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Part 1- Childhood of a Warlord Verdauga Greeneyes was born to be a warlord. It was in his blood, literally. This wildcat had the blood of King Mortspear in his veins. King Mortspear ruled the Highland Kingdom, the largest empire ever in all the lands. The wildcat King led his army of weasels, stoats, ferrets, and foxes from the frigid Land of Ice and Snow to the Highlands. There, the powerful commander set a path of destruction from the far Northern Mountains to the very borders of Mossflower Woods. His name though, was not always Mortspear. He gained that name from his famous spear, his signature weapon that he had led countless charges with. After establishing his immense empire, Mortspear set up a capital at the foot of the Northern Mou…Read more >
It was morning on the cold seas west of Mossflower Country. Even colder was the cabins of the Seafang, terror of the high waves. Inside a certain cabin on the port side belowdecks, Tarak the fox, first mate of the Seafang, woke and stretched. Throwing on a cloak, the tattooed corsair yawned and opened his cabin door. A gust blew in, chilling the fox. "Ahoy, Bladetongue, any brekkist fer me?" The rat lookout called down from the crow's nest, "Aye, matey, if wot yer lookin' fer is last night's roasted fish." Cursing, Tarak made his way to the galley. Booting aside a cook, he grabbed a loaf and slashed it in half with his dagger. The fox ripped the chunk of bread apart, spitting out a weevil. "Oy!" he shouted to the cook. "…Read more >
Deep in Mossflower a group of vermin sat around a fire. There were ten of the vermin in all, bandits from the northlands. Three foxes, four rats, two weasels, and a ferret made up the band. They were feared and they robbed passing innocents on the much-used path. The leader of the scrappy band, a fox called Sharptail, picked up a roasting fish on the fire and bit into it, spitting out the bones here and there. "Any o' that ale left, Dripear?" he asked. The rat in question replied, "Nah, Chief. Ole One-eye an' Blueclaw quaffed the lot yesterday." The fox Sharptail cursed and bit again into the fish. He was about to finish his meal when there was a noise by the path. The big fox froze. He whispered to his gang. "Did'ye hear that, mates? Some…Read more >
Excerpt from the journal of Brelyna the squirrelmaid, Abbey recorder, grand-niece of Lady Amber the squirrelqueen.
It's been many seasons since the Great Mossflower War that my grand-aunt Amber battled in. Peace has reigned over Redwall Abbey and Mossflower, peace that our ancestors strove to form. Mossflower is now a golden place, full of laughing, singing creatures. Redwall is as great as ever. Our Abbot is very young for a typical Abbot. He's a mouse and his name is Drew. Abbot Drew is friendly and kind, but an unusual Abbot. He helps in the fields, tends the Abbey pond, and even helps our Friar, George, with the kitchenwork. I can smell the scones that they baked this morning from here. I'm not really used to writing so much, so I'm goi…Read more >
It had been many seasons since that day. Blackclaw the weasel remembered the banishment well. Those woodlanders had chased the Kotir soldiers off like pesky flies, and Blackclaw's old father had been slain. At the time, Blackclaw'd been young. Now they had to move to the southlands. They'd built their own homes out of timber that they'd collected from the north pinewoods. The former soldiers now lived in a farming lifestyle, one that Blackclaw hated. "Raaagh!" Farmers! thought Blackclaw. Useless! The weasel glanced around at his cabin. He walked to the door and opened it, entering. Blackclaw approached his room and opened his wardrobe. There it was, his father's Thousand Eye armor. Alongside it was his blade, a sword, slightly blued, and …Read more >