Chapter 7: Last Minute Warmongering

When the feasting in Gholand was done and Markem's words and speeches had their effect and rallying the vermin a night of drunken hedonism, the words and demands of their new station had hit the whole band like a brick. The Gholand vermin began to talk amongst themselves with worry, while others actively prepared. Markem was going to send them to war, war with all of Mossflower as his goal. Yet what are the goals of Markem? Did he want to be a king? A tyrant? A warlord among others? Markem had the answers, and he put it through the words of his captains.

"Alright lads, listen up. I am captain Turbas!" The stout began, speaking to a small division outside of Gholand. Markem had personally organized his horde, taking ideas and adding his own from other hordes he had fought or bore witness to. Turbas's division laid 50 vermin warriors, with Turbas being their captain. Each division had a standard bearer and two sub captains which held authority over half of the division each and answered only to that captain, Turbas explained.

"Ya are all new, an' know I have been with Markem when he was but a young warrior in Pelg the Tall's army! Ya parents may remembein that wretch, fated to die as he an' his cadre of fools tried to siege Fort Tussock! I joined Markem from the start, an' out of all ya scum, I am the only one of ya who can apparently hold a spear right! Its why I am' captain, an ya are spearbeasts, axebeasts, an swordbeasts! Ya see these two, the rat an' fox next to me? They be yer sub captains, an' half of ya will take me orders from them! Now line up an' get ready to start practicin, Markem wants ya all ready to move out in several weeks, before de end of the season! Hop to it! Go!"

The vermin were off to a training field, lorded over by other captains who were training the vermin. Markem's personal guard, mostly well armored veterans, were training with shields and spears, forming shield walls at a quick command. They were getting better each day, but they would need to be legendary if they were to go toe to toe with the Long Patrol. The shield wall was a favorite tactic of Markem, he had used it before against other vermin. It frustrated others to try to get past a barrier of living shields, only to haplessly get speared to death. Markem lived to lead from the front, and his well protected guard was a sore sight for his enemies.

In the field itself, the fox mercenary Niala and her brother Jarolom were leading a small band of vermin to the field. For her service, Niala had leaped past the normal promotions, and was now a sub captain under her brother. The Foxtrot twins were gleefully leading their vermin minions to train in the morning sun.

"Hop an' March, ya lazy lot!" Niala ordered "I want to see'em spears shine! Bowbeasts, we'll train with the other archers in the field over, follow an' keep up!" Niala was practically smacking her vermin soldiers with friendly abandon, obeying her command as they lined up. Many were a mixture of old and young soldiers, but most were Jarolom's personal division. Niala stopped as her part of the division was off to train under her, sneering madly "Useless buggers, the lot of em. I save yer chief's life, an he demotes me to yer command?"

"Aye, ya lucky ya got it at all. Markem be different ya see, me sis."

"Different an' dumb! Had he been any other warlord, I be leadin a horde meself!"

"Exactly. The Horde looks fer skilled beasts with real command, ya prove yer a good archer to Marken, not a leader yet. Once ya prove it, then he'll start thinkin. He don't like captains who talk sweet to em', an considerin ya are lucky for proven it so well. Ya even got yerself a nice cottage in Gholand!"

Niala did count her blessings, but still sneered cruelly at her brother "But yer hut be bigger! Bah! Nevermind, let us be done fer today an' get this over with. I wanna start drinkin in dat tavern ya got goin!"
_

Niala was half annoyed, as her vermin shifted around uncomfortably in the field. Half were bowbeasts, the other half were skirmishers. Niala was quickly getting used to, and appreciating, Markem's small reforms to the common vermin army. Her many seasons serving different warlords gave her a lot of experience witnessing how vermin fought. Warlords individually had their own policies on how to command their vermin around, but usually, each vermin captain held a score or more soldiers, each soldier responsible for their own well being, with weapons and armor given at a warlord's demand. A lot depended on the warlord for discipline and training, and usually the vermin ruled through fear and brutality to keep each of their soldiers in line and obedient to their cause. If the creatures feared the beast leading them from the back far more than those from the front, all the better. Vermin usually were a gaggle of various soldiers, and whatever army had the best draw of skilled soldiers got the luckiest draw when it came to getting veterans, skilled skirmishers, and other general creatures. It was why vermin usually recruited primarily only from other vermin warlords, and if they were desperate, they would conscript from the small vermin hamlets. Skilled soldiers were difficult to come by, and had gotten first serve all the food and gear they would ever need.

Markem's horde was different, much more so then the common warlord Niala was used to. Each vermin soldier was well cared for, the needs of their family tended to, and were well protected from harm. Their captains didn't lash or randomly kill their own soldiers to drive fear into them, but were aided and disciplined accordingly. Each division's captain had authority figures who gave out small titles for beasts to bring in the division's food, cook it, clean their garbs, keep stores of weapons and ammunition for bows. It was complicated by vermin standards, but years of wandering and training under Markem had made the horde successful, but not perfect. Many vermin were often slacked in their duties, believing Markem's horde was a paradise to sit in compared to the others. Discipline was a real issue, and Markem stubbornly refused to execute any of his own. It was captains like Jarolom and his subordinate Niala who had to act the cruel beast to keep the whole vermin horde in line.

"What are ya slakken numbskulls doin! I told ye to all line up, an if I see any of ya disobey me orders again, I'll have ya flayed!"

The vermin got into an uncomfortable line swiftly as Niala looked over her soldiers. They weren't very well skilled, most were new recruits and ill trained. She spat "I told ya to all go to the fetcher's field, an ya are all standin around?"

