ALN: Dear Abrahem,
Yes, Salamandastron shall be... Interesting. As you shall find out for yourself soon enough. Yes, the Skipper has probably not seemed like so nice a fellow up until now- but this is deliberate. We see different angles of different characters depending on who's point of view we see them from. At least... That's what I'm going for... You'll see why eventually...
As for Tuco and Sharpfur, I get you, I really do. If Sharpfur had been older then I suspect he'd have been almost exactly like him. Though I think it's pretty easy to forget that these guys are 10-12-ish.
Regarding being a furry: Well I believe what a "furry" actually is, is debatable. If you listen to the internet, you'd think being a furry is all about raving to EDM as you vape inside your fursuit. Also everybody I talk to seems to think that all furries are gay... so there's a lot of misconceptions surrounding furries at large.
For me, none of that is true (except I do like me some EDM), although maybe once a year I'll get the crazy idea to save up for a sick dragon fursuit... and then a minute later I slap myself and say "You idiot - that's a terrible idea!"
The way I think furry should be defined is simply by an interest in anthropomorphic animals in it's various art forms. I think a vocal minority of furries cause a lot of negative stereotypes... to the point that I'm not comfortable discussing this interest of mine in public or even with some of my close friends. And yeah, I consider myself one, but only by my definition. By extension, if I applied my definition to other people, it would include most people in the fandom...
I owe the above definition to The Dragon Chronicle.
Dear Lord demon (I love your name, lol)
Fun fact, that was one of the ideas I was working on in the early stages of planning this fic. Not necessarily an army of mythological creatures, I was thinking more in line with bloodthirsty lizards. And yes the woodlanders and vermin would have banded together against this great threat. However- that was long scrapped so do not expect an armada of lizards to all-of-a-sudden pop up. And it's a bit late for Savages too I'm afraid (though... perhaps woodlanders and vermin shall band together...)
Though I do plan on (one day, many seasons from now no doubt) making a Halloween Special (Black, White and Smothered In Pumpkin) I won't say too much about it purely because you'd have to know how this story ends first. But perhaps... There will be space for a goblin or two...
Regarding Greyclaw's parentage. I don't think it's wise to say yes or no at this point. I will say that I like the way you read. But at the same time the evidence you have provided could be...*drumroll*... a Grey coincidence. (I'm so funny...)
And now, without further ado, part two of catching up with Greyclaw.
The closer they came to Salamandastron, the warmer the climate became, till all snow was left behind and they were sailing through coastlines with sandy beaches and the swath of the ocean.
The closer they came to Salamandastron the more worried Greyclaw became- and the more worried he became the more he slipped up.
"We did it!" Angus cried, lifting a bowl of steaming hotroot high into the air- where the sun could bask it in bright light.
"Took us all morning-"
"But we've mastered hotroot!"
The pair slapped tails and, beaming, approached the nearest member of their holt- who just so happened to be Grey Claw.
"Here Berty-"
"Banana-"
"Bartholomew-"
"Have some soup!"
Grey, who had been absorbed in thoughts of his old life, was reeled back into a reality where a pair of grinning otters- fangs gleaming- were threatening him with what looked like steaming blood.
"I'm not a rat!" He shrieked, scrambling backwards as quickly as he could.
The twins gave each other the most confused look ever.
Worse still was that the closer they came to Jack's home the more relaxed the hare became. And the more relaxed he was, the slower he reacted to Grey's failings. He spoke often of Salamandastron, yet this only filled the young rat with dread. From all he'd gathered it was a militaristic woodlander stronghold built into a volcano... rats did not seem welcome.
"Supposing I don't belong." He had said to the Skipper one night they had shared in sleeplessness. "Supposing Salamaderastron... isn't... Supposing I don't fit in with the... martial... hares... or the badgers and their... well their-"
Skipper snorted and patted him on the head. "Berty. Badgerlord Umber is a personal friend of mine and has been for many a season. Anywhere I'm welcome, you're welcome. As for being martial-" He poked the rat's round stomach. "Lots of beasts aren't. Besides, it's just for the winter, after that you could stay with us. Or if you prefer... maybe Redwall will take you in."
"B-but Redwall's haunted." Greyclaw blurted out. His heart shot into a panicked frenzy, but to his luck the Skipper laughed it off.
"Then stay here! I don't see what the problem is, really. You're mates with Jack and Tibbers. They'll look after you, and if they don't I will. Besides Salamandastron isn't really all that 'hard training' and the like. You're a guest, not a recruit."
The Skipper's assurances did little to dampen his doubts, but he clung to them like a lifeline. After all, he didn't really have a choice in the matter.
