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Literature
Bloody Fantastic Ch. 6
"Hey."
"For far too long, you've fought your friends,
these fights will lead you to your-"

"Yeah, I know. Yada yada, rhyme scheme, yada yada prophecy. Look, I'm tired, this is the first night in a while where I wasn't beaten into unconsciousness. I'd really like to just enjoy my ni-

"You know not what power you possess,
you won't get any reprieve from rest."

"Really? Just ignoring me? Can you leave me alone? Please? At least for tonight. Because I would like to have a decent night's rest. I've been marching with two morons looking for their friend, all while being berated by one of them. Not to mention some new tag-a-longs that seem to have picked up on the abusive stuff-"
"You cannot escape your destiny,
for as long as-"

"Oh wow, not even gonna let me finish? Well, fine then. Only one course of action. LA LA LA LA LA LA-"
"Shut up, cat."
"Ah ha! An actual response! Now I know what tactic to use! LALALALALALA-"
"SHUT UP, YOU OVERGROWN DIBBUN!"
Huh, that one
:iconYOLATT:YOLATT
:iconyolatt:YOLATT 1 1
Literature
Bloody Fantastic Ch. 5
A/N: Quick little note, thanks again to the fabulous poet/writer/reviewer/good-ol'-buddy-of-mine Mica. Y'all need to take some time out of your day to go over and read his story, it's the bee's knees, the snake's feet, the YOLATT's writing schedule, and some other thing that doesn't exist that may or may not be used to describe just how damn nonsensically good it is.
____________________________________________________________
"So, I'm allowed to eat birds?" I inquired, casually munching on some sort of fruit. It tasted awful, and my new dental structure wasn't too happy with it, either.
"You'd have to kill it first, but yes, you can eat birds," Kenwall responded, munching on his fifth fruit. Both he and Sparrow had chowed down through their daily provisions and were sitting on the opposite side of the campfire from me. Kenwall leaned back on the log and let out a yawn. Sparrow took slow deliberate bites, her brows scrunched down and not giving any sign that they'd return to normal. Th
:iconYOLATT:YOLATT
:iconyolatt:YOLATT 1 1
Literature
Keeper of the Sands, chapter 2
Fen, Captain of the North Sands Territory
Captain Fen listened to the sound of life ending. Judging by the volume, the right lives were being taken. His soldiers had been atop the great walls surrounding the outpost, Old Fang, and were raining down arrows at enemy invaders. They held the advantage at the moment. The wall was facing the North, where the force was coming from. That direction was filled with a great many slopes and dunes, which provided cover for the enemy. Unfortunately for them, the horde didn't know how to use it properly, and were occasionally hiding behind insufficient cover.
The horde, which called itself the Death Reapers, was supposedly led by a large, pitch black fox who fancied himself the title Lord Redpaw, "Harvester of All Life". Fen and some of the other captains had gotten a kick out of that.
"Why 'Harvester'? If the horde itself is called the Reapers, why not just call himself 'Lord Reaper'?" the rat captain named Chie questioned. "Do harvesters really sou
:iconYOLATT:YOLATT
:iconyolatt:YOLATT 1 0
Literature
Bloody Fantastic Ch. 4
A mouse clad in shining armor appeared, the only thing visible in a bleak expanse of space. I was vaguely aware that even I was not truly there. Nothingness and black, all except for a mouse. I tried to speak, but found no voice. I tried to move, but had nothing of which I could move. I felt trapped in the surrounding void.
"From worlds away, in desperate need,
a lone fox brought you here.
Now cat, you must listen, and take heed,
for you to find the seer."
Suddenly, another animal appeared. Colors emerged around it, molding and shifting to form a clearing around it. It was a fox, donned in silk and walking along a path. Soon, other less clear shapes took their place around it, and the image became that of an army traveling.
"For intents less pure, they sought you,
to help them defeat my ancient home."
The colors yet again morphed, now displaying a grand building made of red bricks. It almost immediately burst into flame, and shouts and shrieks could be heard from it as dark figures pou
:iconYOLATT:YOLATT
:iconyolatt:YOLATT 1 1
Mature content
Bloody Fantastic Ch. 3 :iconyolatt:YOLATT 1 1
Mature content
Bloody Fantastic Ch. 2 :iconyolatt:YOLATT 1 1
Mature content
Bloody Fantastic :iconyolatt:YOLATT 1 3
Literature
Keeper of the Sands Ch 1
"High Lord Bloodsand, Ruler of the all the South, owner of every dune and of all those that inhabit them. Keeper of the power, leader of the many hordes, king of all that has sun shine upon its surface."
A tall, muscular, slightly pot-bellied ferret sat listening to the young beast name off his many titles, mentally reciting them much faster than the young squire said them. He wished he could preoccupy his mind with other, more entertaining thoughts, but with an entire crowd of vermin observing him, he found it hard to let his mind wander. He sat upon the large, oak wood seat adorned with small jewels that served as the throne of the King of the South. He looked around at the crowd. Most of them lived in Yolatt, the large capitol of the Southern Empire where the trial was being held. There were a few he could point out that were definitely from other controlled areas, a slightly hairier rat from the northern most sands fanning himself, a tree dweller ambassador from the Redbrick fortre
:iconYOLATT:YOLATT
:iconyolatt:YOLATT 0 0
Literature
Marlfox Misdeeds Chapter 3
So Stoaty, what we gonna write about today?
Stoaty: My name is Pykespear!
Nice try Stoaty, but that's the name of a water rat.
Stoaty: So? More than one beast can have the same name.
BS. Throughout generations upon generations, beasts have ALWAYS had different names, never the same.
Stoaty: Martin, Log-a-Log, Wearet, Skippe-
Alright, you made your point. So what? Are you going to tell me Pykespear is like, the Joe of your world?
