Disclaimer: Toboe LoneWolf does not own Redwall or any real-estate that even remotely looks like Redwall Abbey. Do you know how much property tax must be on that thing? Wait a sec, they've probably got an exception… XD

Toboe LoneWolf: As some of you've been wondering, Romsca is the first "true" vermin to "reform." True, Blagguts of The Bellmaker did "reform," however…he was an simpleton. XD Romsca is the first true vermin with brains that "reformed." (I don't count Veil, because he was raised at Redwall.)

Mission One: Arven

This was not supposed to be happening.

Romsca was supposed to be burning in Hellgates for all eternity for all the terrible things she'd done as a corsair.

Instead, she was floating above a pretty woodland in a white tunic with little birdies tweeting overhead.

…On second thought, she didn't mind change in plans.

Romsca growled under her breath as she attempted to rip off that annoying halo over her head. It was just there – it didn't give off heat, she couldn't touch it, it was just annoyingly there, and quite frankly, a golden halo over one's head is not what any self-respecting ferret would want. Not to mention a severe lack in weaponry on hand. Romsca was floating over Redwall Abbey – not a place she'd thought she'd see again – in only a pearly white tunic. Truth be told, Romsca was a bit edgy without a good cutlass in paw. Not that good guardian angels had cutlasses.

Romsca jumped a bit when Martin clasped her shoulder. "Alright then, time to get started."

"Start with wot?" Romsca said suspiciously.

Martin pointed down. "With your first mission."

"EH? I thought I was supposed t'get trainin'!"

Martin scratched an ear. "Well yes, but we kind of need your work fast, so it's on-the-job training. Mission one: stop that dibbun."

"EH?"

Martin sighed, and pulled Romsca down, until they were floating about tree-top height above a certain rule-breaking squirrel dibbun. The dibbun was talking to himself, and waving a big stick.

"Yessem, todayes I'm a gonna get dem blizzards, an' theyses gonna scream an' –"

Romsca turned to Martin. "…'Blizzards?' "

Martin coughed. "Ah, 'lizards.' "

Awkward moment of silence. Martin coughed again. "Anyway, that young one's name is Arven. He's the current 'rebel' at Redwall, and gets in trouble a great deal. So…your first mission-in-training is to stop Arven from leaving Redwall." Martin held out a paw at Romsca's automatic question. "And this is basically how you'll do it: you'll speak to him."

"I'll what? I'm dead!"

"I know." Martin said with a deadpan voice. "So am I."

"…That's real encouragin'."

Martin shrugged. "Look, we're kind of in a rush, okay? There's this big meeting I have to go to, Rose is going to have my tail if I'm late again, and there's going to be a huge Turning Point coming up. Meaning, the fate of Redwall is on the line." Martin raised an eyebrow. "And you're going to have a part in it, so you'd better get a hang of this quick."

Romsca scratched an ear. What in Hellgates? Why in the world did she have to do anything? Glancing at Martin, who was glaring at her, and not wanting to go through another Proclamation of Power, she said, "What'll I 'ave t'do?"

"Well, basically all you do is concentrate really hard on his name, and speak." Martin raised a paw. "But you can't actually talk to him."

"…What?"

"You can't converse with him. Riddles, or vague meanings only. Only in dire situations can you actually command him to do something, and that usually only goes for Warriors."

Romsca just stared at him, jaw slightly agape. What in the name of sea'n'fur was she then supposed to say? She was no trickster, to come up with riddles at the drop of a paw. Sure, some of her mateys could do that, but not her. Besides, Martin was simply standing there – alright, floating there – like a perfect angel, smug as anything, sure in being Right.

…Yeah right. She'd show him the corsair way of doing things.

Blunt.

Romsca waved a paw. "That's all? Speak in riddles an' the like? Aw hellgates, 'm a corsair, through'n'through, an' ain't the kind that wish-washes. I'll make it plain'n'simple fer the young 'un."

And before Martin could stop her, Romsca dropped down and floated about head height on the dibbun.

"Oi! Arven or wotever yer name be!"

Arven happily kept bumbling on. "And den I be choppin' their tails off and stews them over a big fat fire—"

"Hey you!" Belatedly Romsca remembered the 'instructions' and concentrated on the dibbun's name. Alrighty then, Arven. Arven Arven Arven Arven sea'n'fur this blighter ain't easy to catch 'is 'ttention Arven Arven ArvenArvenArven—

"Huh?" Arven looked around. "Who there?"

Finally!

…Now what?

Romsca scratched her head. "Er…don't I glow or somethin'?"

Arven began looking around the forest wildly, and began waving his stick over his head. "Yah, I bain't be scared! Iffen you be a blizzard I whack you!"

…Okay. Romsca ran down the facts. She had contact with the little bugger. She did it by…concentrating really hard. Right. So…maybe if she concentrated really hard, maybe she'd make herself visible.

Well, at least being a corsair was good for something. A corsair knew how to concentrate. Came from drinking too much sea grog and yet still requiring cognitive capability afterwards since you were under the eyes of a scaly lizard named Lask and/or Mad Eyes Loony (Romsca's personal, private title for the pine marten).

So, Romsca concentrated really hard, and was rewarded not with a silent awe or respectful fear of the appearance of an angel to a young dibbun, but rather,

"Yeeeeekkk!"

Romsca looked down to see herself in her old corsair garb. A stained, old green tunic lashed together with a plain brown leather belt, with a ragged red vest thrown over that, and a cutlass jammed through the belt. A slight pressure over her forehead told her that her headband was back too. The halo seemed to have disappeared as well. Well. This was an improvement. Sort of.

By now, since he hadn't been eaten, cut up, stewed, captured, or given a bath, Arven looked up and stared wide-eyed at the evil-looking-angel-vermin-like-beast. "Wot be you?"

Well, there was nothing like scaring a young one to do the right things. Makes the lesson stick.

Romsca drew her cutlass and growled. "I be yer worst nightmare! I be bigger than blizzards, I be a deadly corsair!"

"Yeeeeek!" Arven began running wildly away, away from The Voice and Scary Image that had suddenly changed.

Romsca followed after Arven, waving her cutlass. "I be death, I be the spawn o' thunder, I eat little climbers like ye!"

Romsca was really getting into it. Alright, so she had a twisted sense of humor, but what corsair didn't? And anyway, she was leading Arven back to Redwall – sort of.

"An' ye know wot I do to little climbers when I catch 'em? I slice 'em up an' chars 'em over a good fire! Little climbers better stay inside where it's safe or I'll get 'em!"

Screaming all the way, Arven shot through the woods, past the open Redwall gates, past a bewildered Wullger the gatekeeper, and into the dormitories where he huddled beneath the covers for the rest of the day. And the next day. And for quite some time, Arven had a distinct fear of leaving the Redwall walls…

Romsca laughed and floated back up where Martin was waiting. "Well? 'Ow I do?"

In the course of events, Martin had went through over twenty emotions, ranging from utter shock to dismay to fear to being simply, purely dumbfounded. He floated in mid-air, staring into empty space.

This was not a state of being common to Martin the Warrior.

As Romsca waited, Martin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Right. Mission Accomplished. Yes. Right. So…next in the procedure of Guardian Angel Training was the Debriefing… Martin raised a paw.

"Well. The good thing is that your training is over. Apparently you've got the hang of Speaking, Manifesting, and Summoning, due to your appearance to Arven and your sudden clothing change."

Romsca lowered her cutlass. "…And the bad thing?"

"Well, Arven was supposed to be the next Redwall Warrior. I doubt he'll want to after this." Martin sighed. "I have a lot of work to do."

Whoops.