A/N: Hi guys, glad the twist was well-recieved (honestly you have no idea how much I've stressed over that...) Or maybe you do XD I shouldn't underestimate your intellect.

Dear Abrahem,

To be fair the Skipper wasn't really thinking clearly. He probably didn't even notice that Fret was a kid to begin with. Though there is no point in arguing that Badgerlord Umber is an honourable guy (in direct contrast to Greyclaw's belief of badgers). Sebias of Redwall put it well.

Eh, maybe it was kind of obvious but that's in my opinion, preferable to an out-of-thin-air twist. To be fair I don't think I made it *too* obvious but at the same time it seems I will have to be a bit less heavy-handed next time. I did debate removing the 'Skip's alive' scene's for the sake of secrecy... But then I liked it. Ah well, it wasn't really meant to blow your mind- just change perspectives a little.

That was actually something I was considering for a while (since hybrids in Redwall are possible and somewhat commonplace- there was a Weasel-rat I think and a Weasel-ferret etc) but ultimately I dropped that since this story was complicated enough already without bringing Blaggut's descendants into this.

Funny how you get so much info from TV Tropes- I love that website XD.

Dear Lord demon,

Well there won't be any goblins *here* per say, I was thinking more along the lines of for a Halloween special (a tradition of mine for some reason). The thing about Savages that's a bit strange is that they don't really fit in with the low-magic setting of Redwall (sure there are ghosts and prophecies but at least half the seers are fake and there aren't exactly fireballs flying around). I don't want to tell you too much more but the whole plot of Black, White and Smothered In Pumpkin kind of leans on this story's ending (which is... Quite a ways off... so... Just hang in there. (Since I can't really stick the ending here... Removes the ahem, emotional weight of it).

Now... Where's that chapter gone?

Browneye was sick. Being first-mate was really not all it was cracked up to be. Of course his sudden promotion hadn't helped in the slightest. Many of the crew probably missed the old one, or had hoped to replace them. One startingly pretty she-rat had been rather polite, though. No doubt she had wanted to enter into his good graces. She'd shown him the ropes rather well- told him all about how she was at his service if he needed anything and explained that the first mate's very important job was to stay up in the crow's nest and make sure to keep an eye out.

Clogg had chosen him for the job- he'd even been considering it for a while even.

Of course the job description hadn't said anything about dry biscuits for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Or about sea-waves as tall as mountains. Or about curling up in the crow's nest, shivering your fur off while you could hear laughter from down below. His new shipmates at least, were enjoying themselves…

"Daft little land-lubber isn't 'e?" Giggled Scringewhiskers. Darkhide had just told her mates all about how she'd tricked the poor, naive 'first-mate' into climbing up to the crow's nest.

"That's putting it lightly mate. I told 'im he has to stay up there all day and snore with one eye open. Very important job ye know. Especially when all there's to look at's the sea."

They laughed again.

"He ain't the only land-lubber though, is he?" Fleaback pointed with his muzzle, at the large, green-faced form of Bork. The wolverine was not born for the sea either, it seemed, and had spent most of the journey so far taking up perilous amounts of deck. He had even taken to skipping meals- a living nightmare for the glutton.

"Humph, still not sure why we're taking the fat little princess in the first place- he's just a bigger Whimper. Only he expects ye to lick his arse."

"At least he ain't no unwanted bad-luck bringing baby."

"Not too sure about that Flea." Darkhide cocked her head slightly in the Prince's direction. "His daddy insisted he come. And ye know how it is when he insists his sons leave." She traced a line along her neck to cement the picture.

"Ah, so he's just a corpse then?" Scringe giggled. "Hope he keeps skippin' meals then- no point waistin' good vittles on a deadbeast."

"He might be useful fer raidin' though. Bet no door could keep him out." The she-rat shrugged. "But who am I to speak? Bork, Whimper. We're better off without the brats with great fathers."

"Speaking of Whimper, how's the new one doin'?"

Darkhide shook her head. "Testin' the Captain's patience. Proof he's gone soft really… couple of seasons ago he'd have flayed that ferret. All things considered... We might need a change in leadership."

The air seemed to drop three temperatures, so that all around them lay an icy mist.

"Yer talkin' mutiny." Scringe whispered, making sure nobeast else was within earshot.

"Aye. And nobeast'll care. All of last voyage Clogg was up in 'is cabin, playin' with his pet. He'll do the same this time. The rest of the crew don't love 'im more than I do. Anyhow we won't need 'im after we're finished. Captain might just slip on the way back North."

There was a long pause as all three mulled this over. At last Fleaback spoke. "We'll do it… I'll help ye gut 'im. But ye do the first stab. Then we're with ye."

