A hare lay in the sand, rasping. His fur was a strange red color, and he had black spots that were oozing blood all over his body. All around him, his dead fellows were being devoured by crows. He weakly shook his body, dislodging a few of the birds. Behind him loomed the mountain of Salamandastron. Suddenly all the birds took off, cawing madly. He turned over, and exhaled sharply as a footpaw stepped onto his chest, making him cough up some blood. "What happened here, may I ask?" purred a voice. The voice sounded as sweet as honey, yet as deadly as an adder. The hare shuddered and looked up. In front of him stood a wickedly smiling wildcat. She had rich, golden fur, and her claws seemed extra sharp in the sunlight. She wore light blue armor, made out of some kind of bone. On it was a symbol of a cat's paw. She was belted around the middle. Her shoulders were bare, and her muscles actually gleamed in the sunlight. Then her wrists were covered by metal gauntlets, which had wavy desingns on them.She wore long pants that enable her free movment. To her back was strapped a quarterstaff, and she had a sword in her belt. "Well?" she asked again, sweetly. He replied, "There was a great disease here. All of our warriors, and the Badger Lord, died." Her hand closed on her sword hilt and she asked, "What about the young ones and women? Where are they?" The hare hesitated. The wildcat pulled out her blade and pressed against his throat, saying, "Where are they?" He managed to rasp out, "They're in the cellars, with a large supply of food and one of our warriors, Colonel Sapfind." She pushed just a tad more, but that was enough. As the hare's vision clouded he heard, "Tell Vulpuz that Liona Deathclaw freed you of your pain!" He felt the pressure on his chest released, and then there was blackness.

Chapter 1

An otter stood on the helm of a ship, watching the seas. His name was Greftan the Swift, and his ship was known as the Death to All Vermin. He was bare chested, and had scars criss-crossing his face and chest. His burly shoulders and muscly chest seemed to radiate strength from them. On his right arm was a tatoo of a rat skull with two serpents coming out of its eyes. He wore a black bandana on his head, and had ripped pants on his legs. To his back was strapped a very big axe. Otters that sort of resembled him by manner, shape, and display of sharp weapons, were tending to the ship. Then a voice called down from the crow's nest, "Captain, there's a corsair ship on our starboard bow!" The otter grinned and yelled back, "Capital! Full sails to the corsairs!" The ship sped along. Greftan was going hunting! Captain Rigger of the Halkar was having a bad day. The other ship under his command, or that was under his command, mutineed. All because of his stupid son, who was a little spoiled brat! Then, he found out that someone had stole his favorite dagger and the ship was running low on food. And to cap it all, six oarslaves escaped,and the rest would not follow orders. Yes, it was a bad day. Suddenly, a crewbeast ran up and said, "Captain, there a ship approaching us! What should we do?" For the first time today, Rigger grinned. "Assemble the crew. Let's kill 'em!" The corsair ship pulled up, and Rigger yelled, "Surrender if you want to live, scum!" He narrowly ducked an arrow, and looked in amazment as an otter appeared, holding a bow. "Surrender youreself, loser!" The fox bared his teeth, and replied, "No one calls me a loser and lives to tell about it! Get the grappling hooks ready!" He turned around and was about to go to his cabin, when a nervous voice said from behind, "Captain, you really need to see this." Rigger turned, and gasped. There were otters, lots of them, flying threw the air. They had grappling hooks connected to the ship, and were attacking. On board they crossed blades with the corsairs, who discovered that the otters were far better at fighting then they were. Rigger snarled at leapt at a otter who's back was facing him, and stabbed him. "Hahaha! What now, losers?!" He turned just in time to see the battle axe flying at his face. The oarslaves below listened as hundreds of paws ran around the deck and more and more corsairs came from below deck. Then a voice that sounded like an otter's shouted, "Retreat! There's too many of them! Retreat!" A small mouse maiden said, "What should we do?! Rigger is winning, and everything will be back to normal!" A scarred squirrel next to her snarled and began fiddling with the floorboards in front of him. "I won't miss this opportunity! He'll die if I have anything to say about it!" He pulled out at least thirty old daggers, rusty swords, broken javelins, and dented cutlasses. A few others also pulled them out. "This'll have to do, mates. Pick yourself a weapon and break these chains!" As the chains broke they heard a mocking voice from behind, "You think you can just break out without anybody noticing?" The slaves whirled around. A tall, imposing weasel with a chain mace was approaching them, flanked by a few cohorts. An otter stepped forward, holding a gleaming battleaxe. "I'll fight you to the death, scum!"

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