A bad case of indigestion...?

[Maxodis]

The irritable old stoat was pacing again.

He'd been the overlord of Fort N'Tashi for years. Every minute detail of the cavernous room that he had claimed for his own quarters was seared into the irritated vermin's mind. Every carefully placed 'treasure' in the large area was in it's proper place, none had any sort of dust to mar the glow that resulted from the light from the hearth reflecting off their shiny surfaces. Not a single shadow was out of place. And yet something was not right. Something was missi-no, something foreign was there. Yes, that must be it. But where, specifically, was this 'there'?

He continued to pace, as he had been doing so for the greater part of the day. He made a point of pacing in the same corner that he had always paced in. He had no idea why that corner seemed so ideal for pacing, it just did. Some things were odd like that. Glancing down, he noted for the umpteenth time the worn track in the stone where his footpaws had slowly eroded a slight impression into the floor over the years.

These same footpaws were now complaining again. They had always seemed resentful of his unquestionable domination over their movements, strangely. As he grew older, the rebellious things had convinced a great many of his other joints to join in with their dissension. Every day it seemed harder and harder to get his body to cooperate with him. If only one could replace errant parts of their body, or scare them into submission, as he had done so with his horde. Were it so easy...

A dull pop interrupted the sour stoat's thoughts. He took in a sharp breath as his hip lanced flaming tongues of pain across his leg and side. He bitterly let out the breath with a long stream of harsh curses as he hobbled over to his dining table. Food always seemed to help in situations like this.

Easing himself gingerly onto the cushioned chair, he attacked the remains of his dinner with a voracity that could only be matched by a hare. Feeling the pain in his hip ease away, N'Tashi considered the past few days' productivity. The freezing rain and snow had caused a great many of his hordebeasts to huddle within the Mess hall and Barracks, believing warmth to be of greater value than the tithe that was to be collected soon. Lazy scum, he would have to call together his captains on the morrow and berate them for their inactivity. What was a little ice here and there to a great horde?

He had finished eating and leaned back in his chair, sipping some beverage daintily like a pompous duke. It was some sort of ale, N'Tashi knew that much. He'd never cared to learn the names of the woodlander's drinks. If they appealed to his tastes, that was enough for him to know. He'd been distantly aware of the slight clenching of his stomach as he reclined in the chair, planning out the next day in the late hours of the night. His thoughts were interrupted once more as his stomach suffered a strong spasm.

Holding a dirty claw to his agonized stomach, N'Tashi stumbled out of his chair, realizing belatedly that the sudden shift in position would cause him to feel extremely light-headed. He fought(in between bouts of cursing) to keep the contents of his stomach where they were as bile rose sickeningly in his throat. Several minutes later, the sickness passed as suddenly as it had arrived.

Sweating profusely and shaking slightly, the aging warlord staggered over to his large bed. There was no use trying to stay up much longer, perhaps he could do some more planning in his sleep. He wrapped himself tightly in the grime-covered sheets, he would have to force some ignorant slave to wash them tomorrow. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to ignore the slight case of chills that wracked his body. It was a long time before the belabored stoat drifted off into a fevered sleep...

[Enon // SoMtW]

N'tashi had it in for himself. Torture, cruelty, gluttony, something was going to get him. And if Martin's dreams gave him a heart attack, so much the better. It was shortly after N'tashi's first entry into feverish sleep that Martin made his entrance. Cue the big bad mouse, complete with armor, sword and menacing face.

This was not a happy dream. No, it was a very unhappy dream. Martin was planning a new tactic. He had never tormented an evil beast, any beast, so long.

[Maxodis]

His conscience slipped off into the realm of dreams, though it was no smooth transition. With the fever wracking his body, be became aware of his ethereal surroundings with uncoordinated senses. Disoriented, it took the stoat some time to recognize the dream, and realize what it held for him. He cursed bitterly to himself.

