Disclaimer: The universe isn't mine, the abbey isn' t mine, the warrior
mouse isn't mine, the sword isn't mine....yeah if you know it, it isn't
mine...damn....
Prologue
There was a time when Redwall was not the home of peace of peace and safety that it's known as. There was a time when all that Redwall stood for lay in ruins at the feet of one creature who had done the impossible. His name was Death Raventooth; and he was a wolf from the frigid north. He was tall and lean with matte black fur and crimson eyes. No one dared look Death in the eyes; the soldiers obeyed that religiously for there was a good reason that his name was Death.
Seasons ago Redwall had been free and happy; but with freedom came laziness. And when Death Raventooth and his army of countless vermin had swept down from the North there had been none to oppose him. Even the great Salamandastron had fallen to the devious commander; it too had known far too many seasons of peace to fight off such a force.
Thus the wolf became the greatest conqueror known. He had remained the dictator mainly due to his intelligence; no one could outsmart him. The other reason was that despite the fear that his army had for him, they were terribly loyal. He suffered with them when times were meager and shared with them when times were rich. There was not a single seed of dissension within the ranks.
And so Death entrenched himself with half his horde at Redwall and left his second in command, another wolf named Destruction Bloodclaw who was blindly loyal, to oversee the fire mountain.
What of the Sword of Martin? What of the tapestry? Death kept the sword himself for a time. But the despite the countless legends that circled it; the blade dulled and tarnished within a fortnight and no amount of cleaning would make it shine. So Death used that as an opportunity to further break the spirits of the abbey beasts; with a great ceremony the wolf hurled the dull blade over the wall and into the abyss of Mossflower. The tapestry was hidden in the attic as blackmail; to keep the new slaves subdued.
But despite the cruelest actions of the wolf the redwallers spirit was never fully broken. Heroes were drawn to Redwall; Death would not always reign. A hero would come to the Abbey once again, guided by Martin and wielding the sword.
Chapter One
A port had been built at Salamandastron so that Raventooth's Horde could remain wealthy through economic means. Countless corsairs and pirates stopped there frequently because although the prices were high, it was a prime location for restocking. Besides who was going to argue with a fierce creature like Destruction on a matter as trite as price when "it's still less expensive than building a new boat or finding a new crew." as he so convincingly put it.
A it was a deceptively sunny, cheerful day when a new ship pulled into the port. The name "Silver Cat's Claws" were carved into the side and it's crews were filled with sleek searats and lean weasels, ferrets, and stoats; and to everyone's surprise there were otters, mice, even a few squirrels were seen in the rigging. As they paraded off the ship they were looked on with admiration by their nautical peers; gold earrings and shining blades adorned their chests and waists. But the captain that sauntered down the gangplank stole everyone's attention. The wildcat was tall and lean; her gray fur shifted through several different shades and even appeared blue in the sunlight. Silk sashes wrapped her body and earrings glittered in her ears. And when everyone saw her weapons they realized the meaning of the ships name. From claw tip to mid-way from shoulder to elbow she wore a pair of metal gauntlets; they were set together in layers so that the wearer had a full range of motion. Each claw- tip glittered in a foreshadowing manner that made those nearest step back. As this intimidating feline stepped down onto the docks a scrawny weasel crept up and puffed out his chest importantly.
"Who are you?" he snapped, trying to look down his nose at the cat who was a head taller than the official before her. The cat sneered down at him,
"'Ear that cullies? 'E don't know who I am!" She called to her crew who snickered in reply. The weasel looked around nervously before regrouping his wits, but she interrupted him.
"I? I'm Sheede Silvercat. And you should take notice." she stated staring at the weasel. Sheede's eyes were a mesmerizing green-gray and they held the poor weasel locked.
"You need permission to dock..." he muttered softly, wishing to be someplace else. Sheede nodded with mock sympathy,
"Oh aye, and 'ow would I get permission then matey?" The weasel sallowed hard before answering,
"You. . .you pay a . . .a tribute to Destruction Bloodclaw. . . marm." Now Sheede smiled warmly and the weasel relaxed ever so slightly.
"Now matey, may I ask you a question?' the weasel nodded, " Are you required to ask these questions?" he nodded again, other creatures had begun to gather, " So, if it were up to you, would you make me pay a tribute?" wisely the weasel shook his head hard, "Good, good."
Unexpectedly Sheede pulled one particularly bejeweled earing off and handed it to the still nervous weasel,
"I trust this will cover it for now?" she asked holding it out to him. The weasel froze and looked the cat over before cautiously taking the earing and scurrying off. As the crowd dispersed and her crew went off to their assigned tasks Sheede's first mate, a fox named Tyril, moved over to her and whispered quietly as they walked.
" Why'd you do that Chief?" puzzlement clear in his voice; Sheede looked thoughtful.
"Well, what would you have done Tyril?" she asked in return, the fox nodded.
