RedwallWeekly

This is part one of my Redwall Weekly week 12 prompt, which is: “The Ancient History of Mossflower Country”

It’s had a little editing, but if you catch something don’t hesitate to tell me! 

I went and did Salamandastron instead of Mossflower, so I hope that is okay. I chose to write about a character only mentioned by name, Urthrun the Gripper. It’s about 1500 words, so it is under the cut. Thank you for reading. 

This week, we’re going to be celebrating Brian Jacques’ love of the sea, so write something with an oceanic theme.

The land was wild, but so was Bluestripe. She hailed from the land of Esire, a green emerald of an island or at least it had been, searching for a better life. Famines and plaques were what she had left behind, and a husband who had died. Building her own boat and sailing off alone, she had traveled across the ocean until she had come to what she had been calling “the main land”. She had traveled a full two seasons before she had come across a giant green lush forest that went on for what seem like days. After the harsher and more dangerous life in the north, Bluestripe was pleased to have this gem of a forest. It wasn’t that she hadn’t enjoyed the north…no, she actually hadn’t. The only thing she had enjoyed was sparring with various vermin who felt that ought to test out their strength. Instead she had left a trail of bodies behind her and plenty of enemies. She had made a friend or two, even among the vermin, but she felt her Bloodwrath coursing through her constantly and in a trance she had continued to sweep along the land, searching for a place that she could call home. She felt she had found a place to call home, though, it had it’s own problems. The land crawled with giant adders, hawks ruling the skies by day and owls by night. Pike literally crawled out of the water to try to snag thirsty, smaller prey.  Oh how she loved the wild land! 

She slew an adder that very morning, and now at the large river to wash off her sword, a pike had lunged at her. With a simple, bored stroke, she sliced open the jumping pike and quickly drew it ashore.  “Well, it appears lunch and dinner are taken care of.” She chuckled to herself, watching as blood dripped back into the river, sending red swirls downstream. “To be honest, I was going to go back and eat the adder, I’ve always been a mite curious as to how snake meat tastes.” She ripped into the pike and took a few mouthfuls of the still warm, raw flesh and meat. Wiping blood from her muzzle, she sighed. “I suppose I should make a fire.” She went about her work in a slow, thoughtful method. It wasn’t too often that she didn’t feel so restless and could actually enjoy the beauty about her. She wished she could share it with…no. No need to think those thoughts. Those thoughts brought on tears, and a homesickness for what was and what could never be. “Humph. And I being the only one who lives in these forests must speak aloud to myself, in front of my dinner. How pathetic” Once the fire was started and the fish properly staked, she began to gather some wild onions, leeks, carrots, and began to cook them as well. She admitted  that she was lonely, but then again, how could she actually feel lonely when she was surrounded by such a beautiful forest? Not to mention adventure—it wasn’t even noon and already the day had been so eventful. She hardly began to eat her meal when she heard a scream for help. Startled, she dropped the hand made bowl she had craved from stone and glanced around wildly. ‘What in the name of hellsgates was that?!” Grabbing for her sword she scrambled to her feet and thundered towards the sound. She quickly found the source: A old hare was shielding two little mice and an injured otter from a giant adder. The rickety hare was covered in gray and white patches of fur, his frail paws barely holding out the walking stick in defense. The two mice clung to the body of the still otter, sobbing. The adder was swaying its head back and forth, eyes on the hare and his stick. Without even giving a warning, Bluestripe charged forward. It was only until she could count the scales on the body did she cut loose with the ancient war chant of the badger warriors from her beloved island.     “ Eeeeeeeeeeeulaliaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”  The serpent swung it’s head around just in time to meet her blade. As the Bloodwrath took over, Bluestripe let a roar of delight as she hacked away at the creature. When she had stopped and the blood had left her eyes, the snake’s body was no longer identifiable. She turned towards the hare and his company. The mice babies were shrieking and the hare could only look at her in awe. Dropping the bloodied sword, she strode past the hare to the otter. He was slumped over, a giant snake bite in his side. Without paying attention to the screaming mice, Bluestripe plopped down to her knees and sank her sharpened fangs into the otter’s side, creating a gash, and rapidly began to suck out as much venom as she could, spitting it out on the ground. The tiny mice tried to hit her with their tiny fists and she nearly choked and swallowed the venom—all their fists managed to do was tickle her rib cage. She paused in between sucking.       “You could continue with that silly nonsense, or you could gather some herbs to help clean out the venom once I’m done getting the majority out.” Bluestripe snorted.       “D-d-do a-a-as s-s-she s-s-s-ays.” The old hare stuttered, slowly hobbling towards her side. “B-b-be c-c-careful y-you tw-tw-tw-two.”       “What’s your names?” Bluestripe asked in between her tasks. “I am known as Bluestripe…the Wild.” She added on the last bit. She felt she deserved the title.      “I-I-I-I a-a-a-m St-St-Stewort. Th-th-those tw-two a-a-a-re M-M-Maron an-an-and Dw-Dw-Dwarcy.”      “And I’m Goron.” The otter muttered weakly. “What in the name of seasons–?”      “Sucking out the venom.”       “No where did you come from?”      “Shut up and let me help you.”      “Bluestripe, eh? Seems appropriate.” He had turned over and was pointing to the white stripes that had been dyed a brilliant hue of blue.      “Shuuush. Fixing you.” 

