Stories & Missions

The sky was a beautiful blue, just for Nameday. It looked like the river the season had been named for. It was warm enough to have the feast outside, and the tables were set up under the apple trees. On them was a magnificent spread, which I can hardly do justice to. The fruit trees were putting forth nlossoms, and everything was wonderful. Except, of course, for Strawler, who was, as usual, in trouble. He was sentenced to work in the hot kitchens. On a warm spring day, the kitchen is not the place to be. Strawler tried to be good, he really did. But, he fell into the moles depper n'ever pie, ate all the candied chestnuts, (by accident, of course)and knocked over the cellar keeper, wjo was bringing up a rare cordial. He was banished to the orcgard to pick fruits. Of course, he didn't get to pickl the fruits, he just got to carry them into the kitchen. Then, no one could find him. Finally, Skipper found him, in the gatehouse, eating god strawberries. They locked him in there. Strawler looked out the window. He could see his friends playing and eating in the sun, while he languished in this stupid gatehouse. He kicked one of the Record Books open, to reveal, a marvelous looking mouse, with a sword stuck into the ground next to him. OH, he was handsome. Strawler made a private bet with himself that no one ever locked Martin in a gatehouse. He kicked the book again. It flew across the room, hit the wall, and fell to the floor. Strawler gaped at the wall, for where the book had hit it, was a large hole in the wall. And in that hole, was Martin the Warrior. But no more fancy dress, no, now he was in a plain habit, scrubbing some pans. Abbess Tansy was getting worried about Strawler. Usually, by now, he was screaming to be let out. She decided to dlip away and check on him. When she entered the gatehouse, she saw Strawler, fast asleep, like the dibbun that he was. She smiled, and carried him out of the gatehouse. Martin watched them go, with a smile on his placid face. ----- Note: When Starwler grew up, he became Abbey Warrior and did much good for the Community. ----- by Thistledown

Mission #3, Foremole finds a scroll in the ground.

I gazed at the old oarchment. The writing, if that's what it was, made no sense to me. I studied it every night. I realized there was one symbol that repeated itself every three words. After turning the parchment sideways, I realized this symbol looked somewhat like an arrow. This scroll must say something about war, I assumed. The other symbols didn't come as often as the first, but they too resembled weapons. There was a dager, a sword, a bow, and an axe. This parchment may have been a declaration of war, I thought. I walked towards the gatehouse, where all the history is kept. I went back to the earliest days possible. I found a parchment as old as the one found by Foremole. All it was was a primitive drawing of a battle taking place. I talked to th Ancient One. He told me of a great war. A war where only certain weapons were allowed to be used, such as bows and arrows, daggers, swords, and axes. This war was fought to free all woodlanders of vermin. For vermin had enslaved every one of them, until the war came and banned the vermin from Mossflower. This scroll was merely a declaration of war, as I had guessed.

?

Same Mission As Above

"Hmm...Lemme se...Does anybeast have glasses? I can't make it out." A mouse came over and handed me a pair."Thanks," I put them on and peered at the scroll again. "It says here...umm...wait, I got it! Gimme something to write on!" Foremole walked over and handed me a parchment,"Ere ya go, zurr. Boy okey whats it say?" "Well,"I copied from the scroll and began to laugh. "What's so funny?" Thistledown had walked over without me realizing it."Hehehehehehe, lookit, hehohahahaha, yerselg! hehehehehehehahahahaahhohohoho." Thistledown looked down at the parchment and immediately broke out laughing. "Teehehehehee...good job Cartan...let's put that...teehehehehehee..somewhere safe!" By then all the beasts around me were becoming so curious that they were begging. "Ohhh, come on, show us!" "What's it say?" "Tell us zurr!""Okay okay. It says:

And it's sighned Rollo. " All the beasts around me broke up in laughter as I handed the parchment to Thistledown.

by Cartan Goldenfur

Ranir Limaf

"Stay away from them, scum!" "Oh-ho lookee here, a bold beast!" A tall brown weasel nicked the face of a red squirrel with his scimitar. "I don't think you're in any position to order me around, squirrel!" Indeed, the red squirrel, Rakin Limaf, wasn't in a very good at all. He had been captured, flogged, and chained by the weasel slaving band. Now he had to watch helpleslly as his very young son, Ranir Limaf, and wife, Marila Limaf, were dragged roughly to the slave line and chained near him. Ranir turned a worried face to his father. "Father? Are you okay?" His green eyes were wide. "I...I saw them whip you!" Rakin lifted Ranir's chin with his paw. "Now listen to me, young 'un. That whipping was the first in what wull be a long line of whippings for me, for your mum, for you," he told the young squirrel. "But Ranir, I want you to do one thing. Be brave. No matter what you see, no matter what happens to me, your mother, or you, or other slaves, be brave!" Rakin looked at his son tenderly. "You're so young, and you have to grow up so fast," he murmured sadly, half to himself. "I'll be brave, father," Ranir replied, his face serious

