User blog:Bluestripethewild/The story of Bluestripe The Wild

PART ONE It was late in the evening. Orlando the Axe had been out all day, going to find some food and Blue mountain flowers for his daughter, Auma. When he entered his home, he saw Auma sitting on a small armchair that Orlando had made for her. She turned around to look at him when he entered the room. He chuckled to himself. “Why aren’t you asleep yet, Auma?” he asked her. She got up and led him to his own chair, saying “don’t you remember, father? You said that you’d tell me a story when you got home.” Orlando put a paw on his brow, saying “of course I did. I almost forgot! Thank you for reminding me, Auma.” He walked over to the fireplace and set his great battle axe on the shelf he had built for it. He turned and sat down in his armchair with a small sigh of satisfaction “Aaaahh, that’s better. Now, do you want to hear the story?” Auma laughed and said “Of course I do!” “Oh, you do? I didn’t notice!” Auma whined “Pleeeease?” Orlando laughed “heheheh, then lets begin. I’m going to tell you a story that I heard from my father, who heard it from his father, and so on. This was before the long patrol was formed, and that abbey, Redwall I think it was called, was built. It begins on a cold winter night, many seasons ago. I call it……”

“THE STORY OF BLUESTRIPE THE WILD”

Far out in Mossflower woodlands, Anzag Brownfang was in pain. He was larger than most foxes, with a leather eye patch, with a green emerald set into it, over his left eye. He was clad in a long red cloak, which covered most of his body. He wore a chain mail tunic, with an adder skin belt holding it up, with a long bone handled Scimitar thrust into it. Yenzan the healer was working on his wounds. The old, grizzled rat told him, in awed tones "ah, you are lucky to be alive, my lord. Most other creatures would have died from these injuries!” The silver fox replied painfully, and with much panting "...I don’t...*gasp* feel lucky....*gasp*....ye useless.....*gasp….pile.....of filth.....Can you hurry up with this?” While the healer covered what was left of his arm in dock leaves and poultices, he reflected on what had happened to him. He had been a fool to attack the badger family. Admittedly, he had killed the two badgers, but at a huge loss. He didn’t care about the loss of his troops, he could always get more. What hurt him most was the loss of his arm. The huge male badger had snapped it in half and ripped the flesh off of it after he killed the badger's wife. Stupid beasts, he thought. If they had just listened to him and showed him the way to the mountain of Salaman....something, they might have lived. Now, he would have to find out some other way. In the mean time, he felt he should try and rest while Yenzan healed his wounds.

The woodlands of east Mossflower were carpeted in deep snow. Icicles made the bear trees shine, and the indistinguishable bushes look like large, frosted cakes. The beauty of winter was lost to a young male badger, with dark blue, almost navy colored stripes, who was charging through the forest in a rage caused by grief. Tears flowed from his usually bright blue eyes, yet they were currently a dark crimson, caused by the bloodwrath. It was the sickness that plagued his family, who were the badgers that found and named the mountain on the west coast- Salamandastron, the mountain of the Fire Lizard. His father had always warned him about it. The Bloodwrath had been the cause of his Grandfathers death, who had died trying to defend Salamandastron from a large Wildcat named Ragfang Bladerunner, and his young son, Mortspear. His grandfather, Lord Halthron, had killed Ragfang, but died in the attempt. Mortspear sailed away, like the coward he was. He was too humiliated to ever return, or even mention the mountain. The badger, Bluestripe, had been following the murder for half a season. It had all started when he had come home that day to find his mother and father slain. The only clue that he had to find out who had killed his family was a fox's severed arm. Bluestripe was hunting a murderer. He had only taken two things when he left the smoldering ruins of his home, his father's great double-headed halberd and his mother’s locket, which was created by his grandfather, in the forge of the mountain that his ancestors had found, far on the west coast of Mossflower.

