#redwall hell fic

Peaceful Night, a Redwall Hell Fic

GUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUYS. CALLING ALL REDWALLERS OUT THERE BECAUSE I NEED TO SCREAM AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS!!!!!!! SO!!!!!!! Earlier this month, the lovely and amazing and wonderful @theredwallrecorder asked me to write the next chapter for her amazing series, Redwall Anime (to first part to this lovely fic here: http://theredwallrecorder.tumblr.com/post/155600163329/%CA%96-pt-1  ), because the next part focus’s on Willow Slay. I just have to say, it was an incredible honor to be writing this chapter for her. About two years ago, @willzgirl called me and told me about the wonderful Redwall fandom on tumblr and how I should become a part of the fandom, because everyone was so fabulous. I cried when the fandom was so receptive to me, and now to be asked by someone I greatly admire to write a chapter for this lovely fic...matey, it means the world to me. You all in the Redwall fandom are incredible. Love you all. So! Without further ado, here is the chapter that our incredible Recorder described to me in lovely detail of how she envisioned our bbies runnin’ amuck in Hellsgates. Enjoy, and enjoy the chapter’s song too!  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_4nEFEwIFQ

at the request of @theredwallrecorder

Skipper took in a deep breath, savoring the unexpected briskness in the air. Golden sunlight broke in through dense forest, decorating the mossy floor with sunny spot; highlighting the morning dew like diamonds. In front of him hopped his young daughter. Only a few seasons old, she jumped from one light patch to the other, humming loudly as she did so. Birds singing and chirping overhead reassured Skipper that they were safe. Up ahead the gurgling creek could be heard. 

  “Papa! I hear it!” Willow’s tiny voice squeaked. She turned and smiled, the crown of daises and for-get-me-nots sitting crookedly on her head. The otter-wives, Bark Nip and Kelp, had made it for her before Skipper and Willow had set out. Skipper hoped that they would be able to adopt their own babe soon, because if not, he feared he’d have to fight for the rights to his own adopted child. “I hear the river!”

    “Aye, ‘at ye do, me lil’ shrimp. Tis the creek tho’, t’will lead us t’ th’ river, where ye papa can check traps for fish an’ shrimp.” Skipper smiled, leaning over to adjust the crown on her head. She made a face.      “I don’t like shrimp.”

    Skipper clutched at his heart and groaned, as if he had been struck in the heart. “Me own pup, a shrimp ‘ater! Th’ agony!” She giggled loudly as he tittered and tottered around, snagging her up with him as he dropped his fishing rod and net, spinning around crazily. “Noooo! Th’ utter betrayal!” He wailed loudly, until he tripped over a tree root and crashed down, shielding Willow from the ground. “Oof!” He barely regained his breath before Willow started tickling him.    “You’re silly, papa!” She tried to growl fiercely as she wiggled her fingers on his ribcage.     “Ahahahhahaha, no no no no! An’ yer a tricky traitor, ohohohohoho! Stoppit, please Willow, ye win! Ah ha ha ha, ye win!” Skipper giggled, wiggling away from his daughter’s clutches. He took a moment or two to catch his breath again, standing up out of her grasp against the old oak tree. “Ye’ve asked fer it--Willow?” He searched around, but he couldn’t see his daughter. 

     Heart sinking down to his stomach, Skipper scanned the area, searching for a tiny black fur ball with one blue eye and one green eye. “Willow? Willow?! Willow! ‘Nswer me!” Skipper’s heart raced as he rushed towards the creek, jumping into the biting cold knee deep water, his paws sinking under the muddy bank. “WILLOW!” His voice rang out through out the forest. How am I goin’ ‘xplain ‘his t’ Bark Nip an’ Kelp? Skipper frantically pushed against the water searching the grassy banks. Oh, Redwall ‘ave me, they’re goin’ skin me alive. I’d skin me alive. “WIIIILLLLLLOOOOOWWWW!” 

     “I’m here, Papa.” Willow’s voice ran out over head. He looked up to see her sitting on a giant oak branch, his fishing rod in paw. “Ready to fish?        Skipper stomped out of the creek, the urge to verbally lash out his fear overridden by the immense pride he felt at her for climbing the tree not only without help, but with his fishing pole.       “Not ‘til we reach th’ river, me sweet trouble ‘aker. No ‘ore running off, okay?” He looked at her with rising concern as she didn’t answer. “Okay?”       “Okay papa. Let’s go now!” Willow said, standing up and jumping out of the tree towards him. “Whee, catch me!” 

