A desperate voice crying,
"PLEASE! PLEASE HELP MY OUT OF THIS CELL!"
Fifteen long seasons have passed since that winter, so cold, so hostile. We went into that winter so strong and optimistic… we could not have ever expected what would happen, none of us did.
The winter turned from bad to worse, shifting from a blizzard to the worst nightmare of a snowstorm any of us had seen. The snow piled up over a meter high against the wall. This happened for over a week, the nights bringing a freezing sleet to cover the crystalline white scene. Three warm days followed, from which we gathered much hope. They were dashed the day the Abbot sent a crew to fell more trees for the hearth: the blizzard resumed, freezing over the slushy snow, blockading the Main Gate, trapping all inside the premises. The doors could be budged open but little, providing enough space for naught but a dibbun to pass through.
Trapped inside our own walls, we desperately battered the orchard door open with an oak table, doing this with the intent of sacrificing some of our fruit trees for a little more warmth; the wood was running out..quickly.
Weeks passed, and this prolonged winter did not even waver in its furious attack. I rue the day I ever wrote that I loved winter.
The wood ran out, and we had cut down every tree in the orchard, leaving only a few frostbitten saplings. Being as the orchard was of no further use, the door was barricaded. The cold's freezing fingers crept through the very sandstone walls of our sacred Redwall.
Everyone huddled together in the great hall, snuggling in front of the gigantic hearth, absorbing what little warmth they could from the ever weakening fire. I was counted among the umber, writing but scarcely for reason of my ink freezing over so frequently. It would have been selfish to steal even an inch of space around the fire for the luxury of something so unnecessary to survival.
The food dwindled, despair festered, and, worst of all, sickness developed.
Fever and hypothermia spread rapidly, the dibbuns and older beasts were effected most, but it was not out of control until the infirmary's herbs wore thin.
How could fate be so unforgiving and cruel?
<<the beginning="" of="" the="" next="" paragraph="" is="" illegible,="" due="" to="" water="" damage,="" evidence="" deep="" sadness="" on="" writer's="" part.="">>
---was the first to succumb to the illness, followed by my beloved tutor, Winston the Gatekeeper. Many died in the accursed cold, there surrounded in all actuality by life-giving water, and there we were, dwindling, failing to survive this harsh weather.
I was one of the first to drift into unconsciousness, my body at the mercy of the white, unfeeling winter. Only a miracle helped me survive, a voice, giving me comfort and determination.....
So calm..so strong, firm in the face of sadness. Every emotion blended into one medley of colors: The voice of Martin! I cannot describe it to its full extent, so I will not try.....
The cruel winter's only flaw was it was a season, and had to pass.
It gave way to Spring in a slow thaw of life..
These past seasons have been dedicated to rebuilding and recovery, reconstruction of the body and spirit, rejuvenating of field and flower: life anew.
I hereby reinstate my writings in a symbol of recovery.
Nothing can destroy Redwall's spirit!
Raise your voice, soul, pen, and heart with me and cheer to our home forever!
Abbey recorder and Gatekeeper.</the>
Ah, wouldn't you know it? I've caught a cold! Winter is a fun and magical time, but not when one must sit indoors sipping warm fluids all day( that is, between blowing one's nose..).
It has been only slightly miserable, however, for I have been creating a new game.
It requires many players, an even amount, an evenly tiled area, such as the Great Hall, and two leaders. The two teams choose random positions (No two players allowed on one space), but their leaders can move wherever and whenever. This game would be based on turns, the leader, or tactician, telling each of his team what to do and in what order Each team has to move or wait on their turns. Everyone would have some form of harmless weapon(besides the tacticians, who technically "aren't there") Each player must have a specific unit type (knight, horsebeast, archer, swordsbeast etc..) and with that unit type come different preset statistics such as life points and combat advantages, as well as how many spaces(tiles) able to be moved in one turn. When the turn of one team takes place, the tactician tells the first beast of his choosing where to go. Once a beast has moved onto the space his/her leader has indicated, they can use an item (i.e. a healing item) or "attack" a beast of the other team in an adjacent space, or, in the case of an archer, one tile farther than that (archers can't attack on an adjacent space for obvious reasons.). Once a "battle" initiates, each player concerned will do their attack, the offender obviously going first. Each attack will do a set number of damage to the other beast, then the defender will counterattack(if possible, i.e. short range[melee] weapons cannot counterattack archers, and vice-versa). Once a player's health points reach zero, they are removed from play, this continues until one team completes the objective(capture the flag or throne, or conquest, etc..)