"Nay, Turbas be there! He be trainin his skirmisher he is!"

The stout was there, the old captain drinking from a bottle and slurring his words loudly at spear throwers "I wanna see ya throw twice as far today, ya layabout!" He hiccuped and began to drink again. Niala pushed past her creatures and snapped "Ya fear a damn stout, eh? What will ya do when ya see a real enemy, run away like cowards! Markem be preparin fer war with all of Mossflower, an ya are scared of some upstart!"

Niala practically dragged the closest beast with her by the gruff of his shirt, as she came over. Turbas yelled at her "Hey! Get off me field, orange blur! This be me field today!"

"Nay! This be a field me lot!"

"Enough!" A loud voice yelled. The two and their lot turned to Jarolom "We be in a horde together ya lot! Turbas. Niala, me dear sis. We be fighten fer Markem an' fer ourselves! Turn yer pettiness aside an' come to an agreement, fer ya heard what Markem had said. No more of that ol' nonsense. Use yer field together if ya must!" Turbas snarled, but relented. Ultimately, he agreed with Jarolom's words, but once he left, he whispered to Niala "Ya keep to yer side, in the ol' brush fer from me, fox!"

"Ya do the same, ye dirt sniffer!"
_

Markem was on his throne in his great hall, with two prisoners below him. Lefen and the sea otter Streamwaddle, had been bound in ropes which chaffed into their paws and legs. Two guards stood over each as Markem looked down at the prisoners. Besides him was 'Dirt' and his taskmaster Gutan. The former corsair looked down with disappointment, mostly at Streamwaddle. "Aye, Markem, he be an escaped one, he an' his family both."

"I see." Markem was thinking. Killing Lefen would have been an easy solution to a large problem, but the squirrel was still the leader of a larger than normal group of bandits who had still prodded at his borders. There were several others in attendance watching Markem make his decision, the chief of which being the warlord Luzgot. Markem was not quick to forget Luzgot's treachery and had kept him under his care in Gholand. The rat sat at a table, playing with his paws and being bored. He did however give a gleaming eye to the squirrel, who still had the fire of rebellion burning within him.

"I made me decision. Guards, put Lefen in a cage, out of the camp an' under guard. I'd prefer dem rebels know I won't kill em' just yet, but if they make a move, make sure he screams." Markem then turned to the sea otter, who looked on. "As fer ya, yer escape has consequences otter. I don't use the lash, ya know that, but ya made yer decision. Ya will be returned to workin under the Great Vermin Band, and with twenty lashes to boot. Ye will be bound in bonds till Gutan is satisfied ya won't run again, or till yer family is returned to the slave quarter."

Streamwaddle and Lefen were pulled outside by the guards, with Lefen screaming at him "We'll beat you yet, Markem! You hear me! I will have your head! We won't give up!"

Markem gave a shrug at the comment as Markem turned to Luzgot who was eyeing the squirrel. He was thinking something, and Markem knew it.

"Somethin on yer mind, Luzgot?"

"Aye, chief. If ya were a smart, an great, warlord. Why don't ya just have his innards torn out? Mercy fer such things be foolish, an it'll drive fear into yer slaves if they know ya are a true vermin warlord."

"What exactly, Luzgot, is a true vermin warlord, hmmm? I am not goin to war to murder every beast in Mossflower, to prod an' gore them fer a degenerate's sake. I'm goin to war to conquer em', an to give us a new home fer ourselves. Bein true vermin has held us all back, fer too long. I've run me horde me own way, without the likes of ya or yer damned 'true warlord' crap. Cleary it ain't workin."

"Yet ya are goin to war with Mossflower."

"Aye, to make land an' room fer all vermin, not just fer the likes of me. Each hordebeast joins this band o' brothers an' sisters to fight fer a better life. That better life will be fer all beasts, slave an' free."

The otter 'Dirt' gave a silent sigh at the comment. Despite Markem's new found idealism, he was still a vermin at heart. Luzgot however shot up "If ya may excuse me chief, tis hall give me chaffin. I'd like to linger with me crew."

"Nay, not till Scarl be done with dem. I haven't forgotten ya just tried to have me killed, ya cretan. Yer entire horde is comin under me command, an' I'll be takin yer best with me." Luzgot frowned as he sat back down and crossed his thumbs. He would have to find another way to contact his captain.
_

Outside, Scarl was joined by the taskmaster Gutan, overseeing the sea otter Streamwaddle's punishment. The large woodlander had been re-given his rags and a rope collar, as other slaves and vermin watched. Tied to a small log, Gutan's assistant was gleefully whipping away and was nearly done. Gutan addressed the crowd "Aye, ya know me well, an' I spare ye the rod an' the lash! Yet this be what happenin if ye run or step out of line with rebels, but fear ye not! Markem be merciful upon ye all!" The sea otter painfully groaned and was stood up by some of Gutan's minions, and was carried off back to the pen. Gutan had put the otter's legs in shackles so the next time he was sent out to forage for wood, he wouldn't have an easier time escaping. Scarl came over to Gutan and commented to him as the crowd dispersed.

"I need a favor from ye, Gutan. That otter be knowin where Lefen's friends be hidin, an' I'll likely not be getting that information from Lefen. I'd like to. . .interrogate him."

"I got yer information ya already need to know, they already moved."

Scarl was surprised only replying with a swift "Huh?"

