Rise of Hellgates: The Fall of Redwall Abbey

[Groddil]

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

The cover:

Dragon Age fans might recognize this...

[Groddil]

Teaser #3 - Book names:

Book 1 - Redwall's Fall

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Book 2 - A Legacy Restored

~~~~~~~~~~

Book 3 - The Fire Mountain

[Skyblade]

Cool! Sounds interesting, Groddil

[Groddil]

Rise of Hellgates
The Fall of Redwall Abbey
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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

[Lady Ashenwyte]

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

[Ashleg]

This is pretty good.

[Lord Daskar]

That was quick.

[Skyblade]

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

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

[Groddil]

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

[Captain Tammo]

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

[Groddil]

Book 1: Redwall's Fall



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

Chapter 1 - Young and Eager

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

<~O~>

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

<~O~>

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

[Groddil]

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

<~O~>

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

<~O~>

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

[Hickory]

MAP

[Ashleg]

I demand more.

[Groddil]

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