Dec. 4
From Outcast of Redwall-

"Eeulaliaaaaaa!"
Both spearshafts snapped like twigs as Sunflash shot up from the rocks like a thunderbolt, eyes crimson, teeth bared, the ropes bursting as his huge chest swelled and he flung his paws apart. The sentries turned and, standing like frozen statues, they watched the awful conflict between Warlord and Mountain Lord.
Swartt's curved blade flickered in the firelight as he struck, gashing his enemy's side. Then he raised the sword ans swung it a second time, aiming it at Sunflash's head. Two great paws caught the blade in mid-air, the beserk badger tighted his grip on the blade, regardless of the blood that flowed as he did, the warrior spirit of his ancestors rising. The ferret stood open-mouthed as the badger snapped the swordblade, the shapr metalic clang echoing around the mountaintop. Still grasping both halves of the sword, Sunflash came forward with a bound, whirling both paws. He struck Swartt a blow htat sounded like a plank hitting rotten fruit, The force of the blow was so great that Swartt's footpaws left the ground, and he fell polaxed. Nobeast could come near Sunflash the Mace; filled with the bloodwrath he seized the ferret in a grip of steel. Heaving Swartt high over his head, Sunflash stood at the plateau edge, bellowing as he flung his enemy out into the night.
"Eeulaliaaaaaaaaaa!" Nov. 5
From Martin the Warrior

Badrand drew his sword and pressed the point against the young one's heaving chest. Leaning forward, he hissed into the young captives face, "Your know the penalty is death for attacking one of my horde. I could run you through with my sword right now and snuff out your life. What do you say to that, mouse?"
The strong young mouse's eyes burned into the Tyrant's face like twin flames as he gritted out, "Scum! That sword is not yours, it belongs to me as it belonged to my father!"
Badrang withdrew the swordpoint. He sat back, shaking is head slowly in amazement at the boldness of the creature in front of him.
"Well well, you're not short of nerve, mouse. What's your name?"
The answer came back bold and fearless.
"I am called Martin, son of Luke the Warrior!"

Sept. 21
From Marlfox

Mokkan opened on eye. "It's treason to speak about the High Queen in such a manner, you know that?"

Ziral snorted contemptuously and flung her axe. It buried its blade deep in the sycamore trunk.

Mokkan sniggered dryly. "Temper, temper, sister of mine! That sort of behaviour won't do you any good."

Ziral's pale eyes blazed. She pushed aside a water rat, sending the creature staggering into the shallows as he tried to hold on to the bundle of kindling wood he was carrying. The vixen Marlfox jerked her axeblade vicously from the sycamore trunk. "High Queen? Silth is nought but a doddering old wreck who hides behind silken curtains. Why doesn't she die and leave the island to us, her own brood?"

Mokkan raised himself on one paw, smiling. "That's when the trouble will really start. There're seven of us, we'd never be able to share all that wealth and rule the island together from Castle Marl. not without killing each other off. Remember, we're Marlfoxes, born stealth and deceit. Only on of us could ever rule the island."

Ziral made as if to sheather her axeblade beneath her cloak, then instead suddenly brought it about in a scything swipe, only to find it locked against the curve of he brother's axe. Mokkan forced the vixen's axe to the ground and trapped it beneath his footpaw. He continued smiling at Ziral. "You see what I mean, sister!"

Sept.1
From Mossflower, in honor of Gonff, the winner of the Jakes Award. [A Tribute}-

Whirling and prancing about on the sand with it’s stiltlike mouth gaping and frothing, the crb clutched madly at the stave. Martin could only stare in amazement at the dancing monster as it jigged about, clutching the stave high in it’s murderous claws.

Log-a-Log tugged at the warrior’s paw. ‘Come on, Martin. Let’s get away while we can. That crab doesn’t want to let go of the stave!”

"Ha!" Gonff snorted. "It’s not a case of wanting. It hasn’t got the sence to release the stave. Can’t you see?”

As if to prove his point, the little mousethief joined the crab and actually began dancing along with it. Round and round they went, Gonff comically following his strange partners every twist and turn. Furiously the crab waggled it’s stalked eyes, opening and closing his mouth as it pranced crazily around, still clasping the stave tightly.