I am so sorry this took so dang long to get to, but it is finally here!!! After this next chapter, we’re gonna focus on some Willow family time with Skipper because we’ll need the happiness, but until then, have fun suffering through this battle @theredwallrecorder @the-redwaller @raphcrow @willzgirl

Music I listened to:  some o’ this: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ojL5Y5HvOlE

Some o’ this: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U_ppsAcbZDo

aaaaaand: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MilR3Z1sASY

Chapter Two: A Legendary Battle

   The rat’s body convulsed automatically, his jagged teeth chattering sharply as he whimpered in despair. His brain was telling him to run, to escape the maddening chaos, yet he was rooted to his spot under a polished table in the quarters of the night club. He sobbed as he heard wood groaning under the strain of the battle. Magic crackled in the air, energy rippled and shuddered. The rat felt as if he was being flattened by it; his very life force being stolen. Sweat dripped down his fur, clinging to him. He had lost counts as to how many times he had tried to adjust himself and the slick fur had made him loose balance, made him slip and trip. He was contemplating peering out from under the dark red table cloth to see if he could make a break for it, when the table was knocked clean over. He screamed as he looked up at the carnage. 

     The nightclub had been torn apart. Wood jutted out like wicked fangs and gnarled claws. Various kinds of knives, swords, daggers, and battle axes impaled every inch of free surface like demonic rose thorns. But far more terrifying were the two beasts battling. The Lady’s dress was torn, blood dribbling down her matted fur. Her mouth foamed as she panted, her ears pinned back. Her paws were smoking, the swirls wafting up towards the ceiling while her flames crackled around the room, lazily crawling around overturned furniture. The rat had heard that the Lady could control fire, that she controlled the flames within the Night Club itself. The flames were the very heartbeat of the club, keeping everything alive and running smoothly. Or at least that was one of her rumored powers. Some said she was Vulpuz’s mate, others said that she was the guard meant to keep Vulpuz from entering the world of the living. Some whispered she had been put there to protect those who accidently wandered into Hellgates, he had heard of it happening before once or twice, and every time the unfortunate was safely escorted to the lush Dark Forests, where the Badger Lords reigned. The pirate who had been whispering the tale claimed that those who truly did not belong in Hellgates were always freezing cold and her flames kept them safe and warm. When the rat thought of it, he often saw the mink Willow Slay or the cute rat Nivedita suddenly shiver at random moments in the club. Suddenly the rooms would become hotter until the two looked as if they were going to melt on the spot.

      He hadn’t had much of a family life himself, but when he saw the Lady with Willow and Nivedita, he couldn’t help the feeling of contentment that swelled up within him. He was immensely jealous of the bond the three shared, yet every night he found himself in the night club, caught up in the hustle and bustle, the music, the magic flames, and the interactions of the patrons. But now his very tail shook with fright as Willow Slay, eyes glowing red from Bloodwrath, swaggered towards the Lady. Foam mixed with blood dripped off her sharpened canines and Willow let loose with a roar, reaching out her right paw as if she were gripping for a throat to strangle. Wood groaned as the weapons shook, trying to free themselves. The weapons ripped free already swirled around the room like a swarm of enraged hornets, and the rat swore he heard them humming with bloodlust.

     “My Lady! There’s a patron left!”

      The rat whipped around towards the voice. The rat lady Nivedita was limping towards him, an open wound on her shoulder leaking blood as she struggled to get to his side. Despite the fear he was feeling, he blushed slightly as she grabbed his shoulders.

     “Get him out of here!” The Lady snarled as knives whizzed around her head.

      “Please come with me.” Nivedita pleaded, trying to lead him out of the mad house.

      “We’ll be killed if we go out there!” The rat mustered to squeak, shame washing over him. “Erm, at least, uh, at least let me shield you.”

     “Nivedita! Run!”

      Nivedita turned, fear striking her heart as Willow had turned vengeful eyes towards the male rat and herself.

     “Willow! Please, this isn’t you!” Nivedita pleaded. “Please look at me, I promise whatever is happening, whatever is causing you pain, we can help you. Willow, I love you, please, I don’t want to have to fight you.” Hot tears dripped down Nivedita’s face. Willow Slay paused, her breathing becoming more crazed as she gripped her head. The blades paused in their frenzied storm and the Lady took the time to run for her steward.

     “No…I-I must…find…him!” Willow screeched.

