amerun looked down at them as they blubbered at their feet.
     "Thank you, sirs! We'd 'ave been goners if you 'adn't saved us!"
     Amerun hauled them both up from the ground by their arms and looked at them closely, though they averted their own eyes.
     "You two were da ones who got away when you were adacking me and my ma."
     "No, no, You must be mistaken, we don't know what yer talkin' about, we never seen yous afor we swars!" the stoat grovelled.
     Amerun sighed and rolled his eyes. "I 'ave eyes, and I'm nod sdupid. Ged up, I'm nod going d' kill you," he said, dragging them back on their feet again, and then added as a side thought: "Unless you dreaden my ma again."
     The pair shook their heads vigorously. "No, sir, never!"
     Mank grinned as he watched Amerun. "That's it, boy," he said quietly. "Now they'll follow you." Then he spoke to the two vermin. "What're you gonna do for the creature 'o saved ya?"
     "We'll do whatever you asks!" said the stoat.
     "Aye!" agreed the other, a rat.
     Amerun looked at them, and then at Mank, who nodded encouragingly. "Well den, I guess you work for me now," he said with a grin of near disbelief growing on his face. "I'll prodecd you from any more press gangs, and in redurn you do whad I say and 'elp wadch my back,"
     "We will, sir!" they said in unison.
     Mank pulled Amerun aside. "Those fellas we killed, those were part o' the horde whose leader cut off my arm." The wearet looked at him hard. "That beast ain't a nice type, an' he ain't lookin' to stay safe usin' a horde, like I was tellin' you. He's gonna kill every woodlander 'e finds and force every vermin into his horde."
     Now it was Mank's turn to look at Amerun, his face angry from thinking about Jarral. "You an' Jessela won't be safe if he's coming."
     "Isn'd dad whad I 'ave dose dwo for?" Amerun asked pensively.
     "Do you think four creatures can hold off a horde once they notice us?"
     "Ah. . . den. . . whad do you propose?" Amerun asked, glancing back at his two new followers who were eagerly trying to listen in on the conversation.
     A plan began forming in Mank's mind, and he rubbed his graying chin as he paced about for a moment. Then he turned back to the other three. "We'll need you to join the horde."
     Every creature was shocked in silence, until the stoat cried out. "Are you crazy?"
     "No I ain't. Lissen," Mank continued, "If you can get into th' 'orde, you'll have the best chance o' killin' their leader."
     "You are crazy," Amerun said, shaking his head. "Whad aboud de resd of de 'orde? Dey won'd be doo 'appy dad I killed deir leader."
     "Some of 'em, sure," Mank said with a nod. "But for a lot o' th' horde it don't really matter who they follow. I should know, they used to follow me."
     "So you're saying dad if I kill deir leader den dey'll do whad I say?" Amerun said, starting to warm up to the plan.
     "That might happen, yeh." Mank shook his claw in warning. "But that ain't a promise! Like I said before, there's certain things that'll make creatures follow you, an' sometimes defeatin' their leader does th' trick."
     Amerun nodded slowly. "I see." He then looked at his new followers "So do you dwo 'ave names?" he asked.
     "I'm Dampfur," said the stoat.
     "And I'm called Bino," said the rat.
     "And do you 'ave a camp?" Amerun asked.
     Dampfur pointed to their left. "Yeh, we were on our way back when those three found us."
     Mank looked at Amerun. "Alright, I'm gonna go check out their camp. You go get the water."
     The wearet frowned and rubbed his head. "Why only you?"
     "You can carry more water, and if we stay out here too long your old lady'll. . ." Mank stopped. "I don't know, she's a weird one."
     "Alrighd, fine, I'll meed you back ad da 'ouse," Amerun said, picking the yoke back up and heading in the direction of the stream.
     Once Amerun had left, Mank and the other two picked up the weapons dropped by the dead vermin, and headed in the direction of their camp, while an unseen figure behind a tree watched them, and slowly left back in the direction they had come.

     Mank and Amerun stepped into the clearing where Jessela and her son's house was. Dampfur and Bino's camp was little more than a dump. . . and with them being the only two remaining of their group, it was like they were hoarders, taking their one-time companions' belongings for their own. But now Mank knew where to find them.
     He stalked up to the house and noticed Jessela with her back to them in the garden. Amerun emptied his buckets into the barrel as Jessela turned to them.
      "What took you so long?" Jessela asked, standing up. "And what happened to your water?" She added nodding at Mank's bucket as she climbed over the basil patch and out of the garden with a basketful of vegetables.
     Mank looked down at his empty bucket, then frowned at Jessela. "D' you have any idea how 'ard it is t' carry a bucket full o' water with one arm? I'd like t'see you try it sometime, missy."
     Jessela just shook her head and walked back into the house "Wash up, breakfast is waiting for you," she said.
     Mank peered after the weasel, then back at the garden she had been tending to. "It ain't natural fer a weasel!" he muttered as he walked into the house.
     "I heard that, too!"