"Aye, matey. Lefen be a clever beast, likely had kept a good group back in the woods in case things went wrong. Even if we tortured the poor beast out of all the things he knew, we would not have caught em' in time. Keepin him alive an' healthy does us better, mate. You'll see."

"I wish I did see, cause i'd call ya a daft beast."

"Ya see Scarl, Lefen moves his home every season, keeps us guessin. We never caught em' because they move so frequently fer problems such as this. Likely they be out er' in the woods, already knowin we be comin. Keepin em alive be better fer ya, fer the reason that if they know der family an' friends be here, a direct attack like that puts em' at risk! As I see it, it keeps us safe, an' dem rebels at bay."

Scarl thought it over, he understood the taskmaster's logic, but did not agree fully. However, Markem had made his choice on the matter and did not prod. "Aye, I suppose. However, do put em' to work inside instead of outside, as a suggestion."

Gutan thought it over and agreed "Good point. Ya said ya got a Hare with ya? How goes that?"

Scarl groaned "It be goin, all right!"
_

Scarl returned to his common area office, entering in it sneakily. Normally, he would have interrogated prisoners in the basement below the keep, an impromptu dungeon of sorts with no cells. However, the small wooden room was strapped with a chair, in which a very much beaten up hare sat coughing and spitting out blood. Scarl was having his fun, but the information he got from the hare was limited. The rat Skabit was in the room with him, cleaning off a small knife he was using, annoyed that hare refused to even speak to him.

"Blighted ol' long ears. Ya will talk to me!" The Hare spat out, trapped in a coil of ropes which bound him to a chair. The rat pressed a knife to the edge of his eye and threatened to pierce it in. The hare did not flinch despite what the torturer did. Skabit cursed "The numbers, ya damn beast! Tell me the numbers! Yer strength in Tussock! Tell me or I will make ye a blind beast, here an' now!"

Scarl slid his way into his hidden hut, casually sliding off his armor. The Hare looked in his direction, but Skabit brought him back to his attention with his claws. Scarl was disappointed, the Hare continued to avoid giving him his secrets. "Enough Skabit, it ain't workin."

"Bah!" The rat threw down a knife in defeat "We should just kill'em!"

"Nay, Markem wants him alive as well."

"Why?"

Scarl shrugged "Maybe he'll break another way, maybe he just needs a drink. Scarl poured a glass of grog for himself and drank it in front of the parched hare. He gave a cruel smile "Ya will talk. Not today, but ya better do so soonish, or there will be consequences fer ye."

"I am prepared to die, ferret, for Mossflower an' all the good beasts. You lot of slavers and torturers will fall, like the rest. Ever heard a chap called Cluny the Scourge? He came with iron tip spear and lash to conquer and pillage, and the blighter met his end. The Rapscallions? Marlfoxes? Kasg the Craven? All are dead, you bloody future carcase!"

Skabit brutally slapped the hare with his claw, blood splattering against the wall as the Hare began to feel the bite of pain across his face. Scarl only gave his demonic smile as he sipped calmly of his drink.

"Ya best be keepin yer words well to yerself, hare. If ya know whats good fer ya. Ya will tell us what we need to know, an' maybe ya can join the other good beasts in the pens. Workin fer the good the Great Vermin Band."

"More like, Great Vermin Circus!" The hare chuckled and cracked. He was in pain, but Scarl was not done with him yet. He had never broken a Long Patrol before, and he was proving difficult. Mice took the least time when he needed information, and otters always gave him the most trouble. The Long Patrol were a different breed of madness, and Scarl began to play with his knife. "Skabit, me friend. Do ya think Hares be needed both of der long ears?"

Skabit smiled and the hare frowned. Before Skabit could get to work, there was a knock on the door to the hut. Scarl got up and peeped through a small hole, and smiled in relief. A familiar figure entered the room and plopped himself comfortably on the free chairs of Scarl's cramp office.

"Eh boss!" the weasel warrior Kudgel began "Me work be done."

Scarl went under his desk and took out a small sack of coin and tossed him at Kudgel. The weasel began collecting his new found payment with satisfaction. Skabit cursed and looked at Scarl "Maybe ya may pass me deserved, loot, Scarl? Or ye prefer to do it yerself."

"I pay ya enough, Skabit." Scarl frowned at him "Besides, I pay ye to torture, not to double cross."

Kudgel mocked the rat "Aye! Ya don't gotta do what I got with a bound beast, aye!"

Skabit cursed and took out his knife as he moved closer to the hare, sweating and mentally preparing himself. He would not break, not now. His companion may be dead, but years in Salamandastron would not be wasted on the likes of these wretches.

"Ya get good loot an' vittles at me say so, Skabit. If ya want better pay, ya ask Markem. Not me."

"Bah." Skabit cursed, his knife brought into the long ear of the bound hare. The Hare winged a bit, then began to cry out as the torturer began his morbid art. Both Skabit and Scarl were used to the sounds, it was their job after all. Kudgel however looked on, his smile becoming a mortified cringe. Scarl casually began talking to Kudgel "So, the other warlords returned home, an are preparin to accept our terms?"

"Aye, Kylan I didn't even need to follow. Jusbrag may as well be flyin brown banners already! The others I got to talk to be a bit, did some. . .ummm. . ." Kudgel was distracted by the cries of the hare next to him, and by a wet plop onto the ground. The creature was in horrible pain. Scarl snapped his minion to attention "And?"

"I did some reconnaissance as ya asked. Found some other hare patrols, spies most likely. Lookin fer this lot no doubt."