Stoaty: Well you ARE the author, you could think up something origin-
Good idea, shut up, MR. Stoaty!
_______________________
Queen Silth was looking forward to going down to the dining hall to have a meal with her children. Ascrod and Vannan had returned the night before, carrying in treasures of the mysterious Western Isles. She kept most of the cargo, though some things she discarded, such as a golden trident and an ugly little crown with six pink pebbles attached to it. Vannan decided to keep both things as her gifts for her performance, and Ascrod was cont
:iconYOLATT:YOLATT
:iconyolatt:YOLATT 1 3
Literature
That Marlfox thing... Part 2
Quick A/N: When Silth said "Go to the West" last time, that was pretty vague, and a bit confusing seeing as Salamandastron is in the West, right? Welp... Western islands. Yeah, let's go with that.
Random stoat: "Like Samperta?"
YES! LIKE THAT! YES! Way to go Stoaty!
Stoat: My name is-
Stoaty. Stoaty. Shut up. Anyway, quick A/N over, enjoy the show.
___________________________________________________
Silth was in the middle of her usual pastime (which was sitting in her sheets and mumbling about ghosts and her terrible choices in life... mainly Gelltor) when her door opened.
"Spawn, is that you?" She asked without looking in the general direction. Instead of her beloved children, it was a water rat. After turning to look, she was pretty sure it was one named Fangburn, but to be honest, there were a lot of those and all of her subjects sort of looked the same.
"No, you Highness, it's I, Pykespear, your royal messenger." The rat bowed.
"Mhm, alright. SO, why are you here?" The Queen asked
:iconYOLATT:YOLATT
:iconyolatt:YOLATT 2 3
Literature
The life of a Marlfox
It was a bright and shining summer morning on the great fortress that was Castle Marl. The air was crisp and clear, the wind sending a slight rustle through the trees, the bees buzzed and a bird could be heard starting its early song. A quick arrow shot later, and there was considerable less singing in the air.
The good Queen Silth awoke groggily underneath 50 different layers of golden sheets made from melted crowns and the finest silks combined, as well as some slave tears. Her head had been resting on pillows made from the most exquisite fabrics, and stuffed with feathers from birds that no longer existed (some would call them plain pigeon feathers, but Mokkan would most likely never lie about such a thing).
Even with all these extravagant luxuries, something still troubled her. Something she knew deep down. It had been many seasons since her beloved and died. Torn from life to soon, Silth still remembered the day it happened. They had started their morning with an argument over who
:iconYOLATT:YOLATT
:iconyolatt:YOLATT 3 6
Literature
Southern Words Ch1
Isaiah the mouse stared down the weasel lying in front of him with a expression of pure rage, sword pointed at his throat. This low down, despicable, ugly, murdering monster that had been there when the Redwall Abbey had been attacked. The villainous coward who had fled as soon as he was caught... as he was caught murdering Isaiah's father. The bloody knife freshly plucked from his only parent's chest, dripping in crimson blood.
His paw trembled with fury and anticipation. He heard shouts from farther away, the sound of the other Redwallers approaching. Isaiah kept his eyes on the weasel, watched as the vermin's eyes lazily looked back at his. His appearance gave off an apathetic mood to the situation. He lay down calmly, a brown bag behind his head, leaned up against a tall tree. The pair were in a small open area in the middle of Mossflower Wood. Dense foliage surrounded them, forming somewhat of a circle.
"So Ice," the weasel's voice was oddly calm. "I see you've gotten yourself a n
:iconYOLATT:YOLATT
:iconyolatt:YOLATT 1 0
Literature
Redwall Rap Battles
Silvamord: The queen is here, now bow to her presence!
Rapping against a minor character that didn't speak a sentence!
Your only power in your book was to give birth to a brat,
meanwhile I was in control of an entire hoarde of rats!
Your story's a sad sack,
your familys whack,
and the only thing you did was get layed on your back!
I sent out spies, and in battles actually fought!
While for a majority of your book, all you did was rot.
I held such a great rule, there was only small defiance,
we already know what your comeback will be, just silence!
Bluefen: Step back, dear. We know what you did.
Your most impressive feat was killing some weak kid.
And your right, my main role was to give birth to my son,
maybe if you actually loved your hubby, you might've won.
When you actually battled, you failed to lead your horde!
When we attack we'll spill your rats blood on your shores!
Sure I didn't talk, but I could've still been brilliant.
Because you never shut up, we know you're just an idiot
:iconYOLATT:YOLATT
:iconyolatt:YOLATT 8 11
For Brantsteele by YOLATT For Brantsteele :iconyolatt:YOLATT 0 0
Literature
New Redwall story, P1
Yeah... check the description.
:iconYOLATT:YOLATT
:iconyolatt:YOLATT 0 0
mangatar stuff by YOLATT mangatar stuff :iconyolatt:YOLATT 0 0

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"Hey."

"For far too long, you've fought your friends,
these fights will lead you to your-"


"Yeah, I know. Yada yada, rhyme scheme, yada yada prophecy. Look, I'm tired, this is the first night in a while where I wasn't beaten into unconsciousness. I'd really like to just enjoy my ni-

"You know not what power you possess,
you won't get any reprieve from rest."


"Really? Just ignoring me? Can you leave me alone? Please? At least for tonight. Because I would like to have a decent night's rest. I've been marching with two morons looking for their friend, all while being berated by one of them. Not to mention some new tag-a-longs that seem to have picked up on the abusive stuff-"

"You cannot escape your destiny,
for as long as-"


"Oh wow, not even gonna let me finish? Well, fine then. Only one course of action. LA LA LA LA LA LA-"

"Shut up, cat."