Martin and his friends nursed thier aching ribs, trying not to laugh to hard. Tears stremed down thier cheeks at Gonff’s antics.

“Oh hahahahooohooo. Stoppit, Gonff, please,” Martin begged. “Heeheeeheehahaha. Come away and leave the silly beast alone. Hahahaha!”

Gonff halted, he doffed a courtly bow at the enraged crab, “My thanks to you, sir. You truly are a wonderful dancer.

The crab stood staring at Gonff, with a mixture of ferocity and bafflement as the mousethief continued his polite compliments.

“Oh, “I do hope we meet again at the annual Rockpool Ball. Those shrimps are such clumsy fellows, you know. They tread all over one’s paws. They’re not half as good as you. Incidently, who taught you to dance so well? Keeping all those legs toghether at once. My, my. We really must do this again sometime."

August 18
From Salamandastron-

Colder than the wind howling it's dirge through the Southwest forest.

Colder thann the snow blanketing tree, rock and earth in it's silent shroud.

Colder than ice that lay on water and hung in shards from branches and bushes.

Colder than these was the smile of Ferahgo the Asssasin! Ferahgo was still young, but as the seasons would pass his evil and infamy would grow, and everybeast would come to fear the name of the blue-eyed weasel.

His band searched the wrecked badger's den, scavengening and snarling over winter food and the few pitiful possesions strewn amoung the debris. Smiling pitilessly, Ferahgo stepped over the bodies of Urthound and his wife Urthrun, the last brave creatures to stand against him. Stealth and deciet, reinforced by a crew of backstabber, were the Assasin's trademark. He had tricked the badgers into thinking this would be a peace conference. The fools!...

...Fondling the gold medallion he had taken from the naeck of Urthound, Ferahgo gave one last look around.

'Now nobeast is left in the Southwest to oppose me. Come on, my Corpsemakers!'

The weasel swept out into the the wintering forest lands with his band, a smile still fixed in his beuatiful light blue eyes.

Behind him in the ruins of the badger's den the two badger babes, of stripped, the other pure white , snuggled against the cold body of thier mother. They made pitiful little noises, waiting for her to wake up and comfort them. Outside the snowflakes began to blow gustily between tree and bush, chased by the soughing wind.

It was cold.

But not as cold as the smile on the face of Ferahgo the Assasin.

July 26
From The Long Patrol-

Far away from the ridge, in the safety and warth of Redwall Abbey kitchens, the badgerbabe Russano lay in his barrel cradle, his soft black eyes watching a chill blue mist forming across the ceiling. From somewhere, slow muffled drumbeats sounded, sweet voices humming in time with them.

A scene appeared out of the mists. The army from Redwall lay in slumber amid shattered spears, broken swords and a tattered banner. Other creatures came then, warriors he had never met, yet a voice in the babe’s mind told him he knew them. Martin, Matthias, Mattimeo, Mariel, Gonff, all heroic looking mice. There were badgers too, great fierce-eyed creatures with names like Old Lord Broktree, Boar the Fighter, Sunflash the Mace, Urthclaw, Urthwyt, Rawnblade and many more. They wandered the ridge, and each time they touched a creature he or she went with them.

Finally, they stood in a group together, pale and spectral, and another joined them. It was Rockjaw Grang, the big hare who had arried and nursed Russno on the long trek to Redwall Abbey. Though he did not speak, the little badger heard his voice.

“Remember us when you are grown, Russano the Wise!”...

Russano had witnessed the Redwall army, he had beheld all those who lived, and the ones who did not.

July 13
From Mossflower-

Mossflower lay deep in the grip of midwinter beneath a sky of leaden grey that showed tinges of scarlet and orange on the horizon. A cold mantle of snow draped the landscape, covering the flatlands to the west. Snow was everywhere, filling the ditches, drifting high against the hedgerows, making paths invisible, smoothing the contures of the earth with its white embrace. The gaunt, leafless ceiling of Mossflower Wood was penetrated by constant snowfall, which carpeted the sprawling woodland floor, building canopies on evergreen shrubs and bushes. Winter had muted the earth; the muffled stillness was broken only by a traveller’s paws.