"Speak fer yerself addlebrain. If he's gone soft, why're we whisperin', eh? I'm with ye if ye do it- but ye only do it if'n ye can prove he's not our Captain anymore. Challenge him, go on. See who's real soft inside. Now drop this. We're not doin' it now anyways."

"No! No! No! No! No! No! Ye do not say anythin' at any point in the conversation."

"But shouldn't I try an' win the Captain's over? Go on about my father- Mad-Eye Marik, the greatest warlord whatever lived. Shouldn't I inspire them by example?"

Clogg gritted his teeth and rubbed his only good eyelid. "Ye don't win creatures over by braggin' about how many times ye've been in bed with somebeast pretty. We're dealin' with pirates. Real pirates that don't dress in silk like princesses an' feel the need te show-off." Clogg paced over to his books, his foot tapping impatiently on the ground as he chose his documents.

"We're dealin' with things like this." He slammed a small collection of parchment in front of the fake Whimper. "The Manywhispers." He pointed at a wildcat, his face covered in jagged lines of battle, and sharp, white whiskers that spread out like a slider's web. "Got eyes an' ears everywhere."

He presented another page, and pointed at what looked like an insane, multi-coloured rat... Which described the Dreaded pretty well. "Covered in beads, the largest rat ye ever saw. Been te more places then ye can count. And fer every place he's raided he adds a bead."

"Very impressive." The burly ferret shoved the papers aside.

Clogg growled. "Don't ye get it? There ain't no point bragging if one already knows more about ye than ye do. An' if the others already done it."

"But I happen to be the son of Mad-Eye Marik. And was he not, a greater beast than they?" He stood up and stretched his paws wide. "Southwards, the Northlands, Mossflower Country- even the badgers in Salamandastron shook at the sight of his sails. Ye were with 'im. Ye know it to be true."

Clogg leaned forwards so that his eye could better ensnare the young ferret's pair. "Keep sayin' yer Marik's son an' it'll start to smell real fishy."

"Fishy? Yer acting like I'm lying. But for all you know, I could be. I'm an orphan. I was with his horde when he died. Perhaps I just got lost in all the chaos."

"Yer too old." Clogg snapped impatiently.

"How would ye know? Didn't he bed any women?"

Clogg's foot beat the ground like a drum. "Yer not Marik's son and as soon as ye stop foolin' yerself an' start foolin' others the better."

"Humph… can I at least change my name then? Give myself a name worthy of a warlord."

"No." Here he left no room for argument.

"But Whimper's a runts name!"

"It's supposed to be yer name until ye earn a new one! So we ain't changin' it."

The ferret opened his mouth to argue- but Clogg waved him away. "Go ask Darkhide fer somethin' to do, I ain't got time fer this."

'Whimper' left with a furrowed brow and a snarl, and slammed the door shut behind him.

"Marik's son." Clogg spat. "I find that unlikely." And he would... He knew Marik's son better than anybeast else alive.

"He's small." The burly ferret complained. "And scrawny." He kept the stupid, grinning baby ferret at arm's length. "I don't want it."

"Humph." His wife, known to most as Slit-Eye the Slit-Throat, snatched the thing back. "I go through all the trouble of givin' ye an heir an' ye don't want 'im. Pah, some warlord ye are."

"I want an heir." Snapped Marik. "But not… whatever that is. He'll probably be dead by mornin'. No muscle. No-"

"Give the babe a break Marik. He's two weeks old, not even yew had muscles then." Clogg threw his paws out. "Here, let me hold him."

Slit-Eye, who was not the best kind of mother, thrust the silent babe into the rat's waiting paws.

Clogg promptly tossed it into the air, amidst shouts of alarm and dismay. He caught the giggling babe without difficulty, laughing himself as both parents sighed in relief. He brought it in close and wriggled his nose until the young ferret bit it. The rat laughed harder. "He'll be a pirate one day, mark my words."

"Yes, well… I hope he's more than just a pirate." Marik snapped impatiently. "Now what shall we call him? I haven't got all day- the Dreaded grows impatient.

"Marik Junior, the Scrawny Wonder." Clogg cackled, as he wrestled with the infant desperate to nibble his nose off.

"How about Whimper?" Suggested Split-Eye, as she pried her baby off of the rat's snout.

"Huh?" His eyes could not help but widen slightly. Marik scoffed.

"Well, he goes by Clogg now, might as well call something Whimper. What'd ye say, eh 'Clogg'?"

