Thank ye to all those who have read and reviewed this series so far. Though I admit the first chapter was the best because it wasn't planned at all, it has been fun to continue the lampooning of various aspects of the Redwall series. Here, as requested by a couple of people, is the Generic Slave Tale.
And now for the story...
CLANKING CHAINS: TOMATO'S ABBEY REVISITED
The Abbeybeasts wouldn't be waking up for a while.
One mouse leaned against the main doors, massaging his temples. Blast the dawn watch! His head was pounding from all the ale he'd quaffed the night before, and he was still tired. Besides that, he'd still have to climb all those stairs to the threshold, and the balloon-shaped creatures of Redwall avoided that whenever possible.
"Mawnen to 'ee, zurr!" It was Soildurt the mole, headed to the orchard to tend the crops.
The mouse noted wryly that moles held their liquor much better than he did as he waved a limp paw. "Mornin', sir mole." He smiled and almost fell forward.
The mole stopped, chuckling. "Hurr hurr, 'ee be a soight. P'raps oi better cumm back 'ere an' 'elp 'ee wi' watchin' arter oi digs ir'gation channel furr they arpel trees. 'Ee looks ready t'fall on you'm whickers, burr aye."
As the mole walked on, the mouse grinned as if it was all a joke, but he indeed made a full faceplant in the grass after Soildurt was out of sight.
At this, a band of ten Dibbuns (aged six seasons and under) emerged from a clump of bushes. Not allowed to sup the more alcoholic beverages and sent to bed early as usual, the young beasts were alert and ready for action.
Their leader, a small squirrel called Treejump, pointed a long stick forward. "Outen d'gate!" he called to the others with a loud whisper. Expertly they climbed on each other's shoulders and deftly undid the locks, opening the gates easily.
"4.67 seconds," whispered a young female otter called Streamsleek as they hurried off into the woods. "We gettin' better at dis!"
A small mole raised his digging claws to gain the squirrel's attention. "S'cuse oi, but whurr be us'n's goin'?"
Treejump rolled his eyes dramatically. "I toldja! We all gunna be like Martin d'Warrior an' get lotsa nasty vermins!"
"Unless the nasty vermins get you first!" A weasel jumped out of the forest and used his staff to biff every last Dibbun senseless.
"You're positive?" yawned Abbot/Champion/Slayer Tomato.
"Aye." The fat vole nodded at the even tubbier mouse before him. "They were taken by a weasel and chained, then dragged off."
"How did you see this when it happened, but not tell us until noontide?" demanded the dangerously obese Abbot.
"Well, I actually made it up to the battlements this morning," the vole began, with a pointed glance at the mouse guard (stretched on the floor nearby in a drunken slumber). "I was exhausted from the climb and still woozy from last night's wine. When I saw it happen, I started to run to tell everyone...but I tripped over my own gut, fell down the stairs, and passed out from overstraining my lungs."
The Abbot sighed. "You should've known better. Running does that to a beast; you have to take it nice and slow when you raise the alarm." As the vole muttered his apologies, Tomato looked about him. "Are the hares ready to go?"
"Ready, aye!" The hares were always sent on journeys like this because it was hard for obese creatures to maneuver through forest and over hill. They were the only creatures who could manage Redwall eating habits and remain fit to fight and travel. The otters would have also been sent (as they had a great love of exercise and therefore stayed in shape), but they were somewhere in Mossflower having a massive otter bash.
"Headin' out right now, sah!" The leader of the four hare brothers was called Kickfoot. He sheathed his rapier with a flourish, loaded up a haversack, and marched for the door with his brothers behind him.
Only moments later, Kickfoot, Quickfoot, Swiftfoot, and Fastfoot were on the trail of the weasel and his captives.
"Up, ye layabouts! I'm tired of draggin' ye!" panted the weasel, dragging the running chain (with the Dibbuns attached) into a small creek.
"Worra dat?" growled Streamsleek, rubbing a bump between her ears.
"Burr, oi doan't loik watter," groaned the young mole, struggling to pull the others out of the creek with him.
"Why you got us all chained up?" demanded Treejump hotly.
The weasel smirked. "I'm gonna build an empire on yore backs, duh. But first, build me a sleepin' hut fer th'night. If yore gunna build castles fer me, y'might as well start small."
"No," said the young squirrel clearly.
The weasel was about to shout and beat his captives for punishment...when he saw their eyes.
Ten pairs of eyes from ten Dibbuns all under seven seasons old burned with battle light. The weasel screamed in terror as they all leapt up and attacked, regardless of the heavy chains that were weighing them down.
The hares heard the shout and ran toward it, drawing their weapons and steeling themselves for a fight. Leaping across the creek, they halted on the bank and stared.
The Dibbuns, overtaken by a Redwallish Bloodwrath of sorts, had torn the chains and manacles like breadsticks and left them in a twisted heap on the ground. The unconscious weasel lay on the bank, gagged with three of the little beasts' rope belts and hogtied with the other seven. The Dibbuns themselves sat calmly on a fallen log, eating scones from the haversack the weasel had stolen from them.
"Nuts!" cried Fastfoot, hurling his beret onto the ground. "We 'aven't saved anybeast in seasons, wot! All the captured Dibbuns turn into bally warriors before we can trounce th'villains an' become jolly heroes!"
"Aye, must be goin' t'bed early that makes 'em that way," grumbled Quickfoot.
"Ah, well; back to Redwall, then. Come along, you young beasts!" Swiftfoot turned and began to march home with the others.
Abbot Tomato stared sternly over his bulbous gut at the ten young miscreants. "Naughty Dibbuns! You put yourselves in danger and made me send out the hares!" He leaned closer and passed the sentence. "Baths for all of you!"
The Dibbuns glared back in unison, a small fire kindling in their eyes and growing larger by the second.
It is said that the Great Dibbun Watcher laughed that night, for Abbot Tomato and most of the Abbey elders went to bed smelling like daisies...after being involuntarily escorted to the bath chambers for a scrubbing by ten young Champions-to-be.