The following is a abstract from a journal found deep in the woods of Mossflower.
You know those great days you have, the days that you feel alive and you can finally defeat your oppressors. Today was not one of those days, in fact today was almost as far from one of those days you can get. The kind of days where laying down in defeat and giving up forever sounds as the word honey to a bee. The days where all hope seems hidden behind a cloud that has a lining as black as a moon in a eclipse. The days where when trying to wake up is like trying to out eat a hare. Where your good eye is blurred and your bad feels as the day it was destroyed.
Those days can be cured though, and there are many ways to do so. A good meal perhaps, if there were any food. A hike in the woods, if you were not to be captured on sight. A kiss from a loved one, if they were still alive. A song with comrades, if there was any heart in the camp. Watching playful young ones, if there were all not crying out of hunger, fear and missing family.
Our elders tell us stories told to them by their elders. Stories of when the fortress was not built, and all creatures were free and happy. When we were not as well off as slaves.
Creatures are coming however, finally ready at another chance to rally with their own to overthrow our enemies. I am proud to be their leader. Even on days such as these, seeing people like little Jimmy with one leg practicing his footwork gives me the power to raise my head. People like Mary baking weeds gives me the anger to rally our men. And people like baby Josh mourning over all his family dieing for not gathering the amount needed for "taxes" before the deadline gives me the rage to die fighting for better days.
I have great plans for this army, and I think it is finally ready to fight for our freedom. My scouts have returned bringing even more able bodied men to help free us all. I hope to soon have a meeting with our self righteous enemies. The are to stuck up to think of killing us when we come to discus terms with a white flag. I have decided to bring terms of surrender with me. I do not think they will accept them, but to show that we are firm and that we will enslave them if we have victory. Death would be as mercy onto their hideous souls. What truly sorrows me are people in their ranks who know not their own evil. Who are fed lies and think we are the horror. I do not even want to think about the stories they have about me.
We are packing up to march now, I plan on leading my army to battle. After what they have done to us I plan on using any trick possible to defeat them, no matter how dirty. I look at what they have to to us, my men, my friends, my brothers, and I know. I know I will defeat them or die trying. Now I am about the call the march, the march to attack, the march to ruin most likely. My men know the risks at to well, but to them death at this point might be even welcome. One way or another we march, to their death or ours, we march with the whole moon shining down on us, we march to Redwall.
Cluny Bitterweed 72 SAS (Seasons After Slavery)