The day-or rather dusk- came sooner than he'd have liked, and it came with Jack's loud whoop of joy. For a beast with his ear-length it was surprising how inconsiderate he was when it came to the power of his voice. The otters landed their rafts and all set off for the fortress. Grey would have stayed behind as long as possible, but Jack had other plans. Taking rat and shrew by the paw he promptly raced all the way there, half-leading, half-dragging his hapless companions.
Worse still was what awaited the rat behind the gates. As if he'd been waiting for them, and he probably had, Badgerlord Umber was waiting for them.
Grey felt his whole form go limp and his ears droop. He had heard much of the fabled badgers- they were the stuff of nightmares and the bogeyman of all vermin tales. Yet there was something in the creature standing before him that Sick-Eyes' stories had never been able to describe. A kind of majesty. A kind of control. Power seemed to ooze from the large beast, it was evident in his wide arms and broad shoulders. His eyes did not glow red, as Sick-Eyes had always claimed. They were blue and filled with an old kind of wisdom, yet the smile upon his face was that of a younger beast. His clothes were plain, a simple robe of green- yet the beast would not look out of place in plated armour. His black and white fur was like that of a ferret's, yet at once so unlike a ferret's that it was entirely new to the young rat. The badger towered over them, like a second mountain, yet his shadow was a welcome relief from the hot sun.
All in all he was both terrified, and impressed. Dazed as he was, he barely heard the conversation.
"I was expecting you." The great beast was saying.
Jack, despite being from Salamandastron- and having seen the baderlord for most of his life, was as giddy as a school girl. "It must have been in a dream." He turned to Grey and Tibbers nodding madly. "Badgers are prophetic beasts, wot."
Grey felt himself going faint. If this badger was prophetic then he was doomed.
The badger rolled his eyes and with one paw fixed Jack's bobbing head in place. "No, I did not have any dreams. You were due back several weeks ago- along with the other hares that went to celebrate." The young hare opened his mouth- but the badger held it shut. "I know what happened because it was reported to me. From what I've heard you three were the only ones found."
The rest of the holt caught up by then, the Skipper ahead of the rest by a considerable margin- sporting a very wide grin.
Jack was quick enough to drag himself and his companions out of the way, for when otter and badger collided the very ground seemed to tremble. Angus and Andrew slunk next to hare, rat and shrew, looking eager. And the source of their eagerness became apparent within seconds.
"Say, old matey old pal-"
"Perhaps you would be so kind as to show us to the mess hall-"
"We're a bit hungry see-"
"It's dinnertime-"
"And these two-" One twin pointed a thumbclaw at the Badgerlord and Skipper- who were gripping each other hard enough to crush a lesser beast.
"Will be like that for seasons-"
"So you could save us all a lot of time and trouble-"
"If you just lead the way."
Jack nodded in understanding. "Alright, wot. The mess hall it is!"
"M-maybe that's not such a good idea." Greyclaw pointed out, raising one meek paw. "I mean, we're not all that hungry and besides..." He trailed off, unable to voice his deep-seated worries without giving himself away.
"Don't be daft Berty!"
"How could getting grub be a bad idea?"
The twins lifted the rat from one armpit each.
"B-b-b-but I'm not a rat." He squeaked in protest. But there was nothing he could do. He did not want to fall, and fall he would if he tried to run. Leaving the Skipper and the badger and the rest of the holt behind the four followed the proud hare through long, lantern-filled halls that were a deep, mesmerizing red. The likes of which Greyclaw had only seen on the Cursed Abbey's walls. The shadows bounced up and down, growing and shrinking as they walked forwards. The blackness cast cruel shapes and danced among the flames. Jack was skipping ahead, humming to a tune Grey did not know the words to. Tibbers was pulling up the rear, if only because he had to run to keep up with the larger mammal's strides.
The five came to a halt in front of a pair of great, gleaming wooden doors. Jack stopped humming, his paws shaking in anticipation as they reached towards a small knob. The hare's eyes were wide and a grin grew along his face. "It's been so long- I- I-"
"We're starving."
"Just open the door."
"D-don't open the door!"
But Grey's last plea was caught on deaf ears and the doors were opened wide. The rat was dropped softly to his feet and felt himself stiffen as all eyes turned towards the new arrivals. He raised a shaking paw and did the smallest of waves.
He was promptly lifted off his feetpaws, along with his companions, by a sea of shouting, clamoring over-excited hares. Terrified, and fearing that he would be sacrificed to the volcano there was nothing Grey could do but whimper. Not that it was heard even by the long ears of this new armada. Their were shouts of joy, elation, surprise- and in the case of the otter twins, hunger. There was a mad pounding that the rat was sure was his heart.
The group were deposited onto a bench, and were promptly assaulted with a volley of questions. The pounding grew ever stronger until it was all Grey could hear. The rat curled in on himself. Why couldn't it all just stop?
Then there was silence and the rat's eyes peaked open.