It was the start of the summer, seven seasons after Bluestripe had found his parents dead and his home wrecked. The many trees in Mossflower were all covered in lush, green Foliage. Most of the woods were shaded, making the forest floor cool, undisturbed by the sun, save for patches of it shining emerald green through the leaves. To say that Juliza Swiftree’s actions that morning were successful would have been a total miscalculation. The highland squirrelthief had raided more than a score of vermin camps. She was in an ecstatic mood. Even though she was a thief, she had a kind nature. She was young, strong, stubborn, and had the quickest wit of all the creatures in her highland tribe. Her emotions sometimes got the better of her. She had left her home about a season ago, leaving her father and his tribe to explore the southern country, known as Mossflower. She usually followed Vermin groups, sneaking into their camps each evening, and stealing from them. She felt totally justified doing this, and would usually return any valuable trinkets to their rightful Owners. Juliza had backtracked from the vermin camps, thinking to herself. There weren’t any real valuables in the camp, just food, weapons, and the occasional trinket. She stopped by a big willow tree and buried the sack of items she had taken. When she was finished, she dusted off her long, simple green dress and checked her blades. She had three, which she valued very highly. They were the only things that she had to remember her home. On one side of her belt, she had buckled on a Sgian Dhu, which she called The Sting. On her other side, she had a curved blade, like a small Scimitar with a basket hilt, which she called The Fang. This was her favorite weapon, she had used it often for defense against vermin. Strapped across her back, she had a double hilted Claymore, her most powerful weapon, which she named The Claw. It was almost as long as she was tall, with a green emerald Pommel Stone set into its handle. Once Juliza had hidden her plunder, she moved back through the forest, leaping through the trees. Suddenly, she stopped. The pretty squirrelthief had glimpsed something gleam in the light. She jumped out of the tree and moved into the clearing where she had seen the gleam. Moving slowly, she saw that a creature had recently camped there. The creature had obviously gone to forage for food, Juliza thought to herself. She picked up the item that was shining in the sunlight. It was a gold locket, with a mountain carved into it by some kind of strong creature. In the light, it gleamed and shone like fire. A sudden voice made her wheel around, drawing her sword, The Fang. “Put that down if you want to live, Small One” The speaker moved out of the shade. It was a massive badger, with dark blue stripes on his face, at least five times taller then Juliza. She clutched the locket closer to her, too scared to speak. This badger had the look of a real warrior, striding towards her clutching a huge double-headed Halberd. He repeated what he had said. “I told you to put that locket down, if you value your life, Squirrelmaid.” Juliza spoke to the badger, her voice scared and high pitched, yet still with her heavy northern accent. “Ah’m sorry, guid sir! Och, I did nae realize yon wee locket was yours. Here, ye can ‘ave it back!” The badger caught the locket as Juliza tossed it to him. He looked at her quizzically. “There’s no need to look so scared. I won’t hurt you. What are you doing here all alone?” At once, Juliza’s mood changed. She became bright and cheery as she responded to the badgers question. “Ah’m Juliza Swiftree, eldest daughter of  yon Swiftree clan. An’ as for yer second question, Ah’v decided tae roam yon woodlands. An’ how about ye? Och, ye must ‘ave a story, just like Ah do, ye kin?” The badger laughed. “Hohoho! You’ve got a voice like a river, it’s always flowing out of your pretty little mouth. My name is Bluestripe, though I’ve been called Bluestripe the Wild, or the Wild one, over these past few seasons. Hmmm, my story…. Well it all began on a winter evening seven seasons ago.” Bluestripe started getting a fire ready, and after a while sat back down. “I lived in a cottage, far east of this place. I grew up there with my parents. I lived there until I was only about five or six seasons old. One winter, I went out to find some food for my parents. Around that time, a band of vermin were in the area. It didn’t really bother me- I was young and strong, and my father was, even though old, a strong, powerful warrior. My mother was a peaceful creature. When I returned to my home, I found it destroyed, and my parents dead.” Juliza gasped, and tried to put an arm around Bluestripe’s broad shoulders, but failed due to the badger’s bulk. A tear rolled down her cheek as she said “Ah’m sae sorry! That must ‘ave been an’ ‘orribal thin’ tae witness! Ye must feel sae sad, ye poor creature!” Bluestripe sighed. ”it was. It was the hardest thing to witness in my entire life. But I made a vow on that day. I would avenge my parents and find the Mountain of Salamandastron. It should have been my father’s duty to rule over it, but he never had time to find it, protecting the area of Mossflower. My grandfather ruled there, though. I will find it, or die trying.” He spoke the last thing as a statement, but Juliza could tell he meant every word of it as an oath. “Well, I think its time to sleep. If you want to stay, Young one, you may.” Bluestripe said. Before getting up, Juliza asked the badger something “Och, why does yon Locket mean sae much tae ye?” Bluestripe answered “It was my mother’s most valuable possession. I wouldn’t let another living creature steal it. Good night.” “Guid night, sir”

Orlando the Axe slowly rose from his chair. “I think this is a good place to stop for tonight, Auma. We can continue the story tomorrow evening, if you remind me.” Auma pleaded with her father. “Pleeeease, father? Can you tell me more of the story now?” Orlando spoke sternly. ”No, Auma. You need your sleep. We will continue the story tomorrow evening. Good night.” “good night, father” said Auma, finally leaving her chair and heading into her bedroom. Orlando chuckled to himself. He remembered when his father had told him the story. He had acted the same way, pleading and asking him to continue the story. Yawning, he moved from his chair, flexed his limbs, and went to bed.