"I figured they'd be missun. Those hares been spyin on us fer a good several seasons now. They know we are coming, an' we will in due time. Keepin it all secret is the real challenge, an' keepin it all from the other warlords an' allies? Tis difficult. Luzgot was lucky with his own spymaster keepin up tabs on us as well. We should consider ourselves lucky we got good. . .and dumb allies."

Scarl turned to the hare, a bored expression on his face, uninterested or caring for the deathly pain he was in. "Now. Ya are goin to tell me specifics, or yer right paw will be next."

Kylan had returned home to Jusbrag, the fortress of stone in the northern mountain, surrounded by all sides by sand and grassland. The vermin watching the walls were watching as their boss returned to the settlement, but were soon to dread it as a large rat came bounding across the fortress with a whip, cracking it over the heads of Jusbrag's vermin "Down, down ya lot! Get der gate open! The boss returns from Gholand! Open the doors ya swabs!" called out Bigring. The rat was large, strong, but had few scars. The most notable feature of him was a large golden nose ring which had worn with pride, a gift from his chief as a sign of authority over the others. The vermin hurried to open the gates for Kylan, the fat weasel and his brother returning with news. Even Jusbrag's slaves, a mixture of both northern woodlanders and vermin from other hordes, turned to see their dumb and boisterous master return to them, and dreaded what he was preparing to say.

"Vermin of Jusbrag, I return ye with great news! Our friend Markem Brownnose had summed me to Gholand, an in surprise gave us a decent feast! Yet that tis not all! In the midst of that evenin of feastin, I swore to him ya all of Jusbrag herself! We march not just fer the fort an' me realm, but fer all vermin kind! Hail now to yer new banner, of the Great Vermin Band!" Loc revealed a brown banner that Kylan was given, showing it off to the others. Jusbrag had been successful and prosperous with aid of Markem, and Kylan was always thankful to have such a strong relationship with the rat. Kylan never had many friends before, but Markem was oddly kind, and had many strange victories and ideas. The vermin wheeled around, motivating his horde.

"He calls ya now, to loot an' pillage the whole of Mossflower lads! No longer shall I rule just Jusbrag alone! Together as one we shall march to the tune of this band o' brothers! We shall march to war to the south an' make em' long eared wretches an' allies of ol' Riftguard quake in der boots! Jusbrag! Jusbrag!" The weasel was gifted a tankard by his overseer rat and was lifted aloft. Bigring noticed some of the woodlander slaves having stopped their work, looking with horror when their master announced to go out and conquer Mossflower, and cracked his whip at them.

"Aye you lot, bow an' kneel to Jusbrag's chief! Soon he be master of all of Mossflower, an' more!"

Kylan corrected him cheerfully "Nay, not me alone! Me friend an' yers, Markem, shall lead us to victory. Long ago, I was but captain here, like many of ya! Yet Markem gave me this here fort when he could have easily taken it fer his own, an' made you all obey him! Yet he did not! Markem is the true friend of all vermin, an' I tell ye now, we shall come to his aid as he did me! Ready yer weapons, fill out of yer barracks, we march within a day to Markem's call to war!" Bigring followed dutifully as the vermin were quick to obey. Jusbrag's vermin were hardy warriors from the north and sea, as they began to collect weapons and form into small divisions as Kylan went inside his great stone keep, still unfinished and being constructed.

Kylan admired his handiwork of his masons, having stolen many of his 'genius ideas' from Markem and observing him. Before him, the halls of the keep were basic and of vermin make, small rooms cut into the mountain itself with a far smaller and ill smoothed roof. However, the weasel now sat on a proper stone throne, having 'borrowed' some mice from Noonvale to properly build his new home. He had ambitions, he saw in his mind a greater stone set of walls surrounding his keep, a true settlement of vermin, a grand city of warriors and thieves for which he would rule. Bigring krept closer to his master and slyly praised him.

"Oh worship, master of Jusbrag. I shall gather the entire host! What are ye order!"

"We go to Gholand of course, ya dumb beast! I got a good look at ol' Markem's horde, and ya lot aren't good enough I be thinkin. I be temptin to bring the whole host, but we need ol' good number of beasts here to keep buildin up me keep!"

"Aye, master! Aye!" Bigring cheerfully said, hiding his contempt as the weasel began to bound around his keep. Several other vermin were hoisting up a mouse, one of the masons from Noonvale, who was secretly cursing his life under his breath as he chipped away at a delicate stone depicting a handsome vermin warrior in the pillars above the hall. The main court of Jusbrag was looking far better then it was.

Kylan's brother Loc and another rat captain of Jusbrag entered, although both had kept their distance as Kylan began a cheerful whirl. The warlord cared not for his own weight, and although he may have lost some for years of unsuccessful campaigning, he remained as gluttonous as ever. Another rat captain, a rat named Nosecheese, entered as well. Nosecheese was not always named that, having once been called Thiefpaws, a common thug and ally to Kylan when he usurped the horde of Jusbrag. Kylan however was always fascinated with his own nose, and just called him 'Nosecheese'. Nosecheese hated the name, but never had the guts to question his boss.

Loc began to speak, a bit concerned "Brother, if I may say. We be marchin to war against Mossflower to the aid of Markem, but I must ask why. Even if we do get much loot an' vittles, what point there be in it fer the lot of us? I know he be friendly to Jusbrag, an' aided us before, but ya gotta see this be foolhardy."

