User blog:Mewtworules/The Black Bandit

"In a universe that exists alongside us, yet is just always unattainable, there is a different Redwall world...what is the real universe?"

Chapter One
"Three gold pieces." For a weasel in poverty, the words were music to his ears. Ever since his tribe had been murdered by Guosim shrews, he worked on a farm for hours, to earn a meager salary.

In his tent, he stored away his weekly salary. What an insignificant weasel, the Guosim barely remembered his tribe, much less its sole survivor. But today was different. Today was the day he would make his mark as a raider. Not Blackbane, as he was once called, but Malurax! No need for a title, the only title he would need would be the trail of terror he would leave behind!

Malurax gathered up his savings: three hundred coins. Heading to the blacksmith to buy himself a dagger and saber, he prepared for his first raid- on an unassuming vermin band. He had no friends, for his heart was hardened by the hardships he had gone through.

Impatiently, he paced about in his humble dwelling, waiting for nightfall.

Chapter 2
Malurax came across a few tents. "Five beasts, five beasts who don't know the first thing about combat," he thought. Still, he reasoned, it should not be a bad idea to stay out of a fight. He stealthily snuck into each and every tent, grabbing loot, coins, and the odd dagger.

"Eh? Who's there?" The ferret paid the price for waking up with his life, as the dagger of the dreaded weasel ripped through his throat.

* * * Five hundred gold coins! After selling his loot at the village market, in the guise of an ordinary laborer, he had struck it rich. To celebrate his new fortune, he headed for the tavern.

"Wahaha! A 'undred coins if I can take on that scrawny weasel? Easy money!" A drunk weasel had challenged his rat comrade to take on Malurax. The whole crowd gathered around, as they loved a good fight. The rat and Malurax were tossed clubs. Jeers and chants rang out, as more bets were made as to who will win.

Club hit club, as both fighters relentlessly battered each other. Suddenly Malurax ducked, and shattered the rat's leg bones with a well-aimed swing. Shouts rang out, some cheers, some jeers, and the drunk weasel doubled up in laughter, too intoxicated to understand anything.

Such was everyday life in the village, only this time Malurax had won. They feared him now. He made his mark twice. But more was to come. The unassuming Guosim shrews, unaware of the threat they left behind many seasons ago, were about to pay...in blood.