"GIT a movin! Go on, MOVE IT, mangy hides!" The whip cracked above the slave's heads as they awoke and started walking, chains rattling as they moved. The slave in front of Ranir, a young hare, stumbled. The slaves in line were all tripped up. The weasel with the whip peered at all the slaves, thendemanded, "Who fell?" The slaves were silent. Ranir remembered his father's words of the day before, and took a deep breath. "I did," he said. The weasel nodded. "All right, clumsy paws," he snarled. "Turn around!" Ranir did so, nd braced himself for the cutting blow of the whip. The weasel brought the blow down hard on his back, ripping the flesh. Ranir gasped and gritted his teeth- the pain was worde than he first thought it would be. The lash fell twice more, and then the weasel stopped. "Now, hope y've learned yer lesson, frogbrain!" he growled. "Now git movin, everybeast! We've got ter make a fox camp afore th' week's over!" After a few moments of walking, the hare in front of Ranir spoke up. "Thank ya fer takin' th' blame for me," she whispered. "Are ya bally well okay, chap?" Ranir nodded. "I'm all right," he said bravely, but his voice could not hide the pain the still bleeding lash marks were giving him. "I...I'm sorry," the hare apologized. The young squirrel shrugged, then winced as the movement caused fresh waves of pain over his back. "It's all right, you couldn't help tripping," he consoled her. "Quiet thar!" the weasel commanded, and they fell silent.

The days went by and the squirrel family's stomachs became shrunken and pinched with hunger, while their backs becmae criss-crossed with whip marks. At last the week was over. The slavers and slaves stopped in a dingy, dirty, shabby camp of patchy tents, rank with fox scent. The lead slaver called out to the seemingly-empty camp."Slaver band, comin' to sell slaves! Slybrush, y'told me y'wanted slaves, so come on afore I 'ave ter move on!" A big, lean fox with an axe showing under his tattered cloak sauntered over out of a tent. "Aye, 'tis ye, Floghide. Ah should 'ave known." The northerner turned to the tents. "Ach, ye c'n come out naow!" The rest of Slybrush's dangerous looking brood slunk out of their tents. They grinned maliciously at the sight of the slaves and began to take out trade items. Floghide held up a paw. 'Fraid I c'n only sell each of y'one slave, an' oly two fer you, Slybrush the Torturer! Got some wealthy vermin down the trail wi' more gold who need slaves," he said. the haremaid Ranir had helped earlier in the week gasped. "Slybrush the Torturer!" she whispered turning pale." He's known for cruelty an' bally ol' torturin'! All he wants us chpas fer is t'torture! Same goes fer 'is brood!" Ranir's eyes widened, fearul. "Th...that means..." "Quiet thar!" a slaver hisssed, cutting the young squirrel's face with his whip. Ranir glowered at the vermin, not even flinching. The haremaid nudged him. "Look, they're startin'!" Slybrush was first. He walked down the line, choosing a half-grown male badger and a burly male otter. There were somewhere around fifteen foxes and fifty slaves, but even so, the choosing took a while. A femlae fox chose a hare. Another fox picked out a young mousemaid. A second vixen bought a squirrel. So the bartering went. large mlae fox walked over to the haremaid. He looked her over carefully, then nodded to a slaver. Ranir sprang forward, but his father grabbed his chains causeing him to fall back. "I know it's hard to see a friend leave, son," Rakin murmured, "but there's nothing you can do! Stay calm and just wathc." Obediently, Ranir sat on the ground, green eyes smouldering at the foxes. He watched angrily as his father, the his mother were led away. Then a young, evil looking fox walked up to him. He looked at the young squirrel's rebellious eyes and laughed wickedly. "Floghide!" he called. the tall, brown weasel walked over. "Whaddaya ant, Takal?" he growled. The fox pointed to Ranir. "That 'un give ye a lot of trouble?" Floghide laughed mirthlessly. "Him? He took th' blame fer sumthin' somebeast did and didn't squak durin' th' whippin'. Oh yes, squirrel, I saw yer haremaid friend! Aye, this 'un's got a lot o' rebellious spirit." Takal laughed maliciously. "Aye, ah saw that in those scum colored eyes 'o his. Ha! He'll have a broken spirit when Ah'm done wi' him! Ah like th' fiery 'uns, they're a challenge! Ah'll take him." Floghide unchained the young red squirrel, and Takal put manacles on him, running from paws to neck. The fox jerked on the chain, causing Ranir to stumble forward. Takal tossed a bag of coins to Floghide, and marched off, his slave in tow.

