The first sign something was wrong was on the fourth day of what we now call the last Spring of Redwall abbey, when travelers to a village in south Mossflower found no living beast within its bounds and the only sign of anything amiss was giant four clawed paw prints running from the banks of the nearby stream to the village itself.
By the time a month had passed every single village across the whole of Mossflower wood had disappeared like that first one. It's only then that they first showed up….
Hundreds upon hundreds of gray-armored rats surrounded the ancient red sandstone abbey, but the most terrifying thing was the beast that their leader, a wild cat, held control over, a colossal lizard like creature, who seemed to rival the abbey itself in size and whose teeth were the size of badgers.
For months the army camped outside of redwall, building up an armed camp using wood cut down from the nearby woods. The good beasts of the abbey thought they were saved when word came from Salamandstron by way of Owl that the Long Patrol had heard of their plight and was marching as fast as they could towards their long-time allies in Redwall.
But unfortunately for the beasts of redwall, when they arrived, the wildcat and his… Dragon, for what else could such a terror be? Had somehow heard of the coming approach of the long patrol and along with the warlord's elite guard, hid nearby. Using the bulk of their armies as bait, they drew the fearsome hares into a false confidence before pouncing on them from behind. Within minutes, hundreds of the hares were slain at best, eaten at worst, until the warlord and badger Lord were locked into a fearsome duel that only ended when the warlord had skewered the badger on his sword, slaying the mighty beast. It was only then that he decided to finish this once and for all….
Fuming Micheal Redguard, the last champion of Martin the warrior and of his Abbey, paced the ramparts of Redwall, star-metal sword in one hand and shield the other, directing the archers lining the walls to fire when and wherever they would be most useful. But sadly, it was not enough, and in the end, the Long Patrol died, almost to a hare, and with them any hope for the abbey's fate.
Micheal truly wished that he could lead a force out of Redwall to avenge their friends, but at the very start of the siege, rubble and dirt had been piled up behind each of the four gates. Even then it would take days for the skilled moles of Redwall to clear up, days they didn't have.
In the end, it took only three hours for the Dragon to bulldoze its way through the walls. Clearly the Warlord had only waited as long as he did to draw the long patrol into a position they could not think their way out of.
The defenders pivoted to fire down on those who had broken their way through the walls, with Micheal himself leading a score of Shrews and otters down the steps. Raising the sword high, Micheal let out a fearsome warcry.
"FOR REDWALLLL!" Came from twenty one throats at once as they ran into the side of the invading troops, hacking and slashing their way through the rats. Even as the rats slew the beasts behind Micheal, one by one until only he remained, so blinded by his bloodlust he didn't even realize he was the sole survivor until he was face to face with the warlord.
The Great beast chuckled down at the small red-furred mouse, his face hidden by a steel mask of a roaring wildcat and his whole body covered in carefully fitted steel plates. It was like he was some statue brought to life. The only sign of this beastly terror were his eyes. Micheal expected them to be some unnatural red or yellow, streaming unholy smoke but instead, they were light blue, just like his own eyes.
Their swords clashed, the warlord's blade still stained with the blood of Lord Brockfang as well as every other good beast he had slain since.
A flurry of blows rang out between the two fighters; a slash, a parry, a simple side-step, another slash; each time the two swords met, the Sword of Martin cut a chip off of the enemy blade, but it wasn't enough, never enough…
"My name is Nasiur Grey-hied, and you are Micheal Redguard" the Warlord said nonchalantly, finally speaking, not a question, but a statement, his sword dancing out to cut along Micheal's arm.
Micheal just grunted and clinched his teeth tightly, taking a step back but slipping on the mud of the pond he hadn't realized he was that close to, falling to one leg.
A weakness that Nasiur used to his advantage to kick Micheal onto his back but Micheal grabbed onto the Cat's ankle and pulled him off balance, forcing him into the pond.
Meanwhile, a circle had formed around the abbey pond from the invading rats as they watched their warlord's fight, but none of them seemed interested in interfering.
With Nasiur stuck to the bottom of the muddy pond, clearly, the weight of his armor was too much for him to stand back up, but Micheal's much lighter chainmail and light plate armor didn't have that weakness. He scrambled to his feet and onto Nasiur's back, where combined with the weight of the beast's armor, he held his head under water.
Nasiur struggled against Micheal, growing weaker by the minute until he threw the much smaller mouse off him with his last dregs of strength and a loud roar, rising to his own two paws.
Chuckling, he looked down at Micheal, who was sprawled in the shallow waters, dazed from the strength of being thrown off of his enemies back.
"Get him to his knees!" Nasiur barked, and two of his guards broke off from the surrounding circle and forced Micheal from his position on his back to him on all four.
Panting from the strain of the fight, Nasiur stalked over to his defeated enemy, and pointed his sword towards the abbey, where, through the windows, many noncombatants of Redwall could be seen. They watched the battle fearfully. "Surrender or suffer his fate" Nasiur shouted, loud enough for everyone to hear him.
"Any last words, oh Champion of Redwall?" Nasiur turned to Micheal, speaking in a much quieter voice, dripping with scorn as he said Micheal's title.
Micheal spat blood out of his mouth and glared up at his soon to be killer. "Redwall abbey will never belong to your kind for long." he said, glaring daggers at the wildcat.
Nasiur raised his sword, "Very well," He sighed and let his blade fall, and with it fell Micheal's head and Redwall's freedom…