     Burian walked out of the abbey building and out onto the damp lawns. The rain had stopped sometime during the night, and everybeast was busily working outside.
     The otter had just finished a rather lonely breakfast; word had obviously been passed around of Burian's. . . association, and while eating he found himself at an empty table.
     Not like I haven't been travelling alone for seasons, Burian thought to himself.
     He was just about to explore the abbey grounds when his aunt Silia popped up beside him. "Good morning, Burian!" she said with a hopeful smile. "How are you liking Redwall?"
     Burian looked around at the enclosing walls. "It's. . . different. I'm not used to it."
     "Well, let me show you around! Maybe that'll cheer you up."
     Burian allowed himself to be escorted around the abbey, through the garden, where dozens of creatures were toiling away, weeding, harvesting, and watering, around the far edge of the pond, and towards the orchard full of heavy-laden fruit trees.
     Silia stopped at the edge of the pond and stooped down to dip her paw in the water. "What do you like about water?"
     Burian looked at the gently rippling pond. "It's always changing. Rivers can break rocks if'n they 'ave enough time. They even cut through th' land t' get to the ocean." He chuckled. "Didn't know 'ow much I like rivers."
     Silia smiled, then looked back out at the pond. "Water always reminds me of home. There's always some there, and it always has what you need, like fish, or you can use it to help things grow."
     The two otters stood silently for a moment, then Silia turned to her nephew. "So, are you planning on staying here?"
     "I. . . I don't know," stuttered Burian, looking away from Silia. "I've been on my own for so long, I can't even think 'bout doin' anything else."
     "But look what you can have here!" said Silia, waving her paw around while taking his. "These walls have kept us safe for seasons, you can have a happy life here, make friends, a family of your own, and forget about worrying about fighting shrews. . . or vermin."
     Burian pulled his paw out of her grasp. "If this is about Ravax, just say it. But my mind hasn't changed."
     Silia looked away and folded her arms. "A-alright," she said slowly. "C'mon, I'll bring you up to the walls."
     Burian followed Silia again, a little further behind now, and he was soon ascending the stairs to the east wall, and he found himself blown away by the view.
     He could see for miles over the tops of countless trees, like an ocean of green, with waves of leaves shaken by a wind.
     "Wow," he whispered.
     "It's beautiful, isn't it?" asked Silia. "Follow me, you can see the flatlands as well."
     As the two otters walked along the wall, Burian admired the view. It certainly was incredible to be seeing from a perspective that he thought only birds could have.
     When he looked forward, he noticed a figure ahead of them standing at the corner of the adjacent walls. As they got closer, Silia said, "Oh, it's Restonor." She cupped a paw to her mouth and waved. "Hullo, Restonor!"
     The mouse waved back, and waited for them to reach him. "Good morning, friends," he said. "Glad the rain has stopped." He looked at Burian. "Mind if I walk with you?"
     "Go ahead," said Silia with a smile. "Wouldn't deny our abbey warrior, would we?"
     They started walking again, Restonor following with them, until the mouse broke the silence. "How are you today, Burian?"
     "Fine," said the otter, looking straight ahead.
     "I was just showing him the view," said Silia.
     Restonor nodded. "Ah yes, it's quite a sight. You know, I'll bet if somebeast were to climb to the top of the tower they might be able to see Salamandastron."
     "If you say so," said Burian.
     There was another period of silence before Restonor spoke again. "You don't trust me very much, do you, Burian?"
     Burian stopped, and looked at Restonor for a moment before replying. "Can't say I do."
     "Hmm." The old warrior nodded. "That's fine, I can't expect you to immediately. Can you tell me why?"
     "I think you know why," said Burian, furrowing his brows. "It's the same reason I don't trust Tebian, or the abbot, or almost anybeast here."
     "The ferret?"
     Burian scowled.
     "She's vermin, Burian. They lie, cheat, steal, and kill. Some say that 'the only good vermin is a dead one'. That might not be true, but I have yet to see any good come from vermin."
     "Like we're perfect compared to them," growled Burian. "You think I ain't ever had t' lie and steal to survive? And my paws ain't clean either. I've killed, aye, and sometimes I don't think they deserved it." Restonor stiffened at the last sentence. "I've seen shrews an' voles act just like Ravax, but you don't lock them up."
     Silia interrupted. "Burian, please be reasonable! They're only doing what they think is right. You might not know what vermin have done to the creatures of Redwall over countless seasons. Wars, death, even sickness, all brought by vermin!" The female otter put her paw on Burian's arm. "I'm worried about you. Travelling with a vermin is-"
     "I'm travelling with a friend," snapped Burian, shaking Silia off. "A friend who you all just made me betray." With that, he walked away, leaving Silia and Restonor standing on the ramparts.
     Silia turned to the abbey warrior, tears welling up in her eyes. "What do I do, Restonor? I lost my sister and my holt, I don't want to lose him too!"
     "I know, Silia. I know." Restonor folded his paws behind his back. "In all my life I have seen no good ever come from vermin. But Burian has some reason to think Ravax is his friend. I don't understand it."
     The otter silently looked out over the walls. It was confusing, and saddening. "What if. . ." she said, "What if they actually are friends?"
     Restonor said nothing, and the two creatures stood looking at Mossflower until Silia walked away.

     Burian had found a shaded area under one of the orchard's apple trees, the fruits not quite ripe yet, and he sat down against the trunk to think. He had no worries of being bothered; the orchard wasn't being harvested yet, and creatures didn't want to look him in the eyes.
     He shook his head. Ravax didn't deserve being a prisoner. She didn't want to be there, most Redwallers didn't want her there, and it was causing bad blood all around. The only creatures keeping her locked up were the hares.
     So maybe he could convince the abbot to tell the hares to let her go.
     Burian furrowed his brows and rubbed his lower lip thoughtfully. The abbot, and Restonor, probably trusted Lieutenant Tebian more than him. . . and would listen more to the Salamandastron hare than an otter who was friends with a ferret.
     But it would still make more sense if they let Ravax go, wouldn't it? It would cause a lot less trouble.
     He stood up and walked towards the abbey, intent on finding the abbot to talk to him. He passed through the orchard and walked around the building to the main entrance.
     However, Burian found after asking around that Abbot Firrin was going to be occupied with important affairs for a while; he wouldn't get a chance to talk to him until after lunchtime.
     Burian made his way back to the orchard, and waited restlessly under the trees.

     It was nearly suppertime when Burian found Abbot Firrin, walking alone atop the wall, and the otter hurriedly mounted the steps and ran towards him.
     The squirrel had heard his footsteps and stopped until Burian came close.
     "Hello, Burian," he said, looking up at the much taller otter. "I hope you're enjoying yourself today."
     "Can I talk to you?" Burian asked.
     "Of course, my son," said Firrin. He waved his paw in the direction he had been going. "Let's walk while we talk."
     Burian walked a little ways with the short squirrel before speaking. "I want Ravax released."
     Firrin looked at Burian, then straight ahead of him. "Why?"
     "Because it's not right. She didn't do nothin' wrong. If anything, the only one who did somethin' wrong was me. I brought 'er here, and I shouldn't have." Burian furrowed his brows. "An' she's causin' more trouble bein' kept here than if she was let go."
     The Abbot walked along, silently listening, and waited a few moments after Burian was done speaking before making a reply. "Perhaps. But you must understand that Redwall and Salamandastron are an alliance, and we need to respect each other's authority."
     The squirrel sighed. "Lieutenant Tebian's authority comes from the Badger Lord, and if he thinks it best to lock up the ferret, then I will trust he's right."
     "But why? She hasn't done anything wrong."
     Firrin spread his paws. "He has his reasons."
     "But you disregard my reasons." Burian stopped walking and shook his head. "If you don't let her go in a couple days, then you ain't seein' either of us again." And then he once again turned around and went down from the walls.

