User blog:Rivenya of Mossflower/The Battle of The Northlands


 * The tale that is about to be recalled is a true story. It is the story of epic proportions and would require a season to get through it all. But i don't care, and the Dibbuns at Redwall Abbey consider it a great treat. Would you like to come and listen my friend? I'm sure our Abbot would be delighted to see you. Come sit by the fire and learn of a legend. I'm sure you'll enjoy it.

Rivenya Briny


 * They say that all is bad up in the cold coasts of the North. They say that all manner of vermin live up there and the farther north you get, the nastier things become. This simply wasn't the opinion of one lone mousemaid sitting on the sandy beach. her dark eyes looked out to the sea, or the briny as her father used to  call it. She had dark fur and quick eyes. A long dagger was thrust into the waistband of her kilt. Her name was Gorse. Gorse was born and raised in the cold Northlands and she loved the place dearly. She loved to look at the mountains and watch the falcons as the swooped in the the sky, calling to each other in unique war cries. The grassy knolls were ideal for little ones to play on. She sighed now, as she stared out to sea. A broad ship was coming into view. The maid grasped the dirk tightly. Of course that hated wildcat would come back. How could she have doubted it? She stood from her spot and padded off to warn the other Northlanders who were playing along the shores.
 * "Oi! There's a large ship a-comin' to port! Poisongaze's here!" She called out in her thick brogue. The other creatures looked at each other. One cheeky ottermaid even smiled.
 * Ah, away with ye lassie maid. There's no' a wildcat in sight." She said winking. Gorse clutched her dirk.
 * "Isn't there? Then why do I hear cat growls my bold otter?" They all looked towards the shore and sure enough, there was Slayda Poisonblade. She was the deadliest of all the vermin in the Northlands with her murderous violet eyes and unusual dark shining fur. She was what the North called a Kalos wildcat. Her strength was second to a fighting badger, but no badgers ever dared to challenge her. She wore a kilt made of the tattered remains of other beast's kilts. Her weapon was a huge claymore that only she could wield. Her cunning and evil was compared to that of Feragho the Assassin, whom all had heard of. The wildcat lady had an entire horde to do her bidding, and all feared and respected her. She ruled them with an iron paw, wanting no slackers and all of her orders carried out immediately. She stopped on the shore of the North and stared at the quaintly garbed clans with a fierce eye.
 * "Which of you bumpkins slew my Captain?" The clans stared at her in fear. The weasel captain was not a beast to be missed. He was a bully and often picked on the smaller beasts. Obviously, he had met his match with one creature who he shouldn't have messed with, judging from his cut to ribbons corpse. Slayda stared round a them all."Well?" She hissed. The cheeky ottermaid, who was named Mayool, stared up at the wildcat boldly.
 * "None of us touched a hair on yore captain's slimy head, cat. Why do you arsk us?" Slayde fixed her with her trademark murderous stare.
 * 'Because i have a witness." She growled. A groan of horror sounded from the Northerners. "Bring the prisoner!" A small volemaid was dragged on a rope halter to the scene and plopped rudely in front of the wildcat Cheiftess. "Tell me the name of the one who slew my captain, vole." The cat hissed. The little creature was scared into silence at the sight of the evil cat. The murderous eyes narrowed. "Speak maid! Or come hellgates or high waters I'll eat you!"