"Nay, tis not selflessness in helpin Markem alone that be me reason, Loc! Mossflower be filled to the brim with good beasts an' strong ones too! Me pens of slaves weaken in time, an' we need more to help finish an' polish the whole of Jusbrag! Once we are done lootin Mossflower, we will have enough slaves to finally turn Jusbrag into a center of all vermin kind!"

"Aye, boss! Ya should be more kind to yer boss's genius idea's Loc!"

Loc meekly sighed and did not speak further, however Nosecheese did speak up, mostly in anger at Bigring. "Chief! Ya gotta know this campaign be a long one. Ya will be gone fer a long time, maybe ya gotta be thinkin it over before we swear ourselves to some southern warlord."

"We already did, Nosecheese! We will be movin out soon, an ya will begin tearin down the ol' banners and be replacin it. Markem is right an' smart on many things I be thinken, many warlords swore to him. Even that wretch Hazul follows him like a curious pup. Maybe he be right about more then military matters, ya know."

Nosecheese was practically thrown the brown flag "Maybe ya should promote a good captain to a good position, aye?"

"Aye! Bigring, ya are boss here while I be gone. Loc! Gather me horde! We got much to discuss."

The two brothers crested out of the hall, with Nosecheese angrily pointing his paws at Bigring "Look ya bounder an' silver tongued wretch, just cause Kylan thinks ya be smart fer talkin sweet things to him, don't mean I won't struggle in slayin ya!"

"I'd like to see ya try. Besides, once yer gone, I think I might be enjoyin me time off. Ya and Kylan can go die in a war. I will be here, tendin to the real matters!"

The rat was about to punch him right then and there, but Kylan's demanding voice boomed for Nosecheese to come. Not wishing to displease him, the rat ran off. Bigring could only give a brutal and cruel smile.

Two otters, garbed in black rags and covered in vermin tattoos across their bodies were silently and efficiently setting up their master's table. Not too long ago, they had been soldiers in Noonvale's large otter Holt, descendents of Keyla of Marshank. Their mother told them tall tales of their ancestor's bravery and trickery, filling them with confidence to join up in Noonvale's guard. Now, they got to see the first hand cruelty of vermin and their tyranny. One of the otters, a shorter and more lean otter named Bagon winged in pain and dropped some plates. He looked at his paw, with a crooked and deep gash which had been spurning out blood not too long ago.

"It still hurts, eh?"

"Aye. These vermin give me the creeps, ya know. Jumpin at ghosts an' ghouls! What did ya think they wanted our blood for?"

"Ya know, cause were 'Descendents of dem' heroes' or somethin to do with Martin the Warrior." The older and larger otter, a brother named Burnel came over and tore off a part of his rags and began bandaging it up. "Ya see any means of escape?"

"Nay."

The two were in Veekun's Burrow, the motte and bailey castle was the home to a group of mouse nobles and warriors who had been building up a presence in eastern Mossflower. That had changed when the water rats under Hazul Leffer came from the east sea and took the keep for themselves, murdering the entire family, with Markem's bloody paws all over the dark deed. The settlement became a gloomy shadow of its former self, as the tribe was ruled by the fanatic chieftain. Hazul had taken up a particular name for himself, Hazul the Sorcerer. The rat may have been a runt of his tribe, but all in the settlement lived in fear of him. The two otters were humbly cleaning up the hall for Hazul's arrival, who had introduced them as his new servants. Both lived in mortal fear of the rat, and for good reason, as the bones of slain woodlanders were scattered around as symbols, with Hazul's belt of mouse skulls hanging over a fireplace. It was one of many morbid lucky charms.

Hazul himself along with his host of water rats and captains entered the hall. He snapped at the otters, ordering them to leave, and they obeyed without question. Hazul gashed their paws with blood and performed the sacred rites, his chief shaman and witch, a black fox named Dala Blackeye. The Blackfox's began her routine, pelting salt pieces onto the table.

"My lord, the spirits of the Burrow shall not disturb you during this meeting. Shall I prepare the bones an' sticks for the spirits blessing?"

"Yes, and do so quickly. We have much to discuss about this 'Great Vermin Band'."

Hazul sat down comfortably in a central chair, while his captains and elite soldiers of the Barrow Guard stood at attention. Hazul's brother Kajam gave a cruel smile.

"My brother, clansbeasts! Captains an' warriors all! The seasons have been merciful to us, as Markem readies his horde for war! Chieftain, I shall be ready to gather the whole of the clan at your command."

"Nay, not until the whole clan agrees to war itself, brother." Hazul was deep in thought. He knew all full well that challenging the badger lords was a difficult and dangerous task, and the campaign could go very wrong. Yet, he was sworn by an oath he made with Markem. They were not only allies by the hollow words between fellow rats, but bound by an oath to the very seasons themselves. Markem had negotiated that deal with the aid of Scarl. The two were bound now, and when Markem had called for a uniting of all his allies and vassals into a single entity, Hazul readily agreed. He was no loyalist to Markem, but the rat had a power, and he was convinced something divine watched over him. His brother Kajam however, had served partly in Markem's horde, and returned a more experienced creature. He was more than ready to serve the brown clattered horde.

"This is a clan matter, and the seasons are kind to us." The rats were hesitant.

"Markem will lead the horde straight into a trap, like Pelg's horde did!"

"The brown rat be smart, a strange one, but smart. We should join our spears with his!"

"Nay! This be not our war! Let the rotten one rot!"

"He gave us a home, let us repay his kindness with our blood!"

