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View Full Version : The fox recorder: part three



Fuzface
December 11th, 2007, 06:00 AM
So, apparently, my dear friend Chuvacki is leaving the abbey. Something about delivering herself to the bad guys and saving us. Which won’t work. I mean, come on, they’re VERMIN for Good Gravy’s sake!!! So why’s she going to die, just to have them come back and try to kill us? Because I just know they will. These foxes are vermin. All vermin want to take over Redwall. So someone will have to save Redwall. Chuvacki is going to try. But it won’t work, and the hero business is up to me.
Right now, Chuvacki is moping around with Martin. I was kicked out of the room. Humph. I was her best friend. Now, she’s deserted me to go be heroic. And the job of recorder was unceremoniously passed on to me. This is my first entry. I don’t see why they made me recorder. I wanted to be cellar-hog! No one will be able to read my hand-writing, anyhow.
Anyway, Chuvacki says I can’t follow her. That shows how much she knows. I’m following her anyways. I’ll give those vermin a what-for! Ha! They’ll be sore for seasons. Those of them that are left, that is. Chuvacki says she isn’t going to fight them. Says she’s done fighting. So I guess I’ll have to do the fighting. Not that I can knock out an entire vermin horde all by my lonesome, but I can try. Oh, here she comes. I’ll write more later.
- Petra Yochek, Recorder of Redwall Abbey (Hey, at least I have a title now!!)

Oh. My. Gravy. You will never believe where I am. Obviously, being a bit of parchment, you can’t guess anything. Wow, that was unintelligent. All right, here’s what happened:
Chuvacki left Redwall. Yes, she hugged me. Yes, I cried. I mean, Good Gravy, she’s going to die! Anyway, it was a touching Goodbye, so I’m not going to write about it, so I don’t start crying and ruin the parchment. But she left, and headed off down the path, rucksack on her back, walking stick in her paws. I quickly wiped my eyes and headed off to the attack. After digging around in the dustiness, I found what I was looking for: a small haversack. Well, I wasn’t looking for a small one, but that’s all I could find, so that’s what I took.
Then, to the kitchens. I knocked Friar Rubio senseless with his own ladle. Yes, I’m sure it hurt. But he’ll be fine. Poor mole. I rummaged through the kitchen cabinets, and packed cheese, candied chestnuts, cheese, bread, cheese, strawberry cordial and cheese. Yes, I like cheese.
So, after the kitchens, I rushed out to the grounds. After making sure no-one was watching, I found the hollow oak at the southern edge of the wall. I thrust my paw into the hole, my secret hiding place, and rummaged around for a while. Soon, I found the handle of my rapier, and pulled it from the tree. It is my secret weapon. I had practiced with the slender blade for seasons, and I could use it well. No one knew I had it. So, I slipped it into my belt, and snuck out the wicker gate.
I followed the path. I have no sense of direction so, soon, I got lost. Not just sort of lost, but incredibly lost. Until I ran into a giant fox. He was, like five times the size of me! He had a battle axe, rusty and stained with blood. The big brute raised it to chop me, but I skewered him before he could let it drop. He fell with a thump. Yes, I looted the body. Not that there was much to loot, but he did have a great belt, which supported the rapier better than my lame little rope belt that matches my habit.
I left the body and moved on. Luckily, I found the path again, and made good time for the rest of the day. I met with a few other foxes, but I killed ‘em all without much struggle. I felt good, like I was on top of the world. ‘Course, the feeling ended when I found myself surrounded by about twenty funny-looking mice. I could have easily killed a few of them, but they all carried short rapiers, which means that I’d get poked full of holes before I could help Chuvacki. Which would totally stink.
“My dear creatures,” I began. I planned to talk my way out of this one.
“We’re not mice! We are GUOSIM!”
“GUO-what?” The ugly little fellow rolled his eyes and huffed impatiently.
“Guerilla Union Of Shrews In Mossflower, stupid!”
“Who’re ya callin’ stupid, ugly?” It was a lame comeback, but at the time, it was all I could think of.
“Was that a challenge, hedgepig?” The shrew was seething now.
“Yes,” I wasn’t going to let this little mouse push me around. The creature laughed.
“Oh, she be a brave one, aye?”
“Aye,” the rest of the shrews answered back. The shrew drew his blade and stood in en garde position. I parried his thrust. He attempted to beat my blade, but I jumped back. He advanced with a lunge. I retreated again. The next time he attacked, I met his blade with such force he went spinning. I was on him in a flash. He attempted to beat my rapier. I moved my blade ever so slightly, which was enough to throw him off balance with the force of his own blow. I advanced, lunged, beat his blade, and ended up with my rapier pressed against his throat.
“Nobeast ‘as ever bested me,” He gasped.
“I just did,” I knew I sounded cocky.
“’Ow ‘bout a truce?” The shrew pleaded. I had no reason not to truce, so I stuck out my left paw and shook his. The queer fellow broke into hysterical laughter.
“Wheheahhahahahahe. I be Logalog Grumio,”
“Oookaaay. I’m Petra,” I said, trying not to laugh at the creature’s ridiculous name. I let him up and he threw his arms around me, which totally weirded me out. This shrew was totally insane.
So the GUOSIM fed me and gave me a place for the night. I told them my story, and they seemed intrigued by the whole thing.
Tomorrow, I’ll set out alone to find the vermin camp.

-Petra Yochek, Recorder of Redwall Abbey

Mad Maudie McBurl
February 29th, 2008, 04:39 PM
All right that was a little confussing.:confused:
But I like it any way. aleast the parts that arn't confusing.
But what happened to the fox?

Fuzface
February 29th, 2008, 04:40 PM
Oh, her? Wait til you read the last part. I'll post it now.