Silverfang Warcrest stood boldly in front of the massive form of
Salamanstron. The searat warlord watched with a cocky sneer as the last of
the long patrol hares filed out into neat, countless rows. They faced the
searat warlord and his massive horde without showing one trace of doubt or
fear. The sea crashed loudly onto the soft golden-brown sand. The sun
shined unmercifully down onto the hundreds of beasts, the long patrol hares
in their war uniforms, while the entire vermin horde in heavy black and
purple armor. The occasional cool breeze somewhat relieved the roasting
vermin. They were under a burden of the heavy armor, though not one of
them dared to complain, moan or even make a grimace. All of their faces
were as expressionless and unfeeling as a stone. With his hoard reaching
numbers around fifty score, Silverfang Warcrest was one of the most feared
of all the searats.
Clad in a black shimmering chest plate and shoulder pads, with a flowing long purple cape, he strode boldly to the front of his horde. On the chest plate there was twin swords making a cross, one sword was old, and stained with blood, the other had jewels embedded upon the blade and the handle. He bore the same symbol on his massive black gauntlets with a purple stripe running through the center. It graced both of his hands and half way up the arms. He stood facing the current badger lord, Tristrype, without the slightest trace of fear. He was smiling arrogantly, his roguishly handsome face splitting in a wide sneer, showing stained silver teeth. On his face he wore black paint on his eyelid and all around his eyes, with purple markings all over his face. He had two large golden hoops on each long, pointed ear. He stood at least head taller than most sea rats and had a tough, lithe body.
His weapon was nearly as fearsome as the searat himself. It was a long, curved blade about as long as Silverfang was tall. On the blade side was a jagged edge, like that of a saw, sharp enough to cut though stone. On the other side, lined in two neat rows, were teeth. Each of them from a foe he had beaten in the past. The pearly whites were more or less to intimidate his enemies. Each of them sharpened and polished until they shimmered like the sea, and cut like a dagger. All together they could cut almost as well as the saw-like blade. The handle was black, made of smooth adder skin and sown together with frog intestines. On the top of the handle there were two fangs, both of them from the young adder he had killed, both just as poisonous and deadly as ever.
He looked up at the mountain, Salamanstron, the smile never leaving his lips. "It will soon be mine...all mine..." he whispered to himself. He then turned his attention to Tristrype. He smiled disarmingly and spoke as if he was addressing an old friend. "This is your last chance to surrender, stripedog. If you do, I will let you and your rabbits leave in one piece."
Tristrype gritted his teeth together and growled menacingly. Tristrype could feel the bloodrath boiling up inside him. The insane madness and longing for bloodshed caused his body tremble with anticipation. His eyes were already starting to cloud over with the red mist. "I will sooner slay myself then surrender to you grog-gobbling, paddle-pushing, flea-bitten vermin!!" Tristrype exclaimed loudly .
The long patrol hares started to jeer and return the insults.
"You tell 'um m'lord wot!"
"We'll never surrender to them sea scum, wot!"
"Better say it slower m'lord! They probably didn't understand wot wot!!"
"Bally cheeky of those muddleheaded mudmuckers! Callin' us rabbits wot!"
Although his horde behind him was growling with rage, Silverfang showed no sign of anger, or fear. He still had on his arrogant, over confident sneer as he lifted up his fearsome weapon, pointing it straight up. Then, he brought it down with a mighty swing, cutting through the air making a noticeable whistle, shouting his war cry, "Siiillveerrfaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang!" The vermin horde charged fiercely shouting the war cry. Silverfang stood where he was, his cape flapping madly from the rush of the vermin running past.
The long patrol hares retaliated, shouting, "Give 'um blood an' vinegar wot wot! Euulliiiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
The two armies met with a sickening crash. Metal crashed with metal, arrows zipped through the air like tiny birds of death, and rapiers and swords flashed in the bright sun as the umpteenth war for Salamanstron began! As the battle progressed it seemed like both sides were equally matched, but soon the vermin horde began to put a plan into action. The back ranks of the vermin horde began to split apart and move around the battle and forming a circle that surrounding the long patrol. Silverfang laughed triumphantly. He had an advantage with his numbers. He stood at the back of his horde, his over confident smirk never fading an inch.