That night was the beginning of what the brood called their annual "Torture Fest". The slaves were forced to build a circle's bordwe out of rocks, with fifteen large rocks for eats in various places around the circle. Then four bonfires were built around the circle. When this was finished, slaves were chained to a strong fence, which stretched from two fires, giving them an unobstructed view of the center of the ring. They were chained so they had to watch the center. A fox stood nearby with a whip. The slaves were unsure of why they were chained like they were, but they began to piece things together as the foxes sat on their places and Slybrush began talking. "It is the first night of out TortureFest! Aye, this year it'll last fer sixteen days! Ach, do ye know what'll 'appen if some slave escapes? Aye! Th' lads or lasses we choose'll go in their place! So be carefuo nbeast escapes! Naow, who's first t'torture a slave? Me! Aye, yore leader'll start an' finish. So...badger! Ye'll go last! Aye, save th' strongest fer last. Th' otter'll go first! Naow fer th' object o' th' game! I get th' slave ter bow an' break their spirit! Hey, otter? Will ye bow t'me?" Slybrush askedd. The otter stared steadily at him. "Never." "Ha! We'll see about that!" The guard fox grabbed Slybrush's brawny otter and unchained him from the fence. The woodlander was chained to a sturdy post in the center of the ring, Slybrush started with a thick whip. He raised it and let it fall five times, causing the otter to bite his tongue to keep from yelling. The fox brood leaned forward. To them, this was a "good one"- one who wouldn't cry out. Slybrush grinned wickedly and brought what was known as a "cat o' nine tails". This was a whip with five strands of rope on the end. Several lashes with the cat could tear a creature's back to shreds. Thirty or more could kill. However, the evil fox wanted to prolong the otter's suffering as long as he could. He brought the "cat" down on the otter's scarred back with all his might. Nobeast except perhaps a badger or a larger animal would be able to withstand the "cat". An agonized scream rent the air. Ranir and several other slaves closed their eyes. Swish, thwack! The whip of the guard fox descended on the faces of the slaves who weren't watching. The struck ones gasped in pain, and then watched the torture session as another scream sounded, given no other choice. The cat o' nine tails descended eight more times, ripping the otter's hide to shreds. Slybrush stopped when the otter slumped in his binds, unconscious, and motioned to a nearby fox. The fox stepped forward with a bucket of salt water and dumped it over the victim's head. The cold water revived dthe otter and the salt added to the pain. Yet the worst was still to come. Out of the fire, Slybrush drew a red-hot brand. Grinnig wickedly, he advanced on the otter, who's eyes filled with fear at the sight. The cruel fox pressed the brand against the otter's thigh, and another piercing cry reached everybody's ears. Ranir clenched his fists in fury. Slybrush untied his victim and flipped him on his back. Now the only reason to tie the creature to the post was to keep him standing. More pain was to come. The evil fox took out a knife and sliced intricate patterns on the otter's body. Every time the otter lost consciousness, he was revuved with biting salt water. Finally the otter was cut dwon, though bleeding profusely and near the Dark Forest. "Now, otter!" Slybrush repeated. "Will you bow tomme?" Weakly, the otter shook his head. "No." Slybrush's jaw tightened and the cat o' nien tails fell. The otter screamed in agony. The fox kicked his victim in the side. "Will you bow?" he demanded. The otter shook his head. Slybrush raised the "cat". "Bow or die!" The "cat" fell. The otter screamed. Slybrush raised the "cat". "Bow or die!" The "cat" fell. The otter screamed. The fox raised his "cat" again. "Will you not bow?!" Slybrush yelled. Weakly, the woodlander whispered, "no,". SLybrush kicked the wreteched victim who sprawled helplessly on the ground. "Bow or recieve another lash!" the cruel fox commanded. The otter struggled to his feet in defiance. The "cat" fell again, and while the otter's scream still sounded in the air, it rose. As quickly as he was able, the otter bowed on the ground, his sppirit totally crushed. Ranir watched, horrified, as the otter looked up. His eyes were dull, with no will or fight. The fox brood cheered and applauded. Their leader had broken the slave, and a tough one it had been! They waited for the final blow that would kill the slave. It onlt took two more lashes from the "cat, and the otter's life was gone.

