You’ve wandered into a beautiful chamber. Guessing by it’s lavish decorations, and tailored tapestry, you think it’s the head quarter of Marshank. A weasel has come behind you, and glares at you, for some reason. You know it is the leader, immediately, and have gotten the impression that he wishes you to leave. However, curiosity has gotten the better side of you, and you ask how did HE get Marshank. Last you heard, it belonged to a stoat.

“Questioning me authority, eh?” challenged the large and lean weasel. “Hmmm, that’s alright, I ‘spose that I should tell ye o’ me ‘istory. Nay, I didn’t go through all dat trouble fer not boastin’ ‘bout it. Now, doncha interrupt, or else I’ll skin ye alive an’ use yer guts as decorations fer me Marshank!” Here the cruel and menacing mood of the impressive beast, changed into a passive, almost dreamy demeanor. “Ah, Marshank!” Thus the great weasel began his story.

Me mates call me Hisk. T’ye, it’ll be Sire, Lord Hisk, or Chief. I was one of the best captains for Lord Badrang. ‘e was an oaf! Dat stoat allow’d t’be beaten by simple woodlanders! Ha. Iffen I were the leader back then, t’would be differen’. No, the idiot ‘ad me chasin’ some slaves. We got back, an’had a fine welcome party! Aye, that an’ a load of sharp arrows. The shower’d down on us, an’ slew me lot of beasts. I was lucky though. I covered meself with another beast’s body, an’ wait’d till all was safe. I was as still as me dead mates. When all was silent, an’ I was certain that I was alone, I hefted me spear, an’ sent it deep into a nearby tree. I was severely wounded, so I pulled out a rope, an’ lassoed it around the spear haft. I pulled me body t’da tree, an’ fell asleep, dreamin’ o’ makin’ Badrang sorry, ‘e ever tried t’kill me.

“Bring the water over here. The beast is stirring!” I ‘eard in a voice saying. It was distant and soft. I sat up, an’ snarled, “ARRRRRRGGHHH! Me body is on fire, an’ me ‘ead is poundin’!” Summoning me strength, I lash’d out, an’ seiz’d the neares’ beast, a mouse. “Where am I? Who are ye? An’ who else knows I’m here?” I snapt at ‘im. The mouse informed me. “We’re a peaceful tribe, called H.O.M.(Healers of Mossflower). We are bound by the unwritten oath to administer to any beast who needs our services, even it be a vermin. No one else knows about you, and we don’t gossip about our business.” The distaste for me was plain in ‘is voice. I’ll fix ‘im one o’ these days, afta I git me treatmen’. I laid back an’ let the mice ten’ ta me wounds.

Three seasons wen’ by, afore I was heal’d completely. Me paw still cramps from the arrow that went clean through it, an’me body ‘as six scars from other arrow injuries. Every early morn, I ran on the shore, an’ exercise’d till me strength came back. One late eve, I quickly slew the H.O.M. tribe, fer I want’d no witness’s t’me prior life. I jogged over t’Marshank, in ‘opes t’kill Badrang, an’ take o’er the beautiful fortress. I saw the fat, ugly stoat, Clogg, workin’ an’ buryin’ corpses. ‘e shouted t’me, an’ in me haste, I ran ‘im through wid me spear. I crept in t’Marshank, an’ t’me surprise it was in ruins. The goodbeasts had won! Aye, I thought ‘bout it, an’ decided t’rebuild it. I gather’d vermin, an’ they enslaved many woodlanders, who thus constructed this fort, Marshank. I ‘ave been ruling Marshank, fer a while, an’ now ye know me tale. Aye, I’m a smarter, and stronger beast, now!”

Here Hisk stopped, and sharply glares at you. He motions to you to get back to work, and tells you to work hard, for he might just use you as a slave. Hurriedly, you throw a salute, and walk out of the chamber, hearing the evil chuckles of the fierce weasel, who defeated fate, and escaped death, by his wile and his strength.