The smirk was soon wiped off his face when all of a sudden about five hundred more hares come pouring out of dunes to his left. He quickly repositioned himself closer to the shore, only to meet Tristrype. The badger was completely engulfed in bloodrath causing fear to strike Silverfang like a lightning bolt. The badger was wielding a long ball and chain; on the ball were enormous spikes. He swung it expertly as he moved in on his opponent. Silverfang quickly recovered from his fear and raised his sword. Ducking and weaving quickly as Tristrype swung the ball and chain madly, Silverfang was slowing closing in on Tristrype, only to be forced back as Tristrype started advancing.
The horde was beginning to panic. The long patrol hares they had surrounded the vermin and were now cutting through their ranks from the inside, and the outside.
The fierce battle between Tristrype and Silverfang continued. Silverfang was getting a little weary from hopping and dodging, while Tristrype continued relentlessly on. Silverfang saw an opportune moment to slice the chain in half with his sword, but the ball and chain only started to wrap around it. He quickly pulled his sword out before it wrapped all the way around. He did not notice that one of the teeth on his sword was knocked off. Tristrype swung the ball down at him, causing Silverfang to hop forward. He winced in pain as he stepped upon the tooth that had just fallen off his sword. This was the distraction Tristrype had been waiting for. He swung the ball and chain one last time around, whacking Silverfang squarely in the head, slaying him instantly. Tristrype let out another fearsome war cry, "Euulliiiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
The long patrol returned the war cry as the watched triumphantly as the remaining vermin fled into the ocean. The once massive horde was now nothing but a little more than one score. Once in the ocean, all but two vermin tried to put as much space between themselves and the mountain.
The two remaining were two searats, male and female. The female was very beautiful for a sea rat, and the male was young. They both were at the mangled corpse of their leader. The female stood motionless, never taking her eyes of the once proud, strong leader of a powerful horde. Her eyes were filled with grief. The male urged her onward saying, "Come mother, there is no use crying for him now..."
The remainder of the vermin traveled as far as they could, deep into Mossflower woods...
"GET BACK HERE YOU ROTTEN WRETCH!"
Sister Maybell, her face as red as a cherry, chased a fat baby squirrel into the great hall. The dibbun was holding a long red ribbon.
"But Thister, you'm thed that oi can hab it!" the dibbun protested, her voice ringing with glee and humor.
"I WAS TALKING ABOUT THE CANDIED CHESTNUT YOU WERE HOLDING!" shouted Maybell as she closed in on Reggo.
Reggo quickly scurried up into the arms of a young mouse maid. "Feliiiii!" she wined. "Thister Maybell ith after meee!" Feli smiled lovingly down at the dibbun then looked up at Sister Maybell.
Maybell came to stop, panting heavily. "That...little wretch...stole...my best...ribbon!" she said, her voice shaking with rage. "She wanted to try it on so I let her borrow it. While she was wearing it he picked up a bag of candied chestnuts. She then asked if she could have it and I thought she was talking about the chestnuts so I said yes. Then she ran away with it!"
Feli giggled. She said patiently to Reggo, "Now sweetie, Sister Maybell said you could have the chestnuts, not the ribbon. She really likes that ribbon. It is her favorite! And I know you wouldn't like it if someone took Polly." Reggo gasped. "But Polly ith my faborite toy!" she exclaimed. Feli nodded. "Imagine how you would feel if someone took her." Reggo quickly took off the ribbon and gave it to Maybell. "I wath only playin' Thister!" With that Reggo quickly scurried outside to play, pulling out a makeshift doll made out of bed sheets out of her pocket.
Feli smiled fondly at the retreating Reggo. "Sorry about that Sister. You know Reggo was only playing," she said winking friendly at Sister Maybell.
Maybell couldn't suppress a smile. "You certainly know how to deal with naughty dibbuns." And with that walked back to the kitchens, reapplying the ribbon.
