I did it! Finally! So, to update, thanks to the people who've reviewed, favored, and followed this story since I last updated. And thank to the people who have favored me and begun to follow me as well. Views for the previous chapter were fifteen, with one review, which I'll get to in a minute. Just to let everyone know, I was looking back, and suddenly realized I'd left out some important points in chapter 2, or three, depending on how you look at it. So I went back an updated it, just to warn you.
Hamlet of Redwall: I actually did let you and everyone else know in the author's notes at the end of the previous chapter, but I can understand your impatience, so, here you go!
I will go and look up your denomination as soon as I have time. But as for my denomination, I don't really have one. I've been to a baptist church, a grace brethren church, an evangelical free church, and a few others. Currently I'm going to a church called Life in Christ Fellowship. I respect the pastor, as he is a man who looks into things to the utmost. But my beliefs come from the Bible, and my translation is not fixed. If I can ever learn to read Greek and Hebrew, then those will be the languages I use, though considering how I do in language arts, I doubt that will be any time soon.
So, then, on to the story! Warning: this chapter is where the T rating comes into play. If you think I should lower it, please let me know, as I haven't been able to decide.
4
"Well, looks like they've got a good meal cooked up for this morning." remarked Wullp, the captain of the Reformer. He was a small rat wearing a blue jerkin that hung down to his knees, tightened at the waist with a leather belt, from which hung his broken tipped short sword. He was a rather discouraging creature, which had earned him his nickname of Insulter, or Ins, for short, though he who wished to stay on his good side would not dare to use it. That, and the fact that he had missed supper the night before, made his comment surprising to those around him.
"Indeed. Is dat Lasmisoup oer dar?" replied Rehoboth. He occupied the position of captain of the Rider, as well as being the self proclaimed expert of beating upon upturned buckets and barrels to make a rhythm, or 'The Drummer' as Thomas would say. The weasel was a rather gluttonous creature, contributing to his large bulk daily, and sometimes hourly. All these facts, combined with his deep, carrying voice, contrived for him the nickname Boomer. He wore a large, purple robe, as it was the only thing that had been found as of yet to fit him. His weapon of choice was the battle-axe.
"Yes, I believe it is. I wonder what Tredge ruined this time." answered Anah, the captain of the Recreation. The dormouse sported a tunic and leggings of the colors brown and gray, with a headband of black, though that was only today's color. His honesty and friendly disposition had earned him his rank, as most activity aboard the large ship was taking care of visitors. For this reason he chose not to carry a weapon. "Opt, didn't I see you with a new face earlier? A seagull, I think."
The large wildcat nodded in response. Though easily one of the strongest creatures in the navy, he was more known for his encouraging nature, the reason for his nickname, Optimist. His strength allowed him to wield his oversized scimitar with ease. "His name is Crakenough, and he will be traveling with us till we get to Mechin, his home town. He is also curious of our group."
Anah chuckled. "What's new? Here, why don't you call him over. We might as well get this over with."
"Very well, then." replied Opt. He turned toward the Birds Tables and, seeing Crakenough examining a bowl of Lasmisoup, called him over.
When the sea bird reached them, Opt introduced him to the captains, as well as Admiral Singer, who was sitting at the table. The bird was greatly astonished to discover that the 'rat', was a large mouse, a reaction which was explained to him as normal.
"I hear you are curious of our organization, so if you have any questions, feel free to ask them here." explained Anah. At these words, almost every creature quieted down and looked expectantly toward the table, though just enough kept talking to keep Crakenough from noticing. It was not the first time someone had had questions about the G.B., and the crew took interest whenever such a thing took place. They found it amusing.
But despite the repetitiveness of the occasion, the first question was certainly a first. "Very well then. What was I eating back there?"
While much of the crew was dumbfounded, a few were having trouble suppressing their laughter, the captains included.
Finally, Anah was able to speak. "That," he explained, "is what we call Lasmisoup. It's short for Last Minute Soup, and is made with spare odds and ends lying around just before meal time."
The bird nodded. "I see. Well then, I've noticed that there is quite a selection of creatures on board. Are there any species that you don't have?"
This question was more common. "Yes," Anah reassured, "there are a few we haven't had the chance to recruit, such as wolves, hamsters, ermine, and rabbits, just to name a few."
"And then there's some creatures that we've never heard of." Wullp interjected. "Thomas insists we don't have any wearats."
"What's a wearat?" Crakenough questioned.
"I just told you I didn't know; ask Thomas." Wullp complained.
After a moments pause, he continued, "Is that all? Usually we're kept from work for the rest of the mornin' answerin' stupid questions. So far you've asked one usual, and one for the list. Ya got anythin' else?"
"Yes, I do." Crakenough replied evenly. "Having already made the point that your crew is large and with great variaty, I now ask, why? Never in my life have I even heard of such an alliance with so many different species, and the only thing that made sense I have been told is not the case. So, what could possibly be your objective?"
