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Sebias, I will definitely do a drabble on Nightrip, as he obviously didn't get enough time to develop.

Rogue Crew Holt

The burly otter, Chief Thorkrig Axehound, swished his great-axe, laughing ominously.

"Heheh. Can't wait until we see some action, eh, Thirstblood?"

The wiry otter he referred to roared with laughter. "Aye! Should I send a few to check up on Salamandastron, just to see if there's any'thin?"

"You should!" The otter chief fingered his sharp blade. "Send meh daughter, Verane, and your son, Krudeblade, and mebbe a half-score more."

Thirstblood nodded and bounded off, laughing, leaving Thorkrig alone. Bored, the burly otter decided to see if there was anything to do.

He laughed as he heard a few crew members singing the official anthem of The Rogue Crew, The Bloodmakers, by Skor Axehound.

"Ooooooh, there's blood on the axe,

And there's blood on the shield,

And there's blood on the swordblade, toooooo,

And if yer a foe of our Rogue Creeeeeeewww,

There'll be blood all over you.

Blood blood blood blood

blood blood bloooooooood,

There'll be BLOOD! (BLOOD!)

ALL! (ALL!)

O-! (O-!)

-VER! (-VER!)

YOOOOOOOOU!"

Kamataya's ship, the Revenge

Queen Kamataya laughed in the wind from the crowsnest of her ship. The wildcat's previously bright red fur had been crowing darker, to a deep maroon, as her brother was, as she stopped grooming it so well. Her robe was tattered at the ends, her eyes wild, her fangs yellower. She was a fearsome sight, ready to kill anybeast that came near. Even the blue hordes were nervous around her, and tried not to come near.

"Salamandastron!" she called, seeing the peak of the mountain far, far off in the distance. "We're getting close! Dedclaw, get the slaves rowing harder. We'll be at Southsward soon, then we can avenge my brother!"
The wild queen's bloodshot eyes seemed to become slits when she remembered Salamandastron was far off. "Gaah! We'll be there! Soon!" Kamataya climbed from the crowsnest and grabbed Grimfur by his neck. "How much longer?"

"Gaah! Let go!" Kamataya through the weasel captain to the floor, and he continued, massaging his throat. "Far off, it'll be awhile. Sorry!"

The weasel winced as the Wildcat Queen whacked him. "I've good news! I've good news! The fox might come north! Then he'll be at Salamandastron!"

The wildcat forgot about the weasel and walked slowly towards the heel, laughing. "Haharr! I'm coming Silvertung! Then I'll kill you, and take the mountain!"

oooooooooooooo

A thin, old vole slave pulled his oar for the last time. He keeled over on top of his young hedgehog companion, dead.

The slavemaster, a tall, muscled rat, called Dedclaw, pointed at the vole. "We gotta ded un'!"

Two of his goons, big, buff weasels, ran forward and hefted the vole up. A third ran and unlocked the chains, and they ran off to throw the poor vole into the sea.

'Tis a hard life, thought the hedgehog, Branos Tuffqwill. Rowing was even harder with only him on the bench, but he dealt with it. Among the slaves he was known as "The Adapter", because no matter how hard the situation, he'd adapt to it. His slavemasters called him "Inferior", because he was not vermin with blue fur.

Branos only remembered his life on the ship. No family, no early life. He remembered rowing, eating slave slop, and the lessons that took his highland accent away (Kamataya hated it). Even with just him rowing, he was stronger than any of the other slaves. He had no ambitions, no dreams, just to row.

Was there anything more than rowing?

As Branos would find, there were many things that were more than rowing.

Mossflower

Captain Fyron felt relief run through his body. He had lived! And more than that, he had stayed captain. Though Darkblood had told him to do one thing:

Figure out how many creatures are in Redwall, and their species.

So Fyron would become captain of the scouts. Fyron was glad Darkblood was a cunning general. He was not setting him up to fail, but that would be his fault. The ferret was quite nervous. He was in complete control. He had to choose who'd be in his squad and the strategy. For the first time, he felt bad for Zäev and Griv and Darkblood and Vafír, who always had to do this. But he would not fail! No, he would succeed!