"Ah ha! An actual response! Now I know what tactic to use! LALALALALALA-"

"SHUT UP, YOU OVERGROWN DIBBUN!"

Huh, that one didn't sound like-
________________

THWAP!

I've begun to notice that the sound of a stick hitting someone is much more pathetic than it should be. I mean, stinging pain and possible injuries to your very bones, and the most someone else hears is about the same sound as a rubber band smacking the back of someone's neck. I'm just saying, if getting hit by a blunt instrument hurt as much as the noise caused by it suggested, I would have far less reason to hate each and everyone of the things surrounding me.

... That's a lie, I'd still have every good reason to hate everyone.

Speaking of which, one of the reject sidekicks for Squirrel Girl was hovering over me.

"Just because Sparrow likes squawking doesn't mean you need to." I muttered.

"Then perhaps you should shut your own mouth!"

At first, it had been a hassle trying to discern the squirrels from each other. With the rabbits, there was moustache man and the bane of my existence. Oh, and the other one. Still don't know where she is. Anyway, with the squirrels it was a much different case. Two of them were females, two were males, and one still had me on the fence. The one that just got done giving me the medieval wake up call was one of the guys.

"Which one are you, again?" I asked. I can't honestly remember if he had ever given his name.

"Giddup." He growled.

"Well, Giddup, I'd love to, really, but I think I might have trouble with that, what with the whole BEING TIED UP!"

At this point, I should think nobody reading this is surprised at my being bound with rope. One doesn't just punch a military officer and get away with it. On the upside, I'll never not feel proud of myself for my actions. Sure, my face is probably a sight for sore eyes. Getting punched a minimum of ten times a day will do that. Granted, half of them could have been avoided if I learned to stop making sarcastic comments, but holding those in would be more painful than any beating. Being tied up with rope was more annoying, especially when one factors in bathroom breaks. Or eating. Or everything.

"Not my problem." 'Giddup' sneered. He was the second bulkiest of the squirrels, and carried around an axe. I'll admit to laughing when he tried boasting around the campfire about how many vermin he'd taken down with it. The hilarity came from two things.

A. He was trying to intimidate me, and he failed miserably. More importantly...
B. He was trying to impress the rabbits, specifically Sparrow.

The big oaf seemed to be a bit smitten with the shrill beast. Where the attraction came from, I'll never know. Maybe he's a sadist and he likes seeing her abuse me, maybe squirrels just have things for other animals (if that's the case, then there's a discovery channel documentary that I need to avoid), or maybe it was just the fact that she was the only available beast around.

Willow was the tribe chief, and apparently that meant she couldn't have any "mates" as they called it. Bit of an odd custom, but hey, that's probably the least bizarre thing I've encountered throughout my two week long journey. Also, she's got the best wit out of any of these schnooks, and it'd go wasted on the big moron. He basically gift wrapped most of the insults he received.

The other female was his sister, and thankfully incest isn't a thing that happens here. I mean, I suppose I don't actually know that, but I sort of need some security that this isn't the most terrible thing in the entire universe. Anyway, her name was some sort of combination of a tree and an appendage. No clue why her parents gave her that name, perhaps they weren't too bright. Considering who else they had for a kid, it really wouldn't surprise me. She was fairly quiet, but also much larger than her older brother. Her face was also the most heavily done in paint, a thick coat of white all over her head with red around the eyes and black on her snout.

The other guy was about the same stature as Willow, and seemed the most laid back. He hardly ever seemed to notice me, and any time he was forced to stand guard over me, he more or less just made small talk with me. He gave me his name once, but I forgot it rather quickly and resorted to calling him Roadkill. He was confused, but I assured him it was a name of great respect in my culture. Since he was talking to a large feline supposedly named Don Juan, I doubt he was all too suspicious of whether or not I was lying.

The final member of this odd little bunch was the mute. Roadkill said something about them losing their tongue a while ago to a rat with a knife. I'll admit to giggling at that, because the thought of a rat with a switchblade and greaser jacket came to my mind when he was telling me the story. Said giggling prompted a punch in the gut from Sparrow, though whether that that was from me laughing at a story of someone losing their tongue or just because I was experiencing joy, I don't know.

Anyway, back to the plot.

"I assume it would be your problem. Either you help me up, or you carry me. Your call." I tried my best to sound confident while keeping eye level with his feet.

There was a bit of silence that followed.

"Yeah, didn't think of that one, did ya?"

"Shut up."

As I was being hoisted up, I looked around.

My head had been laying comfortably on a moss covered log, about a yard away from the thirty-fifth clearing in the woods we'd camped at. I'm beginning to think this forest was designed by a certain Batman villain.

After the little incident the week before, I wasn't allowed to sleep near the campfire. Instead, I was plopped in any area somewhat close to the camp, and someone else was in charge of making sure I didn't try to wriggle away during the night. Unfortunately, tonight was Giddup's night.

"Listen, I think I can manage not screaming anymore, I can just go back to bed." As much as I'd gotten used to it, I wasn't really in the mood for another beating.

"The other hare just came back, and she wants to have a word with you."

Oh thank God I'm not the only one who doesn't know her name, maybe he can ask for... oh, wait. Rabbit + Me = Not Good Times. I'm now less excited.

"So does 'have a word with you' mean beating or combo of insults and beating?"

"Her call." He said smugly.

As we entered the clearing, I saw the Willow, Sparrow, Kenwall and good ol' whats-her-name standing around the fire, quietly discussing. Roadkill and the mute were snuggled together closer to the supplies and Giddup's sister was nowhere to be seen.

