This is my first Redwall fic so be gentle! It's not finished but when you're done reading it if you could R&R that'd be awesome. The more the reviews the quicker it'll be finished! And if you like this, check out some of my other stuff! =)

Disclaimer: I made up most all the characters and poems, but there's some reference to dead warlords and the poem about hot root soup is from one of the real books.

The Summer of the Great Rain, wore on in Mossflower. The trees cast off large droplets of water from the rain that poured down incessantly. It had been raining steadily for the entire summer and going outside the walls of Redwall Abbey meant slugging through pawfuls of mud. Two otters trudged through the mud, one with a haversack of supplies on his back, the second with a small mole perched atop his shoulders. The mole's once velvety fur now clung to him, coated with mud and drenched to the bone. He scratched his head with a hefty digging claw and stifled a yawn.

"Boi okey, wot toim doo 'ee get to th' habbey," he asked, wearily.

"I don't rightly know, matey," replied Dral, slinging the pack to his other shoulder. "Seems only a day or two o'er that way."

The second otter, Bluback, stopped suddenly and turned in towards the woods. "Getten' to be nightfall, messmates, and it's getten' to be a good time to break out the vittles. I sure could do with a nice snug fire too."

"Burr, hurr, hurr," laughed Garble in his strange mole speech. "Oi doan't knaow aboot the foir but the vikkles oi can manage."

Bluback chuckled and entered the woods, Dral close behind him. As they walked deeper, Garble suddenly began pounding Bluback's head. "Boi okey! Oi, smells summat!" He waved his digging claws in the air excitedly! "It smells gudd, too!"

"Aye," said Dral, slowly coming to a stop. "I smell blood too." Bluback froze. "Only vermin eat meat..."

"But there ain't no vermin in Mossflower. They should know better by now than ter try ter take Redwall."

Dral took a step forward, but then leaped back as a hare came out of seemingly nowhere. "Hmph! Bit of a bad show! We found the bally stinkers first!"

"Completely agree Beachtree," came a second hare. "We found the yahoos first!"

"Oi doo bee sorry, gentlebeasts an' marms. Weem didn't even know the vermints were

up 'ere..."

"I'd swear on a carrot pie," growled the second hare. "You're the noiseist chap I ever clapped me ears on."

With that, the hares dodged and weaved their way back into the surrounding bushes, completely blending in with the foliage. The two otters drew their javelins, and Bluback set Garble down, quietly telling him to stay put.

"Ooo, aye, B'uback, oi will stay put, yoo can count on that!"

Creeping forward they stopped just short of the clearing, to face a horrible scene. Six drunken ferrets sat around a brightly-lit campfire, huddled close to it, their clothing hung on nearby branches to dry. The biggest and probably the leader was laughing uproariously, stopping once and a while to rip at his roasted sparrow. He wore only an adder skin belt, a small dagger poked through. Several rusty swords and a shattered pike lay around the campfire. One truly magnificent sword lay close to the large ferrets foot paw. It had beautiful green gems and gold balls set in the black hilt, and it reflected the light, twinkling like a far off star. It looked so out of

place, Dral almost laughed aloud. Bluback put a paw to his friend's mouth, shooting him a warning glance. Drunken ferrets were especially ruthless and even more stupid then when they were sober. They listened silently as the ferret spoke.

"Harharharhar, so 'e takes 'is club an', wham, slugs at me an', harhar, 'e clubs Greech righ' down! Course the idjits too shocked ter move, harharhar, an' that bez 'is final mistake, cause I swings me sord an' chops 'im right in 'alf!"

Several cheers accompanied laughter from around the circle, as the big ferret demonstrated his swording skills. Suddenly, the ferret nearest the leader dropped right over on his side. The other five ferrets laughed and one slapped his leg hysterically.

"Lookey! Seaswigs gone an' gotten hissef drunk! Harharhar!"

When a second ferret toppled headfirst into the fire, the creatures antics was greeted by a single nervous chuckle from the ferret to the right of the leader. The leader buffeted the slow ferret on the side of his head.

"Hoo, stoopud! 'Es been attackered!" The ferrets glanced around uneasily, their paws raised. "Err, we surrender muckers," shouted the leader.

"Is 'at you, Natch? It's me, Veeor Darkfang!"

Captain Sapwood stepped forward with a gallant bow. He swept his cap off and nearly

touched his snout to the ground. Then he gave a warm smile to the four surprised creatures. "Give 'em blood 'n' vinegar!"

"Eulaliaa! 'S death on the wind!"

"Redwaallllllll!"

The hares and the two otters leapt at the astonished ferrets from around the circle. The biggest ferret was surprising agile and had drawn the sword before Captain Sapwood had gotten within a hairsbreadth from him. Veeor swung out, slicing a deep gash in Drals paw. Dral flung the javelin hard, hitting a smaller ferret suddenly stepping directly in the line of fire. A second ferret

went down under three other hares and the remaining two fled into the woods. One of the hares began to give chase, but Captain Sapwood called him back.

"Flopeer, me bucko, bad form!"

Flopeer gave a cry of anger, but stopped, beginning a slow jog back to the group. He stopped in front of Sapwood and for the first time the otters saw his immense size. When Garble came shuffling over he immediately knew he liked Flopeer.

"'Ello, zurr. You'm sure harv gurt big ears!"

The hare cocked his head at the small mole, regarding him with a giant smile. "That I do, moleything. That's how I got me name!"

Captain Sapwood puffed out his chest in great importance. "Quick's the word and sharps the action! My name is Captain Turnle Thistledown Sapwood of the Sapwood hares, this is

Sarge Flopeer, this is Reen an' 'is luvely sister, Tallonia an' this is Beachtree, quite possibly the purdeyst hare in all of Salamandastron."

Beachtree giggled and curtsied.

"I'm Bluback," introduced the big otter. "An' this is Garble an' this is Dral, me best mates." "Wots Salymandystron?" Garble spoke for the trio.

Tallonia knelt down in front of the small mole. "Salamandastron, little thingamummy moley, is the grandest place in the southern lands. It's a great giant mountain, ruled over by a badger..." She stopped, tears brimming in her eyes.

Reen placed a strong paw on his sisters shaking shoulders. "There, there ol' gel! We'll get the rotten blighters back one day." Then he turned to Garble. "It is a great mountain ruled over by either a badger Lord or badger Lady. Ours was Lady Moyra the Silent. She was a mute, but a very powerful and friendly badger. When the Darkfangs showed up, we were completely unprepared, doncha know! Even though we are warring beasts! But the ferret's Death Hordes were too overpowering. We all fought valiantly an' bravely yet all but us five died." Reen finished bitterly.

Dral stood up, having finished bandaging his paw. He winced as he stood up, putting the sling back in his belt.

"Why do you come this way then, friend? We are peaceful 'ere." Captain Sapwood began

pacing nervously. "Because we have nowhere else to turn, Blu-thing. Certainly somebeast 'ere is willing to help us."

"Woi did 'e take 'ee mountian in 'ee firs' place?" Flopeer patted Garble softly.

"Woi?" He did his best to mimic the way the little mole spoke. "'Cause they bee

vermuns. All they wanna do is destroy an' conquer."

"Redwall Abbey is just up ahead. That's where we are traveling messmates. They got vittles a plenty an' mayhap they can lend a paw. They've defeated any vermin ever to set paw in this land." Beachtree sighed softly.

"Hi hope so Bluback, hi really do, but The Darkfang Death Horde his the greatest group o' vermins hi ever clapped me peepers on."