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Jessie Oakshade
December 6th, 2003, 07:53 PM
Author's Notes-

Hey, it's me. Yep, the author of "If Rose had Lived". Tis great if you remember me, pitiful if y'don't. But anyways, I seem to have come of my shell of RWL addiction to start writing again. But not quite. The story's about RWL. *tilts head* Or at least, the people in it, and the basic plot line. Which is sorta fuzzy at the moment.

Other important notes that should be noted:

-The story currently has no name.
-I haven't read Loamhedge, beg my pardon if I made a mistake somewhere.
-Chapter One has the most woodlander action you're ever going to see in this story. Which is good if you don't like sadistic woodlanders.
-This story currently has no definite plot.

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Chapter One – Of Conquerers and Warlords


Summertime in Southsward is definitely something to experience.

The sun beats relentlessly on everybeast, rock, flower and tree, distorting distant visions, and parching the thirst. Out on the Southern plains, someone non-chalantly strolling through the area would be fried, but residents and old travelers knew the best place to hang around was under the canopies of the Southsward forest, where hefty leaves from high above impede the sunlight, allowing cool air to blow in, caressing the flower bushes gently, ruffling the canopies to ripple sunlight, making the summer season tolerable, and actually pleasurable.

Fortunately, for some beasts, the climate is somewhat similar on the Southern Islands, particularly the island Narrutos, which was rumored not to be that far away from the island of Sampetra. It was here, on this island of Narrutos, where the castle and fort of the Varonne Royal family was situated. It was also here, where a group of questing woodlanders from Mossflower docked their logboats, and scouted out the entire island.

A short mouse wearing a dark green tunic peered out of some bushes, pushing them aside roughly, scanning the area. “Nothin’ much else over here, Skip,” he said. “Our best bet is probably just to go with Kadra’s plan, a divert at the front gate, and the tunneling moles.”

Behind him, a large burly otter stood, arms folded menacingly, with a powerful slingshot in his left paw. “Aye, then, Martin!” He grinned. “Whatever y’say goes. We’d best be getting’ back t’the camp now. One scoutin’ party was supposed t’look out for any residents on this taint’ed island. Mayhap they’ve caught somebeast.”

Martin shifted the legendary sword on his back thoughtfully, and then started walking in the direction of the camp, Skipper trailing right behind, almost like a bodyguard, slingshot at the ready.

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They soon arrived back at camp, a small shaded clearing on the outskirts of the Narrutos forest. Martin swaggered in, spotting a small crowd of creatures by the edge of the make-shift fire pit. He silently beckoned Skipper to follow, and strolled over. He hadn’t even gone four paces when somebeast looked up, and shouted. “Oy, Martin, Putram caught a weird one!”

Martin nodded understandingly, and walked forward, the crowd parting for him respectfully. Kadra, a large burly otter, leaned on his spear, looking disgustedly down at the vermin captive at his feet. He glanced resignedly at Martin. “This vixen’s no use. She ain’t from Southsward.” He lowered his voice, and gestured meaningfully. “A few loose screws, if y’ask me.”

The vixen was middle-aged, not old and grizzled, just young enough not to be called old. She wore a black headscarf, shiny bangles on her wrists, and golden hoop earrings. The vixen also looked incredibly skinny; obviously she’d been starving. She displayed a tired look on her face, almost of resignation, like she couldn’t get others to understand, and simply gave up.

Martin looked her over, pacing back and forth, scrutinizing her every aspect. A slow smile spread across his face. Kadra stiffened, in case Martin was planning an physical action.

The warrior mouse spoke confidently. “You’re one of those they call a Seer, aren’t you?” The word “they” issued from his mouth in almost a hiss, as if he was afraid the word would poison his mouth if he left it in too long.

“I am.” She responded indifferently, her eyes betraying only a touch of anxiety.

Kadra stepped forward, respectfully nodding at Martin before speaking. “She claims to be a Seer. Rubbish, I know. Her accent an’ her clothes lead me to believe she’s not of the Varonne residents. Pro’bly from western Mossflower, and might’ve been captured in ter slavery or summat.” He paused, glaring at the despicable heap at his footpaws. “I dunno what her aim is, but she’s tryin’ t’get us t’leave.”

The vixen’s arms stiffened, and the rope tying her wrists to Kadra’s spear became taut. “You /will/ be sorry, I promise you. I made you a bargain.”

Martin looked amused. “Fine then. Tell me your bargain.”

The seer vixen agreed, and spoke. “Leave. Leave the island now, and go back to Mossflower, and your forests. You will regret it if you do not act soon.”
“And what do you want in return?”
“Set me free, give me a haversack of your best food, and get me a small logboat, with a paddle.”

