Quest Eleven- by Bandeye
Quest Twelve- by Jassa
Quest Thirteen- by Mark Longears
Quest Fourteen- by Mark Longears
Quest Fifteen- by Broook

Quest Eleven- by Bandeye
An old mouse in the castle has long valued his silver medallion, an heirloom of his family for generations. One morning, he awoke, and it was gone, with a note signed by the theif. Find the theif, and bring him to Queen Streakfur for justice.
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Skip was desperate to go into a gallop. There was no other way to put it. He pulled for his head and snorted franically. I didn't see any reason not to let him go. So I let him. The colt flung his forequartes high in the air and struck at invisible enemies with his hooves for a moment before coming down with a thud and streaking away, galloping for all he was worth. We'd started out west, following weasel tracks seaward, searching for a thieving weasel speciemen of vermin that'd stolen Zoren's best stallion very early this morning... and Skip had been fresh. Perhaps a little too fresh. He'd had enough of walking, alright, and showed it.
After fifteen minutes of galloping, he slowed down to a quick lope. I held him down to that for an hour before galloping him again. We did that for three hours with random pit stops on the way. Around the fifth mad gallop, he zoomed past a rickety wooden sign. We covered around a quarter of a mile before I could stop and turn him. I read the sign.
Village- 5 miles- south
The black stallion's tracks led that way too. Apparently, this weasel hadn't resisted boarding him. I turned Skip, who didn't stop to think about it, and headed south at a fast pace, somewhere between a smooth trot and a lope. About three miles later, Skip picked up a stone, and I halt him and dig it out of his hoof. By then, it was dusk. The sky was darkening, and the snow capped peaks were reflecting the last rays of sunlight. I decided to go for the last two miles. After all, Skip wasn't sweating much- he'd been standing around waiting for me to find my hoof pick and pick the stone out for twenty minutes. Then I had to put all the things I'd taken out back in, and bundle my pack up again. He gave a jump start and flashed away at a brisk trot. The next hour was monotonous. My dark bay and I arrived at the village front gates which were swinging wide open.
"The thief has taken my child!" somebeast screamed.
"My child too!" anotherbeast cried between strangled sobs.
"The mare!" yet anotherbeast yelped.
Everybeast was... simply making noise. All loud noises. Skip jittered about, snorted and tossing his black mane in my face. I had to slide off him to have a proper look. There was a stand set up before a largish- though it didn't hold a candle to Zoren- greystone building. A sturdy otter stood on it. Presumably the village leader. He was shouting at the top of his lungs, but it didn't carry far over the din. A puffing hedgehog ran up to the stand and handed the otter leader a smallish object. It was a horn.
Hoooooooooonnnnnk! Honk! Honk! HOOOONK!
Silence struck the entire village across the face. Villagers looked at their leader and his horn questioningly. He took a deep breath,
"Villagers! Calm y'selves! We'll catch the thief and kidnapper- but only if we can remain calm!
Please take care of the youngbeasts, remain indoors and keep quiet while we resolve what t'do!"
The villagers disappeared, gradually. When only a scattered pawful remained, I walked up to the otter. I had the discomfort of being stared and pointed at through open windows. I cleared my throat,
"H'lo, sah, I am Jassa GreenTree, officer of Zoren Castle, here from tracking a weasel horse thief."
The otter simply blinked at me for a few seconds and I began to wonder if I'd said something wrong.
This was not my strongest field. He smiled and offered a paw which I took.
"Greetings, Zorener, I am Vaque Whiteriver, leader of this village. I think your weasel thief might be the one that so viciously took four youngbeasts and our prized mare. Some witnesses say that he had a powerful black horse 'neath him."
I went over this discription in my head. Matched anything I came up with. I accidentally wound a strand of Skip's forelock around my paw while thinking.
"I think so too. I will be arresting him as soon as I can. I will return your youngbeasts and as soon as possible, but Queen Streakcat of Zoren would probrably like to handle the weasel herself-"
"Of course," Vaque broke in, "but we would like to give you supplies for your journey ahead... and lodgings for tonight. I'm afraid the thief will have had a night's head start, but he will have stopped, especially with our small ones... my small one..."