"Geez Split... I-I dunno what ter say. I'd be hono-"

"It's not meant t' onor ye, stupid. It's a baby name. When he's older he can give himself a proper name. Something that ain't so stupid." The ferret snapped making Clogg go pink. "But for now he can be our Whimper."

"A fitting name." Said Marik coldly, his bad eye rolling out of sight. "For a runt."

Clogg recovered quickly and resumed his game with the baby- who now bore his former name. Whimper.

How long had he been there? How many days had passed since he'd sent Momchillo scurrying to freedom? Had it even been days? And not weeks? Or months? Perhaps it had been seasons… It was not like he would ever find out. He was stuck in a barrel. In a cellar. Farther North than he had ever been.

It was a torturous state to be in. Complete discomfort that went paw in paw with the perpetual desire to vomit. He wasn't even sure what he hated more. The stench or the confined space. The barrel had but one hole it it, out of which dangled one of his feetpaw. He could hear the crackling of a bright fire nearby, but the warmth only brought further discomfort. Sweat poured out from him like rain from a rain cloud, and filled his tiny cage with a thick cloud of foul-smelling steam.

He had resisted all torture so far, but the hare had played especially low today. He had asked all the usual questions.

'What did the Honest Bunch do?'

'Describe Gulash.'

'Describe Threeclaw.'

'Did you steal a mouse?'

'Did you steal a squirrel?'

'A young hare?'

'Tiny shrew?'

'Ferret?'

'Vole?'

'Mole.'

And Deathglare gave him the same reply- devoid of any of the smugness he'd managed to retain the first time. "You can't steal mice. They're persons, not valuables."

He'd been stuffed into the barrel for that. And worse still was what came after.

"Better out than in, eh Jon?"

He had known, of course he'd known, that this was Deathglare's barrel. And he'd still ignored his muffled screaming and kicking feetpaw, and let the dumb, drunk mouse puke all over him. Damned hare. One day he'd lose more than an eye.

The Long Patrol General or whatever he was, showed no mercy after that either. He'd pulled one of his flailing legs through the stopper in the barrel lid- and with brutal force had proceeded to tickle him.

Deathglare had seen dibbuns do it to each other all the time. But a full-grown hare that had no doubt a hundred badges to brag of… it was almost silly. But it wasn't silly. It was painful and humiliating. Any and all laughter was stuck in his gagged-snout, forcing him to snigger- his whole body convulsing and hitting odd angles of his filthy prison. His empty stomach shaking like a rag in a gale, reminding him that he could not remember the last time he'd eaten. And then he'd pissed himself. And then he'd found himself crying. Not because it stunk- though that did upset his nose. But because any semblance of control he could convince himself he had, vanished on the spot. He couldn't even control his bladder- let alone his destiny.

And so the convulsing and kicking had stopped, replaced now by whimpering and tears that he would have wiped away in shame had anyone been looking.

Suddenly his barrel shifted and the lid came off. The dismal light of a small fire forced him to squint, or else go blind. He was lifted by the tail this time, and dumped into another barrel.

This one was filled with ice-cold water and made Deathglare scream and thrash. He did not want to drown- there were so many better ways of dying… he didn't want to die at all to be honest.

But to his surprise he was then wrenched from the icy depths and dumped unceremoniously before the fire. His bonds were cut and his gag removed and the remains of an old sail were thrown over him to act as a makeshift towel.

A bowl was then shoved into his shaking paws. An extremely thin slice of bread, small lumps of what could have been anything from chunks of potatoe to sausages of a very oily fish, and a ladleful of soup that stunk of rotten mushroom.

"Alright vermin, wot. We can do this two ways. I can keep starving you and messing with your feetpaws and whatnot until you tell me the whole truth. Or you can answer honestly now and spare me the trouble."

"So either way I die?" He asked after a moment 's pause.

The hare seemed to mull this over for a while before he gave his very stiff reply. "You put too much value on your own flesh and blood vermin. But, answer me honestly and you shan't die by my paw. On my honor as a hare of the Long Patrol."

"And if I don't?"

"Well it's back in the barrel with you and once I've broken you… well some would say death would be a mercy, wot."

Deathglare knew intimidation. He was a master at it- and you had to be if you didn't have real skill behind you. But still chills went up his spine and turned his blood to ice. Because it was not a threat- the hare had spoken only the truth, his only eye never once leaving Deathglare's own good one.

More for something to do, the marten munched at his dismal supper. Hungry though he was the food did little to satisfy his gurgling belly.

"What do you want to know?" Came his voice at last.

"Where's the dibbuns? And don't lie. I know the 'Honest Bunch' is what got 'em, wot."

There was a long pause wherein One-Eye glared at the black-furred vermin, who for the first time since he'd been a scrawny child, radiated nothing but fear.