    “Fight it! Please! We can help you!” Nivedita’s sobs were laced with hiccups as she collapsed to her knees on the ruined floors. The male rat wasn’t sure what to do. He had started to slink away during the confusion, but now he found himself back by Nivedita’s side, a uncertain paw reaching for her shoulder in what he hoped felt like comfort, because he was close to passing out.  

    Willow’s body swayed as if she were fighting a great force within herself. She threw back her head and howled, red mist circling around her feet, slowly wafting around her body until she was inside the cloud, her screams renting through Hellsgates like a demon. The ground shook as the red mist whipped away from her body, racing out from the ruins of the club. The building groaned, humming in time with Willow’s wails. Any iron or metal in the area moaned and groaned, shaking as Willow screamed, her hair standing up on end. Nivedita saw the weapons whistling through the air at the last second and through herself over the male rat, her mind turning white as her eyes closed.

      When Nivedita came to, Willow was crumbled up on her side, her weapons circled around her in a protective barrier. Rolling off the male rat’s body, whom she had been instinctively protecting, Nivedita struggled to get to her feet, about to approach Willow before stopping dead in her tracks. Stuck in the pose as if she were a statue, the Lady stood, her back towards Willow, still shielding Nivedita and their patron. Wicked knives and jagged swords impaled the Lady’s beautiful body like a cheap pincushion. She gave Nivedita a weak smile before coughing up blood, dropping down to her knees and collapsing completely, her eyes glossing over. Nivedita began to wail. 

                                                       ***

Madam Glass Eye blinked and shook her head, looking at her questioning audience with a slight shrug and sheepish smile.

@theredwallrecorder, @raphcrow I AM SUPPOSED TO BE DOING MY PHILOSOPHY HOMEWORK

“Willow! Oh, Willow. Fates alive, stay with me!” Fleck screamed in her face as he held her broken body close to his. “Somebeast! Stop the bleeding! Willow! Please! I’m begging you!” His voice was choked with sobs. “Please. Don’t leave me, darling.” She felt a kiss. She looked up into the face of the creature she loved and smiled, suddenly distracted by the red. Her blood. It led off in a trail, and she wondered where it would take her.

                                                          ~

Willow Slay loved the color red. When asked why, she always answered “It was the first color I ever saw”. It had been the color that led the otter holt to that part of the river, where the water had slowed, trickling by at a steady pace, surrounded by beautiful wild roses and where rays from the sun shown down through the forest. The forest had been unusually quiet when Skipper had seen the blood traveling downstream. Following it, they had come to the family of black minks who laid slain in the shallows, the usually clear water thick with their blood. While searching for any signs of life, Skipper found that the young mother had her body wrapped in an odd shape. Moving the body gently, he discovered she was shielding her infant, who was very much alive. The infant reached out, wrapping her tiny paws around the Skippers arm, holding for dear life. The oddly colored eyes were wide with fear and wonder. 

“Poor lil’ mite, wot’d ya see, huh?” Skipper cooed at her. She yawned in his face and fell asleep. Laughing heartily, he held her closer. “Don’t ya worry lil’ bug bite, yer safe now.”

“Skipper, they’re...they’re not otters. I think they’re...mink.” A burly male named Stone curled his lips in disgust at the corpses, spitting near them. 

Not liking his tone, Skipper held the babe closer. “So?” 

“Ain’t...ain’t they like vermin or sumthin’?” 

“Pshaw. A mink is a cousin to the otters is ‘ow the legend goes. Mink keep to themselves, mindin’ their own business. In fact, I bet this is the first time a mink has ever been in Mossflower. ‘Nd look how tiny she is. I wager if grown up proper like, she’ll be just like a otter.” 

“Skipper, I mean no disrespect, but I think mink are more related to ferrets an’ weasels then us.” Stone snapped. “She’ll turn traitor if we were to keep her. Think of the holt. Never trust a vermin.”

“Stone, I appreciate your concern for the safety of the holt, but, seein’ as how this wee thing is a baby, I’m not about to leave her out here to die, or worse yet, be picked up by an actual group of vermin and raised to be a killer when we had the perfect opportunity to raise her as our own. So kindly bury your judgement with the corpses here, eh?” And with that, he walked away, nuzzling the sleeping baby.

And that was how Willow Slay was adopted by the Skipper of Otters and raised with the Southern Holt. 

                                                             ~

“Willow! Where in blue blazes is dinner?”

