Disclaimer: The places in this story are not mine. They were all created
by Brain Jacques for his wonderful Redwall series. No infringement on his
property is intended. Heh, bet you weren't expecting that. I usually have
a less serious tone in my disclaimers. Of course, this could be your first
reading of my writing, in which case you had no idea what the hell to
expect. Anyways, this particular story is based on a "Bonus Game" in
STCP's Vermin Invaders 2!. The game is called "Nameday Parade". No
infringement upon STC's intellectual property is intended, either. He's a
good guy, STC. This is three stories based on his games with a fourth
forthcoming (BEYOND alliteration), and he hasn't sued me yet!
A/N: Sorry this is later than promised, but some complications arose that made me unsure if this project would even reach completion. There is no timetable for the release of Vermin Invaders 2, but it will happen.
I Robin was uneasy. It was the fall after the archers' defeat of Thunderclaw and his hordes, and all of his friends had gone home. Robin, however, didn't feel like leaving the Abbey. There was some reason he shouldn't; he felt it in his fur. And so he stayed on, and now it was autumn, and getting close to Nameday.
"Robin," said a voice from behind him. "Robin! Robin?"
"Huh?" the mouse asked, turning around to see the Abbot standing over him.
"Is there something wrong?"
"No...Martin came to me in a dream last night, Father."
"He did? Well this is a special occurrence, Robin. What'd he say?"
"It was something about the Nameday...I don't exactly remember what he said...I just remember that it was about the Nameday. And he said that I should stay on."
"Did he tell you what the name for the new season was to be?" the Abbot asked.
"Well...no, not that I can remember. His tone seemed too dark to just be giving me the name for the season. Besides...doesn't he usually tell you that sort of stuff, Father?"
The Abbot laughed. "Robin, Martin hasn't spoken to an Abbeybeast that I'm aware for a long, long time. You're a special creature...anybeast can see that."
"You're too kind, Father. I'm sure that it wasn't any big deal."
"I'm not so sure," the Abbot replied, and walked away.
Robin placed his head in his hands and closed his eyes. What more can I ask for? he thought. I'm at the most beautiful place in the world and everyone thinks I'm a hero...and the greatest fighter of all-time just spoke to me in a dream. Shivering, the mouse stood up and headed for the kitchens to steal a bite...surely they wouldn't miss ONE pie in the days before Nameday....
II Deadeye the fox snarled angrily. "Let's get goin'! I wanna set up my recon operations so we c'n get in on Nameday! Damn you slow lot, get a move on!"
"We've been walkin' since last week! Slow down a bit, will ye?"
"NO! You don't know what kinda creatures'll be defendin' that place! I wanna be able to scout that Abbey afore I enter it. Just this summer they fought off a gigantic 'orde from the Northlands! I saw a few o' the stragglers runnin' fer their pathetic snivelin' lives! Do we wanna be those beasts?"
"Well...no, but chief...we're tired! Let us stop!"
"Yer tired, are ye? Well, would ya rather be tired and in charge o' Redwall or runnin' fer yer snivelin' life?"
There was no response.
"Right then! Get a move on!"
It was about five hours later when Deadeye's crew reached Redwall. Quickly, they hid in the ditch just off the Abbey road, the ditch that had been the temporary home of many a great conqueror.......all of whom had failed to conquer the redstone abbey and its simple inhabitants just across the road.
Deadeye, however, had the feeling that he was going to change all that. He had a plan...he was going to scout out the Abbey before he entered it, and he was going to know his enemy completely before he begun his campaign to destroy them. He was going to send in one of his most trusted rats, who would scout the Abbey and figure any weaknesses.
"We will not meet them in open war," Deadeye assured his band of hardened fighters, who were glancing nervously up at the Abbey and its towering walls.
"And we must not announce our presence to those Abbeydwellers. You see the size of that place. We must stay silently here, wait for Mousetail to complete his mission, and then...we seize the moment and attack."
"What about food?" demanded one of the band. "We can't just sit in a ditch here for three days. We ain't got provisions!"
"Which," Deadeye responded, keeping his temper in check, "is why Mousetail is going to bring us some food from yonder Abbey everyday until we have gathered what information we need."
"Good plan chief," Mousetail responded. "I've 'eard yon Abbey cooks some o' ee best vittles in all ee land."
"Whatever it is," a disgruntled hordebeast chimed in, "it'll be better than that manure we were fed on the way down. Yer a clever fox, chief, but y' never did learn how t' cook."
Deadeye laughed. Normally, both hordebeasts who had offered their opinions would have been scratched, beaten, whipped, stabbed, or even slain, but Deadeye was in a good mood. Soon, Redwall Abbey would be his, and all the Woodlanders who lived there would be his slaves.