"I wouldn't have paid. I'dve sent him running back to this 'Bloodclaw' with a black eye and empty paws." Sheede smiled at her first mate,
"Not a bad plan cully, but then you've got no time to get your supplies before you've got a disgruntled leader chasing after ya. Don't worry mate I'll get that earing back before we've left, mark my words." Tyril smiled at his captain's wisdom, she was just and fair but far from soft.
Deep within the mountain Destruction sat on his throne watching the weasel approach cautiously. What once had been the forge of the great badger warrior was now a shrine to Destruction and his new-found leadership. Shackled hares shuffling silently around, heads bowed, eyes half closed; they listened to the march tunes of old from their memories and simply waited for their fortunes to change. Today however there was a tense air. Everyone could tell that something was going to happen and the hesitant arrival of this weasel lit a fuse of anxiety in the enslaved hares. Destruction sat forward eagerly in his towering throne and spoke to the approaching weasel,
"Well? What of the new ship I saw arriving?" The weasel hesitated and then handed the earing to his chief who snatched it and stared in disbelief at it before shouting at the terrified creature before him,
"What is the meaning of this Scum?!" The weasel, whose name was actually Scam but knew better than to correct a temperamental wolf, shrugged piteously and answered,
"I don't Your Honor! I were surrounded and that were all she'd give me!" Destruction sneered and turned away. Scam seized on that golden opportunity to flee to the safety of the barracks. Destruction paid him no mind; he turned to a figure standing behind him,
"Frag! Come forward!" He barked. Instantly a round black rat covered in old scars waddled forward.
" Aye Capt'n?" he asked carefully; instantly the wolf's voice became deceptively smooth as he spoke,
"Now Frag, you know about this new arrival?" Frag nodded quickly,
"Oh aye, I do indeed Capt'n that's the ship of Sheede Silvercat if I ever saw it!" Destruction moved closer to the nervous searat,
"Tell me about her Frag."
"Well Sire there's not much to tell; no one but her crew know her well. But I do know that she's very influential among the local crews. Her own crew follow her as you follow Death Sire!" The wolf sneered at the now trembling rat, he held up the earing.
"And what of this meager tribute Frag?" Frag wanted to say that he should be honored that the Silvercat would be so generous and aware of Destruction's power; but he couldn't, for the same reason that Scam didn't correct Destruction about his name. So instead he looked dutifully subservient and watched the wolf's sneer grow. Suddenly the great predator turned on him yelling,
"No one is so disrespectful to the Second of Death Ravenclaw!! Frag I want her boat burned to floating ashes by nightfall!!!!" Destruction grabbed Frag by the collar and easily tossed him out of the throne room without any more words. Frag had no choice but go off on his assigned task; though he was petrified of the repercussions that the wildcat's wrath would bring.
Curious? Tell me and I'll keep going....
Prologue
There was a time when Redwall was not the home of peace of peace and safety that it's known as. There was a time when all that Redwall stood for lay in ruins at the feet of one creature who had done the impossible. His name was Death Raventooth; and he was a wolf from the frigid north. He was tall and lean with matte black fur and crimson eyes. No one dared look Death in the eyes; the soldiers obeyed that religiously for there was a good reason that his name was Death.
Seasons ago Redwall had been free and happy; but with freedom came laziness. And when Death Raventooth and his army of countless vermin had swept down from the North there had been none to oppose him. Even the great Salamandastron had fallen to the devious commander; it too had known far too many seasons of peace to fight off such a force.
Thus the wolf became the greatest conqueror known. He had remained the dictator mainly due to his intelligence; no one could outsmart him. The other reason was that despite the fear that his army had for him, they were terribly loyal. He suffered with them when times were meager and shared with them when times were rich. There was not a single seed of dissension within the ranks.
And so Death entrenched himself with half his horde at Redwall and left his second in command, another wolf named Destruction Bloodclaw who was blindly loyal, to oversee the fire mountain.
What of the Sword of Martin? What of the tapestry? Death kept the sword himself for a time. But the despite the countless legends that circled it; the blade dulled and tarnished within a fortnight and no amount of cleaning would make it shine. So Death used that as an opportunity to further break the spirits of the abbey beasts; with a great ceremony the wolf hurled the dull blade over the wall and into the abyss of Mossflower. The tapestry was hidden in the attic as blackmail; to keep the new slaves subdued.
But despite the cruelest actions of the wolf the redwallers spirit was never fully broken. Heroes were drawn to Redwall; Death would not always reign. A hero would come to the Abbey once again, guided by Martin and wielding the sword.
Chapter One
A port had been built at Salamandastron so that Raventooth's Horde could remain wealthy through economic means. Countless corsairs and pirates stopped there frequently because although the prices were high, it was a prime location for restocking. Besides who was going to argue with a fierce creature like Destruction on a matter as trite as price when "it's still less expensive than building a new boat or finding a new crew." as he so convincingly put it.
