Quest Thirty Four- by Samkin
Quest Thirty Seven- by Roseblade
Quest Forty- by Starfur

Quest Thirty Four- by Samkin
A tribe of uneducated creatures have come to Zoren beggin for food. Trouble is, they're cannibles! They will not leave until they're fed. Figure something out!

Seeing the cannibalistic creatures down by the main gate pleading for, "Just one baby dibbun," and saying that they wouldn't leave until they got their fill I thought quickly for a solution. Taking the bow and arrows from a nearby otter I let rip two well-aimed arrows. Two of the sad creatures fell. "There! Dinner is served eat it somewhere else! This is fast food!" The creatures picked their dead ones up on poles and carried them just out of reach of our best long bows, and began devouring the corpses. None could watch the vile scene, we all headed to the dormitories until the beasts had gone. It was only a matter of minutes, because there was a lot of those cannibals to fed. The next day we found that the creatures had moved on. I had solved the minor problem.

    "A perfect assignment for a young warrioress. Discover the weakness of some big cheese warlord, and then get back to the castle without getting skinned!" I said sardonically to myself. "When-if I get back I'm going to give Queen Streakcat a piece of my mind!"
    "Ha! Yeah, and then she'll give you a piece of her claws," said a squeaky voice from behind me.
    "Be quiet, Marin. I never should've asked Jasper to let you come along," I said touchily, turning around to glare at my friend Marin the hedgehog.
    "Sheesh, I'd rather fall into the clutches of villainous vermin than listen to Jasper and Anna going on about the good old days. Those two old fogies never stop talking! I'll swear on my spikes that I haven't had a moment of sleep since they patched things u-oh!"
    "Sshh!" I put a paw to my lips, cautioning Marin to be quiet. Coming over a hill towards us was a pair of raggedy looking rats. They were both carrying rusty, jagged knives and sniggering loudly. They reached us and came to a leisurely stop. They looked like they hadn't washed in seasons, and a smell like week old cheese hung over them.
    "Heh-heh-heh…what've we got here? A pair of young'uns out for a Sunday school picnic?" chuckled the bigger of the two evilly.
    "I'll bet their mommies don't know they're out here all alone, Scritch", said the short, skinny one with a demented laugh.
    "Keep a civil tongue in your head, cabbage breath," I said coolly. "Or I might be forced to cut it out!" I quickly drew my dirk and got into fighting stance. Marin tightly gripped his staff. "You take the smaller one, I'll take care of the lard butt," I whispered. Marin nodded, looking very pale and frightened. "Don't worry, buddy. We can take a pair of ragbags like these." Marin smiled, and immediately catapulted himself at the small rat. I leaped at Scritch, going straight for the throat. For all his bulk, he was surprisingly agile. He quickly stepped out of the way, and belted me between the ears with his knife handle.
    "Luckily, I've always been hard headed," I thought, circling my opponent carefully. Marin was doing a fine job, thwacking the small rat on the head, tail; anywhere he could get a hit in.
    "You're not walking away from this one, mousy!" Scritch growled, lunging at me. Now it was my turn to dodge. As he bulled past me, I gave him a deep cut between the shoulder blades. He grimaced with pain, but quickly charged again.
    "This is like fighting a big, smelly bull," I chuckled as I dodged again.
    "I don't see what's so funny about the fact that you're going to die, pipsqueak." Spitting blood from a split lip, Scritch plunged his knife at me. I blocked it with the flat of my dirk blade, fighting with all my strength. I knew it was hopeless; he was at least twice my size. My arms started to burn. Desperately, I kicked out at his footpaws. I accidentally aimed too high, and kicked him right in the belt buckle. Suddenly, the pressure on my dirk slackened off. I heard Scritch give a disgusting gurgle, and then he fell flat on his back, an agonized look on his dead face. Marin, who had also vanquished his opponent, came over and threw a paw around my shoulders to steady me.
    "Even for a vermin, what an awful way to go," he remarked, turning his face away from the grotesque corpse. A sharp ornamental spike on Scritch's belt had been driven into his fat stomach when I had kicked him, instantly slaying him.
    "Marin, look at that belt buckle!" I gasped, shaking my head in disbelief.

    "I know, I know. It's disgusting. Let's just get out of here," he said, turning to leave.