Feli waved and then wandered aimlessly over the abbey grounds. It was a crisp fall afternoon and the sun was shining beautifully. A calm breeze gently brushed past her. The scene of scones cooking filled the air as she made her way to the wall steps. She walked up them and looked over the south wall. She sighed, thinking about the dream she had last night. Martin the Warrior had visited her. He said:
"If a rose can love, then you shall know, Follow it if it may go,
Don't let yourself get in your way,
Be with it from when it blooms, to the very last day."
She didn't know what he meant by that, but like all of Martins visits, it will make sense eventually.
Clad in a black shimmering chest plate and shoulder pads, with a flowing long purple cape, he strode boldly to the front of his horde. On the chest plate there was twin swords making a cross, one sword was old, and stained with blood, the other had jewels embedded upon the blade and the handle. He bore the same symbol on his massive black gauntlets with a purple stripe running through the center. It graced both of his hands and half way up the arms. He stood facing the current badger lord, Tristrype, without the slightest trace of fear. He was smiling arrogantly, his roguishly handsome face splitting in a wide sneer, showing stained silver teeth. On his face he wore black paint on his eyelid and all around his eyes, with purple markings all over his face. He had two large golden hoops on each long, pointed ear. He stood at least head taller than most sea rats and had a tough, lithe body.
His weapon was nearly as fearsome as the searat himself. It was a long, curved blade about as long as Silverfang was tall. On the blade side was a jagged edge, like that of a saw, sharp enough to cut though stone. On the other side, lined in two neat rows, were teeth. Each of them from a foe he had beaten in the past. The pearly whites were more or less to intimidate his enemies. Each of them sharpened and polished until they shimmered like the sea, and cut like a dagger. All together they could cut almost as well as the saw-like blade. The handle was black, made of smooth adder skin and sown together with frog intestines. On the top of the handle there were two fangs, both of them from the young adder he had killed, both just as poisonous and deadly as ever.
He looked up at the mountain, Salamanstron, the smile never leaving his lips. "It will soon be mine...all mine..." he whispered to himself. He then turned his attention to Tristrype. He smiled disarmingly and spoke as if he was addressing an old friend. "This is your last chance to surrender, stripedog. If you do, I will let you and your rabbits leave in one piece."
Tristrype gritted his teeth together and growled menacingly. Tristrype could feel the bloodrath boiling up inside him. The insane madness and longing for bloodshed caused his body tremble with anticipation. His eyes were already starting to cloud over with the red mist. "I will sooner slay myself then surrender to you grog-gobbling, paddle-pushing, flea-bitten vermin!!" Tristrype exclaimed loudly .
The long patrol hares started to jeer and return the insults.
"You tell 'um m'lord wot!"
"We'll never surrender to them sea scum, wot!"
"Better say it slower m'lord! They probably didn't understand wot wot!!"
"Bally cheeky of those muddleheaded mudmuckers! Callin' us rabbits wot!"
Although his horde behind him was growling with rage, Silverfang showed no sign of anger, or fear. He still had on his arrogant, over confident sneer as he lifted up his fearsome weapon, pointing it straight up. Then, he brought it down with a mighty swing, cutting through the air making a noticeable whistle, shouting his war cry, "Siiillveerrfaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaang!" The vermin horde charged fiercely shouting the war cry. Silverfang stood where he was, his cape flapping madly from the rush of the vermin running past.
The long patrol hares retaliated, shouting, "Give 'um blood an' vinegar wot wot! Euulliiiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
The two armies met with a sickening crash. Metal crashed with metal, arrows zipped through the air like tiny birds of death, and rapiers and swords flashed in the bright sun as the umpteenth war for Salamanstron began! As the battle progressed it seemed like both sides were equally matched, but soon the vermin horde began to put a plan into action. The back ranks of the vermin horde began to split apart and move around the battle and forming a circle that surrounding the long patrol. Silverfang laughed triumphantly. He had an advantage with his numbers. He stood at the back of his horde, his over confident smirk never fading an inch.
The smirk was soon wiped off his face when all of a sudden about five hundred more hares come pouring out of dunes to his left. He quickly repositioned himself closer to the shore, only to meet Tristrype. The badger was completely engulfed in bloodrath causing fear to strike Silverfang like a lightning bolt. The badger was wielding a long ball and chain; on the ball were enormous spikes. He swung it expertly as he moved in on his opponent. Silverfang quickly recovered from his fear and raised his sword. Ducking and weaving quickly as Tristrype swung the ball and chain madly, Silverfang was slowing closing in on Tristrype, only to be forced back as Tristrype started advancing.