Kenwall turned away from the conversation and noticed us approaching.

"Really, you couldn't just untie him and let him walk with you? You really had to carry him?" Kenwall asked. Willow sighed and shook her head, and the third rabbit just looked dumbfounded. Really, it's a shame I don't get along with these folk, because I very much agree with all of their reactions... except for Sparrow, who was just glowering at me.

"Can't be too careful with vermin." Giddup said as he put me down. I was about to ask for the third hare's name, but then I noticed something he said.

"Wait, did you just call me a vermin?"

There was a small silence, followed by the big oaf merely saying, "Yeah."

"Look who's talkin, you bushy tail rat! What kind of bull sh-"

WHOMP!

I doubled over as Sparrow removed her fist from my abdomen. That was usually one of the more tender spots.

"How many times I gotta tell ya to show some manners, wot!" Sparrow said in a snippy voice. Honestly, her annoyed voice is a much more aggravating sound than her enraged voice.

"How... fnnngh dimmmn..."

"Wot was that?"

"Gimme a sec, I'm waiting for my kidney to move back into place. Why do you always have to resort to violence? It is never necessary!"

"That's an opinion." Willow stated matter-of-factly.

I received a light tap on the shoulder. I straightened slightly and looked at the silent hare, who merely motioned for me to follow her. She started to walk closer to the edge of the camp, away from the others. I hobbled towards her, still awkwardly tied up and in pain. Once we moved five feet into the trees, the rabbit started talking.

"It's good to see you're still alive."

... Was that a positive comment? No, no, I will not be suckered in. I am not lowering my guard. This is gonna be followed by a spear butt to the face, I bet.

"I'd like to start by saying that I'm sorry for all that you've had to endure. You're very strong to have gotten as far as you have."

It's a trick. I'm not falling for this.

"I promise, I'll make those savage little morons pay for what they've done to you."

I-I'm not... I'm...

She hugged me. "And after everything is finished, you'll go back home to your... Nebarska?"

She... I... Oh my God. "Nebraska."

My world collapsed. For a solid month, I had been beaten, dragged through who knows where, and all the while I kept my thoughts away from home, trying not to think about my friends, my house, my family, my life...

"Are... Are you crying?"

"No." I lied through my very unflattering sounding sobs. My eyes were blurry, my nose was running like a waterfall, and my entire body felt weak. Weak from the multiple bruises, weak from the surroundings, weak from trying to put up a stoic and cocky front. "What makes you think I'm crying?"

"Wot in blazes is going on here?" I heard Sparrow come from behind. I didn't even turn to acknowledge her. I didn't care about anything at that moment. Hell, I didn't even bother to make a dumb one-liner.

"Gotta say Rodie ol' gal, ya really must've done somethin' fierce to the scum. I've beat 'i'm black and blue, and I never got a single tear outa him."

Rodie. So that's who that is. How bout that.
Bloody Fantastic Ch. 6
So... got this out a bit early. You might've noticed, what with the lack of editing. Seriously, I basically have just been submitting first-drafts as of late. Kinda getting a bit out of hand.

Anywho, this chapter was originally going to just be more light-hearted tomfoolery, but then I got bored and made a chapter that's just kinda meh. So, take it or leave it.

Also, next chapter will come out, at latest, at middle of April. Maybe before April, who knows.
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A/N: Quick little note, thanks again to the fabulous poet/writer/reviewer/good-ol'-buddy-of-mine Mica. Y'all need to take some time out of your day to go over and read his story, it's the bee's knees, the snake's feet, the YOLATT's writing schedule, and some other thing that doesn't exist that may or may not be used to describe just how damn nonsensically good it is.
____________________________________________________________

"So, I'm allowed to eat birds?" I inquired, casually munching on some sort of fruit. It tasted awful, and my new dental structure wasn't too happy with it, either.

"You'd have to kill it first, but yes, you can eat birds," Kenwall responded, munching on his fifth fruit. Both he and Sparrow had chowed down through their daily provisions and were sitting on the opposite side of the campfire from me. Kenwall leaned back on the log and let out a yawn. Sparrow took slow deliberate bites, her brows scrunched down and not giving any sign that they'd return to normal. The same could be said for the scowl on her face. To be honest, I think it might just be physically impossible for her to smile.

"But they talk?"

"Some do, aye, some talk."

"Are those... so those ones are off limits? For eating? Right?"

The silence that followed led me to believe that I might have been a bit confusing in my question. That, and the dumbfounded looks on their faces. I mean, was that really that idiotic of a question?

"Where exactly are you from again, Don?" Kenwall inquired.

"Nebraska," I repeated for the fifth or sixth time. That hour.

"Indeed... and that would be where?"

Oh God, I am not going through this again. Time for alternate conversation topic #7.

"So, how come you don't have a thick accent like the other rabbit?" It was a question that had been bothering me for some time. I think Sparrow was doing some sort of bad cockney, but to be fair I've never actually listened to a Cockney person speak. From what I hear, Dick Van Dyke was not too accurate in his portrayal of the people.

Man, I wonder what folks around here do for fun if they don't have movies and electronics and such. Besides torture and beat me, I mean. Well, maybe they still have plays. I mean, jesters were a thing in the medieval times, right? How far back did theatre go- oh crap, Kenwall's been talking this whole time. OK, what's he saying?

"That's why I don't share the same speech patterns as the rest of my brothers and sisters in arms."

Yeah, figures I tune in right after he actually answers my question... wait, he's looking at me. Oh crap, does he expect me to follow up on what he said? Oh... uh...

"Huh."

...

Alright, try to keep it going.

"So, you're the only one, then?