    "No, you dense hog!" I cried, grabbing Marin's neck and thrusting his face within a paw's breadth of the dead body. "The design on the buckle! I-it's the one Queen Streakcat showed us!" I released Marin and frantically started working Scritch's belt off. Once I had cleaned the buckle in a nearby stream, Marin and I sat down to examine it more closely. It was made out of solid iron, a circle with seven sharp spikes protruding from it. In the center was a depiction of a skull with a humungous sword through it. "Don't you remember, the queen showed us a drawing of this design and told us it was the crest of the warlord we're looking for. She said that when we find a creature wearing this crest we are to-"
    "Capture and question them," Marin finished the sentence for me grimly. "Yes, I remember. To find out what weakness this great warlord has. Well, we've already blown that part of the mission. What now, leader?"
    "I think you know very well, Marin," I said, grinning mischievously.
    "Since we have so rudely slain our sources of information, we will have to infiltrate their camp and get the scoop there."
    "No way! And besides, I thought you didn't want to do this mission anyway," Marin squealed, looking perfectly terrified.
    "Oh, I don't know. I'm beginning to get my adventurous spirit back. Now be a good hog and go get us some disguises."
    "No! No, no, no! Sure, I'll go along on crazy adventures with you, I'll help you fight vermin, but I'm not touching those disgusting dead rats," Marin howled.
    "It's the only way we'll be able to get into the vermin camp," I explained calmly. "And besides, getting the clothes off dead vermin is no job for a lady."
    "Since when are you a lady?" Marin muttered, walking off bad temperedly.
    Moments later, Marin came back with our disguises.
    "Yuck! These smell like rotten pickled eggs!" I complained, pulling a tattered tunic over my head.
    "I know", replied Marin. "I guess those vermin weren't really into bathing." He was trying vainly to keep Scritch's enormous pants up around his waist.
    "Take this," I told him, handing him a cord of rope that had served as a belt for one of the rats. "Come on, let's see if we look horrible enough." We ambled over to the small stream and checked our reflections.
    "We look much too clean to be vermin," Marin decided, eyeing himself critically.
    "I'll soon remedy that, my friend," I said, grabbing a pawful of mud off of the stream bottom and rubbing it gingerly into his spikes, and adding a few streaks across his snout for good measure. I grabbed another pawful for myself, and within a few minutes we were both looking perfectly awful.
    "Alright. Now what?" Marin asked, pawing mud from around his mouth.
    "Now we find the vermin camp. I have an idea it might be that way," I replied, pointing north. Squinting, I could see faint blue smoke from cooking fires rising over the hills.
    "Lead on, Rose," Marin said, lifting our haversack.
    "Oh, I almost forgot!" I exclaimed. "Marin and Roseblade aren't very verminy names. From now on you'll be Bloodspike, and I can be Mudnose."
    We had been walking for about two hours. The sun was about to set, and the tops of the hills were a dusky rose color as if someone had ladled rosehip cordial over them. We had just reached the top of the highest hill, and now we were looking down into what seemed to be a city of vermin. Muddy white tents were pitched in clusters all over the humungous field at the base of the hill, and wherever there were not tents the ground seemed to be alive with ferrets, weasels, and rats. It was like looking down on an anthill; there had to be at least three thousand creatures.
    "Maybe I'll just sit this one out Rose, er, Mudnose," Marin said softly, backing away.
    "Oh no you don't. We're in this together, Bloodspike," I said, not able to stop my voice from shaking. Trying to swagger like a pair of good for nothing rats, we descended into the camp. We were immediately swept up in the stream of vermin coming and going in all different directions. "We have to find that warlord, somehow," I whispered, looking around sharply.
    "Why don't we try making some friends? Maybe we'll get information that way," Marin suggested.
    "Good idea," I replied, turning to a scrawny ferret close by. "Hey, matey!" I growled in a villainous voice, "where do they keep the vittles around 'ere?"
    "Newcomers, eh?" he responded in a nasal tone. "Mess hall's right this way." Trotting to keep up with our guide's long strides, Marin and I followed.
    "I can see why they call this place the mess hall," Marin whispered, wrinkling his snout in disgust. Week old food coated everything like slime, and a rotten stench hung in the air. Vermin everywhere jostled for places at the long grimy tables, growling curses and flashing knife blades.
    "Let's just sit down and get some supper. I'm starving," I said as my stomach growled.