Silence descended upon the hall. Every creature stopped what they were doing, and stared darkly at the food in front of them. The captains and first mate all turned to the admiral, who, up till now, had been silent. Now, leaning forward in his chair, he stared over at Crakenough, with a look that portrayed both anger, and sadness. He spoke one word.
"Leek."
Many know of the corsairs of the Western Sea, and their endless war with the Long Patrol of Salamandastron. The Fire Mountain is the foremost stronghold against the vermin of the seas. But not all of these murderess scavengers feel the need to draw the attention of the Badger Lords. For across the mainland, on the Eastern Sea, while almost devoid of the usual dangers of its sister, there are still some.
A merchant ship by the name of the Grotil had been sailing for the far off shores of Optinirph, when a corsair fleet had overtaken it. Now seven clippers surrounded the carrack, and a caravel was along side. These were the Mosquito corsair ships, and their flagship, the Traitor.
The captain of the Grotil, a hare called Hiltare, was currently being escorted to the cabin of his ship by a rat. Reaching the door, said rat cast Hiltare into the room without further ceremony.
After picking himself up off of the floor, Hiltare looked about the room for any signs of life. Just an hour before he and his crew had been celebrating having passed the halfway point in between continents. Now, the whole ship seemed almost deserted.
As this thought crossed his mind, he suddenly noticed a mouse reclining in a nearby chair. The mouse was dressed in green, with a bright red cape cast about his shoulders. On his head was a medal helmet, and the weapons he wore were a collection of throwing knives and an iron, double bladed scimitar.
"Well, me lad," greeted Hiltare, "we do seem to be in a spot of trouble. Where'd they pick you up, ay?"
The mouse seemed almost indifferent to the hare captain. He turned his head slightly toward Hiltare and replied lazily, "They got me at coinage."
"Coy Naige, ay? Can't say I've ever heard of it, but I don't suppose it's to far away, if they haven't strapped ya to the oars yet, ay, wot?"
"You could say that." the mouse replied, still with the same slow speech.
Silence.
Feeling somewhat nervous for some reason, the hare tried starting a conversation again. "So, then, my name's Hiltare, captain of this bally R to P trade ship. What's your's?"
"R to P?" the mouse replied. "What on earth does that mean?"
Though it wasn't the answer he was looking for, the hare captain was glad of something to talk about. "Why, it's the code name for the Redwall to Peckrand supply group. It's our job to deliver the goods from Redwall Abbey over to Optinirph."
The mouse suddenly seemed interested. He sat up and leaned forward in his seat, though he still spoke in a level tone. "Really. Have you ever been to Optinirph?"
"I'm bally sorry to say that I haven't. This is my first time on this here route, you see, though I've had experience in shippin out to Laco and Kkarcia."
"I take it you're from Redwall, then."
"That I am, and jolly well proud of it! Us creatures of the abbey are quite handy in many different jobs."
"Sounds interesting. I'm guessing Redwall is on the shores somewhere?"
"Not at all, me good fellow! You mean to say you've never heard of it? I never! I'd think anyone within a hundred miles of Mossflower would know about it now!"
"Mossflower?"
"Yes, of course, Mossflower Wood! Beautiful place, this time of year! Hope I'll get to see it again, though don't suppose we'll find out till someone comes to tell us what we're hear for. What do you think they want?"
The mouse leaned back again in his chair, seemingly board by the direction the conversation was taking. "They're looking for information."
"Well, they'll certainly get none from me, wot! They can send their bally captain if they want, and I won't spill a thing, even if it's common knowledge! In fact, I hope he does come. I'd like to tell the villain what I think of him!"
"Really. What might that be?"
"Why, I'd tell him how I think he should be hanged for murderin' half my crew! I'd tell him how he ought not to try to rob honest merchants whose work saves lives in Peckrand!" He turned toward the door, arms crossed. "I'll just wait for him to come along to hear it. And he better think about it for a while!"
The mouse spoke from behind him. "Oh, I did the first time it was told me. But after a while, it got rather repetitive."
Hiltare stiffened. The mouse continued, "I don't suppose I mind hearing it again, though. At least I now know where this famous Redwall is."
Hiltare spun round, just in time to see a knife flying toward his face. It hit him squarely between the eyes, and his lifeless body fell to the floor.
The mouse stood up, and walked over to the body. "But now that I do know, I don't need you anymore." He reached down and removed the knife, then called for the guard.
"Yes, General?" the guard asked, entering the room.
"Tell all troops evacuate the ship with anything of use, and burn it. And have my captains sent to my cabin."
"As you wish, General." the rat replied, and quickly scurried from the cabin.
Once he was gone, the mouse leaned down and took a pouch from the dead beast's belt, and shook it. Hearing it clink, he strapped it to his own belt.
With that, General Leek, admiral of the Mosquito Corsair Fleet, left the cabin.
Well, then, if you have anything to say, then go ahead, and I'll make sure to answer in the next chapter's author's notes. Thanks for reading!
Good evening! 9/22/2013