***

     Mank woke up before both Amerun and Jessela, and he sat up and waited silently to see if they were really sound asleep. Jessela was lying down on a cot in a corner of the house, her back to the wall, and her son was doing the same on the opposite side of the house, his snores reverberating around the house.
     The ferret stood up, letting his blanket fall to the floor, and he carefully went to the door. He was a few steps from reaching it when one of the floorboards creaked under his foot, and he stopped abruptly, looking behind him at the two sleeping creatures. Jessela stirred, and turned over in her sleep so she was facing the wall. Amerun continued snoring.
     Mank eased himself off the creaky board, and he got to the door, which slid open with a quiet rubbing sound on the well-made hinges. He closed it carefully behind him, and padded his way towards Dampfur and Bino's camp through the cool morning.
     It took him some time to get there, trying to remember exactly where the marks were that he placed along the path to it. Finally he recognized a fallen tree that had been nearby their camp, and he relaxed. "Oi! Dampfur! Bino! It's me, Mank," he called.
     There was no answer. "Lazy bones," muttered Mank. "Still sleepin'."
     He entered the camp, with leftover bones of their latest meals and one or two bits of ripped clothing laying on the ground, and then opened one of the ramshackle tents. "Hey, wake up," he said to the figure sleeping on the ground. Once again, there was no answer, and he prodded the blankets with his foot. "Wake up, you lazy-" Mank drew back in horror when, as he reached down to pull back the blanket, he saw Bino's sightless eyes staring up at nothing, clouded over in death.
     Looking at the rat's throat, Mank found a bit of rope still wrapped around it tightly.
     The ferret hurried to the other tent and flung it open, to find an even more gruesome sight.
     The floor and walls of Dampfur's tent were splattered all over with blood, and the ferret's body lay still on the ground, a pool of blood under him. His throat was slit, and a spear had been driven into his back and pinned him to the ground.
   Before Mank had time to let the gravity of what he had just seen sink in the tent flap was drawn aside. He whirled around to see Jessela standing in the opening, a knife in her other paw.
     The two stared at each other for some time, their eyes locked. Finally, Jessela spoke.
     "The plan has been changed," she said, keeping her eyes on Mank. "You are not sending my son to some horde to do your dirty work for you, just so he can get killed for his efforts. Don't worry, if I wanted you dead you would not be standing here now. But in exchange for this lenience I have a few demands of my own."
     "You killed these two?" breathed Mank.
     "Of course I did," said Jessela sharply. "I think you're smart enough to figure out why. Now, you want your horde back, and I want them out of Mossflower. If I kill their leader for you, you are going to take the rest of them far away from here and never return." While she spoke, Jessela had been waving the knife about almost carelessly, but Mank didn't want to find out how skilled she might be.
     He looked at Jessela, and let her demands sink in. What she was saying could still work out. . . he had no desire to stay anywhere near Redwall, horde or not.
     ". . . Fine."
     "And one more thing," said Jessela. "My son; you are going to tell him that you never intended to take him with you and that you were only using him. You got that?"
     "Now that's somethin' I won't agree on," said Mank, crossing his arm over his chest. "I was gonna take 'im with me. He could get followers like these lot you killed a lot easier 'n I could. 'E's young, but old enough t'make 'is own decisions. I ain't tellin' 'im anything different."
     Jessela sighed "Do you really want to find out what he'll do to you when I tell him that you killed his new friends and attacked me when I confronted you about it? So if you want to keep your other arm, I suggest you do as I say." 
     "What. . . You. . ." Mank's eye twitched, and he spoke through clenched teeth. "Why you. . . sneaky. . . little. . . harlot!"
     Jessela gave him a stiff smile. "I'm sure you can see how this new course of action is quite beneficial for both of us. Now let's talk business; where can I find this horde of yours?"
     "If they're anywhere," growled Mank, "They'll be at Redwall."

     When Amerun woke up he found the hutt empty and the morning sun was streaking through the open window and across the floor. Amerun looked around and then noticed the scrap of paper on the table. He picked it up and carefully unfolded it. A note was written in neat handwriting.
     "To my dear son. I have gone to check out a rumor of trouble brewing around Redwall. Take care of the house while I am gone, and make sure Mank doesn't cause any trouble. I will be back tomorrow night. ~Jessela"
     Amerun frowned and, going to the door, he looked out across the clearing to where Mank was sitting under a tree eating a loaf of bread.
     "Whad did you say do my Ma?" Amerun asked, striding over to him.
     Mank looked at the wearet, then dropped his arm dejectedly. "Bah. She knows everythin'. Must've followed us yesterday."
     "And you jusd led 'er run off do Redwall all on 'er own?" Amerun said. He turned and started in the direction of the bandits' camp. "I'll go and ged de oders and den we're all going afder 'er,"
     "Don't bother," said Mank. "They're dead."
     Amerun turned back on Mank "Whad, when, how?"
     "Must've been another press gang what found 'em an' killed 'em," Mank said, looking at the ground. "Go ahead if you want. It ain't pretty."
     "If dere is anoder press gang in de area Ma might be in danger, I 'ave do go afder 'er," Amerun said, starting off northwestwards.
     "You know what she's doin'?"
     ". . . Whad?"
     Mank stood up. "She's gonna kill the horde leader. 'Is name's Jarral, an' I know 'im. Yer ma don't want him messin' around 'ere, so she's gonna get rid of 'im."
     Amerun's ugly face turned into a dark scowl. "Den all da more reason for me do 'elp. Come on, you're coming wid me."
     Mank watched Amerun walk off, not waiting for the ferret to follow. He cursed under his breath at the strange family and hurried after the wearet.

[close]

[Sebias of Redwall]

I've only read chapter 1so far, but from what I've seen this story's got serious potential.

P.S. I like'd the cliff hanger at the end.