    "Um, excuse me, sir," Marin said politely, tapping a big, burly looking weasel on the shoulder. "Me an' my matey here would like to sit dow-"
    "Go boil you head, pipsqueak!" the weasel bellowed, shoving Marin to the ground.
    "Hey! Don't talk to my friend like that, you filthy fleabag!" I cried, stomping on the weasel's dirty paw.
    "Ow! Why you little-," the weasel muttered venomously, drawing a long skinning knife. "I'll slit your throat from ear to ear!" Splat!!!
    Before the big weasel had time to move, Marin belted him in the face with a roasted game hen. The weasel howled, frantically wiping the stinging grease from his eyes. His paw accidentally knocked against a beaker of wine, spilling it in the lap of a rat sitting nearby.
    "Hey! You've ruined me only kilt!" the rat yelled, leaping up and beginning to clobber the weasel. His flailing tail smacked a platter of hot potatoes into the face of a passing ferret, who quickly joined in the fray. Soon, the whole mess hall had erupted into a gigantic food fight. Marin and I dove behind an overturned table, grabbing pawfuls of stale biscuits and hurling them all around. A bowl of steaming greens came flying over the table, and we were both covered with sloppy, stale leaves. I retaliated by flinging an especially stale biscuit at the head of a short, fat rat who had just walked in. Immediately, an ominous hush fell in the mess hall.
    "Who did that?" the rat demanded in a booming voice, shaking with rage. Marin and I tried to keep as silent as possible, but we were seized by the ears and hauled roughly forward to be dumped at the feet of the diminutive rat. "It was you? YOU? Two little brats like you dare to insult the great Bladepaw, great warlord and ruler of the northern hills? Licefur, Rotteeth, bring them both to my tent. I will punish them personally for their insolence."
    Two somber looking rats came forward and seized both of us.
    "I-it was nice knowing you, Roseblade," Marin muttered, his teeth chattering.
    "Same to you, Marin," I said, gulping back a lump in my throat. So, this was how it would end. "Well," I thought, "I at least hope the queen gives us a nice funeral, with flowers and- that is if there's anything left to bury…"

    We quickly came to a spacious looking tent, deep crimson in color.
    "The chief dyes his tent canvas with the blood of his enemies. Good thing you came along; it was getting kind of faded," whispered the rat carrying me, with demonic delight.
    "Put them down and leave us. I'm afraid this will be too terrible for anybeast to witness," The warlord ordered, shoving us into his tent. Once the footsteps of the two rats had receded, he let out a long sigh of relief.
    "Phew! Doing that voice always gives me such a sore throat!" he sighed, his voice suddenly going into a resonant soprano. He took off his armor, which was in fact generously padded. Standing in front of Marin and I was a short, extremely skinny rat in a purple tunic. "Oh bother. I can't see you at all," he muttered, rummaging on a table nearby. He found and put on a pair of tremendously thick glasses that looked as though they had been made from the bottoms of two jam jars. Marin and I both started to shake from suppressed giggles. So this was the great and powerful Bladepaw, ruler of the northern hills? The ornate design on his tunic matched Scritch's belt buckle, but the creature standing before us looked more like a worm in goggles than a cold blooded warlord. "Oh, go ahead and laugh. You know you want to," Bladepaw said sadly. "I can't help it. I come from a small boned family. But my father was a warlord, and so was his father, and so was his father, so I got just got stuck with the family business. Now, you know I'm going to have to slay you. Can't have the horde thinking I'm a softy." Bladepaw turned around and very feebly picked up a sword that was almost bigger than he was. Marin and I could take it no longer. We collapsed on the floor of the tent in helpless paroxysms of laughter.
    "Wha-ha-ha! Oh, please don't hurt us warlord! We're-we're too young to die!" Marin cackled, wiping a tear from his cheek.
    "What are you going to do, prick us to death? Heeheehee!" I giggled, my stomach aching with laughter.
    Bladepaw actually started to grin, too. He helplessly let the sword drop to the floor and sat down next to it, resting his chin on his knees. "I don't have the heart to do it," he sighed. "Why don't you two sit down and have some tea and scones with me?"
    "Of course, sir. And thank you for sparing our lives," I grinned.
