Volume II, Chapter 3

A morning mist and a grey sky hung like a guillotine over Redwall Abbey. It was a fitting day for such a somber occasion. As the coffin of Abbess Mhera was lowered into the ground, and dirt was set atop the casket, a crow let out a lone call, and Deyna quickly vacated the graveyard, heading straight to the cellars, alcohol was his only friend these days.

The otter grabbed the nearest drinking vessel, and filled it up from a barrel, he didn't care what type of intoxicant it was. After a few minutes, Blackpaw made his way into the cellar, to find Deyna laying against a barrel, mindlessly throwing clumps of dirt at moths that flitted lazily around the lantern hanging from the ceiling.

"What has the world done to you," asked Blackpaw. Deyna didn't respond, although the next clump of dirt hit the weasel in the face, knocking his spectacles off of his nose. Blackpaw slapped Deyna in the face, and walked off, before returning a few minutes later with a bucket, filled to the brim with pond water. This, he poured over Deyna's head, who had fallen asleep at this point.

The otter let out a yell of shock, and drew a knife from his belt. "DON'T EAT ME!"

"I'm not going to eat you, fool." said Blackpaw, "This is an intervention."

"I'm fine."

"No, you most certainly are not," said Blackpaw. "Look at yourself, you're a mess."

"You're worse."

"Maybe." sighed Blackpaw, sliding down next to his friend. "Maybe not, I don't know."

"Fucked you up, didn't it. The war, and all." said Deyna, staring at Blackpaw with red, swollen eyes. "The things we did."

"Aye, but I stayed away from those things. Keep them in the back of my mind, you know?"

"Yeah."

"We need to get back in contact with the South." said Blackpaw "There's no way this was an isolated incident."

"How do you know? You some assassination expert, or some shit?" slurred Deyna.

"Yes, actually. I'm a historian, Deyna. I know every major assassination and event that has happened in Mossflower Wood and the surrounding area." said Blackpaw. "Assassinations like this are usually not isolated events."

"Usually."

"True."

"Gates, he might have even been from the Skullians. Similar tactics and weaponry, yeah?" said Deyna, making exaggerated hand motions.

"Southlands, yes. Skullians, I doubt it." mumbled Blackpaw, reaching in his belt for the murder weapon. "I looked it over, it's a pretty rudimentary design. Three barrels, a striking mechanism on each." Skullians use more… advanced designs, to say the least." The weasel shuddered at the thought of what those guns did to their victims, before shutting it out of his mind.

"Get back to the southlands, you said?" asked Deyna. "Ah well, at least the Desert Rats will protect us. Wonder how Jerril's doing?"

"Probably alright," said Blackpaw. "We'll set out tomorrow, and find out then."

Utopia

In what some might call the most horrific city on the Mossflower Stretch, a large stone palace cut through the sky. If you walked through its crumbling corridors, you would come to a room deep in the belly of the beast. And in that room an evil beast dwelled. His name? Unknown.

"How it go?" Asked a figure, speaking from behind a curtain. To the fox in front of him, he was nought but a silhouette.

"We ain't sure yet, boss." Said the fox, "Our sleepers are top notch, so don't you worry about nothing."

"I do worry though. Ever since the old boss went to haunt the next world, tings been a little fucky 'roun here."

The curtain opened, revealing a grey weasel with scratched paws, and a black mess on the right side of his neck.

"The soldatos is adjustin' well, what is there to be worrying about, huh?"

"I don't know. I hope we get outta dis hellhole though, and if those sleepers don't do they's jobs, we could be stuck here, foreva."

"Ah, don't worry about dat. But maybe we can do some'n to keep your mind in the right place, yeh?" The fox gave his boss a smile, before stepping over the threshold and pulling the curtain shut.

FORT SKULL

The morning sun shone through the blinds of Sixclaw's Fort Skull apartment. The cat sat up, and stretched as her alarm went off. Sixclaw had managed to kick the strict sleeping schedule of the Dragon Soldiers, and had taken to sleeping until 10:00 am, because "fuck you, that's why."

"Alright, alright." Said Crabfang. "You don't have to be so rude about it." The feral cat was attempting to fry eggs, and failing miserably. As he dumped his third batch of charcoal into the garbage can, a knock arrived at the door.

Red hopped off the couch, and unlocked the door, screaming as it swung open. Standing in the doorway was the charred, decomposing corpse of the Dragon Queen, accompanied by many soldiers in various states of decomposition.

Red went for a kitchen knife, but the Queen blew her head off with a rusty gold revolver, and then stepped over the threshold, firing twice at Crabfang, who was struck dead by the first shot.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" screamed Sixclaw, but the Queen turned towards her, and she could no longer move. The corpse put a skeletal finger to its treachea, and blew air out of its throat.

Hearing the commotion, One-Eye lurched out of bed, and stumbled into the room. leaning against the door, he let out a barrage of gunfire, none of which hit the Queen or her troops. The Queen cocked back her revolver, and shot One-Eye through his bad eye. The massive wildcat staggered back, and slumped over, his gun falling from his claws.

Sixclaw wanted to scream, but no sound came out, as the Queen turned towards her, and- nothing.

Sixclaw reached under her pillow, removing a pistol, and pointing it straight ahead, as the moonlight filtered through the trees. "Might as well get a drink." said Sixclaw, stumbling into the kitchen.

"G'mornin" said One-Eye, who was seated at the counter, a glass of unidentifiable black liquid in front of him

"It's the middle of the night, One-Eye." said Sixclaw.

"Same difference." said the cat, waving a paw that was lacking a few claws. "Drink?"

"Sure."

One-Eye reached for a bottle labeled Blackcurrant wine, and walked to the cabinet for a shotglass. As he moved, Sixclaw looked through the window, and saw a strange shape. That looks like… no, it couldn't be. Yep, it is.

"GET DOWN!" Yelled Sixclaw, diving behind the counter, One-Eye following suit a moment later. They waited behind the counter for about ten seconds. Just long enough for it to get awkward.

Then suddenly, a hail of bullets flew through the window, embedding themselves in the walls. "Give me the bottle!" exclaimed Sixclaw.

"Why?"

"Just trust me!"

One-Eye passed Sixclaw the bottle, but not before draining half of it in a single gulp. Sixclaw took a long pull, before smashing the bottle on the granite countertop, forming a very sharp point.

Sixclaw then popped up from behind the counter, and hurled the broken bottle with all her might.

The bottle flew straight into the neck of the attacker, who let out a last burst of gunfire as he fell from the window.

Sixclaw and One-Eye stood up from behind their cover, and examined the kitchen.

"How did you drink half that bottle in a single gulp?" Asked Sixclaw.

"Oh, I don't have a gag reflex." said One-Eye "Yeah, that came in handy when I lived on the streets."

At that moment, Crabfang burst out of his room, fully nude, a rifle in hand, as he sprayed the window with gunfire until he was out of bullets. That image wouldn't be leaving Sixclaw's head for a while.