[The Skarzs]

Thanks!

[The Skarzs]

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

     The afternoon sun cast lengthening shadows across the abbey lawns, which were still busy with working creatures.
     Burian stepped out of the abbey pond, dripping with water. He was beginning to feel cramped in the abbey, because, as big as it was, there were walls surrounding it, closing in on him. Swimming at least allowed him to imagine he were outside, in a river or lake, as if the water could bring him to any place he had swum before.
     The otter sat down in the sun, inclining his head to allow his brows to shade his eyes as he dried off. When he was dry, he pulled his tunic back over his head, and turned around to nearly run into Restonor.
     "Oh! Hello."
     "Abbot Firrin wants to talk to you," said the abbey warrior, looking the young otter in the eyes. "Follow me, please."
     Burian took a moment to wonder what the Abbot would want to see him about before following the old mouse, the two of them walking silently across the lawns and into the abbey.
     Restonor led Burian through the Great Hall and through a short hallway, where he stopped in front of a closed door and knocked.
     "Come in," said a voice from within.
     Restonor opened the door and Burian entered. He was met with several creatures in the small room, the Abbot, Lieutenant Tebian, and some other elders, including his aunt Silia, and Restonor. They were all sitting in chairs around a central candle-lit table, looking at Burian with somber faces. Once Restonor had closed the door and stood to the side, Firrin spoke. "Burian, I've considered what you said to me yesterday. I talked to the elders, and we've agreed to let Ravax go. While not all of us are completely towards this," the squirrel looked at Tebian, "it has been a unanimous decision."
     Burian looked at Firrin blankly for a moment, then he bowed briefly. "Thank you."
     "We'll let her go tomorrow morning, so she won't be traveling at night."
     "Before you go, however," added Tebian quickly. "There is a lot of concern over you, Burian. It's not common for an otter like you t'be. . . friends. . . with a ferret, wot? While I think you'd do well to train at Salamandastron, Firrin and your aunt 'ave insisted you stay here for some time."
     Burian furrowed his brows. "You think I have some kind o' problem?"
     "We care about you," said Silia.
     This was beginning to annoy Burian, and he pursed his lips trying to keep his temper back. "If you care about me, then you'll let me be. Thank you for your decision." With that, Burian left, mixed emotions going through him.
     He wandered out into the lawns as the sun sank lower, wrapped in thought. Had what he said to the Abbot really changed their minds? Apparently it had, but after what the hares did when they first got there Burian was still hesitant.
     But the Abbot had said he would let Ravax go in the morning, in front of several witnesses, so he would probably keep to his word.
     Burian decided he would tell Ravax later in the evening.
     He continued walking, and saw Perthem, with another one of the Long Patrol and a squirrel, standing talking together. The squirrel pointed at Burian, and the hares turned to look. The otter looked away, then looked back to see them coming towards him.
     Burian stopped walking and waited for them to come close.
     "Hello there, chap," said Perthem as he got near enough to speak. "Not liking the abbey much?"
     "Whaddya want, Perthem?" asked Burian.
     "I hear you're planning on freeing the vermin and leaving, wot!"
     Burian frowned. "She's being released tomorrow."
     "Yeah, let out to terrorize more hapless woodlanders."
     Burian could feel his annoyance with Perthem turning into anger. "Ravax doesn't hurt anyone."
     "Don't you remember when we first found you?" exclaimed the hare. "You really are a weird otter; y' don't like goodbeasts, y' don't like Redwall, and y' think you can be friends with a bally thievin', murderin' vermin like-"
     Burian had had enough, and slammed his fist into Perthem's stomach, hard. The hare stumbled back a couple paces before falling backwards, crumpling into a ball and groaning in pain as he gasped for air.
     "That's it!" yelled Burian, shaking his fist at Perthem and his companions. "That's the last time anyone insults Ravax, d'ye hear? You don't know 'er, and you don't know me, so stay back!"
     He looked at some Redwallers who had seen what had happened, as Perthem puked up his last meal. "Who's next?" Burian shouted. "C'mon!"
     Eyes turned away from the angry otter, and he was deciding what to do next when a cry sounded from the wall.
     "Vermin! There's vermin on the plains!"
     Immediately Redwallers began crowding up to the ramparts. Burian hurried up the stairs and pushed his way to the edge, looking with horror at the army that was approaching from the western plains, while many confused conversations were passed around.
     "Look at that!"
     "Who are they? What do they want?"
     "What do you think they want? Haven't you heard the stories? They want to take Redwall!"
     "Step aside! Come down from the walls!" Heads turned to see Lieutenant Tebian and his hares come up the stairs. "Unless you want to find out firsthand whether or not they're hostile, go back to your chores!" The Redwallers began trickling down from the wall, reluctantly and hesitantly dispersing. Burian stayed up on the ramparts, watching the horde come near.
     A lone figure stood apart from the rest, staring intently up at the wall tops as the rest of the horde assembled behind him. He seemed to speak to the fox next to him who then scrambled down the ditch, up onto the road, and aproached the gate.
     "His Lordship Jarral requests an audience with your Abbot," the fox shouted up to the creatures on the walltop.
     "Tell 'is 'lordship' 'e can go boil 'is bloomin' 'ead and feed it to his horde with some-"
     "I'm here, what do you want?" called Abbot Firrin, pushing his way past Perthem as Tebian clamped a paw around his mouth and clouted his ears so he wouldn't speak anymore.
     "His lordship wishes to negotiate. There are to be no weapons and you may bring one other creature along with you. His lordship will conform to these terms as well," the fox shouted back up to him.
     "Don't do it, sah," whispered Tebian to Firrin. "If history is anything to go by then they can't be negotiating anything good for Redwall!"
     "I know," mumbled the squirrel. "But I want to see what they want." He raised his voice. "I agree. We will meet on the path."
     He stepped back from the edge and started off towards the stairs. "Come with me, Tebian."
     "Have slings and arrows at the ready, wot!" said the lieutenant to his hares. "If anything happens to us, give 'em blood 'n vinegar."
     Burian watched as the gates we opened for the two creatures, and they stepped out on the path and walked a ways from the walls.
     The leader of the horde motioned to a large stoat as the fox went back to the horde, and both groups approached each other until they stood about two arm lengths apart.
There was a moment of silence as they all looked at each other.
     "My name is Jarral," started the short weasel. "And you must be the so-called Abbot of this place."
     "I am," Firrin answered slowly.
     "The legends certainly don't do Redwall justice," Jarral said, looking up at the walls. "Truly, it is a monument to history. The builders certainly knew what they were doing when they chose the location. What was it, ah, the age-old adage, All are welcome within its walls. . .? If only that were true,"
     "Get to the point," Tebian said
     "Long Patrol I presume, captain. Or is it lieutenant?" The weasel's cold gaze resed on Tebian, who remained silent. "No matter," Jarral said with a wave. "I would like to consider myself a reasonable, civilized creature, so I am giving you the chance to make this easier on yourselves, and avoid all this unnecessary bloodshed so common between you and. . . Vermin. If you are as civilized as you make yourselves out to be I am sure you will agree to my proposal. I will let your creatures go with their lives and whatever else they wish to carry with them. They will be escorted to the northern border where they may head north to start a new life. However, you, the lieutenant, and any of the other hares under his command will be staying-"
     "If you think that we have any intention of abandoning the abbey without a fight you are sorely mistaken, sah!" Tebian interrupted.
     Jarral calmly held up his paw.
     "I wasn't finished. You will all be well taken care of, and upon the inevitable arrival of the the badger lord and his troops you will be used as insurance during the negotiations before you are released to them, unharmed. This is, of course, provided you all cooperate.
     "But if you choose to resist," he said, a dangerous light coming into his eyes, "Then not only will many of you die in the process, but for every day you delay another woodlander will die." Jarral nodded at Urgat next to him who took a sack and dumped its contents out on the road.  A gnarled staff, a child's ball and a medallion with some sort of symbol on its face landed at the abbot's feet.
     "What are these?" Firrin asked.
     "Proof. These belong to the three sole survivors of a holt I encountered." He stepped aside and waved to the horde as three bound prisoners were shoved to the front. They were Rurrock, Torev, and Kelece. Rurrock looked badly beaten, while Kelece clung crying to Torev's leg.
   "I understand that there are other creatures who live outside your walls. Will their deaths be on your paws?"
     Firrin stared at the three otters in shock, then down at their belongings. "What have you done?"
     "I do believe the real question is not what have I done, but what will I do, and that depends on you," Jarral said. "For now, as a sign of good faith, I will release the little one to you." He signaled to his creatures, and Kelece was pried off of Torev, her wails growing louder and more panicked as the old otter tried to tell her that everything was going to be alright. She was carried across the ditch and dumped unceremoniously on the path on the other side where she sat crying, too afraid to move.
     The abbot hurried over to Kelece and picked her up, and she gripped him tightly and cried, burying her face in his habit.
     Tebian turned back to Jarral. "We need time."
     "Of course." Jarral smiled coldly. "You have until tomorrow morning to make your decision. I will warn you that anyone trying to leave the abbey to get reinforcements will be cut down. I do not enjoy this, but you of all people can understand that bloodshed is sometimes necessary."
     The hare bristled, and did an about-face, escorting Firrin and Kelece back through Redwall's gates.
     Once the gates had closed, Burian ran down from the wall and almost tackled the Abbot.
     "Kelece!"
     The little otter threw herself into Burian's arms. "Cuzzin Boreein! Don't let them hurt me like they hurt mommy and daddy!" Tears streamed down her face, and she sobbed into Burian's shoulder.
     Burian stood staring at the closed gate, shaking with rage. "Who's left, Kelece?" He made her look into his eyes. "Who's still alive?"
     "Skipper an'. . . a-an' Torev! They made my brovvers an' sisters go to sleep an' I couldn't wake them up!" Kelece began crying even harder, and Burian could do nothing but stand there and hold her until Silia came and took her from him.