"There was one molemaid- she's back at the abbey safe and sound now." The hare said slowly.

"G-good." Gulped his target.

"We're only missing a shrew, a vole, a hare- my own son don'tcha know- a squirrel, a hedgehog and a mouse." At that moment Connington stumbled over and nearly fell into the flames. Fleetfoot set him down against the cellar floor. "Oh and a ferret I suppose."

Deathglare was shaking so much now that the bowl of vittles fell from his paws and cracked against the ground. Neither seemed to notice.

"You are going to tell me exactly what happened. How you got the young 'uns and how you lost them and most importantly-" the hare leaned in as close as the fire allowed him to. The glaring inferno made him seem like nothing less than a beast right out of Hellgates. "How I can find them."

Deathglare started from the beginning. Despite his fear he managed to distance himself from the words so that it all came in dull monotone. "Well, one day Sharpfur and Greyclaw came back from fishing. They said they had met a ferret who lived at Red- your abbey. Well, we didn't believe them until a few weeks later they dragged him over to our camp. Weird little thing, he acted… well like a rude little woodlander. Then me and Threeclaw found the other young ones, they seemed to be looking for him. And we thought-"

Here he hesitated, unwilling to incriminate himself lest the hare go back on his word. "We thought we could ransom them for rations if supplies got short. Far easier to trade then to raid. But we got a message from a mute rat, and he said we had to go North, so we headed South-kids in tow. A week or so passed, we kept our… ah… guests, fed and watered. They were all healthy and in high spirits- thought it was only a matter of time before you came to rescue 'em."

Except the shrew had had a nasty wound on his shoulder, one that had gone bad. Threeclaw's doing, dumb stoat.

"Then we were attacked and…" he paused again- not daring to even glance at the hare. "We lost track of the children. It was a hard battle but I'm no fighter and… when I woke up most of me shipmates were dead or gone. Your kids too, unfortunately. The mouse was with us too and… well we looked after him for a while. Made sure he was alright and stuff. We got here and were separated, so it was just me and the mouse. Tough lad, I'll give him that. Never backed down. Got half a hundred lashings for it, but it never stopped him. And his spirits were high. Kept going on about Martin the Warrior or somewhat like that. Said he was a slave once."

This was the same mouse he'd captured, tied to a mast and had sent to his death. What fool thought that a child, not even on the cusp of adulthood, could somehow go through the ice and snow and everything else between here and Redwall... alone. He'd been desperate sure, but that was just an excuse for his stupidity.

"And then he vanished. Escaped. Left us all in the dead of night. Baffled the slavemaster it did, n-not even I know how he got out. He escaped and they blamed me for it. Sentenced me to freeze to death or get eaten alive. I escaped and… got shoved into a barrel."

There was an extremely long pause, wherein the only sound was the crackling of the fire.

"And you too, were flabbergasted by his great escape, wot?"

Deathglare stared intent at the burning wood- the remnants of an old barrel. "Yes."

Silence slunk in and stretched itself out for eternity.

It was a lot to take in for Fleetfoot. On one paw it contradicted the molemaid's story- apparently it hadn't all been the fault of Connington's nephew. But the marten didn't gain anything from lying.

"So none of the children are here?"

"None."

"And your crew? How many of them are here?" He could not trust vermin- but he could trust that they hated their captors more than him. A plan was forming in the cunning hare's mind.

"Three others. Two weasels in the kitchen and one in… threading… I think." Deathglare's eyes were narrowing now. How did that question serve the hare?

"Well… you hear that Connington ole chap? We're leaving!"

Deathglare blinked, and for the first time since he'd begun talking, he locked eyes with the hare.

"And I'm going to need your help, wot."

Deathglare widened his eyes. "I-"

"You don't really have a choice you know, old chap. You either help me out or I barrel you. But riddle me this, how many beasts does it take to man a boat?"

Footnote: A bit of a shorter chapter but I didn't want to delve too deeply into Deathglare's torture and I didn't feel like this was a scene worth extending too much. It's mostly a set-up/recap chapter. The next few one's are gonna center around the after-effects of Fret and Momchillo's escape, plus the sudden emptiness of the castle (since all the pirates just left).

Funnily enough Deathglare was always destined to get tortured (though the methods... Greatly varied from version to version...). But it's funny how some things changed so much and... Some things always stay the same XD. Poor Death. Though ultimately this was preferable to... Other gruesome things.

The most fun thing to write however, was Clogg's flashback. Not sure if you're all a fan of flashbacks but the next chapters are going to have a couple of them. In order to expand upon my... Rather large cast if I may say so myself.