III The feeling of uneasiness deepened within Robin. He didn't like it at all. And he knew that was weird. Just what he didn't like he wasn't sure of, but he was sure that he didn't like something about his surroundings. Which was odd, considering the fact that when he thought about it, he knew that he should be on top of the world. But it just didn't feel right.
What did feel right, though, were all the preparations for Nameday. Robin had been around the Abbey ever since he was a Dibbun. Although he had never lived there, Redwall had become a home away from home for him, as his family had always attended every major feast there when he was little, and he had kept coming back for the archery tournaments after his family had all gone to the Dark Forest.
Robin sniffed a little, and he felt a tear run down his cheek. He missed his family every so often, when he slowed down enough to think about anything other than being the best fighting beast he could possibly be. That was what drove him. He never told anybeast, but secretly, deep down inside, he wanted to be better than Martin. He wanted to be better than Matthias. And he knew, deep down inside, though he never told anybeast, that he was better than Martin. That he was better than Matthias.
And as he clenched his paw and gritted his teeth, vowing to himself for at least the millionth time in his life alone that he would be the best, and that someday everyone would know it, he missed the rustle in the bushes behind him....
IV That rustle just so happened to be Mousetail. Not knowing who Robin was, he crept past with the same overconfidence that had almost gotten him caught on two other separate occasions around the Abbey. It appeared that Mousetail, knowing that the Abbeybeasts weren't fighters, thought that meant they couldn't hear or see either.
But whatever was going on in the relatively small brain of the vermin was completely irrelevant. He got lucky to get past Robin, but he failed to really notice Robin. If he'd stopped to take a look, he would have seen the bow strung across the mouse's back, or the quiver of arrows sitting beside him. He passed by Robin, taking no notice of him. It was a critical oversight.
V Mousetail continued to collect his reconnaissance for the next few days, and no one in the Abbey noticed. His reports were uneventful, always assuring Deadeye that they would be assured easy victory.
When he came back the night before Nameday, Mousetail had some news that cheered Deadeye up and convinced him of the rat's constant assurances that he would prevail and make the Abbey his own.
"They're sayin' that they're gonna 'ave a great big feast up there's tuhmorrer," the rat reported to the sinister-looking fox.
"Ah," said Deadeye, at first uninterested. "And why shud I care?"
"Well," replied Mousetail, "I'm jus' reportin', chief, that's what you send me up to that place to do. They said they was gonna dress up as vermin fer the feast...sounded kinder funny tuh me. Huh huh," he finished with a thick laugh.
"Wait..." said Deadeye, his good eye lighting up. "When did you say this feast was?"
"Tuhmorrer," replied Mousetail, not comprehending his leader's sudden rush of excitement.
"Tell the band ter make ready," he said. "They won't need the disguises or nothin'. Soon's we hears the first sounds of feasting, we go in."
"Whatever you say, chief," replied the rat, shuffling off to inform his comrades, still with no idea what his leader had in mind.
VI Robin kept his wargear with him during the feast. Once again, it seemed as if something was wrong; as if things were too peaceful. Although he knew he was being paranoid, Robin kept his equipment with him...just in case....
VII
The vermin waited for the Abbeybeasts to have their fun at the feast. Knowing that there would be plenty of drink and merriment at the feast, Deadeye had his troops lie in wait. He had received a full report from Mousetail earlier that morning on how the parade would work, and he had formulated a plan that he knew was foolproof if his intelligence was correct.
He, along with his band, would march down the Abbey lawn with the drunken Abbeybeasts dressed as vermin. Too loaded to see the difference, the Abbeybeasts would be covered from all the towers and walls of the Abbey before they could come to their senses.
Then they would be his slaves, and he and his band would live off the fat of the land, forcing the goodbeasts to do their bidding and giving them nothing in return. The fox sighed. The good life was going to be worth it.
"It's time for the parade!" shouted the Abbot to the gathered masses.
"It's time to move out," whispered Deadeye to his band.
Both declarations were well received.
VIII Robin followed the parade from behind. He hadn't had much food, or much to drink. Something was heavy on his heart. As he watched the parade from behind, desperately attempting to share in the good humor of his friends but failing miserably, he began to notice a strange phenomenon. Beasts were joining the parade: beasts from the bushes; popping out; joining the parade.
Robin realized in seconds what was going on. He raced around to the front of the parade, easily picking out the real vermin from the costumed Redwallers. He strung his bow.
TWANG! He felled a stoat. TWANG! Down went a rat. ZZZZZZIP! Robin easily picked off the vermin. A few tried to return fire, but Robin easily dodged their sub-par shots.
"Say, why're you shootin' us down?" asked one Abbeybeast.
"You idiot! You're killing people! You're no hero, you're a murderer!"
