User blog:Blizzard6654/The great vermin wars

Prologue: An old mouse sat in front of a crowd of Dibbuns, or young ones, holding an ancient book. “Who wants to hear a story?” All the Dibbuns replied, “Me!!!!!” “Then listen up. I will tell you such a tale…”

Chapter 1: The Dark Times The times were indeed dark. Birds rarely sang any more, animals were full of fear; even plants seemed to wither and die. Aye, these were the dark times!

Umrag the Destroyer sighed. He was getting old, and there was still no chance of vengeance against the Redwallers. His horde was just not large enough. What he did not know was that vengeance was on the way!

Esile the Cruel grinned. He was a large wildcat dressed in rich clothes. He was armed with a saif and his claws were far longer than a normal wildcat’s. He had a reputation for being especially cruel. When he smiled, it was a sign that someone was in danger. He had a strange mirror. It was angled so that one could see outside. A shadowy figure appeared in the mirror. He ducked, and a knife shattered the mirror into small pieces. The wildcat threw the knife back, rewarded by a faint scream. He turned around as a fox came in. “Yes, what do you want?” The fox bowed and said, “We can’t get any info out of the otter, My Lord.” The warlord nodded and went down the stairs to the dungeons. Esile saw a rat whipping a young otter that was chained to a slab of rock. The otter was defiantly silent as the rat whipped him. ‘Tell me already, you stupid whelp!” Esile painfully twisted the rat’s arm, and then pushed him away, smiling. “Get out of my sight!” The rat ran out of the room. “Now, we must behave or I’ll kill the ones you love.” The otter gasped and said, “No! Please don’t kill them! Redwall Abbey is northwest, about two weeks away!” The wildcat nodded and commanded, “Release him!”

Esile was far crueler than any could imagine. When someone joined his horde, he would cut a symbol of a paw with a circle around it, and use only his claws. The symbol was cut on to the characters back. His soldiers were always rats, and his captains were always foxes. That way he was the top of the food chain, so to speak. Then he walked up to the rat who was torturing the otter. He grinned and said, “Ralsor, my friend, I thought I told you to get information out of this otter. But you didn’t get a single solitary thing now, did you?” The rat trembled and answered, “I-I-I am very s-s-sorry, M-M-Master.” The wildcat’s claws plunged into the rat’s neck, soaking them in blood. “Sorry isn’t good enough. How about you try another pathetic excuse, see if it works?” Ralsor moaned in pain and gurgled out, “P-P-Please don’t k-k-kill me, Master! I’ve l-l-learned my lesson, M-M-Master!” The warlord broke the rat’s arm, and then walked away as if nothing had happened. The rat sobbed in relief.

Ghoug the Terrible listened to his father, Amaraz. They were both wolverines, fierce and brutal. “Why can’t we attack Redwall Abbey or Salamandastron, father?” The old wolverine answered, “Many have tried to take over these places. For example: Cluny the Scourge, Feragho the Assassin, Swartt Sixclaw, Vizka Longtooth, and Raga Bol.” His son replied, “But-“Should I tell you some more names? There was Damug Warfang, Ungatt Trunn, Tsarsmina, Slagar, Ublaz Mad Eyes, Ruggan Bor, Gulo the Savage and Princess Kurda have all failed.” Ghoug sighed and decided that there was no other thing to do. He handed his father a beaker filled with deadly poison. ‘Here father, some grog to warm your bones up.” The old wolverine drank the poison and said, “Thanks Ghoug. I want a little nap. Wake me up if you need me. The wolverine smirked as he left the room. Once his father was dead he would go and capture Redwall Abbey!

Lightning, captain of the Bloodyhelm, stared out into the open sea. She was a large pine marten with a scar running from her forehead to her nose. She had a belt made of skulls and a cape of animal hides. She fought with a saber, and had excellent skill wielding it. The marten possessed a frightening beauty that not even the harshest beasts could avoid. Her crew numbered three hundred in total, and she had two hundred slaves. A weasel, named Galror, came up to her and said, “We’ve spotted a nice, fat merchant ship, Captain.” She nodded and said, “Get the crew ready for battle.” The weasel left. On the deck of the Polosie, Pall, a young shrew, sat happy and full of food. His family and the Guoism shrews were sailing toward Salamandastron, to visit the badger lord Roolag the Titanic. Then everything went wrong. A sentry shouted, “We’re under attack!” Log-a-log Sling pushed Pall and his family into a boat. “Go on friends, save yourselves!” And with that he rushed the vermin, slaying twelve before he went down. Pall watched as the Polosie shrank in the distance, as the Bloodyhelm sailed away, as the Polosie sank slowly into the waters.

Deyn ran like never before. He was afraid of that wildcat, truly afraid. All he wanted was to get back to his Holt and not be troubled by vermin again. When he saw his Holt he saw a banner flying over it. The banner had a symbol of a paw with a circle around it. He bit his lip and ran inside. There were bodies of dead otters and vermin everywhere! Then he went to his room. His worst fears were confirmed. There was his whole family, with the exception of his sister, lying dead as a stone! Deyn ran out of his home, sobbing. Esile watched the little figure run from his window. Then he turned to the unconscious otter maid, grinning. When she woke up she would not remember a thing about her previous life. He would teach her how to fight, and then he would march on Redwall Abbey!