...Filled with fiery anger at the sight of her enemy, Breezefyre drew her blade and stormed down the hill. She was a terrifying sight; a beautiful, muscular ferretmaid with auburn fur and pale gray eyes- eyes that were now burning scarlet with bloodlust, and equipped with a mighty golden sword, a full twelve feet long, four feet wide and studded along its length with shining rubies, with a hilt of silver. The only thought in her mind was revenge for her murdered kin, and she wielded the weapon as though it weighed no more than a feather. The battle cry that ripped from her throat as she charged toward her foe, swinging her blade high above her head, struck fear, as cold as death itself, into theyre hearts.
"DEATH ISHERE, MUDERER!" SHE ROARED, SLAYINGTWENTYVERmin with a single swipe of her sword then turning as fast as a wounded cobra and killing ten more always seeking her mortal foe the wicked ferret Deathfyre Ragefang, her own brother who had slaughtered their family as part of his brutal quest for power. On the fringe of the battle, he raged like a summer thunderstorm as he ordered more and more of his horde to attack his sister- the only obstacle left in his path to conkering the entire country.She was massacering his horde, he saw with fury. Even the mightyest of his warriors fell like blades of grass before the might of the vengeful Breezefyre and her wonderous goldensword.
"What the hell is this?!" Arawolf exclaimed in shock, recoiling from the computer screen as though it contained the plague. Which, in a sense, it did.
"A redhead ferret whose brother killed his own family? Gigantic golden swords? 'Even the mightiest warriors fell like blades of grass...?' Names like 'Deathfyre Ragefang?' This fic is a disgrace to BJ and a menace to society. It's filled with bad grammar and spelling, confusing and impossible situations, and beautiful, unique reformed vermin heroines out for revenge. In short, it's... a Sue."
The marten could not say what compelled her to continue reading. Perhaps it was a vain hope that the story would somehow miraculously improve in the next three paragraphs; although having already suffered through twelve previous chapters, she knew it was not to be, as the following lines soon attested:
Finally, the time of reckining had arrived. The horde formed a silent circle around the two combatants, ferrets both but as strickingly different as night and day. The fiery-pelted Breezefyre, gripping her blade tight, facing her brother, a beast with fur as black as his heart and ekwipped with a curved silver knife. A long fang curved out of one side of his mouth, in daylight it was a normal ivory color but now in the mystical light of the moon, it glowed a shining silver and was inset with a vertickal row of three tiny red-tinted diamonds.
Arawolf moaned in despair. Surely, there would be an end. It could not be possible to continue this. She quickly scrolled down the page, stopping a few paragraphs later at the villain's death. A completed quest generally preceded a happy ending, and she fervently prayed that this would be the case.
Breezefyre stood over the unmoving corpse of her brother, his features frozen forever in a last snarl of rage at the golden blade buried in his chest and its holder, the sister who had finally taken his life.
Ara had resorted to screaming at the computer in fury, although being a machine, it made no response. "Of course his corpse isn't going to move, you moron! Have you ever seen one that did?! And since when do people 'bury swords in chests?' You don't do that, you slash, stab, dismember, decapitate! AUUUGHHHH!" she howled, leaping out of the chair. "I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE! SOMEONE HAS TO STOP THESE...THESE NIGHTMARES!" The teen marten stormed across the room and began digging through her closet.
Several piles of stuff later, she finally located the proper clothing and weaponry. A dark green tunic and black pants, a simple studded belt, and a long scimitar, made of an ordinary steel with a cord handle. Her attire was plain and conservative, her blade tending toward the boring. Nothing was gem-studded, made of expensive materials, or extraordinarily beautiful, as was Ara herself. An adolescent pine marten, of medium height and slender build; she had the normal coloring of her species- dark brown fur and a creamy throat, with dark brown eyes. Her only adornments were earrings, two pairs in each ear, and a silver pendant in the shape of a long, curved claw. All in all, she was perfectly suited for her mission. Arawolf Beechclaw would have to rid the land of Mossflower from its greatest scourge ever... the Mary Sue.
A final A/N before the story begins: In case the long description of the boring weapon, clothing, and Ara's physique confused you, it's common knowledge that Redwall Sues (and their male counterpart, the Stus), being amazingly gorgeous bearers of ten-foot golden swords and usually with impossible fur and eye colors, can only be defeated by the most plain of weapons wielded by reasonably pretty creatures (hey, who said I was ugly? ;D ). Plus, thanks are in order for Adverk, for your helpful suggestions on how to make the Sues truly Sue-worthy and how to completely annihilate grammar and spelling.