...Thanks to everyone who reviewed my Redwall parody! After reading your
suggestions, I put together a little generalized Salamandastron story, with
some story elements that I missed the first time around. Hope y'all enjoy!
(Oh, and for the one who asked...I do go to LPF, and I know Dartpaw, but I'm actually Dakkan Strongrudder. Hi! waves)
...And on with the tale!
The sun rose over the western shore, its red light highlighting the bulk of the mountain.
Salamandastron!
Place of the fire lizard, stronghold of badgers and hares, home of the world's biggest damson pudding...
And, as it quite frequently was, about to be under seige.
"M'lud?" a smartly clad hare called softly as he tapped the solid door of the Badger Lord's bedchamber, ready to make his morning report.
The door burst open with a loud explosion of noise. The huge badger Strongstripe paid little heed to his officer as he barreled from the room, so taken with the Bloodwrath that his headstripe was beginning to tinge pink.
The hare came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, his master long gone. Rubbing his head ruefully, he wondered where that little eruption of rage had come from. Climbing slowly to his footpaws, the hare limped over to the window and looked out.
Several thousand wave vermin milled about on the shore below, their ships anchored close to the shore.
The hare pulled a face and massaged his head some more. More vermin! Crud, this was the third time this week!
Brinebloood the searat paced before his captive, tied to a stake on the beach. He was the leader of the entire fleet, cruel as the Northern wind and blissfully unaware that the name on his birth certificate had been penned by a partially literate stoat. "So, what do ye expect me t'do with ye, hare?" he leered nastily.
Lieutenant Portbelly sat in the sand, paws smarting from the splintery wood he was bound to. He bared his teeth and growled, "Kill me, I 'spect, eh wot! Blinkin' cads like yourselves, sah! No honor at all!"
Brinebloood kicked a bit of dune grass moodily, but then an idea struck him. "Arr, wot if I offered ye a position in me fleet, eh? Second in command, with yore own flagship? O'course ye know know ye've got more leadership skills than the bozos I have now."
All of the nearest secondary characters amongst the horde furrowed their brows a bit in indignation, but the others (there merely to meet a number quota) stared blankly into space.
Portbelly threw his head back dramatically and struggled in his bonds as he delivered his heroic response. "No, sirrah! I would not betray my great Lord to aid the cause of blackguards such as y'selves, wot! Count me out of your dastardly plans!"
There was a pause, then Brinebloood sniggered. "Have I seen you on Broadway before?"
The hare spat. "Shuttup!"
Chuckling, the searat stood tall and spread his paws wide. "Then I have no choice...until you change your mind, I will imprison you in the Inescapable Tarp of Death!!"
Immediately the vermin all around began chanting excitedly. "Tarp! Tarp! Tarp! Tarp! Tarp! Tarp!"
And a big, burly trio of stoats brought the tarp forward. Rattling the stiff blue material with a wicked grin on his face, the biggest pounced with his brothers, wrapping the hare up tight.
"There, he won't escape now," sniggered Brinebloood. "So down to business. HEY!" he called up to the mountain. "SURRENDER NOW, OR DIE!!!"
The challenge wafted up to the Badger Lord. He had fallen asleep on a windowsill, exhausted from his first outburst. The spirits of his relatives had taken that opportunity to leak in through his ears and begin chanting advice at him. They fell silent as the rat's shout entered Strongstripe's ears. But to their annoyance, he ignored it and slept on. His father's image came up and kicked his dream self. "Get up, y'big oaf!"
The badger rose up in a great whirlwind of paws, remembering the vermin horde outside and urged on by his spirit relatives. His entire body was glowing bright red as he roared and jumped out of the window.
Portbelly lay deep in thought, staring at the walls of the tarp in the blue light that filtered through. The searats had bound it with a rope and left him. Racking his brains for an escape plan, the hare considered all his options. There was no seam he could escape through; the wave vermin had tied it too tightly for that. Obviously he couldn't untie the rope from the inside, so it looked like he was stuck.
"Blast it," he muttered, shifting position inside his blue prison. Suddenly a beam of bright white light came from behind. Curious, he turned and saw that the dagger in his belt had cut a slit in the tarp. "Tarps are cuttable?" he wondered with a smile, slashing the rest of the way out. He stood up, noting with relief that the entire group of vermin were facing the mountain and not him. And then a red flash caught the corner of his eye. He looked up.
Froth flying from his muzzle, teeth bared, and way too bright to look upon for long, Strongstripe had nearly completed his freefall from up high. The only problem? By his trajectory, Portbelly judged that he would hit the ground mere feet from the unattentive Brinebloood.
The hare made one great leap, kicking Brinebloood aside. "Take that, wot!"
SPLAT!
And so ended the life of the searat Brinebloood. The shock wave from the badger's impact floored the rest of the army, who began to rise unsteadily as Portbelly watched.
The hare grinned and tossed a pawful of shells. It was time for the woodlander's favorite method of sparing vermin. "There, you see the might of my great Lord! I assure you that our army inside the mountain has ten times that power! Flee now or die! You have," (he saw that seven shells had landed faceup) "the count of seven before we come after you! One...two..."
"Back to our island port!" bellowed Brinebloood's second-in-command fearfully. The wave vermin fled in terror and immediately set sail. They were going to meet a nasty shock in a few weeks when they would not find their island where it was supposed to be. Redwall islands have a nasty habit of disappearing when their part in a tale is over.
Strongstripe rose groggily from his big dent in the sand. Pulling a face at the remains of the searat he'd squashed and swaying a bit drunkenly, he grinned at Portbelly and stumbled back up to the mountain.