     The abbey was silent, the gravity of the situation sitting heavily on everybeast who had heard.
     Abbot Firrin, Lieutenant Tebian, and Restonor started off towards the abbey building, and as they passed, the abbey warrior put a paw on Burian's shoulder. "This is what vermin do, Burian. I'm sorry." With that, he left Burian.
     The young otter stood silently staring at the ground for a moment longer, then walked towards the orchard, pushing through the gathered crowd and not caring that they saw the tears on his face. He made his way back to the leafy shadows and sat down against a tree, as evening grew darker.

     Jarral and the rest of the horde retreated a short way into the plains and set up camp while Jarral sent a number of beasts to surround the abbey and guard its exits. Jarral walked among the chaos of tents being assembled and fires being lit. He came to where Rurrock and Torev sat huddled on the ground with two hordebeasts bearing spears guarding them. 
     "Murderer!" Rurrock spat as Jarral passed. The rat guard rammed the butt of his spear into Rurrock's stomach and the otter doubled over in pain. He was about to bring the shaft down across the otters back but Jarral grabbed his arm. The rat looked back at Jarral in surprise, and the weasel only gave him a meaningful look. He then squatted in front of the crumpled-over otter. Rurrock glared at him from under dark brows as he clutched his stomach.
     "You would have done the same thing. If it had been you who had spotted us first, you would have come in the night with warriors and javelins and stones and slaughtered every last one of us while we slept."
     "We are nothing like you," Rurrock said, shaking with rage. "We don't kill innocent women and children." Jarral could see Rurrock's eyes fill with tears.
     Jarral stood up and looked down pityingly on the otter. "If only that were true," he said hoarsely before quickly walking away, his own vision blurring.