Vaque's features were temporarily dimmed. I was quick to reassure him.
"Please don't worry. I'll bring them back." This kind of sentimental conversation made me nervous...
I'm not too good at being sympathetic and showing it. Vaque smiled a little.
"Thank you. Please come this way."
My quarters were small, but snug. Skip was let out into a nice green pasture. I had to stick around awhile to make sure none of the local horses beat him up. None did, but some of it the other way around occurred. But I straightened that out. After a meal in the greystone building, which had been elongated by far because of excited villagers' queries about Zoren and my upcoming journey, I headed for my temporary room. I had to sneak past some villagers that were looking for me though. But when I finally plopped down, I plopped down for a long time.
The next morning was brisk. A slight chill that was local to the Placido Mountains hung in the air and stung several eager questioners away to their homes. Vaque and his pretty wife saw me off which good wishes and a few tears. The previous night had been still and windless. Strange to me at first, because Zoren was situated high up on an pretty windy peak, but I realised that it made tracking all the easier; the paw and hoofprints stood out light black on white. Skip nearly stood on his backside when I quit warming him up, crouched up on his back, took a fistful of black mane and dropped plenty of slack on the reins. He streaked away, travelling at a rapid gallop that ate up the snowy terrain easily. I knew the weasel had slowed down a lot with his new takings... I came upon a clot of bushes.
Shrill, childish cries rent the air, along with screaming whinnies, uneven hoof beats and rasping curses that shouldn't be let out anywhere near youngbeasts. I popped off Skip as quietly as possible and tied him to a green tangle. The hoofbeats became louder the closer I went, and so did the curses. I finally parted a screen of leaves and blinked at the chaotic seen before me. The group of youngbeasts had stopped screeching. The younger ones were clinging to each other and whimpering. The older ones were looking around cautiously, and holding a blood red bay mare's head collar. On the other side of this clearing, Mr. Stallion and Mr. Weasel were trying to tear each other apart. One wish a whipe and a pitchfork, the other one with a lot of steellike bulk, big teeth and quick hooves. The odds were about even. I tip toed over to the smallbeasts while the other two were too busy fighting to notice and sent them off to Skip, with strict directions not to dawdle, get to my colt, tie the mare to his saddle, keep still and keep quiet. Perhaps even a little snack out of my saddle bag would be appropriate. I clarified little several times to be on the safe side. By the time I was done, Zoren's best stallion had tangled his reins up considerably in the bushes and was snorting crossly while the vermin thief was propped up against a tree looking fragile. I snuck over to the weasel and tapped his shoulder.
"H'lo, sah, I'm here to arrest you."
He whirled around and looked stunned, "Wha- who- where-"
"Arrest, Jassa GreenTree, Zoren Castle."
He whipped out a large dagger and waggled it threateningly at me,
"Don't come any closer!" Then he noticed all his supplies, kidnappings and his mare was gone and straightened with his mouth hanging wide open. I took advantage of his suprise and had him good in an armlock. Such was the arrest.
We arrived at the village again at dusk. I rode the black stallion with not much but a bridle, a saddle blanket and a piece of flattish rope. Not something that I enjoyed, but I'd decided it was necessary. If I didn't, none of the young villagers were qualified, and most likely he'd go and tear the weasel and some pretty scenery up then try and mate the blood bay mare. I also couldn't be sure he wouldn't attack Skip. My dark colt was mature enough to be viewed as a threat. A line of sturdy small ones followed, then the blood bay mare followed by Skip. The mare of which carried the weasel prisoner and Skip carried all the supplies. I was pretty sure Skip was too well mannered to make a dive for the stallion's rump or hurt and kids. The big lump of weasel on the mare's back prevented any mating ideas. The colt was tied to the mare, who was lead by some kids, who were led by me. On an unpredictable stallion. Not a friendly idea.
At the village, we dropped the mare and youngbeasts into villager arms and I was off and away, with Skip idling along on a rope and carrying some supplies, myself on the black stallion yet still, and the weasel trailing along on a leash. I thought the weasel more than deserved it. But soon, his whining was too much for me, so I tied and wrapped him up like a caterpillar in its coccoon and popped him onto Skip, who could more than carry that load. The stallion was as difficult as I'd predicted. I had to tie him up and night or he'd attack Skip, as unfortunate as that was. The stallion was a firecracker around distant herd of wild horses, fighting madly for his head and prancing wildly every time he was held. It took us two days to get back to Zoren.