    "I never really wanted to be a warlord," Bladepaw told us, biting into a scone spread thickly with honey. "Actually, I've always wanted to be a librarian. I love to read, but it's kind of hard to do when you're commanding a bloodthirsty horde. Would you believe it, the next place we're due to attack is Zoren Castle! What a pity; such a lovely bunch of creatures live there…but we've been camped in these hills for weeks, and if I don't make a move soon I fear that it will cost me my life. Ah, I wish there were some way to get around it…"
    "Bladepaw, I think we can help you. It just so happens that Marin and I are master escape artists," I said, giving him a reassuring pat on the paw.
    "We'll help you escape from your vermin, and then you can come back to Zoren Castle with us."
    "Y-you two are from Zoren Castle? And to think, I almost destroyed your home," Bladepaw gasped, dropping his mug of tea in astonishment.
    "Don't think anything of it. We know you didn't really mean it," Marin told him cordially.
    "Alright you two, here's my plan," I said, leaning closer to my comrades.
    "It's going to be dangerous, but I know we can pull it off if we stick together…"
    The next day, Bladepaw called his horde to muster. Marin and I were standing next to him on a makeshift platform, our paws bound, trying hard to look wildly afraid for our lives.
    "Pay attention, you scurvy bunch of cut-throats!" Bladepaw cried out in his pseudo booming voice. "I have decided to spare the lives of these two pathetic creatures…"
    "Oh thank you, thank you sire!" squealed Marin, playing his part beautifully.
    "For now!" Bladepaw continued, giving Marin an evil smile. "I have decided to take them to the North River an have a little…fun…with them."
    Some of the vermin began to snicker evilly. The thought of harming other beasts was quite appealing to them.
    "I'll need two of you to accompany me," Bladepaw continued. "Now, who should I chose?"
    "Me, Chief!"
    "No, pick me!"
    "I'll slash 'em up good, Boss!"
    The crowd erupted into pleas to accompany Bladepaw. He let his eyes roam over the crowd carefully, then picked out two especially slow, stupid looking rats.
    "Weedtail and Jarkel, find two good lengths of rope and a haversack of food, and report back here in exactly in half an hour."
    "Aye-aye, Lord Bladepaw! We won't fail yer!"
    "Count on us, yer 'onor!" The rats saluted hastily, and then shot off, grinning from ear to ear.
    "Well, we've gotten this far" I said to Marin out of the corner of my mouth. "Now comes the hard part…"
    After trekking all day, we reached the banks of the North River. Bladepaw had even thought to save our paws and order his henchrats to carry the two "captives".
    "Right here. Put them down." Bladepaw ordered. We were in a low spot between two slender young trees. The deep, azure water lapped up onto the grass, making a sort of pool between them. "Now, we need some sort of raft. We're going to send these worthless piles of fur on a little trip down river."
    The two idiotic rats looked about dumbly, as if they expected a raft to be waiting in the bushes.
    "Find a branch, you fools! Wide enough for the two of them to fit on! Hurry up, or it'll be you taking the trip!"
    Weedtail and Jarkel set about their work quickly, going deeper into the thicket behind the two trees and emerging moments later with a hefty yew branch. Conveniently, it was bigger than it needed to be, about wide enough to fit three creatures comfortably.
    "Now, listen very carefully, you two. Your life may depend on it. I want you each to stand with your back to a tree, and don't move a muscle. First, hand your ropes to the captives." As Bladepaw gave his command, I could see his knees knocking nervously. Hopefully, the two rats would be dumb enough to follow his orders.
    "Uh, Chief?" Jarkel looked at Bladepaw questioningly.
    "Do as I say!" the warlord yelled hoarsely.
    Slowly, Jarkel and Weedtail delivered the ropes to us then went and stood one to each tree. Bladepaw cut the bonds from our footpaws, and we quickly tied the two of them up. Then, as they watched in shock, the three of us launched the branch into the river and sailed away.
    "Heeheehee! Just stay there, boys! We'll take it from here!" Marin called, standing up and waving goodbye.
    "Arrrgh! Come back 'ere!"
    "Y-you can't leave us like this!"
    The angry shouts of Weedtail and Jarkel died away as we floated around a bend in the river.
    "Thank you, friends! I'm finally rid of those bumbling hordebeasts! Haha, I'm free!" Bladepaw exclaimed exuberantly, flinging away his war helmet and padded armor.
    "Quite welcome, Bladepaw." I replied, trailing a paw in the cool water.
    "Please, call me Eugene. That's my real name. But do you think vermin would follow a warlord named Eugene?" Bladepaw, or Eugene, giggled.