And that’s how their friendship all started. Goron made a speedy recover with the help of Bluestripe’s efforts and Dwarcy and Maron’s herbal knowledge. As the seasons passed and the friends became closer, they explored the forest until they all knew it like the back of their paws; saving creatures moving into the forest from the many dangers it had to offer. As the group of creatures grew, so too did the predator numbers. Bluestripe and Goron came up with the plan to build a giant home for everyone to live in—up to this point they had only been living inside a tree hallow, which had been nice, but an actual home? Now that seemed nicer. And so they all began work on it. More badgers had appeared in the forest and with their help, the building process went much quicker. Seasons passed and the home was now a grand castle and held a great many creatures who called it home. Bluestripe the Wild and Goron, Skipper of Otters, were known through out the land for the number of villains they had defeated. Eventually Goron met a pretty otter and moved officially into the castle. Saddened, Bluestripe left for a good while. She was happy for Goron, of course, but she missed her fighting partner, her travelling companion, and her star gazing buddy. She understood now how her friends on the island had felt when she had suddenly gotten married.

Many seasons passed before Bluestripe returned to the castle and to the forest without a name. She was ashamed at how selfishly she had acted and wanted to make up for her long absence. But when she returned, she was horrified at what she found. Adders had invaded the castle. She had just come in on the end of the attack. Fiercely she attacked, the Bloodwrath so strong, she was lost in a sea of red. She couldn’t see anything, she could only hear and smell, so great was her rage. Death surrounded her. Dwarcy and Maron were dead, holding paws on top of old Stewort’s grave. Dead bodies littered the ground, bloated and grotesque from the venomous bites, others either having escaped or been eaten, the adder’s stomachs bulging with her dear friends. 

When Bluestripe came to, she was standing next to Goron. He had been bitten several times and was using the last of his strength to avenge his wife. As the last adder was killed, Goron sank to his knees, dropping his spear. Any pains or aches she felt were gone, as was the ocean of blinding red, and Bluestripe dropped down next to her friend.    “Oh seasons no, my dear dear dear friend!” She wept, wrapping his body up in her arms.    “H-hey ol’ Blue.” Goron grinned through the pain. “Check m’wife’s side…Mossflower…hellouva fight eh? Good to see y–…” and just like that, Goron died. Bluestripe thew back her head and roared in pain towards the gathering storm clouds, lightning flaring about the sky. After rocking his body back and forth, pleading with him to live, Bluestripe the Wild went on a rampage, checking for any survivors. There were only four, two grandsons of Stewort’s, and their wives. Bluestripe the Wild went into another Bloodwrath rampage, slicing and hacking away at dead snake’s bodies in search of any survivors. There were none. 

this is utter shit please ignore it

What sort of fairy tales do they tell in Redwall? Write an original story or a retelling of an existing tale.