     Jessela watched the camp from a distance as the sun set. She crouched atop the crest of a hill watching the creatures mill about below like ants. And like ants they served only one mindless purpose: to do whatever their leader commanded.
     When the sun's last rays were laid to rest and night had taken over, Jessela moved from her hiding place and approached the camp moving with the shadows just out of sight. Stepping into the light she approached the two stoats guarding the perimeter. 
   "Who goes there?" the stoat on the left called as they pointed their spears at her. She held up her paws in protest.
   "Hey, put your sticks up, I'm on your side," she said loudly.
   "I 'aven't seen ye around," the one on the right said.
   "I was just recruited,"
   "What were ye doin' out there then?"
   Jessela gave an embarrassed smile. "I just had to take a quick dump," she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Can you let me back in? I don't want to get in trouble for being away too long."
   ". . . Fine," Lefty said, and they put their spears up. Jessela thanked them, but they just laughed at her. She ignored them and continued into the camp. She made sure to look busy going somewhere she had to be, but no one seemed to pay her any more attention than one would a fallen crumb.
     Jessela came to the warlord's tent, the biggest tent in the camp. There was a large stoat guarding the entrance, which meant that the warlord was probably inside. She moved around to the back of the tent. No one was around. She leaned in close to the fabric and listened, but heard nothing; he must have been asleep. The weasel reached down and untied one of the ropes that secured the tent to the ground. She quickly rolled under the fabric and into the spacious interior.
   What she found was not what she had been expecting. Instead of rough, war-like decorations, a candle sat on a table with scrolls and stacks of books resting near it. A binder sat open on the table, an inkwell and feather quill close to paw. A small weasel lay on a padded bed across the tent from her with his face to the wall.
     Jessela quietly walked up to the table and her eyes scanned the papers. They were titled things like Trade and Commerce, Redwall and Salamandastron; Why together they are an unstoppable powerhouse, and Legends of the Abbey: Fact or Fiction? All these things felt so familiar, yet so distant, like old memories. She ran her shaking claws down a page. The ink was still wet and left a smudge on the paper. She pulled her paw away, her claws now stained black, but her eyes were drawn to the signature at the bottom of the page: "Jarral".
     She gasped, and her knife slipped from her paw and fell to the ground.
     The weasel in the bed sat up suddenly, and they stared at each other for a long moment. Then they were in each others' arms. "Oh, Jarral, I knew you would come back!" Jessela cried, tears streaming down her face.
   "You're alive, oh, I can't believe you're alive!" Jarral laughed. He pulled away so he could look at her face, and his eyes were glistening with tears. "What are you doing here? How did you get in? I-" Jarral was interrupted as Urgat barged in, dagger drawn. Jarral glowered at him "Get out!"
   "But. . . she. . .? How'd-" Urgat protested
   "Out!" Jarral demanded. Jessela giggled at the bewildered expression on the stoat's face as he retreated from the tent. Jessela turned back to Jarral and smiled.
   "Oh my brother, I always knew we would find each other again." Her smile faded. "But what are you doing here? This horde, attacking the abbey. . . I thought our parents taught you better."
   "Jess, I know what you're thinking. . . It's suicide, but hear me out," he said, taking her paw and leading her over to the table. "I have been planning this for years; it's my life's work. I finally figured out why these woodlanders have so much power over our lives. I can end this, make a safe place for all of our kind and we never have to be afraid ever again,"
   Jessela looked at him as she filled with pride, but then her face fell. "But. . . the Abbey is impenetrable."
   "True, if you attack head on. That was the mistake my forbearers all made, but I have found the woodlanders' weakness. I will threaten the woodlanders living in the surrounding country until I smoke the Abbeydwellers out. They care too much for their own kind to let them die. I made the alternative extremely palatable. So if they haven't surrendered by tomorrow morning, they will soon after, when the path in front of them is piled high with the bodies of Innocents." Jarral moved the books aside and spread the map out on the table. "But I doubt it will come to that."
     Jessela hesitated, and then nodded. "This might actually work. . . but how do you plan on dealing with Salamandastron? Even the abbey cannot withstand a full-on attack from the fire mountain!"
     Jarral symbolically held up his quill. "With the pen. I will have the so-called Abbot and a handful of Long Patrol hares from the abbey in my custody. They will ensure that the Badger Lord is open to negotiations. A signed treaty will ensure that we will be allowed to stay put in peace, in exchange for the prisoners and a few other compromises on our part."
     Jessela grabbed his paw and held it tight. She had the biggest grin on her face. "Jarral, you are a genius!"
     "So will you help me?" Jarral asked.
     "Of course." Jessela's smile only grew.