A it was a deceptively sunny, cheerful day when a new ship pulled into the port. The name "Silver Cat's Claws" were carved into the side and it's crews were filled with sleek searats and lean weasels, ferrets, and stoats; and to everyone's surprise there were otters, mice, even a few squirrels were seen in the rigging. As they paraded off the ship they were looked on with admiration by their nautical peers; gold earrings and shining blades adorned their chests and waists. But the captain that sauntered down the gangplank stole everyone's attention. The wildcat was tall and lean; her gray fur shifted through several different shades and even appeared blue in the sunlight. Silk sashes wrapped her body and earrings glittered in her ears. And when everyone saw her weapons they realized the meaning of the ships name. From claw tip to mid-way from shoulder to elbow she wore a pair of metal gauntlets; they were set together in layers so that the wearer had a full range of motion. Each claw- tip glittered in a foreshadowing manner that made those nearest step back. As this intimidating feline stepped down onto the docks a scrawny weasel crept up and puffed out his chest importantly.
"Who are you?" he snapped, trying to look down his nose at the cat who was a head taller than the official before her. The cat sneered down at him,
"'Ear that cullies? 'E don't know who I am!" She called to her crew who snickered in reply. The weasel looked around nervously before regrouping his wits, but she interrupted him.
"I? I'm Sheede Silvercat. And you should take notice." she stated staring at the weasel. Sheede's eyes were a mesmerizing green-gray and they held the poor weasel locked.
"You need permission to dock..." he muttered softly, wishing to be someplace else. Sheede nodded with mock sympathy,
"Oh aye, and 'ow would I get permission then matey?" The weasel sallowed hard before answering,
"You. . .you pay a . . .a tribute to Destruction Bloodclaw. . . marm." Now Sheede smiled warmly and the weasel relaxed ever so slightly.
"Now matey, may I ask you a question?' the weasel nodded, " Are you required to ask these questions?" he nodded again, other creatures had begun to gather, " So, if it were up to you, would you make me pay a tribute?" wisely the weasel shook his head hard, "Good, good."
Unexpectedly Sheede pulled one particularly bejeweled earing off and handed it to the still nervous weasel,
"I trust this will cover it for now?" she asked holding it out to him. The weasel froze and looked the cat over before cautiously taking the earing and scurrying off. As the crowd dispersed and her crew went off to their assigned tasks Sheede's first mate, a fox named Tyril, moved over to her and whispered quietly as they walked.
" Why'd you do that Chief?" puzzlement clear in his voice; Sheede looked thoughtful.
"Well, what would you have done Tyril?" she asked in return, the fox nodded.
"I wouldn't have paid. I'dve sent him running back to this 'Bloodclaw' with a black eye and empty paws." Sheede smiled at her first mate,
"Not a bad plan cully, but then you've got no time to get your supplies before you've got a disgruntled leader chasing after ya. Don't worry mate I'll get that earing back before we've left, mark my words." Tyril smiled at his captain's wisdom, she was just and fair but far from soft.
Deep within the mountain Destruction sat on his throne watching the weasel approach cautiously. What once had been the forge of the great badger warrior was now a shrine to Destruction and his new-found leadership. Shackled hares shuffling silently around, heads bowed, eyes half closed; they listened to the march tunes of old from their memories and simply waited for their fortunes to change. Today however there was a tense air. Everyone could tell that something was going to happen and the hesitant arrival of this weasel lit a fuse of anxiety in the enslaved hares. Destruction sat forward eagerly in his towering throne and spoke to the approaching weasel,
"Well? What of the new ship I saw arriving?" The weasel hesitated and then handed the earing to his chief who snatched it and stared in disbelief at it before shouting at the terrified creature before him,
"What is the meaning of this Scum?!" The weasel, whose name was actually Scam but knew better than to correct a temperamental wolf, shrugged piteously and answered,
"I don't Your Honor! I were surrounded and that were all she'd give me!" Destruction sneered and turned away. Scam seized on that golden opportunity to flee to the safety of the barracks. Destruction paid him no mind; he turned to a figure standing behind him,
"Frag! Come forward!" He barked. Instantly a round black rat covered in old scars waddled forward.
" Aye Capt'n?" he asked carefully; instantly the wolf's voice became deceptively smooth as he spoke,
"Now Frag, you know about this new arrival?" Frag nodded quickly,
"Oh aye, I do indeed Capt'n that's the ship of Sheede Silvercat if I ever saw it!" Destruction moved closer to the nervous searat,
"Tell me about her Frag."
"Well Sire there's not much to tell; no one but her crew know her well. But I do know that she's very influential among the local crews. Her own crew follow her as you follow Death Sire!" The wolf sneered at the now trembling rat, he held up the earing.
"And what of this meager tribute Frag?" Frag wanted to say that he should be honored that the Silvercat would be so generous and aware of Destruction's power; but he couldn't, for the same reason that Scam didn't correct Destruction about his name. So instead he looked dutifully subservient and watched the wolf's sneer grow. Suddenly the great predator turned on him yelling,
"No one is so disrespectful to the Second of Death Ravenclaw!! Frag I want her boat burned to floating ashes by nightfall!!!!" Destruction grabbed Frag by the collar and easily tossed him out of the throne room without any more words. Frag had no choice but go off on his assigned task; though he was petrified of the repercussions that the wildcat's wrath would bring.
Curious? Tell me and I'll keep going....