Hello, and welcome to the story of Wulpp. The sea-rat who was saved by Brome in the epic tale of Martin the Warrior, by Brian Jacques. But they didn't tell what happened to him. So that is were The Wayward Adventures of Wulpp, by Roronoa Reno comes in.
Disclaimer: I do not own Wulpp or Redwall... sigh
Chapter One
Salt-encrusted paws sloshed through the frigid waters of the winter sea. The azure sky was blurred out by smoke-colored clouds. The overcast day make the sapphire waters turn a deep gray. Wulpp was a former searat; a wandering traveler attempting to survive in a harsh world. He wasn't really doing a great job counting that he has been tramping through cold water for an entire day and night. Behind him was a column of smoke that reached to the sky, this was Marshank; fortress of mighty timber and stone. It was reduced to rubble and ash by revolting slaves. He only survived thanks to having a friend on the enemies side.
"'onder if 'nyone survived?" Wulpp pondered and talked to himself. He hadn't seen any sign of life since he started his trek over the coastal shores.
Suddenly a thunderous growl came from all around him. He looked around frightened, he had heard tales of fierce creatures with claws and teeth which could bite a rat in half. The noise came again, and Wulpp suddenly realized where it was resonating from. He sighed as his stomach rumbled again, he hadn't eaten in a long time. Then his eyes lighted up when he spied something coming out of the corner of the eyes. A flash of movement in the dark shadows of the underwater sands. 'A fish, finally some food' the thought shot through his mind as he crept up on the creature. Well... not crept up as much as ran like a madbeast.
With a shout he began jabbing the ground with a spear wildly in an attempt to kill the fish. His spear shaft went through the muck and sand but didn't even come close to stabbing the meal. He resorted to running across the coast and jamming his staff every few seconds as he made a crazed race through the arctic waters. Wulpp felt something under his foot for a split-second, it was slimy, and scaly, and fast in the water. His brain made the connection it was a fish but before he stab his foot to get it. It shot away and flipped him out of the water onto the shore. The fish wasn't as lucky and flew out as well, dying as it hit a hard rock.
Wulpp's head began to throb uncontrollably and nearly fainted, before he picked his body up off off the finely-grained sand. He stumbled over the fish and used the spear and a walking stick as he hobbled over to the fish and held it up triumphantly. The rain began to fall, and the sound of little pitter-patters. While this was happening, poor little Wulpp began to try and make a fire, he smashed flint together over a nest of twigs. He tried for hours as the rain began to poor shouting stuff like:
"Maybe this time,"
"Why won't it work?"
"Soon, there will be a fire soon!"
Soon Wulpp released the stupidness of it all and began to meander over the land instead of the water this time. He was beginning to get the idea that water was cold and wet, and land was dry... and dry. Through the sheets of rain he pushed on, clutching a fish in a death grip as he pushed through. Soon he found a sheltered area, a wooden area that was dry and water proof. It was bare without much as a candle, all that was there was a pile of weapons and a small bench where Wulpp sat down upon and drifted to sleep.
Wulpp woke up with a thud on his head and a bucket of cold water on his face. He shot up and his paw grasped empty air where his spear should have been. When he woke up, his vision was blurred and it took a few minutes to realize who woke him.
"'Ah me 'earty, if it isn't 'ulpp, me ol' messmate," Said a thunderous voice coming from a fat stoat with a empty bucket in one hand, and a shovel in another.
"Capt' Clogg, 'hat you doin' 'ere?"
"'his is Fort Clogg where ye' bunked up!"
Wulpp gasped as he walked out of his quarters and examined the fort. It was in a state of disrepair and most of it was a pile of slime and soot. This was fort Marshank, but there was skeletons of his former messmates and freshly dug graves all around it. It seems that Captain Truman Josiah Cuttlefish Clogg had been quite busy lately. Yet what made his blood run cold was the fact that manned on the ragged walls where rats, clad in pirate gear.
"'ell me matey, do ye' like?" Questioned Clogg as he stuck his shovel in the mud and began to dig.
"This grave 'ill be for Ashcoat, poor ol' matey died of a spear,"
Wulpp shuttered and suppressed a whimper, boy was he in a pickle. Here he was with his insane former captain, in a shattered fort manned by an army of violent looking corsairs armed to the teeth and ready to kill. If he was lucky, Wulpp wouldn't be a costumer for Clogg's Grave-digging Business.
TO BE COUNTINUED
Thanks for reading, please review!