The clamor grew louder as Kajam unsheathed his sword and slammed it into the table, cracking it in half. He angry spat at the rats "Nay! No more clan matters! We put this decision to the spirits!"

"I agree. We cannot go without the spirit's blessing anyway. Dala! Bring the herbs, and you lot. Fetch the sacred wood!"

Dala did as her lord commanded and took out several veils of richly hewn glass. The rats brought runed logs of wood and threw into a central fire pit as the others began to put out the torch light in the grim hall. The whole area went dark as the rats watched closely. Dala threw three veils into the central fire pit, the last one lighting up with a blue flame which arose in the room. The fire smelled terrible, but Hazul began to give a low gutteral chant as he watched on with religious fervor. Dala danced around the flame, the water rats struggling to not contain their fright and admiration. Dala stopped, shifted her eyes up and spoke with a strange voice.

"The spirits Hazul. The spirits from the beyond speak to me!"

"What do they say! What do they demand of the tribe! Speak!" Hazul demanded

"You must go to war. You must aid Markem Brownnose. Find the Sword for which goodbeast hides in the red walled keep, an' claim it as your own! Find the shining star of metal yewn, a great power lies within for you to take oh rat! Oh sorcerer! Or king of Veekun's Burrow! Bring out your armies, join them to the brown clad horde!" The puffs of the blue flame disappeared as the rats looked on with awe. Hazul closed his eyes, letting out a muffled prayer as darkness enshrouded the room.
_

Hazul was joined by the Burrow Guard in the center of the tribal settlement. All he saw was the faces of the tribe, young water rats looked on with the vain hope of becoming strong warriors, the rat wives held their young ones close. There were few slaves in Veekun's Burrow, most of them were not laborers, but skilled craftsmen which was lacking in the tribe. Squirrels, mice, and hedgehogs who had the unfortunate luck of being captured by the water rats were covered in the vermin's tattoos, most branded with Hazul's dark paw mark. The sorcerer climbed onto a trashy podium in the middle of the settlement, wide eyed and in the heat of fervor.

"The spirits give us vision! They have made their case and I have made my decision! The call of our gods is clear, my clan! Gather your spears, dig up your swords, give one last look upon your children! A sore day for us lot, for we march to war! We march to the cursed abbey of our ancient enemy! We march to the drums of battle an' sound!" The Burrow guard began to play a tribal tune, as the rats began to clatter their weapons in frenzy. "You will eat vittles from the seat of the gods, the seasons will grant ye strong land to tend too! Long have our blessed allies, the brownnosed rat, made us strong. Now it is time for us to prepare for a final conflict, as our visions foretell!"

All of the tribe, and even the slaves who slinked back into the shadows of the gloomy settlement knew what he had meant. Hazul talked of little else.

"Long have the seasons damned much of us, and long we have suffered and bled for our lands! Let not a single of one of you be found wanting, my brethren! Let none of us slink into the eastern shore, fleeing with our tails between our legs! I ask you all, here and now, to fight for your tribe! To fight for the Great Vermin Band! Glasium Vak Gadus!"

The creatures of eastern Mossflower who toiled in Hazul's horde, he was speaking gibberish, but to the foreign water rats, they sounded like a triumphant echo, shouting the phrase.

"Death an' Glory! Death an' Glory!" The echo vast echo sounded. Horns and drums were called as Hazul called for his banner, mixed in beneath Markem's new found brown banner. Soon they would go to war, as Hazul shouted. Soon he would lay eyes on the cursed abbey of Redwall, and bring down the ancient spirit which laid inside. A trembling shadow was reaching across Mossflower, as Hazul and his army marched to Gholand.

Markem was in his room, half naked with only his pants on, as a rabbit in rags was looking him over. The rabbit was frightened to be sure, but he was well trusted, even with the rope collar on his neck signifying him as a common slave to Markem's horde. The rabbit slowly lifted his arm, examining it "A-and you say it-it tickles? Here?" He pressed his paw lightly with Markem's upper shoulder. The rat shuddered and he quickly pulled back. 'Dirt' stood by as he usually did, but was more relaxed. The rabbit looked through a pack of small herbal remedies and medicines, picking out the best he thought would be a proper dose to calm down his pain.

The rabbit is named Trejan, and he was a former healer of the Long Patrol who was in Veekun's Burrow along with a small division of Long Patrol. Markem had brought many from that settlement to work as slaves to his horde, and despite being slaves, Trejan was relieved that many were not abused, and some even protected, by Markem. The rabbit's newest, and more permanent patient, was the rat, who suffered from a bone fracture which has been healing for seasons, and despite his best efforts, Markem's shoulder was still troubled.

"Aye, I think the medicine stopped workin ya gave. That stuff gives me shivers."

"I-it should, Markem." Tajen could be quite casual. 'Dirt' got to know the rabbit fairly well, a Mossflower creature who had joined the Long Patrol as a medic, and was fairly good at it. 'Dirt' commented "Maybe it's stress. You are going on campaign soon."

"Stress. That can do that?" Markem asked curiously. Trejan nodded "Y-yes, Markem. Stress can do a lot of strange things to the body. I will give you a stronger dose of what you were already taking, but my. . my best. . ." The rabbit gulped in fear. Markem tried to calm him down, knowing he often lived in the fear of the rat and other vermin, as he could fumble his words for hours before getting to a point. "Speak slowly Trejan, ya among friends here."

"Sorry, sir. My best solution is to. . .just. . .well. . .take a good rest, you know? Sit down and take it easy."