It was the same dream he had suffered since he had risen to power. In the beginning, he regarded it as a nightmare, as each nightly visit from the supposed guardian of what was once 'Redwall Abbey' left him in a deep sweat and thoroughly unnerved. Over time, he learned to endure the mental torment. He no longer held any strong fears of the mouse. The shade only existed within his mind, it could not bring him any real harm. Still, there was something deeply disturbing about the aura that seemed to pulse from it...

He scanned his surroundings, regaining his orientation. It was a scene he had grown to know well, a haze-covered battlefield lit by an unknown light that cast everything in crimson hues. Maimed corpses lay strewn about like fallen leaves, their blood seeping from multiple ghastly woulds and darkening the dead soil. Broken weaponry lay embedded in the ground. Distantly, nerve-wracking shrieks could be heard from an unseen source. It had always striked N'Tashi as odd how the screams sounded so familiar.....like those caused by the torture machines he had designed so long ago...

He heard a soft sound behind him, and turned quickly. Sure enough, the cloaked, hooded, sword-wielding mouse was there. Like a silent specter it stood, not quite seeming to touch the ground, though that was impossible to tell through the folds of it's cloak. The apparition hardly ever spoke. Usually it seemed to suffice with inflicting a mortal wound on N'Tashi, whereupon the stoat in question would find himself wide awake back in the land of the living, unharmed.

N'Tashi felt no fear on this occasion, however. He sneered at the cloaked figure, throwing his arms out wide, exposing his chest for the mouse to pierce with it's sword.

"C'mon then, dark shade! Stick me with that fish-poker of yores, as yew 'parrently seem to enjoy doin' so much! I have many-a-thing I have t'do when I wake up, so let's get this over with, shall we?"

[Enon // SoMtW]

"C'mon then, dark shade! Stick me with that fish-poker of yores, as yew 'parrently seem to enjoy doin' so much! I have many-a-thing I have t'do when I wake up, so let's get this over with, shall we?"

"I think not this time, N'tashi Bloodclaw, tyrant of Redwall." Martin intoned, throwing off his cloak for the first time. He smiled, cold and deadly. He mimicked the stoat, throwing his arms out wide. "Everything is just beginning. Strike."

[Maxodis]

The unexpected reaction caused N'Tashi to hesitate. In the many years that he had experienced these dreams, the warriormouse hardly spoke, much less left itself exposed to attack. He felt his self-confidence rapidly fade. It was obviously some sort of trick....but what could a dead spirit do to a beast within his own dreams? Was this truly another one of those dreams? Could it be possible that in his fevered sleep, he was only imagining that he was experiencing one of the unquestionably supernatural dreams?

He laughed at his own stupidity within his mind, dreaming about a dream! How preposterous!

....But if it were true?

N'Tashi blinked, finding himself staring at the ground. He realized that he had been pacing again, within his dream. He berated his foolishness bitterly, glaring at the warriormouse as his fur bristled. N'Tashi's paw strayed to his side, brushing against something cold. He glanced down, surprised to see his old rapier embedded in the dark soil next to him. Had it always been there?

He cast aside the questions once more, they did nothing but unnerve him. Snarling, he grabbed the weapon and whipped it before him, tossing up a large clump of drenched earth with it. He advanced on the Mouse, fearing and despising the self-confident look on it's face. With a wild yell, he thrust the rusted blade into the figure, feeling the faint vibrations as the jagged edges of the weapon cleaved through it's chest cavity.

N'Tashi's cruel smile soon withered as he realized that the mouse was not bleeding. He attempted to withdraw his sword from the mouse's body, but found he lacked the strength to do so. Placing a footpaw against the solid mouse's torso, he leaned back and pulled with all his might, old sinew tensing in cords as his muscles strained. It was of no use, the blade would not yield. The mouse had not moved even the slightest, not at the attack, nor during N'Tashi's attempts to remove his weapon from the mouse's chest.