     Amerun and Mank looked at the dancing fires of the vermin camp through the gloom of the night.
     "Dat's a lod of creatures," Amerun said.
     "I coulda told ye that," grunted Mank, crouching down on his haunches. "An' I bet it's bigger than when I left it." The ferret watched Amerun walk fearlessly toward the camp. "If'n you want to commit suicide, go ahead. I ain't goin' any closer."
     The wearet ignored the cantankerous old vermin and walked into the darkness toward the fires.
     A small rat almost bumped into him, and he stared open-mouthed at Amerun. "H-h-halt!" he squeaked, holding a spear in shaking paws.
     "You really dink you could sdop me?" Amerun rolled his eyes. "I'm 'ere do see your leader, dis gread warlord. I 'ear 'e wands d' conquer Redwall." The rat opened his mouth and then closed it again, raising his paw and pointing to the center of the camp. "Dank you," Amerun said, striding past the cowering rat toward the center of the camp. As he passed creatures stopped and stared, mouths agape, and none dared try and stop him. He came to the central tent and was finally halted by Urgat.
     "'Who are ye an' where d' ye think yer goin'? No one es t' disturb 'is Lordship," Urgat said, standing his ground.
     "Please move aside. I dink 'e will wand do see me," Amerun said.
     "'E ain't seein' no one."
     "Dads a double negadive," Amerun pointed out.
   "A what? Who are ya? Never mind, I don't care, just scram," Urgat said, pointing his spear at Amerun.
     "What is going on out-" Jarral said, coming out of the tent. When he saw Amerun he started, and dropped the goblet of wine he had been holding. The goblet rolled up to Amerun's feet, its contents spilling out over the ground.
     Then Jessela came out behind Jarral, a similar goblet in her paw. "Amerun, what are you doing here? I told you to stay home. And you put that thing down before someone gets hurt," Jessela said, waving at Urgat. Urgat stared in bewilderment at the trio and slowly raised his spear point.
     "I came do ged you, ma," Amerun said.
     "Wait, this monster is your son?" Jarral spluttered, looking from Jessela to Amerun. Then his eyes widened with realization, which was quickly replaced with anger. "Inside now. Not him!" Jarral said, pointing at Amerun and putting a paw on Jessela's shoulder.
     Jessela pulled away. "I don't take orders from you, and my son goes where I go," she said grabbing Jarral's arm and leading him back inside the tent. Amerun followed close behind. He had to bend almost half over, and once inside he resigned to sitting cross-legged on the floor near the bed.
     Jarral turned on Jessela. "Where is the father? I'm going to kill him," he growled, clenching his fists.
     "Whoa there, sit down," Jessela said, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him down into the chair by the table. "His father left as soon as he found out about Amerun."
     Jarral was sitting there clenching and unclenching his fists. "I should-"
     "No you shouldn't," Jessela interrupted, then she softened and sighed. "It was a long time ago; there is nothing you can do." She looked Jarral in the eyes and placed her paw on his shoulder. "Just accept us as we are."
     Jarral sighed, and nodded.
     "'Old on!" Amerun said and started to stand up, but his head hit the top of the tent and he quickly sat back down. "Who is 'e, why is 'e nod dead, and why should 'e care who my fadder is?"
     "Wait, dead? What do you mean dead?" Jarral said, standing up and knocking the chair over.
     Jessela sighed and rolled her eyes. "He's your uncle, Amerun," she said, and then turned back to Jarral. "This ferret named Mank hired us to kill you for him, but that was before I knew who you were."
     "Mank? That useless one-armed vagabond! I should have sent him to hellsgates when I had the chance," Jarral growled.
     Jessela walked around Jarral and picked up the chair before sitting down and crossing her legs. "By the way, where is Mank now?" she asked Amerun.
     Amerun looked up to avoid their gaze. "I-I. . . 'e sdayed ad de house."
     Jessela sighed. "We need to work on your lying," she said, shaking her head. "Mank is probably somewhere outside the camp, waiting to swoop in when you're dead."
     Jarral started pacing. "I'm going to-"
     "I know, kill him," Jessela interrupted again. "But what if he could still be of some use to us?" She took a sip from her goblet.
     "Like what? That creature is a useless waste of space," Jarral said, stopping in his pacing and turning to look at Jessela.
     "From what I heard you were the one who made him so useless. He says you cut off his arm, is that true?" Jessela said.
     "Yes, but he deserved it," Jarral said, walking around to the other side of the table to look at the map spread out on it.
     "Deserved it? Who deserves do 'ave deir arm cut off?" Amerun said defensively. 
     "You know nothing boy," Jarral snapped.
     "Don't talk to my son like that, it's a valid question," Jessela retorted.
     Jarral scowled and looked away. "He was in the way. I needed a following and I needed them to respect and fear me,"
     "Whad are you going do aboud 'im now?" Amerun asked.
     "Kill him," Jarral said simply "He is of no more use to me, and he has already tried to kill me once. If he lives he will try again, and I can't have that."
     "I can deal wid 'im," Amerun said, getting up on one knee as he was still unable to stand up in that part of the tent.
     "It is not a job for a boy," Jarral said, placing small stone markers on the map as he spoke.
     "This boy and I have been taking care of our own messes for a long time now. He can handle it," Jessela said.
     "Alright. Fine. But be quick about it. I don't want him getting suspicious and running off."
     "Don'd worry," Amerun said, getting up and ducking out of the tent. He strode past Urgat like he wasn't even there and started back through the camp to where he had left Mank. 

     Mank sat against a tree trunk, watching the camp sleeplessly. It was very calm save for the silhouettes of a few vermin who patrolled the border. The ferret felt uncomfortable so near the horde (and Redwall), and he wondered what he should do first.
     Suddenly he heard some footsteps, and he stood up and pressed himself against the tree, trying to pierce his gaze through the gloom of the night.
     "Mank, id's me." Amerun's hushed voice carried to Mank's ears, and the ferret sighed in relief.
     "Good. . . It must've-" Mank stopped and looked back at the peaceful camp. Something's not right, he thought. "What's goin' on, boy? Did Jessela do 'er job?" No answer came from the wearet, and Mank felt his stomach churn. "Talk to me, boy!"
     Amerun's face twisted into a scowl. "Durns oud dis Jarral fellow is my uncle,"
     There was utter silence in the dark forest, Mank hardly believing his own ears as he stood in shock. "So that'd mean Jessela and Jarral are. . . Ohh!" he groaned, covering his face as he hopped around in rage. "Dangit dangit dangit dangit dangit! Damn that. . . that. . . Weasel!"
     Amerun grabbed Mank by the shoulders with both paws and made the ferret stand still. "Don'd dalk like dad aboud my moder. . . or my uncle eider I guess." Amerun shrugged and let Mank go. "Dey wand me do kill you, you know."
     Manks eyes grew wide and he was about to turn and run when Amerun grabbed him again and gently made him sit down on a fallen log. "I'm nod going do dough," Amerun said, letting go. "Bud dey sdill wand you dead."
     "An' why not?" asked Mank. "You're already real chummy with yer Uncle Jarral, apparently."
     "We're nod chummy," Amerun retorted, and then shrugged. "He dosn'd seem do like me much."
     Mank grunted. "So. . . You got a plan then?"
     "Whad, me?" Amerun asked surprised, "Dere's nod much I can do. I can'd kill 'im now anyway."
     The other rested his chin in his paw, thinking furiously as to what to do. If Jarral wanted him dead, Amerun would have to bring back some proof. That could be worked out.
      But the situation with Jarral and Jessela changed things immensely. The weasel was doing something against Redwall, and Mank couldn't see a way to stop it, or kill him anymore.
      He slumped down in despair. "I got nothin'. Ain't got any idea. All we can do is let 'im kill himself tryin' t'take the abbey."
      "Yeah," Amerun muttered, looking out at the shadow of the building that loomed up on the edge of the forest.

[close]

[The Grey Coincidence]

Indeed. We tried to emphasize the distrust, while at the same time we didn't want to be completely inaccurate from the books. So the otters didn't want to chance it.

Hm. Never really thought about them being descriptive aspects, but it just kind of ended up that way. Everyone has something unique to them, and I hope that means that our characters are believable.
Also, Ravax's accent is supposed to be Scottish. In the first chapter we say she had a "thick northern accent." But it's not the easiest thing to do.