"Order! Order!" Shouted an overweight, red-in-the-face hare clad in more medals than Grey could count. He was holding a fat stump, which turned out to be the source of the pounding. "All of you back to your stations!"
"But sah!"
"We want to know what-"
"I said ORDER! You will all know what happened in due course of time, wot."
Many opened their mouths to protest, but the fat hare's stern gaze silenced them prematurely. Muttering mutinously the sea of long-eared rabbits scattered.
Then the fat hare sat down next to Jack, a wide grin on his face, and threw a chubby paw round the thinner hare's shoulder. "It's good to see you ole chap! Now tell us what happened! We heard you got captured by vermin- gave them a good one-two didn't you ole boy? All that training payed off, didn't it?"
The hares lucky enough to have been sitting around before the group's arrival, now leaned closer, desperate to hear every detail.
Angus and Andrew were oblivious to it all, and seemed to be having a pie-eating contest between them. Grey shook his head mournfully- they were both hopelessly slow.
"Well, perhaps captured is too much. We were ambushed, wot!" Jack cried, dramatically slamming the table for good measure. "As for training. Oh yes, very helpful. If it weren't for Tibbers and Grey here-" He pointed at the shrew and rat respectively. "I'd have drowned. And, with all due respect sah, I'd like to say that the handbook never properly explained how to handle an over-depressed rat, wot."
Grey, who had managed the courage to sip at a nearby glass of water, swallowed too quickly and began to cough. This had the unfortunate side-effect of attracting everybeast's attention. Which made him panic and cough harder. And soon his eyes were wet from all the force of his coughing.
"Of course, the rat died two seconds later so it wasn't too much trouble and er- this is Berty by the way. He's a mouse, don'tcha know. And well, he was already the vermin's captive for as long as anybeast could remember. Don't mind him he's a gentle soul, wot. Real nice mouse he is."
"What were they like?" This new question was posed by a mouse. Her gaze was fierce with intent, and seemed fierce in general. There was a kind of fire in her eyes that Grey was worried would burn him to ashes.
"Not that bad." Tibbers chimed in, passing Greyclaw a piece of lettuce in an attempt to ward off any dangerous conversations.
"Well, they stunk, were rude and rather-" He noticed the mournful look in the rat's eyes and gave a little cough. "They stabbed Tibbers in the shoulder but patched it up quite well and well, Gr- Berty- didn't suffer from lack of food, as you can all see." He smacked the rat hard on the back, producing another ill-advised coughing fit.
"You could use a bath Berty." The mouse said with a small frown that made Grey shudder. "And what's wrong with your teeth?"
Grey did not know how to reply and shrunk a little bit more.
"Yes Berty stinks." Tibbers snapped. "Get used to it, coz it takes more than soap to wash it off of him. We know, we've tried."
And with that the conversation strayed away from the rat. After a while, Grey grew comfortable enough to eat- and found that he was quite hungry.
And it was simply marvelous.
Hare's Pawspring Vegetable Soup, bubbling and spreading the vapors of sweet and sour vegetables in a mist that set the young rat to drooling. Crispy Cheese'n'Onion Hogbake, one bite was enough to make him shiver in spasms of ecstasy. Gourmet Garrison Grilled Leeks that he avoided like the plague. Stuffed Springtide Mushrooms,a recipe he would have to find ans show Sickletail. She loved mushrooms...
Yet nothing was better than the Strawberry pie. Thick and creamy jam, with a soft, slightly crunchy exterior. It was heaven, pure heaven. And again and again he wanted to dive in and lick at the jam, and break the crust and chew it- and he just realized that he was being watched.
Tibbers was staring at him from behind eyes crusted in fresh jam.
"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to-" It was an innocent gesture- one common among vermin. His tongue passed across the shrew's face, wiping the jam away. Grey swallowed, and found even more creatures were staring at him. "Er- sorry?"
"It's... fine." Tibbers murmured, wiping away at the left-over saliva.
"Well that was weird." The Junior Corporal said, to general agreement.
Grey opened his mouth- but found no words could come out. He was panicking- and Jack noticed too.
"What a bally brilliant idea Berty!" Seizing the nearest strawberry pie the hare proceeded to launch it at the nearest hare.
The Junior Corporal was quick enough to duck- the approaching Skipper- who had just arrived- was not.
Footnote: Fun fact, I initially envisioned all of this subplot fitting into one chapter- hahahaha. So there's going to be a part three and four before we get to the current time plot-wise. Just goes to show I'm only human. I mean, you guys probably don't mind, but a better strategist could have positioned this inbetween other chapters. Still I don't think it's too jarring here...
The Junior Corporal has been mentioned before- Jack was complaining about the lack of solutions to depressed rats.
This is probably going to be my last update of the year- so Happy New Year and hope you enjoyed.