Disclaimer: Toboe LoneWolf doesn't own Redwall, nor will Toboe ever, except for one autographed copy of the novel. XD
Toboe LoneWolf: And so I continue this very weird fic. And I continue to try and continue to fail at a seabeast accent. Ah, for writing is a continuous action, never mind the fact that this is a very Whacked Out Idea with a very Whacked Out Author, who nevertheless continues to write Whacked-Out-outedly…XD
Mission Three: Gwarg
In life, Martin had faced mad wildcats, bloodthirsty sea rats, crazy foxes, and countless vermin.
In death, Martin faced a whole lot of not-pleased badgers.
Martin wasn't quite sure which one was better.
"So what you're trying to tell me, " said Lord Brocktree, "is that the ferret Romsca is now a Guardian Angel, and is currently on a mission?"
Martin nodded.
"Scandalous," Lord Stonepaw muttered, "Back in my day we didn't have any 'good' vermin or 'redeemable' vermin, we just had 'bad' vermin. We didn't need any guardian angels to protect us from vermin either, we just whacked off their heads."
Lord Brocktree rolled his eyes. "Daaaad…"
Martin coughed. "So as I was saying…Romsca the ferret has been deemed trained and given a rank one Guardian Angel status. First mission was, er, deemed successful. There were, um, repercussions, though."
"And…"
"Well…Romsca felt that the 'scare tactic' was best. She was quite…effective. At this point, I doubt that Arven will succeed as the next Redwall Warrior."
Another badger at the table groaned. "Don't tell me that. We had enough problems with Mattimeo, let alone Arven."
Martin rubbed his head. Orlando the Ax did have a point there. Mattimeo had gotten so bad that they'd had to bring in Chickenhound to basically give the mouse a good kick in the tail. And that had been a pain in the tail itself to coordinate. The slave drive, Malkarris…Ironbeak was an unexpected bonus – that was supposed to been the "wake-up" call for Mattimeo, kind of like Cluny for Matthias…but…
Martin sighed. This was bad. He knew it, the Badger Council knew it, everyone in heaven knew it, and…this was most definitely bad, bad, bad.
Orlando thumped a paw on the heavy wooden table where the Badger Council sat. "What is the state of Arven now?"
"Ah, hiding under his covers, sir." Martin answered truthfully. "It's not likely that he'll come out anytime soon."
"Anyone else eligible for the position of Warrior?"
"Not without seriously changing timelines, sir. I suppose Tammo could do it," Martin mused, "but it'll take a large amount of steering to get him in place and in time. It's a hard position to fill, requiring a fine balance. And he's already been born, to the north, and since we've planned on him for the Long Patrol, major change will be required. The consequences might be devastating especially so near to…well, you know."
"Indeed," Lord Brocktree rumbled. "We cannot fail this. What is Romsca doing now?"
"Er…changing Swamptail's timeline. Originally Swamptail the Smelly, now…" Martin tilted his head, and light swirled around him for a moment. "Swamptail the Shiny."
Orlando blinked. "Swamptail the Shiny."
"Because he ate vegetables."
No one spoke for a moment. Then Lord Brocktree sighed, and said, "Well, I would like to talk with the ferret that is able to scare dibbuns to bed and convince stoats to eat vegetables."
He reached out a paw and scrawled a sign into the air. With a flash of white light, Romsca appeared next to Martin.
Romsca swore and rubbed her eyes. "Hey! Wot in th'name of Hellgates was that? Can't a decent ferret get a notice or somethin' when somebeast gets the fool notion t'play with—" Romsca stopped as she saw who was before her.
"Aw Hellgates."
"Romsca, Guardian Angel, you were the one to…'guide' the young Arven back to Redwall, are you not?" Lord Brocktree demanded, staring down at her far across the table.
Romsca swallowed. "Er…yes."
"You are also aware of its consequences, yes?"
Oh sea'n'fur. She'd scared the bugger out of his wits, and Martin had said he'd been important.
"Yes."
"And you also know," Lord Brocktree leveled one eye sternly at her, "that you will be the one to fix it, yes?"
Romsca squirmed. "Er…yes…yer Lordyship."
Lord Brocktree blinked. Romsca mentally whacked herself on her head. A corsair's rough way of address wasn't exactly the right etiquette at a Blinkin' Badger Board.
Whoops. …Not that Romsca would ever refer to Them out loud as the "Blinkin' Badger Board." Right? Right.
Lord Brocktree continued, though he looked down at Romsca with a strange eye. A corsair in the ranks was unusual…it was a new idea hammered out long ago, and unfortunately it took a while to find an appropriate "vermin" to start with.
"Since it is unlikely that you can help Arven at this time, since he is still hiding in his bed, you in the meantime will guide other young ones."