Martin appeared to be deep in thought. Those were trifle things, but he had no intention of doing anything she suggested in the bargain. “Right,” he said. “We’re supposed to leave and give you those things under what reason?”

The seer’s eyes closed lightly, and her face and mouth relaxed. Martin furrowed his brow in frustration, thinking she was ignoring him, but before he could kick her, she spoke.

“You are striving to rid the land of evil.”

Kadra snorted. “In other words, vermin.”

She appeared to have not heard him, and went on. “You gathered all armies from all the dark corners of Mossflower to aid you in your quest.”

Martin’s patience was wearing out. He had no time to listen to the banter of a deranged vixen. He answered irritably. “Tell us something we don’t know. It’s completely obvious, you’re only saying it beca-“ She cut him off, apparently unperturbed.

“While you waste your time on this island, you leave your territory open to foreign invaders. I see them dispersing, spreading throughout the continent, leaving nothing untouched. No rock, no tree, no house, no dwelling, nor mother nor child. You can stop this only if you depart at this very moment.”

The brown squirrel named Putram grinned at Martin, raising his eyebrows pointedly at the vixen. “She tried tellin’ us the same thing. At firs’, we were a little nervous, before we realized she’s only tryin’-“ The vixen began speaking again, her eyes now open, staring ahead of her, staring straight through Martin, symbol of fairness and protection, to see unseen spectacles and horizons.

“For dozens of seasons, since Raga Bol, the last great vermin threat to Mossflower, you believed yourselves invincible. You ventured out valiantly, crushing anybeast in your path. But this is nothing. Nothing compared to what is to come.”

Several creatures shifted uneasily, but Martin, Kadra and Putram still wore determined skeptical looks on their stone faces.

The trance still unbroken, the vixen went on, eyes open, boring into empty air. “I see seasons ahead of destruction and defeat, of Conquerors and Warlords. You were blind, and let them run free. Now they shall grow into an unshakable force, more organized and treacherous than ever known. The regret of not returning to defend your lands will be written on your wretched faces for seasons to come.”

Martin seethed. “You despicable piece of filth!” He stomped up to her, only a head taller, as she was sitting down. He kicked her once viciously, and she fell over, her trance broken. “How dare you insult us like that! We rescued you from slavery by others of your own kind, and this is how you repay us?” He spat on her contemptuously.

Her confidence melted, she backed away from him, her eyes glinted with terror and abhorrence. Kadra stayed where he was, watching amusedly. He jerked the rope swiftly, making the vixen lunge forward involuntarily on her stomach, at Martin’s feet. She looked up, tears brimming in her pale eyes.

“P-please, sir, all I wanted was food. I told you the truth, k-keep to your code of sympathy, and just let me have a small bite to eat.”

Martin turned his back on her, feet apart, arms crossed. He snorted. “Sympathy indeed. You should be thankful that we’re not going to slit your lying throat.”

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Blasted character limit.

Jessie Oakshade
December 6th, 2003, 07:55 PM
The warrior mouse was rewards by murmurs from the crowd.
“She really should be grateful, y’know, Martin’s the fairest one out here.”
“Indeed, since he’s been trying to eliminate all vermin for the last five seasons.”
“Serves her right, for tryin’ t’get us to leave.”

The seer vixen was appalled. She stood up defiantly, eyes blazing, only to be cuffed with Kadra’s spear back to the ground. “You-you-worm! You all are wicked, wicked creatures. How slow-witted can you be? By Slagar’s paw, I hope you never leave this island.”

Martin chuckled wryly, turning to face her, shaking his head, amused. “You can be sure of that, vermin. At least, not for now. After we finish eradicating the Varonne empire, then we shall dawdle back to Mossflower. There we go, a compromise. Happy?”

He turned on his heel, shouting orders. “Throw her out. No doubt she’ll find a berry bush somewhere to snack on in this cursed forest.” He made to walk away, but pulled Kadra aside and whispered sharply in his ear. “You know what to do.”

The otter grinned, drawing his curved shortsword. He licked it, and winked at Martin. “Jus’ sharpened it this mornin’, mate.”

Martin nodded approvingly as Kadra bounced off, and turned to Putram, the squirrel head of the scouting party. “Tell the scouts and fighters to rest for now. Later, perhaps during the evening, we’ll ensure this will be the last afternoon sun the Varonnes will ever see.”

The obedient squirrel nodded. “Will do, Martin sir. Should be a fun brawl tonight, eh?”

The warrior mouse turned his gaze on the looming castle not far away. He smiled self-assuredly. “Undeniably. We’re camped practically just outside their front door. They must be daft or something. Dumb vermin.”