Sorry for the dely...personal matters have driven me from my story making. It took me a while to get over it, but anyway, I don't own redwall, nor it's inhabitants. On with chapter 8!
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Boris ran as fast as he could, trying to get away from the ottor toting the javelin. He looked over his shoulder, and leapt behind a bush. Not a moment to soon nor late; the javelin took off his top hat and pinned it to a tree. Boris scrambled up and grabbed the hat, along with the still quivering throwing weapon. Skipper was chanrging full on, along with Sylvia and Daniel. Unluckily for them, Boris was already nimble, and had a good four and a half score of meters distance between them.

As the desparate weasel dashed away crazily, he wondered how long it would take for them to catch up with him. Leaping over logs, zigzagging around trees, and ducking under low hanging branches, Boris soon felt his stamina draining. But he persisted, and soon heard distant laughter and raucious loud voices. Chancing a glance over his shoulder, he saw that his angry persuers had stopped chasing him.

Boris strode briskly into camp, trying to look regal, but it was hard with a javelin sticking out of your hat, and your fur was ruffled and leves covered your head like a wig.With a brush of his paw, Boris swept off the offending leaves and scanned the vermin sitting around their campfires.

Wymheist saw his camptain approach and slashed a fire with a log. Sparks flew, and sprayed over more than a few vermin. The entire mob grew silent, and stared at Wymheist. Boris climbed onto a large fallen log and whipped out the javelin. His voice rang out across the field. Attention!!! The time, our time, has come! We will conquer the peaceful abbey over yonder, and take all we can! Give them no mercy! None! Boris stopped his speech so that the vermin could begin to work themselves into a frenzy. Kill them all! However....If anyone disobeys my orders, or flees will be slain, and I will make sure of that! We attack tonight! With that being said, the weasel hopped off the long and approached Wymheist. How many disobeyed?

Only a couple...Not many, cap'n. Wymheist whispered back. Boris grinned, and walked into a tent that had been raised when they had first arrived. It was the war tent, and only officers were allowed inside. Boris pulled out the maps he had created and laid them out over the table. Here, get the new recruited officers and get them over here. I have plans for them.

Withing minutes, three vermin walked into the tent. two ferrets, and a fox. So, lads, what are your names, eh? Me names be'sThargan. One of the ferrets informed him. The fox introduced himself as Zylad. and the secound ferret called himself Bardol.

Well, me lucky mates, Here are the plans. Zylad, take three score soldiers of your choice and storm this little gate on the eastern area. Thargan, I want you to lead the main charge. Pick out six score vermin and storm the gate. Wymheist, go with him with your own few. Bardol, Attack from behind with a couple scores. I trust we have grapnels?

Yisser, we made a few ooks when youse was out. Zylad piped up. He pawed anxiosly at a wicked looking scythe. Were ready!

Good. I'll try to sneak in a small infiltration force while you guys are killen' them. This way, we can take over from the inside-out. Any questions? Boris asked cheerfully. There were none, and the vermin officers smiled at Boris's brilliant plan. Outside, the restless weasels, stoats, rats, foxes, ferrets grabbed weapons, quenched smouldering fires, and prepared grappling hooks. Night was only a few hours away.
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Anyhow, there is chapter eight. Nine will be up tomorrow, or the day after, I hope. See you later, mates! -kickoutthejams