Stumbling back several paces, feeling the edge of fear biting at his conscious, N'Tashi franticly searched around, plucking a broken lance from where it lay in the ground. Eyes wide with adrenaline, N'Tashi charged the mouse a second time, impaling it once more, this time in it's abdomen. Still, no bleeding.

He continued his assault with every weapon that he could find in the area, with each charge his blood pounded faster. With each charge, the rising mindless terror in his gut threatened to overcome him.

The mouse had not moved a hair. Broken and rusted weaponry protruded from every inch of it's body. There were no signs of blood, no crimson slivers of exposed flesh. That cold smile still remained affixed to it's face, it's eyes still bore the same persistant quality about them that had always sent N'Tashi to the brink of his own sanity.

N'Tashi shrunk away from the figure, his breath quick and shallow, his voice cracked with terror.

"W.......w........w-w-w-w-what are you!?"

[lorki]

"W.......w........w-w-w-w-what are you!?"

Martin had not moved, with every charge or attempt to remove a weapon from his ‘flesh.’ He still wore his same smile, now tinged with contempt and triumph. “I am Martin the Warrior, Guardian of Redwall Abbey.” He said in ringing tones, lowering his arms as weapons suddenly appeared in their previous places. “Look upon its champion, N’Tashi.”

Martin motioned at his discarded cloak, which was rising and seemed to be wrapping around a body.

The sable blinked, the expression on her face was one of calm but her eyes betrayed her slightly, holding sparks or rage and sorrow as they turned on N'Tashi. Most of her face was hidden beneath the hood, but her calmness was replaced by a slight smirk, quite clear despite the dim light. She remained silent, her eyes locked on N'Tashi, her paw gripped the hilt of Martin's sword , though it and her arm hung limply at her side- she had no intention of brining it into use, not yet.

[Maxodis]

N'Tashi recoiled further from the new figure as it materialized from within the dark cloak. He scrabbled away from it in a crablike fashion, though he didn't seem to make much progress in widening the gap between himself and it. Despite his desperate want to keep his eyes averted, the terror-stricken stoat found that his will was bent by the mouse's words. His eyes were forced to look upon the new specter.

There was little that was discernible through the thick cloak, which cast the figure in deep shadows. A pair of eyes shone through the shadow of the creature's hooded face, almost bursting with turbulent emotions held within it's mind. The only other clear feature of the seemingly tangible shade was it's slight smile that mocked the quivering stoat. Beside those features, only one thing was clear.

The shade was not a mouse.

Blinking slightly, curiosity overcoming his own fear, N'Tashi leaned closer to the figure, scrutinizing it. No, this one was no mouse. In fact.....it almost appeared to be a creature not unlike himself...

Astonished at this revelation, N'Tashi rose to his feet. He could not help but openly gawk at the cloaked figure. A Vermin? Wielding the sword? A Vermin? Champion of Redwall Abbey!? This was clearly not a true visit from the mouse, it could only be his own imagination, and what a wild one it is!

N'Tashi found he was suddenly unable to suppress his laughter. He cackled wildly, holding his sides as he doubled up in fits of laughter. He could not find a revitalizing breath. Shaking with mirth, he forced himself to breath deeply, trying in vain to halt his laughter long enough to speak. He did not manage to get much across, finding his own question as much a reason for hilarity as the idea that one of his own kind would liberate the abbey.

Having sufficiently recovered enough to make a logical statement, N'Tashi pointed a grimy claw at the cloaked figure, still holding his sides as they ached.

"Mouse, yer......yer...(hee hee hee!)....yew must be blind! That en't no 'Champion', that righ' there's a vermin! (ha ha ha!) Per'aps yew should look in'ter spectacles!"

[lorki]

"Mouse, yer......yer...(hee hee hee!)....yew must be blind! That en't no 'Champion', that righ' there's a vermin! (ha ha ha!) Per'aps yew should look in'ter spectacles!"