More little buggers? She wasn't a granny, she was a corsair! Corsairs didn't deal with the wrangling of midgets!
"So, for your third mission: the young rat Gwarg." Lord Brocktree scrawled another sign into the air. "Good luck."
Romsca stood in dismay as bright light blinded her again.
x x x x x
Romsca swore again as she burst out of the light or whatever-it-was into some random forest clearing. Couldn't they find a better form of transportation than blinding people or floating like twiddle birdies? Well, at least she hadn't crashed – she was standing on the ground on two sensible paws, like any other sensible beast.
Romsca looked around. Okay, on the ground. Check. Have appropriate weaponry, check. Bugger Gwarg…no check.
How in the name of sea and fur was she supposed to help this Gwarg Gripe if she couldn't find the bugger?
"Hwoaaaaaarg!"
"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!"
Romsca scrambled to get out of the way as two midget beasts came storming out of the forest. A little…whatever it was, Romsca couldn't tell except for flailing paws and brown fur and about knee-height, and a much larger rat chasing the miniature midget.
Rat. …Oh right, Gwarg.
"OI!" Romsca stuck out a paw.
With a heavy thud, the rat tripped. The other young one continued to run screaming. Romsca rolled her eyes, and then prodded the rat with her paw.
"Hey. Are you Gwarg?"
"Hwoaaaaaarg!"
Romsca raised an eyebrow as the rat leapt up, ran right through her, stopped, turned around, and roared ferociously.
…At least, that was what Romsca thought he was trying to do. It wasn't working.
"Hwoaaaaaarg!"
"Oh, knock it off," Romsca waved a paw. "Now, be you Gwarg or not?"
"Hwoaaaaaarg!"
Romsca hit her face with her paw. This was getting nowhere.
"Hwoaaaaaarg! I be Gwarg, born of giant rats! I be fear, I be death, I be eating you!"
Romsca now looked a bit more interested. Sure, if she'd been alive, she would've been frightened. Hellgates, the bugger didn't look like he was full-grown yet – once that bugger grew up, he'd be huge. And anyway, she was already dead.
"Yah, and I be Romsca, Feared Corsair of the Seas, and nobeast dares face me cutlass." Romsca unsheathed her sword. "Anythin' else?"
"Hwoaaaaaarg!"
Gwarg charged. Romsca felt mildly scared. All right, a lot.
Ah well, she was dead already, so what's the point? Stepping aside Romsca let Gwarg rush past before whacking Gwarg on the back of his head with the flat part of her blade.
This thud, if anything, was louder and harder than the first. And created a larger dust cloud.
"Righto." Romsca flipped her blade and resheathed it. "An' now that yer listenin' t' me, I'm gonna give yer a few pointers and th' such.
"First off, don't attack somebeast ye don't know, 'less you wanna die. Ain't smart tactics."
Gwarg groaned.
"Two, ye ain't to scare dem little 'uns anyhow. Iffen you be bigger than them, den ye's gotta protect 'em, see? 'Cause they'll be yer mates someday, an' they won't be much of a mate iffen you scared them outta their mind, see?" Romsca thonked Gwarg on the head for emphasis.
"See, I did that once, and I'm tellin' you straight, th' little bugger got so scared he ain't good for squat now." Romsca sighed. "An' that was stupid, 'cause now I'm in a real tight mess now 'cause of it."
"And anyhow," Romsca waved a paw, feeling strangely eloquent. "Why's somebeast wanna make another scared o' him anyway? It ain't like there ain't enough space t' live in or nuff food t' eat. Them woodlanders, ye know, they's got lots of great stuff t' eat, an' they don't make nobeast scared of another, do they?"
"An' I tell somethin' else," Romsca whispered. "They like sharing food."
Gwarg's eyes lit up. It was like seeing the sun come up from the waters again.
Romsca laughed. "Hey, a great big lump like you needs lots o' food. So, you make some nice friends, they share some food, an' everythin' all nice and easy, eh?"
"Alrighty then, my time's up. See ya around, Gwarg." With that Romsca turned around and walked back into the forest.
Only after walking for awhile, admiring the scenery – hey, she'd spent most of her life on a ship – did she realize that she didn't know how to get back to the Blinkin' Badger Board.
It was getting to be a bit overused, but Romsca resignedly thought, Now what?
x x x x x
In the web that is called Time, a strand was altered.
Gwarg the Gargantuan he was called, and …Gwarg the Gargantuan he remained.
And yet, though Gwarg would become three times as large as any other rat, it was his heart that changed.
For although his beginnings foretold that Gwarg would be a fearsome beast, a one beast army that decimated vermin and woodlanders alike, now…
Well, now Gwarg was simply a big-hearted, easy-going, loveable bum.
—And up above, the Badger Council was very… troubled.—