A/N: Still smoothing it out, so this is just a draft, but considering how many times I've re-written this (sorry, reviewers), it probably won't change TOO much after this. Hope you enjoy!
Hello, friends! Come in, out of the cold. Old father winter seems to be enjoying himself this down. Just move the papers out of the way... I can guess why you're here. Looking for another tale of adventure and wonder, of love and loss, treachery and loyalty, of friendship and sacrifice.
Let's see what I have on these dusty old shelves...Hmm... No... We've read that one... This one's far too sappy...
Here we are! The tale of the High Rhulain! There's a good one.What's that? You've already read it? That won't do then...
There must be something here you haven't heard yet...
Ah, I've got it! One that hasn't been written yet. Simply been passed around by word-of-mouth, if I can just remember how it goes...
The two had made camp in this small clearing the night before, as they were traveling a long ways, though to where, they didn't know.
And occasionally, in early morning, sometimes before sunrise, the squirrel would drag the poor ferret out of his bedroll for battle practice. Today was such a morning.
The young ferret swung his staff around wildly, attempting to block the flurry of strikes that rained down on him from every direction. Seeing his opponents dual-blades coming down from above, he turned his staff horizontally and thrust it upward, bracing himself for the impact of steel against his staff. But the blow never came.
Instead, he felt a footpaw slam into his stomach, making the young ferret fall back into the dirt and causing the breath to be knocked out of him. His opponent, a squirrel of about the same age, let out a laugh as he offered a paw to help the deafeated ferret up.
"You've got to start watching your enemy, Leo. Not his weapon."
The ferret, after regaining his breath, took the proffered paw and replied "My name is Ivelleos, and 'twould be more polite to call me that." He stood up before continuing playfully; "Anyway, I fear that were I to look upon an opponent dressed as you, I might go blind."
Vrel laughed again, indeed, his outfit was rather bright. A green silk tunic, scarlet gloves, and bright red cape. Not to mention the decorated straps that held his scimatars, as well as a small chain pendant, carved . Next to Ivelleos, with just the simple brown robes of an apprentice scholar, his outfit seemed even more garish.
But he enjoyed being the center of attention, and that outfit often helped to make him so. At least, until otherbeasts got used to it. But by then he would simply wear something else as flashy (and oft twice as ridiculous).
The two had met many miles to the southeast, in the small kingdom of Mirkatar, where they were both originally from. Ivelleos was a simple scholar's apprentice, and had decided that the best way to gather and learn as much knowledge as he could would be to go out and actively seek said knowledge. However, Ivelleos was not much of a fighter, and knowing full well that the road ahead would likely be dangerous, he needed someone versed in battle to accompany him. That someone was Vrel.
Vrel himself was the adopted son of Zether Di'Carthillon, a noble squirrel who had taught Vrel all he knew about swordplay, archery, and winning over young maidens. He also taught Vrel how to make a wonderful walnut cake. Vrel however, was young and adventurous, full of wanderlust, he had agreed to join Ivelleos on a journey to new lands. That was how they had both wound up here, just miles south of the mountain of Salamandastron
"Might we continue upon our path now?" Ivelleos asked, a bit perterbed that his whole morning had been spent as a practice dummy.
"Aye, I suppose we should. It's your turn to carry the rucksack though." he added, referring to the small but heavy bag containing their food and some cooking utensils.
The ferret replied with a grin "Very well sir, then you may carry my bedroll." and with a small flourish, he threw the already-tied bedroll at Vrel, who caught it with a grunt. Minutes later, the two were on their way.
A days journey north of Redwall abbey
Darkfang the fox sat in a small cave that served as his shelter. He was tall for a fox, and stood at least a head taller than any of the other creatures in his camp.
Not that there were many others in his camp, just two score of assorted vermin, all camped outside, gathered around a couple fires, eating, drinking, fighting and sleeping.
Darkfang growled as he tore another chunk of meat off the woodpigeon he was eating.
Whoever had cooked it hadn't seen that it was fully plucked, and he had to pull many small feathers out of it himself.
Oh well. At least he had something to eat, as the small raiding band's luck had been bad of late.
Suddenly, a rat came in, Buldug, and he stood nervously in front of his leader.
Darkfang looked up and asked wearily "Well? What is it?"
The rat sputtered out quickly "A, uh, visitor ta see ya, boss. 'e says we're to join a 'orde."
"And who is he to give Darkfang orders?!" The fox boomed "Tell him I'll see him out there."
The rat scurried out, and a few moments later, Darkfang stepped out into the sunlght, dressed in badly worn patches of armor held together by leather straps, and he sported a large dual-headed axe.
His band was standing in a circle, weapons drawn, around a large beast dressed in thick black armor, a crimson cape hanging loosely off it's shoulders. His face was hidden by the helmet he wore, and his voice rang out from inside "Are you the Chief?"
Darkfang shouldered the axe, and spat, saying "Aye, and who are you ta be comin' in 'ere, telling my soldiers we're to be joining some horde?"
The beast staywed silent for a moment, before speaking "I am simply called the Black Knight. Recruiter for the horde of Warlord Havran, and humble servant of Lady Kilvanya. You are to join Havran in his camp, three days march to the north and east. Any of you that doesn't, shall be hunted down and killed."
"And what if I kill you first, knight?" Darkfang readied his axe.
The Black Knight said nothing. He simply drew a simple broadsword and pointed it at the fox, challenging him.
With a cry of anger, Darkfang rushed the Black Knight, smacking the sword to one side with the head of his axe, he spun and swung the great axe with all his strength.
But the blow was countered with lightning speed, and before the fox could react, he felt the cool kiss of steel in his ribs. Looking down, he saw the Knights broadsword, piercing through his chest and out his back. He dropped to the ground with a gurgle, and the Black Knight pulled the sword out of the fox quickly, and wiped the blade off on his shoulder, the red of the blood almost unseen in the red of the cape.
He looked around at the vermin, who were staring, some with mouths agape. He spoke loudly, so that they all could hear.
"Pack up your equipment, and begin moving Northeast. When you come across the horde of Warlord Havran, tell them who sent you. Unless any among you also wish to challenge the order?"
None of the vermin did.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please, review! Unless you just don't want to. That's fine too. I guess.