Martin could not help but laugh. And laugh he did, for what seemed like forever. Then he advanced on the stoat, his own naked sword in his paw, yet in the paw of the cloaked figure as well. He stopped right in front of N’tashi, and he stared into the stoat’s eyes for a full minute, piercing through to his soul.

“That is where you are wrong, N’tashi.” The warrior mouse said, tapping a finger on the greasy tunic over the stoat’s heart. “Its what’s in here that makes the warrior. Its what makes the mother and the father, a player, a cook. A good beast, a bad beast.” Every word rang out and hit home like a hammer on an anvil.
~
Quite quickly the sable chuckled as well. In fact amusement sprang to her face and erased all negative expression even in her eyes. She was suddenly grinning quite widely, much like the warlord. However, unlike him her amusement was not driven by the fact that she -as odd as she still believed it was- had been named champion, she chuckled solely at his reaction.

She watched the altercation between the mouse and N'tashi before she stepped in as well. She still stood quite casually, a slight smile worn on her face still, "Perhaps N'tashi believes he is safer in his wrongful thoughts," her eyes turned to the tyrant, "Of course no warrior mouse could get close to you. How quickly do you think they'd meet a blade? How obvious would they be staging an uprisings? So what do you think of me? What do I look like, N'tashi, every single creature around you, close to you? What are my chances?" It was a scare tactic, she would get some decent respect out of him if nothing else.

Soko was well aware that the same appearance that convinced many others slaves she was evil had convinced N'tashi that it was also impossible for her to be good. It was only then that she realized her frustration and rage did not quite lie with N'tashi himself, instead she saw it lay in what he had managed to, without ever knowing her or seeing her, tell every single other creature about her- that she was malicious and cold-hearted, evil even.

This revelation left her somewhat surprised at herself. Only after coming face to face with the warlord did she understand that she felt no real desire to kill him, not to say she would mind it. However her desire was for something much larger then the death of a single stoat- and even as the thought sprang to her mind she was only beginning to understand exactly what she wanted.

[Maxodis]

The laughter that once rang out, defying the silence of the grisly battlefield, at once came to an abrupt end. The mouse's approach deeply disturbed N'Tashi, in light of his useless attempts to flee the figure. With every step the mouse seemed to grow larger, more imposing. N'tashi knew from proportions that he unquestionably stood well above the mouse at his full height, and yet, as the mouse came to a halt, N'Tashi found himself dwarfed by the grave warriormouse.

N'Tashi found that he was once again forced to look into the shade's eyes against his will. Within, he observed a tempest of determination so intense that it seemed to explode from within the mouse's soul, casting aside his defenses with the sheer force of it's energy. N'Tashi felt himself laid bare to the mouse, every doubt, every worry, every flaw exposed for careful scrutiny and indiscriminate scorn. He felt every lie he had told himself to justify his actions desert him. He was shown all at once everything that he was as it was stripped from him. There was nothing left. He was nothing in the eyes of this solemn spirit. N'Tashi felt the mouse's paw tap his chest lightly. The pain at the contact felt as intense as if the warriormouse had impaled him with the illustrious sword. Each word the mouse spoke sent a sharp bout of agony riddling throughout his body.

The only thing more agonizing than the pain was the fact from the moment N'Tashi was stripped of all his protective lies, every muscle in his body locked up unflinchingly. He could not even manage the slightest shudder. The Sable's approach broke the spell of the mouse's basilisk stare. N'Tashi fell to his knees, shuddering violently as his abruptly relaxed muscles spasmed in convulsions. He was only partially aware of the Sable as she spoke.

"Perhaps N'tashi believes he is safer in his wrongful thoughts," her eyes turned to the tyrant, "Of course no warrior mouse could get close to you. How quickly do you think they'd meet a blade? How obvious would they be staging an uprisings? So what do you think of me? What do I look like, N'tashi, every single creature around you, close to you? What are my chances?"