"With my accent? Aye, I suppose. If you're asking about general accents, Rodie does contain a pretty noticeable one."

... Do I know that name? He said it really casually, maybe it's a friend of his.

"Who's Rodie?"
I never realized how bushy Kenwall's eyebrows were until I saw them furrow as he looked at me in confusion. Sparrow explored the variety of emotions that only she could feel... so in other words, she just continued to glare at me. Thankfully, a timely interruption occurred at that very moment.

"WHO GOES THERE?" The trees shouted in a boisterous tone.

Immediately Sparrow had her javelin in hand, and Kenwall grabbed a bow. I went for a weapon of my own, but the tip of the javelin pointed towards me as I moved, so it looks like I'm without a weapon.

"Who are you?" Kenwall called back.

"I ASKED YOU FIRST, YOU GREAT BIG FURBAGS!"

Alright, more English accents, at least less Dick Van Dyke-ish.

"I am Kenwall Waship Juvial, Colonel of the Long Patrol!"

"AH, A HARE."

How observant these English trees seem to be.

"I am Sparrow of the Long Patrol!" Sparrow called out, her javelin back to pointing towards an extended branch. I'm beginning to think this scenario is a bit silly.

"YOU ARE A RABBIT, NOT A SPARROW!" The voice stated with annoyance. "I DO NOT ABIDE LIARS! WHAT OF THE THIRD ONE?"

Oh goody, now it's my turn to converse with the vegetation. "I'm unimportant!" I called out. In hindsight, this answer might not have been my best idea, but I was getting a tad bit annoyed.

"WE'LL BE THE JUDGES OF THAT!"

Leave it to the British to be judgmental.

Wait, if I'm making a stereotype about someone else, does that mean I'm judgmental? Oh great, not only am I a talking cat being held hostage by rabbits talking to trees, but now I'm a racist hypocrite, too!

...

I'm losing my mind. God I need to get back home.

My attention was brought back to my surroundings as I saw a few odd shapes scamper down from the trees.

"Good day hares. Allow me to introduce ourselves. We're what's left of the Jugalong tribe, and my name is Willow."

It was a squirrel that said this. A squirrel with war paint on its face and a bow draped across its back. I'm sure that one might think after all the shenanigans I've gone through in just this past little while, I'd quit getting awed by the increasing ridiculousness of my situation... but one would overestimate my ability to adapt and cope with BS.

"K great, bye." I packed up a few of our supplies and made to leave, but a familiar pointy object pricked my back.

"Show some manners cat!"

... Welp, I'm about done with this.

"Rabbit, you can either take that stupid stick from my back, or you can get ready to eat it."

"Was that a threat, cat?"

"Wanna find out?"

"Hey, now, let's all of us just calm down." Kenwall tried pulling Sparrow back, but she brushed him off. Meanwhile, the suspiciously Chinese sounding named tribe was circling me, bows in one hand, arrows in the other. In any other circumstance I'd be nervous, but I'm taking part in a Disney short mixed in with Camelot, so no, nervous isn't really a mood that can be had right about now.

"So, Willow, am I to assume your friends' names are Oak and Birch?"

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" She asked.

"Depends, are you actually intelligent enough to grasp humor?"

"Aye, though it seems you're not smart enough to use it." She quipped back.

"Touché." Alright, so she seems like a winner. "Welp, it's been fun guys, but I've had about enough of this."

Sparrow snarled. "Wot exactly do you plan o-"

I decked her in the schnoz. The punch so hard I was sure I broke a bone in my fist, but God did I feel great at that moment. I mean, yeah, the resulting blow to the back of my head reminded me that the retaliation was probably going to be horrible, but... uh...

...

It's occurred to me that I may have made a mistake.
Bloody Fantastic Ch. 5
Because I have not the attention span to develope characters already introduced, HERE'S SOME MORE CHARACTERS GONNA GET THROWN ATCHA NOW!

(Next chapter will be out before April.)
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Aaaaaaand it turns out I'm still alive.

So, what with college interviews, scholarship deadlines, and the ever present threat of homework, I've had little and less time for writing. Overall, these last months have been very stressful, and inspiration refuses to touch me.

UNTIL TODAY!

And by that I mean that, while my schedule is still very hectic, I've been recently clearing more time for writing and some other projects. Bloody Fantastic has moved from hiatus to in progress yet again, and, as a personal apology for the lack of updates and content, here's a very small video from the lovely Just Imagination Studios that I got to voice a little in. It was a real pleasure working with them, and for the length of time it was, I think the video was pretty good. Even if I sound a bit awkward in it compared to just about everybeast else.

So anyway, just a small update and all. I won't give a definitive date on when to expect the next piece of content from me, other than it'll be before April, I can promise that much. XD

As always, have a good one, whoever is reading this.
I've been an aspiring voice actor over at Behindthevoiceactors for a while, and recently there was an audition for a Redwall project regarding one of the few Redwall books I have yet to read, Sable Queen. That didn't stop me from auditioning, and to my pleasant surprise, I got the part I auditioned for. I'll be voicing Tormy of the Long Patrol. I've very little clue as to what his character is, (I'm sure it isn't any sort of main character or anything) but still, I'm excited to be able to contribute to the Redwall fandom in a new way. Also, don't worry, the next chapter of Bloody Fantastic will be out before Christmas, you can mark my words. I've just been busy with college stuff and highschool stuff and being distracted by video games. Thank God I'm not one of those teens with a social life, or I'd have no time to waste on the Internet!
Fen, Captain of the North Sands Territory

Captain Fen listened to the sound of life ending. Judging by the volume, the right lives were being taken. His soldiers had been atop the great walls surrounding the outpost, Old Fang, and were raining down arrows at enemy invaders. They held the advantage at the moment. The wall was facing the North, where the force was coming from. That direction was filled with a great many slopes and dunes, which provided cover for the enemy. Unfortunately for them, the horde didn't know how to use it properly, and were occasionally hiding behind insufficient cover.