    "This is all very nice, you two," Marin interrupted, flicking water on us. "But have either of you considered how we're going to get home?"
    "Easy, my prickly friend. This river flows right by Zoren Castle. All we have to do is let the current carry us." I assured him. The sun had set, and the moon was shining in the sky like a gargantuan, luminous cheese. Far off, I thought I could see the lights of Zoren Castle twinkling in the dark.

Starfur the mouse and Anara the otter were watching the new otter gaurd who was standing on the wall, gazing into the distance. The otter, Nicron, was a great gaurd and could spot things others couldn't see.
Just the first day he was at Zoren Castle, for example, he had seen a small band of voles. They were lost and had no food. Some Zoreners went out and brought them back to the castle.
"I think it's about time for lunch," Starfur said.
"Yeah, I'm 'ungry!" Anara agreed. She and Starfur raced to the kitchens were they got a tray of food. They to the infirmary, were Ceren, a male badger was sick in bed. The
Starfur and Anara gave the tray to thier friend.
"Chicken noodle soup - cough - again?" Ceren cried.
"You are sick," Starfur replied.
Ceren drank a spoonful and coughed again.
"You're supposed t' take some medicine wid that," Anara said and went off to the cupboard. She dug in the left corner where the cough medicine always was. It wasn't there.
Anara climbed onto the desk beneath the cupboard, and shoved her head through all the jars inside. She didn't see the medicine.
"Hey it's not 'e-" Anara's head hit the top of the cupboard as she took her head out.
"Ow!" She cried as she rubbed her head with her paw.
"You know," Ceren said thoughtfully, "ever since his first day, everthing's been missing."
"We've known that," Starfur said. "But you've been sick so you haven't heard the news."
"I'm gonna go ask that wotsis name about all those stealins," Anara said, stamping the floor.
"I'll come with you," Starfur added. "You stay here Ceren."
On the walltop, Starfur and Anara faced the otter, Nicron.
Anara went right to the point. "'Ave you been stealin'?"
"No matey!" Nicron exclaimed. "Me?"
"Yeah, 'cause since you arrived, everythin's been missin'."
"I didn't do anythin'," Nicron said. "You might want t' check those voles. They came the same day I did."
"Good idea," Starfur said. She searched the castle, looking for the voles. Soon she found them.
They were having a picnic.
"Why don't you join us?" one of the voles said.
"No," Starfur said. "I want to know....You haven't been noticing anything strange around here, have you?"
"Not at all," another vole replied.
Starfur went on. "Because I just lost a water jar of mine, and I'm wondering if you've seen it."
"No!" a vole cried. Her voice was shaky. "No!" and then, looking at her friends, she said,
"Actually, I've been missing a-uh-a little slipper. And my friend, he's lost a-a-a quill pen. Have you seen them?"
"No," Starfur said carefully. "Well, see you later then."
The next day, Starfur and Anara arranged spying schedules. Anara would watch Nicron, and Starfur would watch the voles. Starfur was hiding in the bushes, when the voles stopped eating another one of thier picnics. They strolled casually over to a clump of trees. Starfur crept through the bushes towards them.
The vole who had spoken first pulled a bottle out of his pocket. Starfur leaned forward to see better. In his hand, the vole held a bottle of olive oil.
Another vole held a china cup. Another held a silver spoon and fork. Another had two gold earrings. Another had a glass bottle, and on it, it said: Cough Medicine.
"It's the medicine," Starfur thought to herself. "I'll wait a little longer to see what they do."
"Well," a vole said. "We have a lot of things now. I do think that glass bottle won't pay us alot, but the medicine in it will be an extra." The vole dug in the dirt. "Here's the other things. I think we should have enough to sell tommorrow. Here, put your things in."
The voles placed their stolen things in the hole, and then looked at each other and laughed softly. The vole was just about to cover the hole up, but Starfur lept out.
"So you're the theives!" she shouted. "I've caught you red-pawed!" Starfur unsheathed her sword with a diamond at the pommel.
The leader vole snarled. "You've been spying on us!" He took a knife from his belt that Starfur hadn't detected. The others voles also had knives.
"Anaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaa!" Starfur screamed.
Way up high on the wall top, Anara heard her name being called out loud. "C'mon!" she called to Nicron. She bounded down the wall with Nicron close behind.
Nicron called some other Zoreners to the clump of trees and the voles were banished.