“It’ll stay in the kitchen if you keep that up, grumpy snout!” Willow sang out in response, stirring the hot root soup, adding more spice in as she checked the shrimp. “How many we got out there, father?” 

“It’s now ten.” 

With a roll of her eyes, she prepared more bowls before filling them up on a platter and promptly bringing out the dinner. 

“Ah! There she is! If it weren’t for you lot stopping by, I’d have to wait another season before prissy boots decided the soup was good to serve.” Her father joked as he broke the freshly baked berad, dipping it into the bowl she served him. 

“Don’t slurp your soup, it’s not polite.” 

“Didn’t even have a mother ta raise ‘er and she’s more bossy than any wife I’ve ever seen.” Skipper joked as the other otters laughed and teased among themselves. Laughing, she sat down only to have her bowl stolen from in front of her. A tall, broad shouldered young otter about her age danced with the bowl away from the fire where the otters had sat themselves. His arms were tattooed with the symbols of a Skipper, though he was still young. “Oh boy. Fleck’s come ta flirt again. Get outta here, Fleck!” Skipper roared in good nature as Willow teared after her dinner. “Get back to yer own holt afore your daddy realizes where you are.”

“Get back here you jerk!” She snapped, chasing the otter towards the river. “If you drop my soup--” She watched as he he stopped, a twinkled in his eyes. “Don’t you dare.” Grinning, he leaned back and chugged the entire bowl. “How daaare you!” She tackled him into the water where they continued their chase, twisting and turning underwater. She grabbed his tail finally and yanked him down. He thrashed about, turning quickly on her. She easily moved from his grasp, shoving her face next to his and kissing him on the cheek before darting away, watching over her shoulder as he opened his mouth, swallowing water. He broke the surface, gasping and choking. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“You shouldn’t have stolen my soup then.” She dragged herself on to land and flopped down, exhausted. She kept still as he flopped down next to her, his nose touching hers. She blushed and he chuckled. “How did it taste? It’s the soup I want to enter in for the Redwall Feast Contest.” 

“If I were you, I’d add more then just shrimp. Every otter and his grandmother have done that recipe at the contest. Add in...maybe some trout? Scallops? I can get you some clams.” 

“You’d do that for me?” 

“I’d do anything for you.” 

“Stop kidding.”

“I’m not.” More then just his nose was pressed to her face now and she welcomed his kiss. 

“I fear if your father were to find us, what he would do.” She finally whispered. His father, Stone, had caused turmoil and a rift in the holt after she had been brought in, and as such, Stone was now the Skipper of his own holt. Because of his feelings about her, Willow had only been allowed at the Abbey a pawful of times and mainly in her youth. This contest was her only chance to prove that as an adult, she was not corrupt nor murderous, but a true woodland creature. Yet she was not. She was a mink. As a young cub, both her father and Stone had discovered why mink were so secretive. Minks had the ability to perform magic, a magic even more ancient then the foxes.  

“You could easily take him on.”

“Fleck, please don’t joke like that.” She rolled away, sitting up, the wind rustling her soft fur. “Your father is terrified of my magic. I don’t want him to be scared of me, you know. Or the Abbey.” She smiled as he kissed her again. 

“Trust me, after the Contest, no one will be afraid of you again. In fact, I’ll go right now to get you some fresh clams! I’ll go to the sea, get you clams, oysters, scallops, any type of fish you want, you name it. I want them to see you the way I see you. I promise, they’ll never be afraid again!” 

                                                          ~

You were wrong, Fleck. Slay thought to herself as she watched the blood seep out of the rat’s body. Emotionless, she moved on, summoning forth her magic. The swords and knives around her twitched, slashing out at her enemy. Not her enemy. The enemy of the warlord who had hired her skills. She made the green hills run with blood. Rats, mice, otters, foxes, it didn’t matter. Her blades sliced away at whoever she was told to. You were so wrong. They’re terrified of me. She only lived for the color red now.

In a span of a night, her entire world had changed. She had sent Fleck off on his sea voyage to find her entire holt slaughtered. Horrified, she followed the almost invisible tracks back to Stone’s holt. He was covered in the blood of her family. Red mist took over her eyesight, though a mouse in armor tried to stop her, she gave into the mists. When she woke up, she had slaughtered the rest of the split holt, tears streaming down her eyes. Yet she could not make any noise. Nor did she for several seasons afterwards. She joined a ferret’s pirate ship for awhile, and slowly became a part of the crew. She began to ignore the memories of Fleck, singing and dancing again, until the captain ordered they capture a group of shipwrecked otters for slaves. So she slaughtered the crew. But the otters wanted nothing to do with her. So she returned to land, and found herself a slave to a wild cat who fancied her dancing and cooking. Some seasons more and she freed herself after a hardening life of watching beasts abuse other beasts. Lifelessly she wandered the land, keeping to herself whenever she could. But she found herself at the mercy of a warlord. Realizing she would never see her Fleck again, nor her sweet Abbey, she lost herself and only lived for the color of blood. The color reminded her of what living was like. 

