A Tale of Redwall
The Gates of Dragba
There was a stoat called Balraz who lived far away from Redwall but knew of its name. He was the leader of an entire army but still feared to get inside its walls. There were many stories of fearsome warriors. Balraz sailed the seas and captured many beasts and tortured them for information about the great building. He kept many slaves and had a cunning mind but still feared the great Redwall.
There was a fearsome beast at Redwall in fact, but only when he was very angry. There was a great many fighters, but none such as Martin. Martin was warrior a born and had never yet failed to protect Redwall. The people of Redwall were in fact peace loving creatures and only ever called upon Martin if they ever really needed help. Little did they know how much they would need him in the months to come.
Martin shot up; he was in his room, in his bed to be precise. He had had the nightmare again. He had had it for a few weeks now. He would be standing at the top of a grassy hill, staring down, and then he would see the slaughter of millions of beasts flash before his eyes. Men, women and children were being killed. Then he would look again over the edge of the hill and there would be an army. A huge army. Bigger than any he had ever seen. At the front a stoat stood. His gaze piercing through Martin. Then Martin would look behind him and Redwall would be there. His home. The army would strike suddenly and pour through the gates and then the slaughter would begin. At this point Martin would wake up, drenched in sweat and entangled in his covers. He sighed. What was going to happen?
The Gates of Dragba
There was a stoat called Balraz who lived far away from Redwall but knew of its name. He was the leader of an entire army but still feared to get inside its walls. There were many stories of fearsome warriors. Balraz sailed the seas and captured many beasts and tortured them for information about the great building. He kept many slaves and had a cunning mind but still feared the great Redwall.
There was a fearsome beast at Redwall in fact, but only when he was very angry. There was a great many fighters, but none such as Martin. Martin was warrior a born and had never yet failed to protect Redwall. The people of Redwall were in fact peace loving creatures and only ever called upon Martin if they ever really needed help. Little did they know how much they would need him in the months to come.
Martin shot up; he was in his room, in his bed to be precise. He had had the nightmare again. He had had it for a few weeks now. He would be standing at the top of a grassy hill, staring down, and then he would see the slaughter of millions of beasts flash before his eyes. Men, women and children were being killed. Then he would look again over the edge of the hill and there would be an army. A huge army. Bigger than any he had ever seen. At the front a stoat stood. His gaze piercing through Martin. Then Martin would look behind him and Redwall would be there. His home. The army would strike suddenly and pour through the gates and then the slaughter would begin. At this point Martin would wake up, drenched in sweat and entangled in his covers. He sighed. What was going to happen?