Markem sighed "Sadly I cannot. Thank you for advice though, Trejan. Return to yer infirmary and get me that medicine when ya can." The rabbit prepared his medicine from the pouch, giving Markem a small pouch of herbs which would hopefully dole his pain. He drank it with a pitcher of water and coughed. 'Dirt' looked on as he left.

"You really going to conquer all of Mossflower?" commented 'Dirt'. The rat stood up, and began putting on his clothes. He snapped his paws at 'Dirt' who came to attention and began helping him put on his armor and warlord uniform. Markem looked out the window, looking at Gholand below.

"Me an' Scarl decided this some time back, ya may have overheard it."

"I don't really listen to what you or scarl say behind closed doors. I just make sure no one disturbs you two." 'Dirt' reminded him.

"Well. I suppose. I don't want to conquer Mossflower as' much as expand me lands. Look out there 'Dirt'. I be buildin a new place fer vermin kind, and I ain't gettin any younger. When I am gone, who will look to Gholand? I fear a day I will not live to see me wife or children rule Gholand, and live in a world where they must fear badger an' hare comin down from the mountains in the west to kill em. I'm goin to make Mossflower our home, as it should be." The otter didn't question him as he finished up. Markem and 'Dirt' strode outside, the rat looking around.

"I want to see a better world, 'Dirt'. One which me people, rats an' weasels, foxes an' ferrets, all live good lives. I've seen too many of em' die, 'Dirt'. Too many of em killed not by woodlanders, but their own. I grew up marchin an' howlin to the beat of a drum, an' I longed fer just a good bite to eat. Now that I got it, I don't want me descendents to ever live like I use to. Travelen between horde to horde, beggin fer food, treated like slaves. They may call me weak behind me back, plot an' plan, but as one force I am goin to show them an alternative. I am goin to try me luck at fighting the Long Patrol."

"Didn't you leave Pelg's horde for that reason, as I remember?" 'Dirt' reminded him. It was a jest, but he reminded himself of his near escape. He thought of that day at times, had he just hidden and stayed, he and his brother would have been taken to Tussock and be free. Yet, fate again was cruel to him.

"Aye, but there be a big difference. Pelg wasn't prepared, over confident in his own. He grew his horde to take Tussock's loot for his own. I got a plan, a bigger an' easier plan. An' a lot of allies to boot!"

"You are right, sir. However, I still can't help but pity. . .everyone else." 'Dirt' knew all too well what fate all of Mossflower would receive should the great host invade Mossflower, the misery they would bring. Yet Markem reassured his servant. "This will be different. No more murder. No cruelty unless needed. There won't be any more incidents if I can help it." The words didn't reassure 'Dirt', but he could only meekly nod for now.

The two were about to be off, up until Scarl came into the court of the keep, a smile on his face.
_

"Ya broke him?" Markem looked a bit shocked as he sat a table. Scarl shrugged "It took. . .a lot of prodding, a little mutilation, and threats, but I think I got em to talk." Markem wasn't sure if he should be impressed or disgusted. His ferret friend, and spymaster of his whole horde, was soon spilling out information.

"400 Hares live in Tussock, but that ain't including all the smaller divisions of around five or ten which have outposts all around the central east. They were buildin smaller barracks in and around the River Moss, ironically tryin to keep creatures like Hazul away. They don't patrol out here often ya know, so know that little event a few nights ago was entirely by accident."

"You sayin that assassination wasn't sanctioned?"

"Our luck indeed. They must have been emboldened by our squirrel prisoner outside the walls."

'Dirt' listened. He had become used to these kinds of morbid conversations, even though they continue to prod and gore at his heart. He sat emotionless next to Markem and Scarl, simply obeying and watching for trouble. Markem scratched his head. "400 Long Patrol, eh? I don't even like them numbers. A single division of them is terrifying enough, especially with help. Each hare be worth ten of me own elite soldiers."

"Aye, but, we do know other specifics. The hares we know don't know our full numbers, an' likely, they don't even know we united all of eastern Mossflower's warlords under our banner. We can use to our advantage."

Markem began to think, getting at Scarl's point "I see. We'll reveal our army, an' use the other warlords to close the distance. We'll strike them all at once, get at' the Hares before we even move out, but we gotta take der fort quickly if we are to get at those lands. Those forests be crawlin with possible recruits, an' settlements. We don't want em' to escape so quickly."

"Aye. However, that isn't all." Scarl frowned a bit. He got comfortable, as Markem prepared himself for whatever bad news his friend would give him.

"The Long Patrol had been trackin more then just our movements Markem, but others. Did ya know every slave caravan from the north had been passin westward? Towards the sea? Vermin in the west, the tribals an' gangs, had been disappearin. It ain't the purges of ol', when Kasg died either. Somethin is happen out in the western sea, an' I got no eyes or ears to know what it is."

"The Hares know though, right?"

"Nay, which is the scary part, chief."

Markem grunted "Could be pirates actin up again, the sea scum were active I heard in Kasg's day, especially towards the end. Maybe they are gatherin strength again?"

"Maybe, but thats the thing, we don't know."

"Ya think there be some grand Horde out there? In the west?"

Scarl shrugged "I'd like to find out. I wanna send out Jarolom and a division to investigate. Past Jusbrag, near Noonvale. I'd like to know."

Markem gave a reassuring nod "More allies in me opinion. More the merrier, but all the more mysterious. Gather ol' Jarolom up an send him. He has a week before to return, cause we march soon, before the Long Patrol get wise to our movements."