The horde, which called itself the Death Reapers, was supposedly led by a large, pitch black fox who fancied himself the title Lord Redpaw, "Harvester of All Life". Fen and some of the other captains had gotten a kick out of that.

"Why 'Harvester'? If the horde itself is called the Reapers, why not just call himself 'Lord Reaper'?" the rat captain named Chie questioned. "Do harvesters really sound more intimidating than reapers?"

"I'm just wondering what in Hellsgates this fool is doing down here. The desert isn't exactly an ideal place for farm lords," quipped Fen.

The others got a chuckle out of it. It was right of them to think so little of this would be conqueror, as they were the greatest captains in the North Sands.

Captain Chie had been stationed in a nearby fort when the horde first arrived, and had been the one to send messengers requesting reinforcements. She was somewhat stout, and a bit on the short side, her large ears coming to Fen's chest when they stood side by side. Her ax was nearly as tall as she was, yet when she wielded it, she had the speed and strength of a badger. The beasts under her command were personally trained by her, and could be expected to bring near the same brute force in melee attacks. A majority of them had been sent out the south entrance on the first night, and had been slowly wreaking havoc whenever they could. Fen personally knew Chie well, and he knew she wasn't the brightest star in the night sky. She and Fen were life long friends, from all the way when they were both stealing goods from bakers and shoving around the other little scamps in alley ways.

Captain Snow was said to be the bastard brother of Lady Iceknife, and when he had been promoted to captain, Fen remembered the talk of how the white ferret hadn't earned his position, besides from coming out of the same ermine the Lady had. When an bandit army from the east had tried to attack, Iceknife had merely sent Snow and a small band of scouts. The matter was dealt with in 6 days time, with a quarter of the army dead and the rest fleeing, while none of those under Snow's command had even sustained an injury. His specialty was camouflage and guerrilla tactics, hit and run, ambush style of fighting. Like his sister, he used knives, though more for throwing than stabbing. He and Fen got along thick as thieves, especially when drunk.

Captain Jun was a stoat captain, born and raised in the North Sands, and had not once ventured out of the land. She was mute, so she never received work as an envoy to other territories in the Empire, and her inability not to get drunk made her a poor choice for accompaniment for trips to the capitol. However, she knew her homeland better than any other could hope to, and often assisted Snow in his ambushes by pointing out areas on a wine-stain map where he could use shortcuts and make traps for enemies. She was also known for assisting Fen, though not exactly in combat.

Fen sat with his paw meeting Chie's on top of the table as they tried to get the other's down, all while a collection of soldiers were shouting words of encouragement, discouragement, and bets. Even past all of that, he could still hear the sounds of arrows being loosed outside, and the screams that followed immediately after. He grinned as he slowly pulled Chie's paw down, almost laughing at the strain on her face. He had her on the ropes, he could see it. Just a little bit further...

And then Chie's face went calm, and then a grin appeared as she effortlessly smashed Fen's paw onto the table with a distinguishable thud!

"Winner!" Snow shouted, raising Chie's paw. Fen rubbed his, though still kept his grin as he replied to Chie's smug look with a raised middle claw. The group around them disbanded, half with fuller pockets and smiles adorning their faces, half with lesser pockets and scowls. Captain Jun walked up and gave the fox a consolatory hug. He noted, however, a large bag of coins in her paw.

"You bet against me, didn't you." He accused, with an expression of mock offense. Jun merely gave him her best puppy dog eyes and rattled the coins in front of him. He took the meaning. "Smart bet. Let's go to the pub and put those winnings to good use."
Before the four of them could make it out the door, the door was opened by a weasel. Said weasel was donned in black armor, covering most of his body save for the tail and head. He was a rather ugly looking creature, and it was evident from the way he squinted and coughed that he was a northerner. Those who didn't grow up to sand being everywhere all the time had a hard time being anywhere at any time.

He peered around the room, before stopping with his ugly mug facing the quartet. He stomped over to them, the scowl doing nothing to compliment his face.

"I am the messenger for the Great Harvester, Lord of the Reapers. Are you in command of this base?"

"No, but we run this outpost." Chie replied.

The frown deepened, and Fen could see that this amused his rat friend.

"Which one of you has the highest authority."

"Well, we have that over everybeast else... though the barkeep has that over us, so I'd suppose him. Why, you need a drink?"

The frown managed to find depths Fen had not thought possible on this weasel's scrunched little face, and even he was getting a kick out of how flustered and angry he was getting.

"Tell whoever is in charge around here that the Harvester of All Life wishes to challenge them to a duel. Whichever beast wins keeps the outpost."

A beat later, and the four were laughing at the weasel's ever reddening face. Fen composed himself the quickest, and spoke what they were all most likely thinking.

"Mate, you've got it wrong. When you're winning a fight, then you can issue changes to it, make demands, offer deals, that sort of thing. When you're losing, you have about as much authority to offer something as a drunken beggar does to a high-end whore."

"The Harvester always has authority-"

"Of course he does, mate. It's alright. I get it. You have to give respect to the one supplying you your silly overweight armor and your pompous attitude. Good for you, you're doing a grand job. How about this. We'll send you back with a few terms, and if your little tiller agrees to em, I'll gladly fight him."