But one day she saw a red far greater then blood. The red was mixed with gold, and belonged to a bricked building. An Abbey. Her Abbey. Snapping out of her haze, Slay found herself in the middle of a war. Vermin and Abbey beasts covered the orchard ground with their corpses. Looking up, she saw her Fleck. He was holding the sword of Martin, taking on the warlord she served. Slay snapped. She called forth all of her magic. The sky filled itself with silver knives and swords, raining them down on the vermin horde she once served. Had she broken bread with them? Laughed with them? Cooked for them? She couldn’t remember. She didn’t know a single one of them. So their deaths meant nothing to her. The warlord spun from Fleck and charged at her. She impaled him with four swords but still he came. She picked up a large sword near by and charged him. She couldn’t hear any noise besides the clashing of metal and the screams of Fleck as he was held down by a group of otters, one big and strong female in particular. Lightning flashed overhead. The skies were gray. Had it been raining this whole time? She slipped in mud and was fatally stabbed. Glaring through the rain, she tried to guess what he was. Was he a rat? A cat? A weasel? She couldn’t tell. And it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t harm her Abbey; nor her Fleck. Realizing she was near the Abbey Pond, she impaled him with more swords and knives, dragging him into the water with her. Red roses snapped off from their vines and dropped onto the pond as the warlord and the mink struggled. She leaned in close. “Beware the blood red rose’s thorns,” she whispered before shoving a sword, that had become entangled in a rose bush and was now covered in both the flowers and thorns, into the warlord’s heart. He fell away and floated over the waters. Looking up, Willow Slay thought she saw two mice in armor before she fell over in the shallows.  

“Willow! Oh, Willow. Fates alive, stay with me!” Fleck screamed in her face as he held her broken body close to hers. “Somebeast! Stop the bleeding! Willow! Please! I’m begging you!” His voice was choked with sobs. “Please. Don’t leave me, darling.” She felt a kiss. She looked up into the face of the creature she loved and smiled, suddenly distracted by the red. Her blood. It led off in a trail, and she wondered where it would take her. 

                                                         ~

She was cold. Shivering. But she still followed the red. She soon realized she was standing in a garden.

“My child, what are you doing here?” 

Shuddering, Willow Slay looked up. A beautiful fox dressed in green held a lantern; a beacon of hope in a glum and dark place. “I’m...lost, I think I think...I could have gone two different places. But I find myself here.” She finally said. 

“Would you like to come inside? It’s cold out here for creatures such as yourself.” The kind voice asked. The fox filled Willow Slay with a warmth and comfort she had not felt in many seasons. The mink nodded her head and the fox was instantly by her side, leading her in. “What is your name my child?” The fox asked as she situated the mink next to a roaring warm fire. The chair felt as if it were on fire itself. 

“Willow. Slay. Willow Slay.” 

“Willow Slay, will you stay with me for awhile? 

                                                         ~

“Willow Slay. Are you alright?” 

“My lady?”

“You spaced out for quite awhile.” 

“I...I am fine. Martin?” 

“He is nearly here. Dark Martin has left.” 

Willow Slay shuddered. Dark Martin and Martin were one and the same, yet, they were their own beasts. Dark Martin was a guard of sorts, roaming Hellgates to ensure the beasts who tampered with his Abbey were suffering. The only respite they were offered was the nightclub her lady had created. Dark Martin and Martin were rarely in the same place at the same time. The same yet different. It confused her greatly. 

“My dear, did you want to leave for your room?” 

Smiling and shaking her head, Willow Slay bowed deeply to her lady; the one who saved her soul and offered her a home. “No, my lady. I must not tarnish the great name of our nightclub by not being present for our great guest. Besides...he might have news of creatures I’m most curious about.” 

Smiling, the lady nodded. “Still, were you to change your mind, it is not difficult to keep him from entering.” The fox then turned and gracefully glided out of the kitchens. The knives continued on with their chopping.