The Redwallers still didn't realize that the beasts Robin was shooting weren't Redwallers.
The vermin band was quickly defeated by Robin's superior archery skill. None were left alive. Once again, the Abbey was safe, although it was some time before all the Abbeybeasts realized that no one except vermin had been hurt. The Matthias and Methuselah bells tolled. All was right at Redwall.
A/N: Sorry this is later than promised, but some complications arose that made me unsure if this project would even reach completion. There is no timetable for the release of Vermin Invaders 2, but it will happen.
I Robin was uneasy. It was the fall after the archers' defeat of Thunderclaw and his hordes, and all of his friends had gone home. Robin, however, didn't feel like leaving the Abbey. There was some reason he shouldn't; he felt it in his fur. And so he stayed on, and now it was autumn, and getting close to Nameday.
"Robin," said a voice from behind him. "Robin! Robin?"
"Huh?" the mouse asked, turning around to see the Abbot standing over him.
"Is there something wrong?"
"No...Martin came to me in a dream last night, Father."
"He did? Well this is a special occurrence, Robin. What'd he say?"
"It was something about the Nameday...I don't exactly remember what he said...I just remember that it was about the Nameday. And he said that I should stay on."
"Did he tell you what the name for the new season was to be?" the Abbot asked.
"Well...no, not that I can remember. His tone seemed too dark to just be giving me the name for the season. Besides...doesn't he usually tell you that sort of stuff, Father?"
The Abbot laughed. "Robin, Martin hasn't spoken to an Abbeybeast that I'm aware for a long, long time. You're a special creature...anybeast can see that."
"You're too kind, Father. I'm sure that it wasn't any big deal."
"I'm not so sure," the Abbot replied, and walked away.
Robin placed his head in his hands and closed his eyes. What more can I ask for? he thought. I'm at the most beautiful place in the world and everyone thinks I'm a hero...and the greatest fighter of all-time just spoke to me in a dream. Shivering, the mouse stood up and headed for the kitchens to steal a bite...surely they wouldn't miss ONE pie in the days before Nameday....
II Deadeye the fox snarled angrily. "Let's get goin'! I wanna set up my recon operations so we c'n get in on Nameday! Damn you slow lot, get a move on!"
"We've been walkin' since last week! Slow down a bit, will ye?"
"NO! You don't know what kinda creatures'll be defendin' that place! I wanna be able to scout that Abbey afore I enter it. Just this summer they fought off a gigantic 'orde from the Northlands! I saw a few o' the stragglers runnin' fer their pathetic snivelin' lives! Do we wanna be those beasts?"
"Well...no, but chief...we're tired! Let us stop!"
"Yer tired, are ye? Well, would ya rather be tired and in charge o' Redwall or runnin' fer yer snivelin' life?"
There was no response.
"Right then! Get a move on!"
It was about five hours later when Deadeye's crew reached Redwall. Quickly, they hid in the ditch just off the Abbey road, the ditch that had been the temporary home of many a great conqueror.......all of whom had failed to conquer the redstone abbey and its simple inhabitants just across the road.
Deadeye, however, had the feeling that he was going to change all that. He had a plan...he was going to scout out the Abbey before he entered it, and he was going to know his enemy completely before he begun his campaign to destroy them. He was going to send in one of his most trusted rats, who would scout the Abbey and figure any weaknesses.
"We will not meet them in open war," Deadeye assured his band of hardened fighters, who were glancing nervously up at the Abbey and its towering walls.
"And we must not announce our presence to those Abbeydwellers. You see the size of that place. We must stay silently here, wait for Mousetail to complete his mission, and then...we seize the moment and attack."
"What about food?" demanded one of the band. "We can't just sit in a ditch here for three days. We ain't got provisions!"
"Which," Deadeye responded, keeping his temper in check, "is why Mousetail is going to bring us some food from yonder Abbey everyday until we have gathered what information we need."
"Good plan chief," Mousetail responded. "I've 'eard yon Abbey cooks some o' ee best vittles in all ee land."
"Whatever it is," a disgruntled hordebeast chimed in, "it'll be better than that manure we were fed on the way down. Yer a clever fox, chief, but y' never did learn how t' cook."
Deadeye laughed. Normally, both hordebeasts who had offered their opinions would have been scratched, beaten, whipped, stabbed, or even slain, but Deadeye was in a good mood. Soon, Redwall Abbey would be his, and all the Woodlanders who lived there would be his slaves.
III The feeling of uneasiness deepened within Robin. He didn't like it at all. And he knew that was weird. Just what he didn't like he wasn't sure of, but he was sure that he didn't like something about his surroundings. Which was odd, considering the fact that when he thought about it, he knew that he should be on top of the world. But it just didn't feel right.