The horde was beginning to panic. The long patrol hares they had surrounded the vermin and were now cutting through their ranks from the inside, and the outside.
The fierce battle between Tristrype and Silverfang continued. Silverfang was getting a little weary from hopping and dodging, while Tristrype continued relentlessly on. Silverfang saw an opportune moment to slice the chain in half with his sword, but the ball and chain only started to wrap around it. He quickly pulled his sword out before it wrapped all the way around. He did not notice that one of the teeth on his sword was knocked off. Tristrype swung the ball down at him, causing Silverfang to hop forward. He winced in pain as he stepped upon the tooth that had just fallen off his sword. This was the distraction Tristrype had been waiting for. He swung the ball and chain one last time around, whacking Silverfang squarely in the head, slaying him instantly. Tristrype let out another fearsome war cry, "Euulliiiaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
The long patrol returned the war cry as the watched triumphantly as the remaining vermin fled into the ocean. The once massive horde was now nothing but a little more than one score. Once in the ocean, all but two vermin tried to put as much space between themselves and the mountain.
The two remaining were two searats, male and female. The female was very beautiful for a sea rat, and the male was young. They both were at the mangled corpse of their leader. The female stood motionless, never taking her eyes of the once proud, strong leader of a powerful horde. Her eyes were filled with grief. The male urged her onward saying, "Come mother, there is no use crying for him now..."
The remainder of the vermin traveled as far as they could, deep into Mossflower woods...
"GET BACK HERE YOU ROTTEN WRETCH!"
Sister Maybell, her face as red as a cherry, chased a fat baby squirrel into the great hall. The dibbun was holding a long red ribbon.
"But Thister, you'm thed that oi can hab it!" the dibbun protested, her voice ringing with glee and humor.
"I WAS TALKING ABOUT THE CANDIED CHESTNUT YOU WERE HOLDING!" shouted Maybell as she closed in on Reggo.
Reggo quickly scurried up into the arms of a young mouse maid. "Feliiiii!" she wined. "Thister Maybell ith after meee!" Feli smiled lovingly down at the dibbun then looked up at Sister Maybell.
Maybell came to stop, panting heavily. "That...little wretch...stole...my best...ribbon!" she said, her voice shaking with rage. "She wanted to try it on so I let her borrow it. While she was wearing it he picked up a bag of candied chestnuts. She then asked if she could have it and I thought she was talking about the chestnuts so I said yes. Then she ran away with it!"
Feli giggled. She said patiently to Reggo, "Now sweetie, Sister Maybell said you could have the chestnuts, not the ribbon. She really likes that ribbon. It is her favorite! And I know you wouldn't like it if someone took Polly." Reggo gasped. "But Polly ith my faborite toy!" she exclaimed. Feli nodded. "Imagine how you would feel if someone took her." Reggo quickly took off the ribbon and gave it to Maybell. "I wath only playin' Thister!" With that Reggo quickly scurried outside to play, pulling out a makeshift doll made out of bed sheets out of her pocket.
Feli smiled fondly at the retreating Reggo. "Sorry about that Sister. You know Reggo was only playing," she said winking friendly at Sister Maybell.
Maybell couldn't suppress a smile. "You certainly know how to deal with naughty dibbuns." And with that walked back to the kitchens, reapplying the ribbon.
Feli waved and then wandered aimlessly over the abbey grounds. It was a crisp fall afternoon and the sun was shining beautifully. A calm breeze gently brushed past her. The scene of scones cooking filled the air as she made her way to the wall steps. She walked up them and looked over the south wall. She sighed, thinking about the dream she had last night. Martin the Warrior had visited her. He said:
"If a rose can love, then you shall know, Follow it if it may go,
Don't let yourself get in your way,
Be with it from when it blooms, to the very last day."
She didn't know what he meant by that, but like all of Martins visits, it will make sense eventually.