'Dirt' gave a rare interruption "What about the hare himself?" He felt concern and pity for what he heard had happened to the creature. Scarl smiled a demon's smile at the otter, disturbing him to his core.

"He ain't worth much time, I'll have me boys drop em' off at a farmstead to tend to himself, but we won't be goin nowhere any time soon. Shakin as he is. Missing too much, lost his honor an' his code of conduct once I was done with him. The poor lad might just end himself if given that chance. I doubt ya want him skulken around camp, Markem."

"Agreed. If ya think that be good an' smart, I'll believe ya. Do so, and do so quickly."
_

Lefen was mortified. He had seen a lot of terrible things. Orphans and children dragged off by Markem's horde to work and toil, mothers crying out for slain family, even cruel and vicious deaths. Yet, what he saw from his small wooden cage outside of Gholand's east gate chilled him to his very bone. A Hare, barely recognizable, was being led out on a rope lead, completely soulless and mindfully gone from the world, trying to keep onto his last shreds of dignity. He was bloodied, missing an ear, with several toes and nails on his paws were missing. One of his eyes was just gone, taken away from him by Skabit's cruelty. He limped away, the guard not struggling to bring him along. Lefen was quick to know what happened, and could not bring himself to curse the hare. He pitied him too much. Lefen was losing much of his hope, angry at the vermin for all number of things, but being trapped in a cage while more vermin joined his enemy, dragging behind their ill gotten gains, made him frothing mad. He was tired of being mad. By the time night had fallen, he was fast asleep, stewing in anger. The guard who watched him shifted out, and a new figure he had not seen before came up and stood near him.

Lefen turned to see a ferret scratching and clawing at his armor which was more fit for a rat. The other guard he had replaced was suspicious of him, having never seen him before. Yet, there were many new faces in Gholand now, and he was hungry. The new guard looked over at the guards at the gate, and realized he was fairly alone with Lefen. The gate guard were vigilant, but were soon distracted by an angry group of vermin from Luzgot's horde who came out of the gates.

"Aye, Ol' Luzgot should be free I says!"

"Oi! You two, why don't ya do somethin about this travesty, eh?"

The guards were not to be bothered, and they made it clear to the small rabble. It was a good distraction as the ferret walked over to Lefen's cage and began cutting into it was a knife. Lefen only looked on surprised at this impromptu rescue, and by a vermin no less.

"Me master Luzgot sends his regard, bush tail. Ya are to get out, an' get out swiftly. Ya know where to head to?"

Lefen didn't directly answer "Aye, not that it is your concern, ferret."

The ferret squirmed as he struggled to cut the ropes of the cage "Luzgot likes ya, rebel. He wants ya to join him in Luzland, or near it. When ya go back to yer group, and we know you gots a big crew of former slaves, ya need to aid ol' Luzgot ya hear?"

"Aye? Why should I help that tyrant?"

"Its either him, or Markem, squirrel." The ferret got finished "An make sure if ya meet the boss, tell him his ol' mate Garzlo did a good job? This whole thing be taken aw-" Lefen was already making a break for it and was off into the forest. The sentries had thankfully not noticed, as the rabble who had been distracting the guards were busy. Garzlo abandoned his gear, ran a circle around Gholand and came through another gate. He had done his master's bidding well. Little did he know, Lefen had been also circling Gholand, watching the ferret re-enter the vermin settlement.

Lefen had known the tyrant of Luzland for some time, a distant and near coastal vermin settlement which was far off from Gholand. He heard tales of the cruelty of Luzgot and his father, but at least they had stayed docile in their barbarity. Markem was doing something else, far more evil in Lefen's eyes. If Luzgot was going to challenge his superior, then it was worth the deal. In the dead of night, Lefen left for the rally point in eastern Mossflower, to find his group and rally them.
_

Scarl was looking over the wooden cage, with a sleepy guard still rubbing his head. The ferret wasn't exactly happy, but he wasn't surprised either. Lefen was clever, and his first time escape had taught Scarl a valuable lesson in keeping such a dangerous prisoner. He should have kept him under several guards.

"Ya were bonked on the head? Do ya know who it might have been?" Scarl asked the unfortunate guard.

"I think it been a ferret, sir. Lengthy cretan. Looked like a Mossflower vermin he did." The guard wasn't feeling endangered. Markem's policies towards slaying vermin was extremely lax, if not non-existent. Scarl always thought these policies were just Markem having a softness towards his fellow hordebeasts, but he came to appreciate this rule. His own head would have been on the line at a certain point had Markem not thought slaying vermin for failures was an unacceptable punishment.

"Doesn't tell me much. Odd that Luzland vermin be out here so conveniently." Scarl noted to himself. His thinking was interrupted when Jarolom and Niala came out the gates with twenty other vermin. They had been getting ready for Scarl's orders. Jarolom angrily sneered. "We should have killed em' Scarl, or took a leg."

"Maybe, can't do that now though. I'll consider it next time."

"There shouldn't even be a next time Scarl." Jarolom snapped "Lefen an' his slave beasts are bandits to us, they should be treated as such?"

Scarl gritted his fangs and raised his voice to Jarolom, having not done so in a while. "Ya have yer orders Jarolom, now get to it." Scarl was off. Jarolom may have been a common vermin, who would have mocked and berated the frustrated Ferret, even goaded him, but he had nearly blurted out for apology. He collected himself and led his expedition forward. Things were moving along all too nicely, and the Great Vermin Band got ever closer to starting their campaign.