A sturdily built young mouse with quick, dark eyes was moving confidently across the snowbound country. Looking back, he cound see his tracks disappearing northward into the distance. Further south the flatlands rolled of endlessly, flanked to west by the faint shape of distant hills, while to the east stood the long ragged fringe marking the marches of Mossflower. His nosed twitched at the elusive smell of burning wood and turff from some hearth fire. Cold wind soughed from the treetops, causing whorles of snow to dance in icy spirals.The traveler gathered his ragged cloak tighter, adjusted an old rusting sword that was slung across his back and trudged steadily forward, away from the wilderness, to where other creatures lived.

It was a forbidden place made mean by poverty. Her and there he saw sings of habitation. The dwellings, ravaged and emolished, made pitiful sites against under the snowdrifts. Rearing high against the forest, a curious building dominated the ruined settlement . A fortress, crumbling, dark and brooding , it was a symbol of fear to the woodland creatures of Mossflower.

This was how Martin the Warrior first came to Kotir, place of the wildcats.

June 28
From Mattimeo-

Mattimeo and the slaves had been taken from thier darkend cell. Nadaz and several black-robed rats led them to the edge of the ledge where the statue stood. They where permitted to look over into the depths.

Through the greenish mist, Mattimeo could make out the thin bedraggled forms of scores of young creatures: squirrels, otters, hedgehogs, mice. They where hauling huge blocks of stone on towropes, and the rats stood guard over themwith whips and cudgels, urging them to greater efforts. Other young ones where lifting the stone blocks into position with pulleys and tackles. while yet other woodlanders laid mortar and limestone in the gaps that where to receive the stones. Sometimes a young creature would cry out and fall over exusted, only to be beaten by the rats until he or she got up, or lay permaninly still.

Numbed by the horror of it all, the young slaves where led before the statue and forced to bow thier heads whilst Nadaz spoke to Malkariss.

“I am Nadaz, Voice of the Host. O ruler of all below earth, these are your new servants. What do you require me to so with them?”

The hairs rose on Mattimeo’s neck at the sound of the voice emanating from the crystal-toothed statue’s mouth.

“They have looked upon my kingdom. Soon they will have the honor of building it for me,” it proclaimed.

From his bowed position, Mattimeo glanced along the line.He saw Vitch chained and held between two rats. The young mouse nudged Tess.

“Look whose there, our little slave-driver, being rewarded for his services. I hope they chain me next to him for awhile down there.”

Tess stamped her paw hard against the ledge, her eyes blazing. “They can chain me next to who they like, but I’m not building any filthy underground kingdom for a talking statue!”

June 13
From The Pearls Of Lutra, to lend a chill to your day-

The entire chamber flickered with gold light, reflecting from the pine marten’s torch and highlighted by his shining crown. A long shallow trough built into the floor, filled with water, cast shifting patterns of golden light around the walls Gliding sinuously out of the trough and across the floor, the snake came hissing towards Ublaz. It was a dull ivory colour, but the water rippling on it’s scales caught the light, turning the serpent into a long moving stream of liquid gold...

...Ublaz began chanting in a high steady cadence.

‘Golden guardian of my wealth,
Hear me now, be still,
Deathly fang and coiling stealth,
Bend unto my will.’

Over and over again the Emperor repeated his dirgelike chant, swaying side to side in time with his adversary. Wide and unblinking, the mad eyes radiated all their power. He moved slowly forward as he chanted and swayed, until the snake’s damp breath wreathed his nostrils. With his head a hairsbreadth from the serpent’s, he strove to pierce it with his strange hypnotic stare. Side to side the two heads moved, challenging and seeking in unison with the cadence.

The snake began to subside, its mouth closed. The stiffened head relaxed and sank slowly into its bunched coils, both eyes filming over with a clouded membrane. Ublaz moved with it, down to floor level, still staring and chanting, until the venomous reptile lay still and subdued, conquered by his power. He stroked its head lightly then ceased chanting.