Being vain, he believed ferrets were stealthiest of all, so most of his squad was ferrets, with a few rats and weasels. He portrayed stoats as dull, clumsy oafs, and foxes as too vain.

"Alright, Fyron. What d'ye want us teh do?" asked a rat.

"That's Captain Fyron, t'ye! Now lets 'ere it. Captain Fyron!"

"Cap'n Fyron!" replied the squad.

"That's better. Now lissen 'ere. We need to figure out 'ow menny are in yon abbey. And what does the emperor allus say?"

"Smarter, not 'arder?" guessed a ferret.

"Bingo! So that's what we're goin' t'do. We'll find a plan that's so devious, so cunning, that this'll be easier than fightin' a baby mouse."

The vermin chuckled. Maybe Fyron would be a good captain after all.

"So, let's start brainstormin'! I wanna 'ear all yer ideas!"

"We cud climb the walls!"

Fyron bit his lip. "Mebbe. Any others?"

"Pretend we're good, they let that liddle fox in!"

"Not bad, but they wouldn't trust us in war time."

"What if we 'ad a distraction? Somebeast be doin' one thing over 'ere, while us others be doin' another thing!"

"Another mebbe. We'll see."

"We cud tunnel!"

"Idjit! History! Did ye 'ear what 'appened to 'alf Cluny the Scourge's army? They got boiled alive when they tried to tunnel!"

"Oh, yer right."

"Hah! Mebbe we cud boil them alive!"

"How?"

"Ummmm... Errrrr... I dunno, but what if we cud?"

Fyron put his head in his paws. They weren't getting anywhere. "Remember, we don't want to take them out, least not yet. We just want to find out their size and strength."

The vermin nodded. "Yessir Cap'n!"

"Good. Now d'ye wanna 'ear what I 'ad in mind?"

The vermin nodded eagerly. "Ya, cap'n! Tell us!"

Fyron smiled. "This is my plan. We get our best guy up in a tall tree. When 'e sees some idjit walkin' 'round yon wall, he grabs 'im and runs. Got it? Now who's our best guy?"

Each vermin immediately raised their hands. Fyron sighed. This was going to be difficult.

ooooooooooooooooo

A tall weasel called Bluddfang hung by the branches of an oak by the south wall of Redwall, waiting for Tench the otter to come around. The strong otter was on guard duty, and had just began patrolling the south wall. Bluddfang eagerly prepared to leap from the tree. He held a sleeping concoction made by a rat alchemist called Kwiklah. Just a few more steps...

Tench walked right in front of Bluddfang. The grinning weasel jumped from the branch landing on Tench. The two wrestled for a bit. Bluddfang was making sure Tench could not call out with his paw, while the otter took the upper hand and began pummeling the weasel. Hurriedly Bluddfang smashed the glass vial of sleeping concoction against Tench's mouth. The otter struggled for a bit, then his eyes glazed and he went limp. Bluddfang had won!

The weasel picked up the heavy otter and looked down from the ramparts. Four ferrets were holding a stretched out flimsy fabric between them. Bluddfang gulped, looked side to side, and jumped. The fabric snapped without any resistance, but Bluddfang broke Tench's fall.

Quite literally broke. His spine bent horribly, the weasel called out to the laughing ferrets that were dragging Tench away.

"'Elp meh mates! 'Elp me..." But there was no help. They left Bluddfang to die by the south wall, calling for help that would never come.

Redwall Abbey, Dreams

A wiry mouse walked up to Mervo, stoic. His eyes were gallant and brave, with a fire behind them that said he was a great warrior.

Mervo winced. If only he was as great as this mouse! Though he did look somewhat familiar...

"You're Martin the Warrior! From the tapestry, and all those books I read! I can't believe-"

The mouse put a paw over the fox's muzzle. "You are special, young one. You are a fox, though you are good. You are young, though you are more intelligent than many I have met. You have quite an ancestry."

