"What story are you going to tell us tonight, Lord Bren?" Old Sargent Everwithe inquired as he bustled into the newest Badger Lord's bedroom, carrying a tray filled with a hot bowl of soup, several raspberry scones, and a tankard of October Ale. Bren had arrived at the great mountain of Salamandastron merely three seasons ago, and had already proven himself to be a strong leader with the wisdom of all the past Badger Lords who had protected the shores of Mossflower before him.
"A story that should've been told hundreds of seasons ago," Bren answered, gratefully taking the bowl from his friend and sipping it. Everwithe was used to Bren's vague answers, and didn't question him further. "It took me a long time to decipher the meanings hidden behind the paintings and carvings on the walls in my Forge Room, but I finally did so and found the true history of our great mountain. I've uncovered the secrets and the forgotten tales."
The young Badger often responded to questions in a mysterious way to intrigue the hares, which the leverets especially enjoyed. The hares at Salamandastron greatly admired him, and when he told stories, they would hang on to his every word.
"Well, everybeast is excited," Everwithe said. "And the mess hall was quite a jolly big wreck when I left it."
"And you wonder why I prefer to eat in here," Bren replied with a chuckle, envisioning the scene in his head as he finished the soup and grabbed one of the scones.
Once he finished his meal the tall badger stood up, fished around his simple room for a moment, and then returned to Everwithe holding a long scroll in his massive paws. Together the two friends strolled to the mess hall. When they arrived, every hare in the huge room, nearly two hundred in total, glanced Bren's way and became silent.
"I have a long and important story to tell you all tonight," announced the huge Badger. "One that starts so far back in the mists of time that none have heard the full story. Until now." His eyes roved throughout the room as he continued. "This is a story that I'm sure each of you will understand as one of incredible importance to the history of our great mountain. And that of Mossflower, no less." After a long pause, Bren unfolded the scroll and sat down in between two leverets. "This is the story of Chriscer the Strange, the first Badger to feel the call of the mountain. He was the very first Badger Lord."
When Mossflower was young, far, far back in the mists of time, there lived a badger. He was known to the rest of his kin as a bizarre badger. His name was Chriscer, and ever since he was little, he had constantly seen visions of strange creatures, lands, and buildings. One of the most common visions he would see was of a warrior mouse dressed in battle armor with a magnificent sword, one that could only be forged by a badger, for badgers were renowned for their incredible talent at forging weapons and armor. Chriscer would also see visions of a red sandstone Abbey with peaceful, hard-working creatures living inside it, and evil, selfish creatures wandering Mossflower, destroying and wrecking homes and creatures, and badgers that Chriscer felt an instant kinship to. They were like him; strange, powerful, and could see glimpses of the past and future. But the most common vision he would see was of a fiery mountain standing strong by the Western shore, calling and beckoning him to it, and Chriscer would be filled with a longing and a strong urge to travel to that mountain. He would see these visions in the day and at night, every single day. And little did he know the important role he had to play for the protection of all living in Mossflower.
One early summer day Chriscer had an especially vivid vision of the mountain. He had never felt the pull to it so strongly, and he yearned to be there. As always, the image was planted in his mind and he could see every slight detail clearly. And then the vision changed for the worse. One moment Chriscer felt calm and peaceful, and the next he felt a horrid rage that made his vision darken and turn crimson. In his mind, he could see a large ship sailing in the ocean, filled with dozens of ferrets and weasels, and at least twice that many giant rats. The ship whizzed through the ocean, its two black and red striped sails swaying in the ocean breeze. Chriscer noticed one certain rat, who was bigger than the rest and stood next to the helm. He waved his double-edged sword around at the others, snarling commands and threats. The rat wore nothing but a simple gray tunic with a large belt around his middle, with several other kinds of weapons attached to it. All the other creatures acted afraid of the rat, and obeyed his orders immediately, so Chriscer knew instantly that it was the leader. Chriscer directed his focus towards the horizon, where the ship was headed. He noticed what seemed to be a low gray cloud in the distance, but when they came closer he realized it was a shore with a mighty mountain standing tall, like a silent protector of Mossflower. Chriscer quickly recognized it as the very same mountain from his dreams and visions. Knowing what the rat and his crew were attempting to do made him roar out in anger, and his rage became so strong that his vision in his mind's eye became clouded with red. But the vision ended suddenly and the red cleared from his eyes.
His friend, a hare called Arther, came bumbling up to him. "I say, what's wrong, Chriscer? You seemed quite angry a moment ago."
"I'm fine, Arther," Chriscer replied, and then decided to swiftly explain his latest vision. When he finished, Arther's nose twitched like it did whenever he was trying not to laugh.
"You're actually serious?" Arther asked. "It was just your silly imagination. And even if it is real, it doesn't jolly well matter. I hate to say this, pal, but it's not your mountain, and you don't even know where it jolly well is."
An idea flashed through Chriscer's mind. It was risky, and potentially dangerous, but he somehow knew that the mountain was important. And the more he thought about it, the more resolved he became. "I know what I must do, Arther. Tell the others that I'm leaving tomorrow."
"Wait a moment," Arther called as Chriscer walked away. "Where are you going?"
Chriscer glanced at him over the back of his shoulder. "To the mountain. I leave at dawn."
(A/N: Well, here it is, the first chapter! And finally, I am back and hopefully better at writing. I'll try to post chapters every Sunday. And also, feel free to give me any tips or ideas; I'd actually really appreciate it!)