What did feel right, though, were all the preparations for Nameday. Robin had been around the Abbey ever since he was a Dibbun. Although he had never lived there, Redwall had become a home away from home for him, as his family had always attended every major feast there when he was little, and he had kept coming back for the archery tournaments after his family had all gone to the Dark Forest.
Robin sniffed a little, and he felt a tear run down his cheek. He missed his family every so often, when he slowed down enough to think about anything other than being the best fighting beast he could possibly be. That was what drove him. He never told anybeast, but secretly, deep down inside, he wanted to be better than Martin. He wanted to be better than Matthias. And he knew, deep down inside, though he never told anybeast, that he was better than Martin. That he was better than Matthias.
And as he clenched his paw and gritted his teeth, vowing to himself for at least the millionth time in his life alone that he would be the best, and that someday everyone would know it, he missed the rustle in the bushes behind him....
IV That rustle just so happened to be Mousetail. Not knowing who Robin was, he crept past with the same overconfidence that had almost gotten him caught on two other separate occasions around the Abbey. It appeared that Mousetail, knowing that the Abbeybeasts weren't fighters, thought that meant they couldn't hear or see either.
But whatever was going on in the relatively small brain of the vermin was completely irrelevant. He got lucky to get past Robin, but he failed to really notice Robin. If he'd stopped to take a look, he would have seen the bow strung across the mouse's back, or the quiver of arrows sitting beside him. He passed by Robin, taking no notice of him. It was a critical oversight.
V Mousetail continued to collect his reconnaissance for the next few days, and no one in the Abbey noticed. His reports were uneventful, always assuring Deadeye that they would be assured easy victory.
When he came back the night before Nameday, Mousetail had some news that cheered Deadeye up and convinced him of the rat's constant assurances that he would prevail and make the Abbey his own.
"They're sayin' that they're gonna 'ave a great big feast up there's tuhmorrer," the rat reported to the sinister-looking fox.
"Ah," said Deadeye, at first uninterested. "And why shud I care?"
"Well," replied Mousetail, "I'm jus' reportin', chief, that's what you send me up to that place to do. They said they was gonna dress up as vermin fer the feast...sounded kinder funny tuh me. Huh huh," he finished with a thick laugh.
"Wait..." said Deadeye, his good eye lighting up. "When did you say this feast was?"
"Tuhmorrer," replied Mousetail, not comprehending his leader's sudden rush of excitement.
"Tell the band ter make ready," he said. "They won't need the disguises or nothin'. Soon's we hears the first sounds of feasting, we go in."
"Whatever you say, chief," replied the rat, shuffling off to inform his comrades, still with no idea what his leader had in mind.
VI Robin kept his wargear with him during the feast. Once again, it seemed as if something was wrong; as if things were too peaceful. Although he knew he was being paranoid, Robin kept his equipment with him...just in case....
VII
The vermin waited for the Abbeybeasts to have their fun at the feast. Knowing that there would be plenty of drink and merriment at the feast, Deadeye had his troops lie in wait. He had received a full report from Mousetail earlier that morning on how the parade would work, and he had formulated a plan that he knew was foolproof if his intelligence was correct.
He, along with his band, would march down the Abbey lawn with the drunken Abbeybeasts dressed as vermin. Too loaded to see the difference, the Abbeybeasts would be covered from all the towers and walls of the Abbey before they could come to their senses.
Then they would be his slaves, and he and his band would live off the fat of the land, forcing the goodbeasts to do their bidding and giving them nothing in return. The fox sighed. The good life was going to be worth it.
"It's time for the parade!" shouted the Abbot to the gathered masses.
"It's time to move out," whispered Deadeye to his band.
Both declarations were well received.
VIII Robin followed the parade from behind. He hadn't had much food, or much to drink. Something was heavy on his heart. As he watched the parade from behind, desperately attempting to share in the good humor of his friends but failing miserably, he began to notice a strange phenomenon. Beasts were joining the parade: beasts from the bushes; popping out; joining the parade.
Robin realized in seconds what was going on. He raced around to the front of the parade, easily picking out the real vermin from the costumed Redwallers. He strung his bow.
TWANG! He felled a stoat. TWANG! Down went a rat. ZZZZZZIP! Robin easily picked off the vermin. A few tried to return fire, but Robin easily dodged their sub-par shots.
"Say, why're you shootin' us down?" asked one Abbeybeast.
"You idiot! You're killing people! You're no hero, you're a murderer!"
The Redwallers still didn't realize that the beasts Robin was shooting weren't Redwallers.
The vermin band was quickly defeated by Robin's superior archery skill. None were left alive. Once again, the Abbey was safe, although it was some time before all the Abbeybeasts realized that no one except vermin had been hurt. The Matthias and Methuselah bells tolled. All was right at Redwall.