Sixclaw
Volume II, chapter IV
Deyna uncorked his hip flask as he shoved items into his bag. The otter took a short pull as he reached for the Sword of Martin, but he hesitated grabbing the blade. Not yet, thought the otter, grabbing the sword and setting off to Cavern Hole.
A fog overtook the otters mind as he walked, before he shook it off. "Maybe just a little…" said the otter, reaching for his hip flask, before Nimbalo walked by.
The mouse grabbed the flask from his paw, and took off down the hallway, laughing like a madman.
"YOU LITTLE SHIT, GET BACK HERE!"
Deyna chased Nimbalo all the way to Cavern Hole, knocking over quite a few innocent abbeybeasts in his pursuit for liquid solace.
The otter eventually ran into Skipper, who grabbed the larger otter by the shoulders and smacked him across the face.
"Get a hold of yeself!" Yelled the Skipper. "Look at yer, you're bloody pathetic. The warrior a' Redwall, you're a bloody drunk."
Deyna opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off as a tide of abbybeasts flooded the halls, going straight for the orchard. "Gotta go." Said Deyna, leaving a frustrated skipper behind.
As he reached the orchard, he saw a sleek black hovercraft slowly drop onto the grass, as several curious abbeybeasts clamored to get out of the way.
A door to the back opened, and Sixclaw stepped out, walking straight through the crowd to stand in front of Deyna.
"Where's Blackpaw? I though he was coming." Said the cat, looking around.
"Could've at least said hello." remarked Deyna.
"It's urgent, Deyna." Said Sixclaw, a pleading look in her eyes.
"Why, what's happening?" Asked the otter.
"I'd rather wait to discuss it. I'm not sure we can trust present company."
Before Deyna could ask what Sixclaw meant by that, Blackpaw arrived, a suitcase in paw, and a trunk dragging behind him.
"Oh." Said the weasel. "I was expecting to be walking the whole damn way like last time."
"That could be arranged." meowed Sixclaw, a small smile upon her face.
"Thanks, but no thanks." said Blackpaw. He and Sixclaw shook paws, and boarded the transport. Deyna took one last look at Redwall, it's magnificent sandstone walls and beautiful orchard, before waving to the crowd and getting on.
He stared at the faces of his fellow abbeybeasts as the door slid shut behind him.
As the hovercraft took off, Sixclaw pulled out a small flask from her vest pocket, and took a short pull. "Fuck, that's bitter."
"You too? Gates, it feels like everyone is an alcoholic these days." Complained Blackpaw.
"That's just the author trying to cope with guilt and seeking validation for his alcoholism." Said Deyna, staring pointedly at the dumbass writing the story. "But Blackie here does have a point. Why are you drinking, Six?"
"I don't know, it just feels like I don't have a purpose anymore. I grew up in wartime. I enlisted as soon as I could, and then got press ganged to where I am now. she said. "And I don't regret it. But you grow up with something, you feel weird when it's gone. Especially something that defined-no, still defines who you are to this day."
"I get that." said Deyna. "Being raised as a Juska from birth, then… Ah, never mind. I've made peace with my past. Can you do the same with yours?"
"I'll try. Hey, thanks for listening to me. Not a lot of people want to these days."
"No problem, Six."
"If you call me that again, I'll shove this liquor up your ass."
"He'd probably enjoy it." mumbled Blackpaw, who had been attempting to sleep the entire time.
There was very little conversation on the flight after that.
UTOPIA
Rot. That was the first thing the Boss smelled as he walked into the clinic. His massive Wearet bodyguard pulled out his pocket square, and dry heaved into it. "Is a'righ, Bruno. You ain't have ta come in if you doesn't want ta."
The wearet grunted in affirmation, but stood his ground.
"T'anks."
The boss then walked through the smell, into a small room with a curtain over the door. "Where you find 'im?"
"Washed up on shore by Southsward." said the Rat at the side of the beast laying on the cot. "They brought him here."
The boss approached the cot carefully, as the creature, an unidentifiable variety of mustelid, on the cot gasped for life.
"Wha' happen?" Asked the Boss.
The creature's speech was garbled, so the Boss was only able to make out a few words. "...failed…still alive…one...got her…"
The boss stood up, and whispered to the rat. "Send him to the Hospital. Make sure he gets the best care."
"Yes, Boss."
The boss then turned, and walked out of the hospital.
Bruno lumbered behind him, until they reached the wagon. "What now?"
The boss got in the motor wagon, as Bruno cranked the starting handle. "If what I think happened happened, we need to get the fuck ready. This is the calm before the storm.
"Calm? I've heard 50-"
A gunshot rang out
"51 shots fired today alone."
It's a metaphor, you dip.
A/N
I feel like Sixclaw is a high grade shitpost at this point.
R&R