Ublaz stood upright, turned his back on the snake and faced the awed Monitor sentries. ‘Now you have seen the power of your Emperor!’ he hissed

May 28
From Mariel of Redwall-

Gabool was in no mood for laughter. The maddened Searat King dashed furiously around his barred and locked room, slashing at phantom badjers as they stole out of the shadows to confront his bloodshoot eyes, shrieking and thrusting wildly at the spectres created by his tormented brain.

"Haharr, I'll finish ye all. I'm Gabool the King of all Seas!"

Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong! Bong!

He rent curtains and wallhangings; sparks showered from his sword as it clashed on the stone walls."

"Cursed noise, I'll send you to Hellgates an' beyond!"

And from another section of the tale-

Gabool was tugging and pulling as he cursed, and his sword was buried deep in the heavy oak door. Behind him the bell tolled once. He heaved the sword blade from the door and came at the bell.

"Silance, d'ye hear me! Silence! Boomin' and bonging away night an' day so as a body can't even sleep. I'll teach yer a lesson!"

Two dormouse slave watched in fasination as the king of Searats attacked a bell with his sword. The bell clashed and clanged as Gabool hammered at it, both claws gripping his curved blade. The one-sided fight had only one possible outcome. The sword blade snapped against the great bell and Gabool lay face down upon the stone floor, panting and sobbing as the metallic echoes of the bell swirled around the banqueting hall.

The dormouse slave turned to his companion. "Did you see that?"

"Aye, that I did. It looks like His Majesty is two waves short of a tide. Whoever saw a rat fight a bell?"

"Right mate. And look, he lost. The great Gabool's crying on the floor like a baby squirrel who's lost his acorns."

The laughter rand through into the hall as the two slaves fled back into hiding.

Gabool gritted his teeth at the bell. "Go on, laught, yer reat brazen lump. Laugh, yer great brazen lump. Laugh away, but next time I'll get a biger sword!"

May 15
Poem from Mariel of Redwall;

Old stories told by travellers,
Great songs that bards have sung,
Of Mossflower summers, faded, gone,
When Redwall stones were young.
Great Hall fires on winter nights,
The legend, who remembers,
Battles, banquets, comrades, quests,
Recalled midst glowing embers.
Draw close now, little woodlander,
Take this to sleep with you,
My tale of dusty far-off times,
When warrior hearts were true.
Then store it in your memory,
And be the sage who says
To young ones in the years to come:
‘Ah yes, those were the days.’

From The Pearls of Lutra;

O curse the name Mad Eyes
Say woe to the day,
When he tried to steal
Tears of all Oceans away.
All corsairs and searats
Whose messmates lie dead,
Saw blood and hot flame
Turn the sea flowing red.
Though northcoast lies far
And the ocean is wide,
Run from the green arrows
Of vengeance, and hide.
For the price of six tears
Through the dreams of us all,
Walks the fear of a Warrior
From the place called Redwall.
Now the life of our Brethren
Who followed the sea,
Will ne’er be the same
For such rovers as we.
‘Twas the greed of a tyrant
That brought us to shame,
Six tears for a crown-
Curse the Emperor’s name!


Verses taken from an old corsair ballad

May 2
From Redwall-

It was the start of the summer of the Late Rose. Mossflower country shimmered gently in a peaceful haze, bathing delicatly at each dew-laden dawn, blossoming through high sunny noontides, languishing in each crimson-tinted twilight that heralded the soft darkness of June nights.

Redwall stood foursquare along the marches of the old south border, flanked on two sides by Mossflower Wood's shaded depths. The other half of the Abbey over-looked undulating sweeps of meadowland, its ancient gate facing the long dusty road on the western perimeter.

From above it resembled some fabulous dusky jewel, fallen between a green mantle of light silk and dark velvet. The first mice had built the Abbey of red sandstone quarried from pits many miles away in the north east. The Abbey building was covered on its south face by a type of ivy known as Virginia creeper. The onset pf autumn would turn the leaves into a cape of fiery hue, thus adding further glory to the name and legend of Redwall Abbey.

The next excerpt should be...

The Cavern | The Lair | A Tribute | The Book index | Buy some books | The Writer's Dictionary | Excerpts | Bios | Holidays
Members Area | Redwall Writers | kybo | Baggtrot | Saldar | Danny | What it’s Worth

This page hosted by 1