I like it. Everyone has their 'thing' (very useful with a large cast- prevents anyone from becoming a Faceless Man).
Hmmm, I can see it now (although Northern Redwall accent doesn't equal Scottish to me as I have yet to meet a Highlander in any of the books I've read) Although I would like to point out that the only (female) Scottish accent I've encountered is erm well so high-pitched I wouldn't know how to write it XD

I know double posting's a bit of a no-no here, wot wot, so I'll just add my review to chapter four here.

The first scene with the otters and Burian having to leave prematurely- that was quite sad. A bit unexpected from chapter three, but I knew Ravax waking up in the middle of the night was going to cause some issues.
The next scene, of Mank in Mossflower was a light-hearted touch I felt this chapter needed (sure it started with death and destruction and all). I like Amerun a lot so far- not only because he's a wearet (FTW!) but because he reminds me of another fanfic where an old mouse adopted a rat but didn't realize he was one. I forgot it's name but it was really good. The obedient (and perhaps a little dim) son is a nice trope and I like what you've done here.
I also like that you're going to Redwall (makes sense- how can you have a Redwall fanfic without going to Redwall... Actually yeah you can... Okay ignore that erm-
The fight was good. I like to think that drama is hard to write (you're dealing with character emotions and stuff and that can get all muddled up- especially if the characters are you know... Fighting...) But I think you handled it well- sure it's because of miscommunication and that trope may be overused- but it happens a lot in real life- let alone fiction.

Gonna add Chapter Five to this too...ahem...
Well Ravax and Burian's arrival at Redwall went about as well as expected (not very).
I don't think the woodlanders are being particularly extreme- although I've only really read the earlier books where the whole vermin thing isn't particularly emphasized I do know that in some of theater books they get... A bit extreme...
They're not entirely unjustified in not trusting Ravax from their point of view- but foul play is never appreciated and I'm starting to dislike Tebian (even though I think the name is really good.it just 'fits'). Burian's hasn't made himself too popular either it seems- but now we have another member of Burian's family confirmed to be alive. Yay!

[The Skarzs]

Thanks for the review! I'm glad you are enjoying it.
New chapter coming tonight.

[The Grey Coincidence]

Chapter Six, You know I thought it might be Jessela watching them- considering her reaction to the two upon their return to her hut (her back turned and all). Amerun is really growing on me- to the point that he might be my favourite character (saying that might bite me in the ass if he dies- but narrative-wise, I think Mank and Jessela are more likely to kick the bucket (although for some reason I feel Mank might be a little safer than our weasel mother)
RIP Dampfur and Bino... You lasted long enough to get names and that's more than can be said about everybeast!
Again, the suspicion around Ravax feels barely (if at all) justified- but I think it makes sense. A theory for now is that the Long Patrol have noticed that vermin are 'amassing' and are therefore worried about a potential attack. Which would explain why they're so defensive about Ravax- and why members of the Long Patrol are in Redwall to begin with. Burian's isn't important enough to know I suppose- but I think that's the weakest part of this theory. That they aren't honest to their follow woodlanders about what's going on.

Chapter Seven
Now that... Ooooh. I admit I thought earlier on that something bad might befall the otters- but then a few chapters passed and that seemed more and more unlikely. But nope, here it is, explaining exactly why the woodlanders are semi-justified in their 'racism'.
Jarral and Jessela- I guess the naming convention was a bit of a clue. The J and double consonant.
I admit I thought Mank might have been in for it- but am glad Amerun has thought of something different, like I said before he's my favourite character at the moment.
I'm glad the Abbot is being nice and has agreed to let Ravax go- even if that's unlikely at the moment hehehe- circumstances you know.
Honestly not too sure how this is going to work itself out beyond 'satisfying'.
I also think Jarral might have a decent- ish reason to be the way he is (family killed by woodlanders I expect) I have seen that as a trope once or twice on Redwall fanfics so I look forwards to seeing how you tackle it (if that is the case).

[The Skarzs]

(BTW, I really liked the name Tebian as well.)

We did our best to do a good job hinting stuff to have it revealed or confirms later on.

So, just as a bit of context, this story is supposed to take place some time after the Rogue Crew. In Faiy's and my opinion, we see the "racism" get progressively more severe as time went on in the series, peaking in the Rogue Crew. This is, in theory, because of the constant bad example of vermin, making it seem less and less likely for woodlanders to trust them with generations upon generations of bloodshed and loss because of them. So we're pushing it to more extreme reactions in the idea that the divide would continue to grow, especially after the slaughter during the Rogue Crew.

[The Grey Coincidence]

So, just as a bit of context, this story is supposed to take place some time after the Rogue Crew. In Faiy's and my opinion, we see the "racism" get progressively more severe as time went on in the series, peaking in the Rogue Crew. This is, in theory, because of the constant bad example of vermin, making it seem less and less likely for woodlanders to trust them with generations upon generations of bloodshed and loss because of them. So we're pushing it to more extreme reactions in the idea that the divide would continue to grow, especially after the slaughter during the Rogue Crew.

I agree (and basically did the same).

We did our best to do a good job hinting stuff to have it revealed or confirmed later on.

I'm pretty sure you (guys) did a good job at the hinting. Of course my 'spotting hint skills' go from one extreme (where I predict the entire storyline) to having repeatedly wilder guesses that get... Nothing... Right...
Also, is it supposed to be Tebian rhyming with Brian or Tebian rhyming with... Bee-an?

[The Skarzs]

Teh-bee-in

[Faiyloe]

Ravax's accent is supposed to be Scottish. In the first chapter we say she had a "thick northern accent." But it's not the easiest thing to do.

This is a very late response but I have education to do so who can blame me XD XP. Anyway, As the primary writer of Ravax and the person who created the accent, her accent isn't exactly Scottish. XD it is actually a variation of a fantasy accent in the Vulpine Imperium. I used to have a character there and she had that accent (which I copied from another players character from the same location with a few personal tweaks). Ravaxe's accent is a very heavily modified version of the already modified accent. Basically, it is the accent I use when I don't know what kind of accent the character has but I know they have an accent XD XP. so it is an in descript northern accent XD

P.S. I also really like Tebian's name XD. I am also glad you like Amerun, him and his mom are two of my favorite brain children XD