Thick, black smoke flew from the mountain of Salamandastron as mobs of vermin scrambled up the mountain, shouting war cries. Hares tried to resist and fight back, but the vermin were too many. A lone hare, along with a badger, jogged away from the scene. Every so often the hare would try to turn and head back, but the badger would always stop him. So the two continued on their way, swearing to avenge their lost comrades.
An ottermaid stood on a top of a hill, surveying her forces. She was unlike other otters, and she hated woodlanders and their foolish little ways. She had an eyepatch on her left eye, and was dressed in a short green smock, benefiting her easy movement. Her fur was reddish-brown, and her eyes were green with a touch of gold. On her waist was a rough leather belt, in which was a deadly cutlass. Her feet were clad in boots, and they were covered in spikes. Her feet were clad in armor that had wavy designs carved on it. On her head was a light helmet, which had an emblem of a mouse skull. On her back there was a shield, held there by another belt. Covering this was a long green cape, on which the same mouse skull was drawn. She was beautiful, but dangerous. Her army consisted of foxes and ferrets, and she was marching on Redwall Abbey. Those woodland fools better watch out!
A black fox stared at the mountain of Salamandastron, grinning as his forces charged in. His fur was jet-black, and in his hand he carried a mace. Strapped to his back was a battleaxe, and he carried a longbow on his shoulder. His tail was fiery red, contrasting to his black fur. He was in a luxurious tent, apart from the main fighting. His horde only included foxes, wildcats, or wolverines. Suddenly a tall wildcat jogged in, panting. “My Lord, there is two- The fox raised his hand, and the wildcat fell silent. “Did I say you could enter my tent? Did I say you could start talking?” The wildcat nervously backed away as the fox stood up, swinging his mace in circles. “M-My Lord, I-I-I did n-n-not-“One thing I don’t like for sure is whimpering cowards who try to lie their way out of trouble. What is your news?” The cat walked further back, tripped, then cried out in pain. “Arghh, My Lord, a badger and a hare have escaped, going northwest as we speak.” He shuddered in terror as the fox loomed closer, and gulped as he listened to the words. “Take six score men and find those two. Once you do, bring them back here. If you don’t…” The wildcat screamed, leapt up, tripped again, and ran away on all fours.
The hare and the badger ran and ran, until they were too tired to go further. The badger, whose name was Silverback, flopped down on the ground, calling out, “Come back here, Captain Swiftblade, I’m too tired to keep going. Let’s get some rest.” The hare fell down next to the badger, saying, “Alright, sah, I’ll take first watch.” Swiftblade looked into the night, but his eyelids felt heavy, so heavy. The last thing he saw before falling asleep were some creature’s legs, approaching to him. Silverback awoke the next moment to a hideous surprise. He was tied up, and gagged, so he couldn’t move an inch. He saw toads all around him, and one especially large specimen loomed close to him, and croaked, “You have entered the territory of King Blagagaweb, and you must die!” Silverback looked, and saw Swiftblade, tied up but conscious, slowly roasting over a spit. The badger roared with rage, and ripped through the ropes like they were paper.
A grassy meadow stretched over the land, covered in trees, flowers, and lakes. Near one such lake was the Holt of the Streamdogs, the only otter Holt in the area. A tall hare, with a cloak on, and a squirrel with a big club, approached the Holt. When they entered they beheld a gruesome sight. The Holt was full of dead bodies, otters and vermin. The hare sighed, and sat down on a boulder. “Well, George, it seems that yet another place has fallen to the evil Radarag.” The squirrel nodded and sat down next to him. “Aye, mate, that scum won’t stop murdering and looting till someone stop’s him!” Suddenly, two arrows thudded next to the companions, both missing. Five rats charged out of cover, all searats. The hare sprang up, and took two out with a powerful upper kick. George killed his three with one swipe of his club. Two arrows flew out, one hitting the hare in the stomach, the other hitting George in the head. They both tried to attack, but then they collapsed, knocked out. Two sly-faced foxes came out of the shrubbery, and one remarked, “Poisoned arrows are always fool-proof. No one can stand up to them!”
Skipper sat on the walltop of Redwall Abbey, spooning hot oatmeal into his mouth. The sun was rising, and the birds were chirping their sweet little songs. "Ah, isn't so beatiful, Skip?" The otter leapt up, looking over to see Anatra, the Abbey Champion. She was the first female warrior, but nobody could beat her in swordsmanship. She also had a talent for sneaking up on people, which she must of got from her ancestor, Gonff the Mousethief. "Don't sneak up on me like that, young girl! You frightened the blazes out of me!" She smiled innocently at him, and said in a voice as sweet and clear as the bird's, "Sorry, Skip. But isn't it wonderful? I mean, just look at it!" Skipper started eating again, still a bit angry. "Yes, sure, of course. Listen, I got to go." Anatra looked at Skipper leaving figure, then at the half-finished oatmeal bowl that clattered to the walltop.