Her words penetrated through the haze of N'Tashi's torment. The realization struck him with a harsh intensity. Both creatures wielded the same sword, but they did not need to bring them to bear in order to impale their victim. The fear that was foremost in N'Tashi's mind was illuminated with remarkable intensity. He had always been paranoid of others. He had always accepted the knowledge that he might find himself betrayed by one of those he trusted, his lifeblood seeping onto the blades that had once been wielded in his name. It was the main reason for his seclusion into his quarters. He had always assumed he was more intelligent than those he commanded, always assumed that those who plotted against him were only driven by his position that they so coveted.

To think that there could be one like this among the ranks of his horde!

It was too much. N'Tashi felt his sanity slipping as his reason left him. Sliding back on his heels, he found himself laughing at the impossibility of it all, and at the same time, shedding bitter tears at the hopelessness of his situation. He receded back into the violated seclusion of his mind in a desperate attempt to explain that which was incomprehensible. This could not possibly be a dream of any sort, one did not feel such disturbingly real pain in dreams. What could it be, if it were not a dream? What if the sable's words rang true?

...What if they had already come to pass?

It was possible that something of his dinner had been poisoned. It would explain his sickness. He could have had his throat slit while he slept, there were innumerable ways that his imagination told him that he could have died. At this thought, his mind shut down completely.

An indefinite amount of time later, N'Tashi once again became aware of his surroundings. He was still dreaming, if you could cal it that. He blinked in surprise. He had curled into as tight of a fetal position as he could manage. Damp streaks ran down his face, matting the dirty fur in long trails from where he had cried.

Recovering some of his composure, N'Tashi stood on shaking legs, confused and frightened at his sudden inability to stand properly. He spoke in a ragged whisper.

"What do ye want of me?"

[Enon // SoMtW]

Soko watched his breakdown, her face shifted from calm to slight concern. Concern? For a tyrant? For N’tashi? For he who had essentially taken away her life, forced the untimely death of her parents and tossed her into lonely separation from every other beast for years? She couldn’t explain it but it was there all the same.

She swallowed painfully and reminded herself that this Abbey was her home. Perhaps had she never been taken into slavery it would never have become such, but she had been chosen as its champion and her moral inner struggles would have to be put aside. She tried to set her jaw but found she quivered slightly. Did she want him and all his followers slaughtered? Morally she knew that the slaves were like her, that this horde was everything she detested. But she could not deny what her reflection showed her.

Soko let out a slight growl and pushed the thought aside. In the end it would not matter. In the end liberation was her goal, liberation for all of the slaves was her goal and these hordes beasts had made their choices.

Martin watched impassively as the stoat's mind slipped into insanity. He felt only the slightest bit of pity for the creature in front of him. Martin was not a cruel beast, but every tear that fell, every scream and sob that erupted, carried the memory of the torture machines, the cruelity practiced on innocent creatures by this stoat.

Soko straightened her back, the quiet growl subsiding she looked evenly at N’tashi. “That shouldn’t take much thought N’tashi.” She said simply. “And you are not dead. Not yet. I, personally, am certainly not here to kill you.”

"Nor am I." Martin said. "You will not die yet, N'tashi. Your life is not yet over, but this I promise you: you will reap a hundredfold what you paid out in cruelty and hate before your life is over. Ponder that, for it is too late to change."

With that, the great warrior spirit departed, leaving the sobbing and terrified stoat behind.

Sokana lingered a bit longer, her eyes on N'tashi. Part of her was purely curious about him, questions that revolved around 'why' circled about her mind. None of course that she dared to ask, because any answer would never be enough. She forced her mouth to stay shut and she turned herself and began to walk quietly away. A small clink chimed as a small glinting item fell onto a bloody sword laying in the dirt. The sable was gone, along with the Mouse.