Portbelly smiled wryly and noted (as many hares had before him) that a post-Bloodwrath badger acted much like a hare coming off a sugar high.
(Oh, and for the one who asked...I do go to LPF, and I know Dartpaw, but I'm actually Dakkan Strongrudder. Hi! waves)
...And on with the tale!
The sun rose over the western shore, its red light highlighting the bulk of the mountain.
Salamandastron!
Place of the fire lizard, stronghold of badgers and hares, home of the world's biggest damson pudding...
And, as it quite frequently was, about to be under seige.
"M'lud?" a smartly clad hare called softly as he tapped the solid door of the Badger Lord's bedchamber, ready to make his morning report.
The door burst open with a loud explosion of noise. The huge badger Strongstripe paid little heed to his officer as he barreled from the room, so taken with the Bloodwrath that his headstripe was beginning to tinge pink.
The hare came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, his master long gone. Rubbing his head ruefully, he wondered where that little eruption of rage had come from. Climbing slowly to his footpaws, the hare limped over to the window and looked out.
Several thousand wave vermin milled about on the shore below, their ships anchored close to the shore.
The hare pulled a face and massaged his head some more. More vermin! Crud, this was the third time this week!
Brinebloood the searat paced before his captive, tied to a stake on the beach. He was the leader of the entire fleet, cruel as the Northern wind and blissfully unaware that the name on his birth certificate had been penned by a partially literate stoat. "So, what do ye expect me t'do with ye, hare?" he leered nastily.
Lieutenant Portbelly sat in the sand, paws smarting from the splintery wood he was bound to. He bared his teeth and growled, "Kill me, I 'spect, eh wot! Blinkin' cads like yourselves, sah! No honor at all!"
Brinebloood kicked a bit of dune grass moodily, but then an idea struck him. "Arr, wot if I offered ye a position in me fleet, eh? Second in command, with yore own flagship? O'course ye know know ye've got more leadership skills than the bozos I have now."
All of the nearest secondary characters amongst the horde furrowed their brows a bit in indignation, but the others (there merely to meet a number quota) stared blankly into space.
Portbelly threw his head back dramatically and struggled in his bonds as he delivered his heroic response. "No, sirrah! I would not betray my great Lord to aid the cause of blackguards such as y'selves, wot! Count me out of your dastardly plans!"
There was a pause, then Brinebloood sniggered. "Have I seen you on Broadway before?"
The hare spat. "Shuttup!"
Chuckling, the searat stood tall and spread his paws wide. "Then I have no choice...until you change your mind, I will imprison you in the Inescapable Tarp of Death!!"
Immediately the vermin all around began chanting excitedly. "Tarp! Tarp! Tarp! Tarp! Tarp! Tarp!"
And a big, burly trio of stoats brought the tarp forward. Rattling the stiff blue material with a wicked grin on his face, the biggest pounced with his brothers, wrapping the hare up tight.
"There, he won't escape now," sniggered Brinebloood. "So down to business. HEY!" he called up to the mountain. "SURRENDER NOW, OR DIE!!!"
The challenge wafted up to the Badger Lord. He had fallen asleep on a windowsill, exhausted from his first outburst. The spirits of his relatives had taken that opportunity to leak in through his ears and begin chanting advice at him. They fell silent as the rat's shout entered Strongstripe's ears. But to their annoyance, he ignored it and slept on. His father's image came up and kicked his dream self. "Get up, y'big oaf!"
The badger rose up in a great whirlwind of paws, remembering the vermin horde outside and urged on by his spirit relatives. His entire body was glowing bright red as he roared and jumped out of the window.
Portbelly lay deep in thought, staring at the walls of the tarp in the blue light that filtered through. The searats had bound it with a rope and left him. Racking his brains for an escape plan, the hare considered all his options. There was no seam he could escape through; the wave vermin had tied it too tightly for that. Obviously he couldn't untie the rope from the inside, so it looked like he was stuck.
"Blast it," he muttered, shifting position inside his blue prison. Suddenly a beam of bright white light came from behind. Curious, he turned and saw that the dagger in his belt had cut a slit in the tarp. "Tarps are cuttable?" he wondered with a smile, slashing the rest of the way out. He stood up, noting with relief that the entire group of vermin were facing the mountain and not him. And then a red flash caught the corner of his eye. He looked up.
Froth flying from his muzzle, teeth bared, and way too bright to look upon for long, Strongstripe had nearly completed his freefall from up high. The only problem? By his trajectory, Portbelly judged that he would hit the ground mere feet from the unattentive Brinebloood.
The hare made one great leap, kicking Brinebloood aside. "Take that, wot!"
SPLAT!
And so ended the life of the searat Brinebloood. The shock wave from the badger's impact floored the rest of the army, who began to rise unsteadily as Portbelly watched.
The hare grinned and tossed a pawful of shells. It was time for the woodlander's favorite method of sparing vermin. "There, you see the might of my great Lord! I assure you that our army inside the mountain has ten times that power! Flee now or die! You have," (he saw that seven shells had landed faceup) "the count of seven before we come after you! One...two..."
"Back to our island port!" bellowed Brinebloood's second-in-command fearfully. The wave vermin fled in terror and immediately set sail. They were going to meet a nasty shock in a few weeks when they would not find their island where it was supposed to be. Redwall islands have a nasty habit of disappearing when their part in a tale is over.
Strongstripe rose groggily from his big dent in the sand. Pulling a face at the remains of the searat he'd squashed and swaying a bit drunkenly, he grinned at Portbelly and stumbled back up to the mountain.
Portbelly smiled wryly and noted (as many hares had before him) that a post-Bloodwrath badger acted much like a hare coming off a sugar high.