The next couple of nights were horror. One slave was broken easily and kept alive as a slave. Another was not broken, but fought until death. The third pretended to break, but the owner, who performed the torture, could recognize the light in the slave's eyes and kept torturing until the eyes were dulled in the sign that the victim was broken. One day, the fourth day, a fox lost a dagger within reach of Rakin Limaf. The squirrel and Marila were next on the torture list. Rakin's turn was that night. He unlocked Marila's chains, and then his own, and then handed the dagger to the next creature, Ranir. The squirrel pair moved to the safety of the nearest trees and waited. unfortuantely, a fox walked by just as Ranir had freed himself. Furious, he rechained Ranir and flung the dagger at Rakin. But Rakin was a squirrel. He dodged the blade and picked it up, then scurried into the forest with Marila, free. Ranir was relieved. His parents had escpaped. However the brood wasn't so happy. They were frightened. Who would be the unfortunate foxes to take the squirrels' places? The first was a skinny fox known as Bonehide, a useless creature with no fighting ability. The second was a wily vixen, one who was a good healer but hated the TotureFest. She rarely participated, and some foxes called her a "turncoat woodlandera'. Ranir was after her, followed by the haremaid. That night the male fox was broken, though not easily. The brood went to sleep, as did the slaves. Ranir slumbered lightly and nearby pawsteps awoke him. Two foxes were arguing. "Ach, Ah heard ye was s'posed ter go in Taro's place!" "Ye heard wrong! Taro was a weakling! Ah'm an asset t' th' brood!" "Aye? Whell, then, when 'ave ye e'er...ouch!" "What 'appened?" "Stepped on a needle. Th' vixens shouldn't be so careless!" RAnir watched in amazement as the fox threw the offending needle almost at his feet. Taking care not to wake anybeast, he picked his locks. Turning to the vixen, he shook her awake. Quieting the fox, he showed the needle and freed her. The needle was passed on down the line. It got as far as the half-grown badger before a fox sounded the alarm. "Th' slaves are escapin'! They're escapin'!" The freed slaves bolted, and the badger roared, attempting to free himself. An arrow was shot at him, hitting him in the paw. in his fury, the badger broke his chains and ran after the other slaves. They reached the forest. Hares randeeper into the woods. Mice dived into foilage. Moles dug hasty tunnels. The vixen looked about wildly, but then Ranir dropped dwon beside her. "This was!" he hissed and scampered into the forest. They ran unthinkingly, until they reached a rotted tree. the vixen and squirrel dove into it and waited, breathing heavily. "That's twice I owe you," the vixen panted. "No need," Ranir declined. "I'm Ranir Limaf, by the way. What do they call you?" "I'm known was Lightbrush the Healer," she replied. "A loner, normally, even when with the brood." They were silent for awhile. At last they were sure the hunt was over, and Ranir climbed out of the log. Lightbrush followed. "Would you like to come with me?" the squirrel asked. "I'm going to llok for my parents." Lightbrush shook her head. "I'm going to Redwall. Perhaps I'll be of service there." The two shook paws and went their seperate ways.

Ranir scoured the whole of the forest for two full seasons, but to no avail. No red coat was sighted, no voice answered his call. No beast had seen a pair of red squirrrels, and all Ranir got as replies were empty answers, empty stares- and an empty heart. Saddended beyond belief, the red squirrel gave up his parents for dead, and with nothing else to do, trained himself in the sling and dirk. He acquirred a green jerkin, which became his customary clothing. Lonely and restless, the squirrel took to the life of a roaming warrior. It didn't seem as if he would ever settle down, until he found the Inland Lake Dwelling. He and the gray squirrel leader, Thistledown, fell in love and were soon married. Sometimes Ranir remembers his slave days. He thinks of the haremaid, and Lightbrush, and wonders how they fared. He remembers with inner agony the tortures he was forced to watch, the screms forever imprinted on his mind and heart. he wondrs if the slavers are still alive, and if the Torture Brood still exists. He made a vow that he'll one day find out, and destroy them. He won't forget that vow, nad he will keep it, some day, some way. However there is a time and pfor everything and everybeast, adn a place. Ranir's place is at Inland Lake Dwelling, with Thistledown. But happiness doesn't last forever, and the Torture brood forever nagged in the back of Ranir's mind. Eventually, he will have to fufill his vow and put an end to teh cruelty of the Blood. ( Not without me he doesn't!~Thistledown Limaf)

By Ranir Limaf

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Inland Lake Dwelling