[Maxodis]

Focused as he was on the vanishing shades, N'Tashi almost missed noticing the small falling object. His eyes caught the smallest glimpse of it before the seemingly frail object struck the blade of a bloodied sword on the darkened ground. The small metallic sound, while instantaneous and brief, at the same time seemed painfully loud, droning unceasingly in the stoat's mind for what felt like an eon. He clamped his paws to the sides of his head in a desperate effort to relieve the splitting pain that resulted from the monotonous dirge.

Jarred awake by the awareness that is born only of intense fear, N'Tashi rose abruptly from his bed, finding himself entangled within his sheets. Cursing loudly, he struggled to free himself of the sweat-drenched material, ultimately furthering his entanglement. At some point in his struggle, he tumbled off the side of his bed, landing prone among his possessions nest to it. His struggles were immediately halted at the sharp pain in his left paw. Shaking slightly, he investigated the source of pain. He was met with an unmistakably slick, warm, liquid on what could only be the blade of his old rapier. Slowly, as to not damage himself further, he carefully extracted the thin blade from his paw.

The wound was not deep, nor did it need much medical attention, belying the fact that it was bleeding quite profusely. N'Tashi attempted to wrap his injured paw in the bedsheets that still entangled him, but met with little success; at that point, the sheets were very tightly wrapped around his shivering frame. An unfounded mindless rage erupted in the old stoat, he grasped the hilt of the rusted weapon and began attacking the bedsheets wrapped around him. The successive lances of pain let him know that he was slicing through more than just bedsheets. He only stopped once he was free, breathing heavily as he towered over the dismal pile of shredded and bloodied cloth.

For some reason, he experienced the heady exhilaration of victory. He threw his head back as he howled raggedly with manicial laughter. This did not last long, as he was overcome by a fit of harsh coughing. Having regained his breath, N'Tashi blinked in surprise as he appraised his now-erratic behavior. Absent-mindedly, he rung the bell at his bedside that would alert his guards that he needed assistance. He was startled that he could lose his reason so easily, and wondered at the potential cause. His recollection of the dream hit him with the ferocity and unequivocal certainty of a blade piercing his chest. This recollection, sparked his fear, the analogy he had used to describe it fueled it. He shrank from his bed, fearing the shades of his nightmare would rise from it's depths to torment him in reality.

Bitterly, the old stoat berated himself. No vengeful shade had ever risen from one's bed to bring misery to him in the past, nor would reality conspire against him and bend now. He had allowed himself to be frightened by a silly little dream that was, in all probability, not a premonition, as it seemed to be. It must have been the result of a bad case of indigestion, that's all. He repeated that last part of the statement in his head as he subconsciously began to pace.

It was merely a bad case of indigestion.
Or was it?
Of course it was! What else could it be?
You know very well what it was, fool. There's no denying it.
No! It wasn't real! It couldn't be!
Look at you, desperately trying to lie to yourself. Have you become that weak, oh great warlord?

Dejectedly, N'Tashi fell to his knees, weeping bitterly, unable to silence the mocking voice of his own conscious within his head. Despair gave way to frustration, which erupted into a wild anger.

Blood flew from his wounds in small droplets as he vented his disorienting rage on anything that came to paw. Wall hangings were slashed, crystal goblets were hurled across the room, articles of weaponry and armor were ripped from their holdings and strewn everywhere. Amid the chaos, a faint knocking was heard at the door.

The weasel was one of few personal attendants to N'Tashi. His post was not a coveted one, as the aged warlord was prone to violence, usually on those unlucky enough to be in the immediate area. It was of little surprise, then, when the door that had seemed so docile previously, suddenly sprouted a rusty rapier blade, which, by some miracle, managed to stop just short of the weasel's nose. The incoherent yelling from within were heard by none, as the weasel made a point of making a hasty exit.

Acting on a whim, having abandoned logical thinking, N'Tashi proceeded to barricade the entrance with whatever furniture he could shift. An indefinite amount of time passed for the stoat before he settled down to sit and stare at the dead coals of the previous night's fire.


A bad case of indigestion indeed.

((Fin~. Closed, ended, done with. No more agonizing over this for me. ))