Units go as follows:
Fighter: Uses "axes." Strong against spears, weak against swords.
Swordsbeast: Uses "swords." Strong against axes, weak against spears
Horsebeast: Uses "swords" or "spears" Depending on that player uses, can be strong or weak against axes. Weak against bows.
Archer: Uses "Bows" cannot counterattack the adjacent tile, strong against horsebeasts
Healer: Cannot attack under any circumstance, uses "Wands" Moves next to allies and restores some health points. Weak in any combat.
Leader: Can use one of any chosen weapon, if defeated, team loses
Axes: Strong against spears
Swords: Strong against axes
Spears: Strong against swords
Bows: Strong against "mounted units"
Wands: Restore health, cannot attack.
It is still under development, but I think it is going to work sometime.
Look at the time! I'm sorry, I must blow out my candle for the night.
OoC//: Talk to me about it.
Wow, I never knew that mint made strawberry fizz so much more…fizzier! Oh, never mind me, I just got odd flavored bubbles up my nose..
I have been assigned extra chores for pulling a prank of one of our brothers, put a quill on his seat I did, and when he got up from dinner, a rather odd drawing was being displayed on his behind. I would have gotten away, if I hadn't been caught trying to retrieve my writing pen, oh well..
So I've been up to my elbows in pots and pans. Although it is an enormous task, it, as I perceive, was worth it, especially the running jokes that people snicker at occasionally of "Blackbottom Bart" and "Quill-sitten Quentin." hehe, a mischievous one I might be, but, since winter has reached it's high point, we are all restless, as none are allowed outside. The birds have gone quiet and food a little bit more scarce, but a full larder disregards that. We are all happy here, but some are growing, as I have previously said, quite restless indeed. Roald the squirrel is thinking about going on a trek for some sort of..thing.., and all of the dibbuns are imagining their own adventures. Well, at least it keeps them occupied, but I hope Roald waits until at least the storm clears.
OOC//: Ok, soon, I'm going to do a transition of about a season or two, so wrap up any immediate things, mine is as follows, but do what you will.
BiC//: After about a week or so of marvelous hospitality, the hedgehogs told them to take as many boats as needed, all fully provisioned and for each to go their way. Klenn hopped into a small ketch, and sailed off.
OoC//: You can join him, but no more than three, please..
Bic//: Others went in other boats, and they disappeared to the sight of the waving hedgehogs over the horizon. Each was going their own way, weather to home or wandering…..
OoC//: I'll soon do one from the fortress end.
OoC//: Here's a little nudge..
Bic//: The hedgehogs came aboard, and, after a little discourse, took them to an island, secluded by peaks and reefs. "What is this place?" asked Klenn, gripping his sword. "Stow the blade, lad. This is Cragholm!" "Cragholm?" said Klenn, "That's a strange name." "Well," remarked Saltspike, the leader hog, " 'Tiss home, nonetheless."
The island was prosperous, many trees, vines, bushes and orchids grew in abundance. In the sides of the innermost cliffs were caves, obviously the dwellings of these creatures. They were sat down to a plentiful board, with food to spare brought frequently, so dinner commenced promptly. Everyone sat or lounged wherever they pleased near the cloths strewn with food. Klenn laid down and supported himself with his right elbow near Saltspike. "You say you come from that island, er.. Seatress, I think it's called. You did well, for it's not very frequent a time that slaves escape as you did." said Saltspike. "Yes," answered Klenn as he took a drink of water flavored with dried powders of fruits mixed to the combination that pleased him, "But we still left two, and I, at least, plan to get them back, even at the very cost of my life. You mustn't press the rest of them with me, If they want to sail away to lead their own lives let them, It's my battle, and I plan to arouse my own forces, so, when we leave.. Just don't presume they'll come with me." "But, why?" asked Saltspike, "They'd be valuable assets." Klenn took another draught of the cool liquid after a bite of fresh cheese, "It's complicated, but, to keep it at face value, I don't want them to be forced to go back to the very place they just escaped from."