#redwallweekly

The indistinguishable swish of a sword blade rung through the morning air. Welra held the Sword of Martin in one paw as she moved around in a circle, keeping the blade aloft and steady. The otter shifted on her paws quickly as changed her stance, never stopping her movement, and occasionally swinging the blade at the empty air.

“Good,” Eltor said from where he sat nearby as he watched the otter intently, studying her movements with his one good eye, “Good footwork but you’re still too tense in the shoulders.”

Welra tried to relax her shoulders as she quickened her pace; going through more of the forms Eltor had showed her.

“You’re flank is too open.” The older fox said bluntly as he continued to sharpen his short sword.

Welra’s face screwed up into a grimace as she swung the blade more intensely.

“Now you’re just showing your hand too early.”

“Gah!” Welra growled as she swung the blade at a nearby branch, sending leaves and twigs raining down on the ground.

“Now now, there’s no need for that,” Eltor said with a chuckle. Welra let out a frustrated huff.

“I thought I was getting better!” The otter sighed.

“You are.” The fox said as he stood.

“Sure doesn’t feel like it with you picking apart my every move.”

“You wanna get any good with that blade?” Eltor said a bit more harshly than he intended. Welra nodded.

“Well it takes a whole lot of practice, and practice only works if you actually improve what you’re doing wrong, yeah?”

Welra nodded again, her eyes shifting away from the fox.

“Well I figured you for someone who could actually take some facts straight to her face,” Eltor said, paws crossed in front of his chest, “not some mewling pup who needed her paw held and a treat every time she got it right, or was I wrong about that?”

Welra smiled as she looked back at the fox and shook her head. Eltor smiled back.

“Good!” He said as he put a paw on the otter’s shoulder, “And you are getting better, lass. No one becomes a sword master overnight, you think Teryn came straight out of her momma as good with a bow as she is now?”

Welra chuckled and rolled her eyes, “No.”

“Exactly!” The fox replied, “Speaking of which, she and Haymish probably have camp broken down by now, we should get moving. C’mon.”

Eltor held a paw out towards Welra, who looked at it, her smile fading as her grip on the Sword of Martin tightened.

“Can’t I carry it? At least for a little while?”

The fox shook his head solemnly as he kept his paw up, “I gave your Abbot a vow, I’m to carry it on this journey; he entrusted it to me, along with protecting all of you young’uns, and I don’t intend on going back on either of those promises.”

Welra let out a frustrated sigh before handing the blade back over to Eltor, who sheathed it on his belt and began turning away.

“I want to use it to kill Garek.” The otter said flatly. Eltor turned back to her, eyeing her up and down. He had already learned that this otter wasn’t one to mince words or joke about such things. He stepped up close and leaned over her.

“You’re gonna have to beat me to him,” The fox responded grimly, “and frankly, I’m not gonna let you.”

“Oh so you get your revenge, but I don’t?” Welra began to yell in anger, “He killed my brother!”

“And he should’ve killed me!” Eltor growled in response.

“What the hell does that mean?” Welra threw her paws out in confusion.

“Beasts like us…” Eltor began to explain between frustrated huffs, “we’ve got codes, or at least we’re supposed to, Garek’s made it a point to break a few of them. You ever hear the phrase ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’? Well in our line of work it’s more like ‘what you don’t kill will come back to bite you.’”

“Alright and what does that even mean?” The otter sighed, growing even more frustrated.

“It means he shouldn’t have left me for dead, he should’ve made sure I was dead, and now he’s going to pay for that mistake.” The fox growled as he turned away.

So what? He insulted you??” Welra’s voice rose to a scream as her fury boiled over, “That’s it? You get your revenge for that, but I don’t get mine? You were hurt, my brother is dead!”

“And he deserves Justice!” Eltor roared as he whirled back around on the otter, “Not vengeance!”

Both creatures stood panting in silence for moment as they stared at one another. Tears began welling in Welra’s eyes as she cocked her head in confusion.

“The moment you kill a beast for nothing but vengeance,” Eltor began to speak calmly, “is the moment you become exactly like me, exactly like Garek. Killing will become your only answer.”

“But..”

“Let’s say you manage to beat Garek,” Eltor cut Welra off, “let’s say you get the drop on him or somehow beat him in battle, which I can tell you for a fact he’s far and away a better swordbeast than you. Let’s say you get him on his back and then plunge that holy blade into his chest. Then what?”

Welra could only stand in silence with her paws clenched, tears flowing down her face.

“Is that what you really want?” Eltor continued, “ I sure don’t think that it is. Is it what your friends would want? What that Abbey of yours would want? What your brother would want?”

“Don’t talk like you knew him,” Welra hissed through clenched teeth.

“Oh I’ve learned about him well enough,” The fox said, “Through you, your friends, and your Abbey. All of you knew that he was the best of you. If you are hurting this much because he’s now gone, then I know he had to have been a good beast, a just beast, one that wouldn’t do anything for petty vengeance.”

Another long moment of silence, Welra’s jaw and paws both unclenched as Eltor turned away from her again.

“I won’t let you fall down the same path as far too many before have,” The fox said softly, “I won’t let your soul grow hard and angry. I won’t let death become your life. Like…” he did not finish the thought, only hanging his head solemnly.

Welra wiped her tears and walked up to Eltor, placing a paw on his shoulder.

“And you think that it’s already too late for you?” she said, her voice raspy. The fox turned his good eye toward the otter after a moment but did not answer.

We’re back!

I hope people had a good break and did well on the finals and other such exams. 

To keep things easier, I’m setting a word limit on this week’s prompt (unless you want to ignore it).

In 1000 words or less, tell me about spring cleaning at Redwall.

Alrighty, this week’s prompt is to write about an invasion of the Abbey from the warlord’s POV. You can make one up or use an existing character.

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. 

Your assignment: The Ancient History of Mossflower Country

Go back in time, before Lord Brocktree, before any Redwall Book and write about what was going on. Consider inter-woodlander relations, woodlander-vermin relations, cultural changes, daily life, language barriers, or anything else a budding civilization needs. 

this is utter shit please ignore it