I don't own any of Mr. Jacques characters, or his Abbey, or his country of Mossflower, or.....Uh..yeah. I don't own the book series, is what I'm trying to say. This is a fic of appreciation! Enjoy!

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The Abbey sat peacefully, the bright sun warming the ancient red stone walls. It was summer, and colorful flowers bloomed in the orchard, and in the wild Mossflower Woods.
However, on the beach, miles away from the Abbey, to the east, was a massive Galleon, called the Dire Eclipse crewed by pirates and corsairs. Boris the Bloke stood on the prow of the ship, staring at the mass of land ahead. He was a weasel, a tall, quiet one. He actually possessed etiquette and manners, but he was a ruthless killer. Boris was called 'the Bloke' by his followers as a joke. He wore a long patched trench coat that he made himself, along with a top hat to match. His large boots scuffed the hardwood deck, and dark brown eyes glanced to his crew. Boris was an ace shot with his crossbow pistols, and for close quarters, he carried a broad bladed cutlass. A searat approached him and saluted with a dagger. He was the first mate, Wymheist. He was about to speak when the ship suddenly shook and trembled. A loud scraping noise was followed by a crewbeast screaming. We hit a pile o spiky rocks n reef! The ships got a hole in the rudder! Were sinkin'! With that, the frightened crew ran to the bottom of the galleon and bailed with anything that came to paw. Boris yelled. Save your energy, mates! Overboard! Swim for the shore!

The hole in the bottom of the ship began to splinter and gave way to the torrent of water. The crew scrambled to get away, but many were trampled by their companions, and ended up drowning. The remaining pirates sat on the beach with Boris, cursing and swearing as they saw the Dire Eclipse sink. Wymheist spat out sand and stabbed his dagger into the soft sandy ground. Scuttled, now what'll we do? The crew's morale was bad, and Boris knew it. Let's go into the woodlands. We may find vittles and suchlike in there. The ragged remains of the crew slumped off into the woods, Boris leading the way. After a day of traveling, they came saw a huge Redstone building, many seasons old. Boris let out a low whistle. There must be more than a few shiploads of treasure in that building... The crew was thinking the same thing. Boris turned to them and grinned. What do you say mateys, do you want to plunder it? The crew nodded eagerly, drawing weapons. Pikes, cutlasses, daggers, axes and hooks were waved as they saluted. The Abbey had no idea of the murderous crew, but they would find out about them soon.

The pirates turned and marched away from the abbey, until they came upon a large field. The immidatly set up camp. "Catclaw, go and take some of your mates to get some rations. Burnnose, come here." Boris ordered imperiosly. A small-ish rat came hurrying over to the weasel captain. "What do yeh need, cap'n?" He asked in a squeaky voice. "Go get me something decent to eat. Don't take any longer than an hour, and let none in the abbey see anything that will mark your presense, or else!" Boris's paw strayed to the cutlass at his side. Burnnose grabbed his bow and arrows with all speed, and shot out of the camp as if fired from a cannon.