The other three ceased laughing at that. Fen hadn't needed to even say that, he could've just told the weasel to sod off and keep having their soldiers kill the others. Fen smiled though, as he gave his terms and sent the iron-clad vermin out with a drink. He went back to his chair and reclined, putting his foot-paws up on the table. Snow sent Chie and Jun to collect the alcohol.

"So, you're in the mood to fight."

The statement was never a question when aimed at Fen.

"Nah, I just remembered I hadn't gotten a gift for Lady Iceknife for a while, and this might just make a dandy one for her return."

"Why are you so driven to give a gift to my sister?"

"I like that funny little word our weasel friend used. Command. Got me to thinkin, maybe I don't want to be just a captain, but maybe a commander. Has a nice ring to it, eh? Commander Fen."

Snow smiled, the same smile he always gave whenever he was about to indulge Fen's sense of grandeur. "So you think a few little new vermin to add will give her so much joy that she'll promote you to a rank that's never been an actual position before?"

"Why not?" Fen laughed. "I've proven myself many a time. I'm as loyal as a dog, or whatever you North dwellers say." He paused as their cohorts came back with beverages. He took a flask of oasis-wine and drank heavily. "Plus, I'd have the perfect design for a commander's armor."

"What's that?" Snow asked, thoroughly enjoying where this scheme was likely to go. That or he smiled at the two other captains returning with the booze. Either or.

"A reaper's cloak, and a harvester's skull for a cap." Captain Fen said as he swiped a bottle.

...

'He's a twig.' The first thought Fen had about the dark colored fox carrying a small scythe in each paw, standing with a score of vermin at his back in the middle of a dune. He was standing straight, his flashy armor casting an annoying reflection to the captain's eyes. His boots were made of a sort of leather, and his helmet was oddly enough made of wood, with some fine carvings of axes and scythes on it. Fen couldn't keep a grin off of his face, hard enough it was to resist laughing. 'It's one thing to be pretentious, and quite another to just make a fool of yourself.'

"I ask for the one that's in charge around here, and instead they send me you?" The dark fox spat in Fen's direction. Fen realized he must look equally silly to this northern mongrel in this situation. In contrast to this Lord, Fen had barely armored himself, no boots, no helmet, no protective gear around his chest or mid section. The only thing he wore was a pair of rough-fabric trousers and jewel encrusted gloves. He carried no weapon. 'Am I making a fool of myself in his eyes, I wonder... meh, a fool's fool is more like than not in the right.'

"So, Ol' Lord Redpaw, where exactly do you hail from?"

"I am from the lower plains of Mossflower Wood, born unto the most deadly assassin groups of all, the Juskarage!"

"Do all bandit gangs have that silly of a name?"

The black beast seemed a bit irritated at being interrupted, but continued. "After seasons of honing my skill at dealing death, I took over, and dubbed them 'Reapers'. Would you like to know why?"

"I'm sure a pup could guess why, but by all means, keep talking."

"It is because any under my command decide the fate of my enemies. I took the moniker of the Harvester of All Life, as I can collect any I want at any time!"

"Do you ever actually use those for a harvest season, or did you just find them on a farm and thought they looked funny, so you kept them?"

"SILENCE!" The Reaper Lord finally allowed himself a break from his monologue to snap at the southern fox, who only smiled cheekily. "You know not what you face, you insolent fool!"

"Oh, on the contrary, you've quite impressed me, your Lordship. I got to be a well spoken captain due to the right parents, the right home, and the right actions. You were born, most likely an accident, to a rag tag bunch of daft, woods-dwelling mongrels, and yet you boast in a forced fine tongue that you're above me. Well, before you entice us with more of your life story, let me tell you the ending to it. You walked into enemy territory and died by the hands of Captain Fen, the fox in charge at an old, crumbling outpost that you failed to take."

"I will plant seeds in your carcass, common whelp!"

'Might have to ask Snow if that's a northern thing.' Fen thought as he thought of just how he wanted to kill his opponent. "You're neck."

"What?"

"Talk is over, let's begin."

The figures ran at each other at the last word, Redpaw swinging his scythes together to pierce the sides of this mouthy captain, only to sail through the air smoothly. He looked about until his eyes found the foe, hopping from paw to paw. He gave the northerner a wink, and made to run at him again. He swung a single scythe to meet him, only to have it sail through the air again. This time, he saw Fen dodge it, and swung to where he was now, only to miss again.

"The weapons suit you, milord. Slow and ineffective."

Redpaw grunted, and charged the captain, swinging his weapons this way and that with a fury that could be akin to bloodwrath. And it only grew as he continued missing, the smug smile always in his line of sight but always just out of reach of his grasp. He kept at it, sure the other fox would stumble at some point, and finally, he saw his chance. Fen tripped, and landed softly. Redpaw rushed forward, swinging down the scythes in what was sure to be a killing blow.

Only for the red fox to dart forward with astonishing speed and trip the somewhat weary Redpaw instead. He landed face first into the sand.
Fen took this time to look over to the twenty Reaper vermin. "My soon to be soldiers, remember the lessons from this fight. Lesson 1, a weary opponent is a preferred opponent."
Redpaw soon went back to his feet, his grip hardening on his weapons. "You think the battle is over, fool?"

Fen turned his head back, the smirk still plastered to his face. "This is hardly a battle, my dear farmer."

"Then put up a fight, and make it one!"

"With pleasure."

Fen was upon Redpaw before the latter could even blink. Three strikes landed, one to the mouth, one to the nose, and one to the eye. By the time the scythes were in motion, the captain had already gotten out of range. Lord Redpaw stumbled forward, determined to keep him on the run. It was so, until he felt one of his paws slip on the sand, his boots having less traction here than on the type of ground they were made for. He fell, and before he could pick himself up, he felt one of his scythes wrenched from his paw.