It was late morning when we did, several fellow Zoreners awaited us. Bandeye, a female linsang who knew fighting business, Shellback, a male tortoise who was probrably a very fine cook and Brook, a quick female mouse told the vermin thief horror stories of what Queen Streakcat had in store for him, and relished every minute of it- from pit monsters to drowning at sea. I had the much less enjoyable job of writing out a report for the Queen. Around noontime, after a quick snack that substituted lunch, myself and the weasel was brought before the Queen. The weasel was punished. A lot of information was collected from him. Not a bad week's work.

Mark Longears strapped on his swords and sling and walked out the front door of the castle. He had with him a treasure map, weapons and rations for a three-day trip. He followed the trail up through the forest and headed toward the Placido Mountains. After a few days travel, he came upon a large cave. Inside the cave, he heard two oily sounding voices talking:
"What the 'eck are we gonna do wit dis treasure mate?"
"I dunno. I thought we could rebuild the old fleet and become a couple O kings..."
"Great idea!" As he entered the cave and hid behind a rock. In the middle of the cave was a large mound of treasure and two nasty looking corsair weasels.
Mark pulled out his sling and knocked them both senseless with rocks, and then quickly tied them up.
After hauling them back to Zoren, he gathered a party and managed to haul all the treasure back to the castle.

Mark Longears awoke in his bed at dawn and looked out the window to see a beautiful sunrise as he strapped on his swordbelt and gauntlets. He marched out to the main grounds to begin preparation for today's fencing lesson. As he left the barracks, a young otter ran up to him and panted;
"Queen Streakfur wants you in the throne room!"
"Very good! I'll be there in a blinking' minute, of ya go sa!" Mark replied as he sped of to the main building.
Inside the castle, he walked into the throne room where Queen Streakfur sat on a jeweled throne.
"Mark," She began: "Turken has been lost for three days now, and I am getting worried about her.
"She was last seen near the marshes. Go there, find her, and bring her back!"
"Yes ma'am!" He replied as ran out the door.
After searching for a day, Mark began to give up hope, when he heard a voice yelling:
"Zzzzooorrreeennn!!" coming from a small cave that he overlooked. He ran to the cave to find
Turken fighting of two weasels and a ferret. He leaped upon the ferret and slew him with a single thrust of his saber, and then jumped at one of the weasels. He and Turken fought back to back and quickly dispatched their adversaries. He turned to Turken to find her lying unconscious on the cave floor. He carried her back to castle Zoren where she received medical treatment and he received a small golden star.

Brook looked up in alarm.
"You mean that this food is poisoned?" she asked in a whisper.
Queen Streak nodded and she picked up the the bag of what once had been delicious food, tempting even the most picky of eaters but was not quite unappetizing due to the thought of the poison it carried.
"I need you to find the poisoner. Also, I ask that you get rid of the poisoned food before somebeast gets poisoned. Your background in Mossflower and extensive travels have aquainted you with the different signs of poisoning in food and liquid?"
The mouse nodded, a thoughful espression on her face.
"Do you prefer the pine marten alive or dead when I hand him over?" she asked, quite seriously.
"It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that he be stopped before he does any more damage."
"Very well," Brook said, standing up from the small oak table she and the feline had been sitting at.
"You should probably move all of the food in question to one area until I can check on it. For now, though,
"I'll have my hands full with the marten. If you know for certain that something is or isn't poisoned, I'm sure you can take care of it yourself. Oh, one more thing. Can I have that bag of poisoned food?"
The big cat nodded, curious as to why the mouse wanted it. Wordlessly, she handed over the bag.
"Some inept poisoners use the same kind of poison in most of the things they poison," she explained.
"From what I saw of the food in that bag, this marten is in that category. I could tell as soon as you pointed out the poison that the poison in each kind of food was the same. I need the bag to better aquaint myself with this particular poison. Also, it may prove useful later on."