"I know. I'm descended from-"

"Zêrin, yes, who freed himself. Though you are a mix of quite a few more. Your mother is descended from a fox called Groddil, who called himself a high magician. That is not true, but magic wisps did tell him some things. He discovered also the sacred fire and Seven Stones of Xeymar."

"Wait, magic's real? I-"

"Magic is real, though ancient. Nobody can control now. Just those who listen hard enough, they can learn things. Groddil did. I still do not understand everything, though I believe you will find out. You are related, very distantly, to great evils as well. The Marlfoxes, and even the one you fight. Silvertung."

Mervo gaped. "I'm related to them?"

"Yes, but you are not them. Who your family- well, it does matter, especially in your case, as Zêrin's blood gives you a choice. But you choose to be good."

"What do you want me to do? Or what do you want to to tell me? I mean, that's what you've always done."

Martin chuckled. "I like you Mervo. But yes, you're right. I want you to help. Redwall is in great danger. I have a feeling that you must continue a riddle I failed to answer. And you'll need help. Your family, moles, and a few others."

"What? How am I supposed to do that?"

Martin smiled.

"Go down to Codíra,

The wonder of old.

To where the recorder wrote,

And under his seat.

There you will find another,

One of me."

"Now, Mervo, I must tell you something. Don't forget the white flowers..."

oooooooooooooooo

"Uggo! Posy! Uggo! Posy!" Mervo came bolting into the gatehouse excited.

"Whoa!" called Uggo, putting a paw in front of Mervo. "What do you need to tell us?"

"I gotta dream from Martin the Warrior!"

Uggo smiled. "Posy, write this down. Mervo, tell us everything."

Mervo plopped down in a cushioned chair happily, and began to talk about his dream. How Martin came to him, what the mouse had told him, and the riddle.

Posy stroked her quilled thoughtfully. "Well, this actually isn't so bad. Tinsel, get your brother and sister, and foremole and Bungle. And Brother Ruford. Don't forget the lad's parents."

Tinsel, the Recorder-in-training and Posy and Uggo's daughter ran off to do as her mother asked.

Posy continued. "I have no idea about Codíra, but it says quite blatantly to go to the recorder's writing room, probably the library of Codíra, and under his seat we'll find another...I'm not sure."

Uggo nodded. "Let's wait for Tinsel to get back."

They sat staring at the gatehouse door, waiting for somebody to walk in. After a few minutes, Tinsel walked in, followed by Darrow and Silvy, her siblings. Then came a thin mouse, Brother Ruford, and then Erzvin and Zeela, and finally came the breathless moles, Foremole and Bungle.

"Hurr aye, us'ns baint made fer runnin', burr," gasped Bungle.

Posy smiled. We're trying to figure out this riddle young Mervo was given. From Martin the Warrior. But Martin apparently doesn't even know the answer."

"Well, let's here it," said Brother Ruford.

Posy recited the riddle. "We figured out the middle part, but I have no clue what Codíra is, or the other one of me."

Ruford chuckled. "Well that's easy. It's another riddle. This is a riddle, to find a riddle!"

The other's nodded their heads. "Aye," said Darrow. "Ruford's right. But who knows what Codíra is?"

Uggo looked at Mervo. "I think it sounds familiar. Mervo, you probably have better memory than me. Ever heard of Codíra?"

"What do you mean I have better-"

"Page 223, sentence 17, Brocktree, by Russano the Wise."

"Further conversation was curtailed as the bankvole referee entered the ring, followed by a line of servers pulling trolleys laden with food and drink."

Uggo chuckled. "See what I mean?"

"But I still have never heard of Codíra."

Uggo shook his head. "I swear I've heard it afore. But I don't know where."

"Mebbe it was on that ole scroll ye were working on yesterday, dad!" said Darrow.

"What old- oh yes! It was! Here it says: They even created this beautiful redstone castle I'm writing this in, called Codíra."

"Yahah!" called Tinsel. "There, we got somewhere!"

"Could you read the whole thing out loud?" asked Mervo. "It might allow us to better understand the situation."

"Alright, but you might be surprised by what's in here. Well, here goes nothing..."