"Lessons 2 and 3: Suit yourself to your environment, and your enemy's weapons can easily be your weapons."

Redpaw got up, spit out some blood, and with both paws clasping the single scythe still in his possession, he attacked Fen once again. He panted heavily as he swiped this way and that. Meanwhile, Fen was amusing himself by occasionally making a clumsy swing at the Lord, missing by large increments at first, but coming closer each time. Soon, Redpaw felt a flick of pain on one of his ears, and felt blood run from the hacked off bit. The next swipe made a shallow cut in right leg, causing him to stumble more.

Fen could see that Redpaw knew that he was being toyed with, and decided it was about time to end things. As Redpaw stumbled and fell to the sands again, he shouted."Kill him!" His voice was high and hoarse. After hearing the sound of loosed arrows and the slap of them hitting their target, the farm lord looked up in hopes of seeing a collapsed captain. Instead, he saw the beast uninjured, save for a scowl replacing the smile.

"I owe Snow's beasts a round, because of that. You just had to go and hurry the coward technique. I had hoped you'd last another few blows."

Redpaw turned his head in confusion, and saw thirteen of his guards laying on the ground, looking llike pincushions. The other seven were on their knees, their bows and swords being confiscated by southern army beasts.

"No, this isn't possible!" He got up with difficulty, and made to swing again, only for the red fox to tear his scythe away with the other. Now weaponless, Redpaw knew he was finished. He fell to his knees, sobbing. "How could this happen!"

"You're a shit fighter." The answer was simple, blunt, and truthful.

"I yield." Redpaw said, his tone as pitiful and his appearance.

"No, you don't."
Redpaw's good eye widened as he asked in a frightened voice. "What?"

Fen's smile returned, even longer than before. "You heard me, Harvester. You agreed to my demands. Winner keeps both armies and the outpost. Winner has free access to all the North Sand lands. And finally, winner gets the privilege of taking the loser's life. Yielding was not an arranged action."

"No, no no please, have mercy, the fight is yours, please!" The black fox fell on his bottom and tried crawling away, but was easily caught by the red fox. He took hold of the fox's chest-mail and started pounding the black-furred face in. Blow after blow and blow, until the face was a mangles, misshapen, heavily cut masterpiece. He then placed both paws around the beast's neck and squeezed.

"Final lesson, new recruits. Always know what you're getting into before a fight." The snap helped punctuate the statement. "Now go join the remnants of your horde within our walls. Snow and Chie should be rounding them up as we speak."

The seven trudged past their former lord's carcass as they were overseen by some of Jun's guard. The stoat in question popped up from behind a dune, waltzing over to Fen and hugging the fox. He did his best to not get bloodstains on her armor as he returned the hug, though his paws were rather red. 'Got red paws from Redpaw, that'll get a laugh out of Chie.'

His thought was interrupted as Jun locked lips with him, and it wasn't long before the two were lying in the dunes, in each other's arms.

'Got some fresh meat, killed a cocky little mongrel, about to finish the day off right. All in all, it'd be hard for this day to be ruined.'

"Urgent news si- oh... uh..."

'Didn't realize fate could read thoughts, otherwise I wouldn't have tempted it.' Fen sighed as he rolled to get a good view of the messenger. A blushing ferret covering her eyes.

"Jun, could you fetch my clothes, she looks uncomfortable."

A brief minute later, and Fen properly received a note from the messenger, who quickly departed. Fen could sense Jun trying to look over his shoulder at the scroll, so he decided to give her the gist of it. "Looks like I'll be departing for Yolatt in a few days."

Jun gave her puppy dog eyes, though they both knew they'd have little effect when matters of the royal court were involved. As always Fen said she could travel along if she promised to not inhale too much alcohol, to which she rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Didn't think so. Well, the mood has already been killed, let's go back to the bar and see if we can't revive it a bit." She frowned, shook her head, and stretched her arms up.

"Aye, I suppose it is a bit late for that. Still, bar is a good idea, right?" An eager nod of the head was all he needed to get his mind off the news as they both headed towards the outpost.

'Nice try fate, but you're going to have to do more than kill a king before you ruin my day.' he thought as he walked with his bloody paw around his lover's hip away from the corpse that already started to accumulate flies.
Keeper of the Sands, chapter 2
Man, times like this I wish we had a PG13 rating for this site. I have no idea whether or not the mature rating is needed for this.

Wrote this chapter a while back when I was still trying to go for a more serious-toned story. Also, apologies for lack of new content. My internet has been acting insane lately, and it's a miracle I was even able to get this uploaded. Next chapter will probably be for Bloody Fantastic. Whether or not this chapter does well will tell whether or not chapter 3 gets uploaded.

As always, thanks for reading, and have a good one.
Loading...
Aaaaaaand it turns out I'm still alive.

So, what with college interviews, scholarship deadlines, and the ever present threat of homework, I've had little and less time for writing. Overall, these last months have been very stressful, and inspiration refuses to touch me.

UNTIL TODAY!

And by that I mean that, while my schedule is still very hectic, I've been recently clearing more time for writing and some other projects. Bloody Fantastic has moved from hiatus to in progress yet again, and, as a personal apology for the lack of updates and content, here's a very small video from the lovely Just Imagination Studios that I got to voice a little in. It was a real pleasure working with them, and for the length of time it was, I think the video was pretty good. Even if I sound a bit awkward in it compared to just about everybeast else.

So anyway, just a small update and all. I won't give a definitive date on when to expect the next piece of content from me, other than it'll be before April, I can promise that much. XD

As always, have a good one, whoever is reading this.

deviantID

YOLATT
United States

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