With that, Brook left the room.
"Oh," she said, popping her head into the doorway. "You may want to evacuate the castle for a little bit. As you said, this marten is dangerous and has already killed two creatures. We wouldn't want anymore to die."
The logic of the statement was irrefutable, and, after all, it would only be temporary. Queen Streak agreed.
Brook sat in the room that she used whenever she was in Zoren Castle. She applied the ash paste to her face skillfully, using a piece of shiny metal as a makeshift mirror so she could see what she was doing. As she finished applying the final touches of her disguise, she looked at herself in the "mirror".
What she saw satisfied her. She stood up and left the room to seek out the troublesome pine marten.
Bloodnose the Poisoner, as he liked to call himself, wandered through the halls of Zoren Castle. He didn't like their emptiness. The silence foreboded ill for the marten.
"Where in all the bloody 'alls 'ave th'Zoreners gone?" he snarled to himself, thinking he was alone.
"They fear you, deadly poisoner," came the unexpected reply from behind the surprised vermin.
Bloodnose whipped around to face the creature who had somehow slipped up behind him without his noticing.
"An' jus' who're you and what're ye doin' in this 'ere castle?" he asked the strange vermin who stood before him, relieved that it was actually a weasel instead of one of the Castle Guard. The weasel was unlike any other he had ever seen. Sure he was as smelly and ugly as the rest of the lot, but there was something uncanny about him. He was a bit small for one of his kind, but that wasn't unheard of. The grey fur looked like it hadn't been washed since the day of his birth. Bloodnose shook off his suspicions.
"Perhaps you c'n 'elp me get past the Castle Guard, matey,"
Bloodnose said slyly, winking at the weasel with a look that read volumes for his intent concerning the Guard.
"The name's Bloodnose the Poisoner. What's yer name, mate?"
"Me name's Wartear, mate. An' if I 'ears properly, I think I c'n 'elp ye get by the Guard," the weasel said, chuckling evilly.
He drew a dirty dagger from his belt and tested its sharpness, further enhancing the deadly intent of his words.
Bloodnose, in good spirits now that he had a hope of getting past the Guard, willingly followed his new comrade. The two went through the halls of the immense castle, until Bloodnose was thoroughly lost. Finally, coming to the courtyard, Bloodnose felt his spirits rise even higher.
"Look, mate! That gate'ouse o'er there don't appear to be guarded. I say, the fewer beasts we 'ave t'bother with, the better."
The marten puffed chest out, quite impressed with his own logic.
"Aye, mate, I agree with ye there." Wartear strode up to the gatehouse, then paused.
"Well, what're ye waitin' fer?" demanded Bloodnose, impatient to be gone from the acursed castle that had nearly brought his own demise.
"I was jus' thinkin' t'meself that you, 'avin' the larger amount o' brains, should 'ave the honor o' leavin' this 'ere castle first," the weasel explained. Bloodnose beamed.
"Yer a mate to be proud of, Wartear," he said, opening the door to the gatehouse. As he walked through, he heard his mate chuckle, an odd chuckle that sounded funny in his ears.
"Aye, but I'm not a good mate to have at your back, poisoner," Brook whispered into the hapless pine marten's ear as she shut and locked the door of the gatehouse that no longer lead outside but was used as a guest house until other arrangements could be made for the guests.
Queen Streak smiled as she listened to Brook's report.
"And he's still in there?" she asked?
Brook nodded. "As soon as I made sure he couldn't get out, I came to tell you that the Zoreners could come back. I've already dealt with the food. Bloodnose really was an inept poisoner. He used only one kind of poison! I was able to easily tell if something was poisoned after I studied the poisoned food in that bag.
"Oh, one other thing. I figured it to be a well deserved punishment when I did this. You know that bag of poisoned food?" Streak nodded.
"The gatehouse doesn't have anything else that's edible inside, so I put that bag with the marten, to make sure he didn't starve. He knows that it's poisoned. I just thought that it would be ironic if the only thing he could eat was the food he poisoned with his own paw."
The two creatures grinned. Soon, the Castle Guard would deal with the vermin, but they could afford to let him cool his paws in the gatehouse for an hour or so.