The History of Castle Marl

 

Mraso the Assassin squatted near the embers of a dying fire. Around him was the small band of which he was leader.
Bunglers, all of them. Was it only last week they had tried to take slaves from that Shrew village? It seemed like seasons. He had lost nearly 60% of his groups that day.
And what did they have to show for it? Half a score of slaves?
The Marlfox stood up and tried smoothed the wrinkles out of his velvet cloak.
But he new his luck was bound to change, and he knew how to do it.
He remembered his mother, Queen Silth, telling him the way to return to Castle Marl if ever he needed it.
He had decided last night to make his way back to the castle and reign there as King.
He raised his voice and shouted, "Today we move, South! Pack up and get moving! Anybeast who's not lined up in 5 minutes is dead!"
The pack of vermin groaned loudly and only a few out of 2 score stood up and started packing.
Mraso looked around him, several of his horde started to mummer.
"I said to get up of yer lazy bones and git marching!!! You all have 3 minutes!"
Most of them packed up, but three weasels stayed.
The horde leader whipped out his Marlfox Axe and decapitated the ring leader with one swift stroke.
The other weasels screamed in terror and grabbed their gear.
"Any other beast want some o' this?!" He said waving his Marlfox Axe. "If ya don't, than you'd better git marching on the double!"
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It was half a season later, winter was just beginning to set in. His horde was now down to around 1 score of vermin.
But he had acquired logboats enough to bring his pack to the Island from a small Guosssom settlement. They had ambushed the small tribe and killed most of them. But he had lost half his army in that attack.
They 20 odd vermin sat huddled in their logboats, they'd been on open water for nearly a week.
Suddenly, a rat named Splitail hopped up and shouted, "Land Ho!!!"
The vermin all jumped up rocking the boats perilously. The Island had been spotted!
Within an hour Castle Marl could easily be seen, it wasn't much like Mraso had remembered it, it was partially crumbled. But that didn't matter much to the Marlfox. A castle is a castle.

Several hours later, Mraso the Assassin and his crew piled out of their longboats onto the shore.
"Form up into two lines! Weapons ready! If there's any resistance, shoot first and ask questions later! Maaaarch!!!"
The motley assortment of vermin trotted up towards the Castle Marl.
When they were nearly up to the gates, 6 squirrels appeared on the battlements and twanged off half a dozen arrows into the vermin ranks.
Mraso jumped nimbly aside and heard a screech from the stoat behind him. Three others fell to the expert aim of the squirrel archers.
"Fall back!" Mraso yelled as he slung a dagger at one of the squirrels, he was rewarded with a screech as the squirrel toppled back with a dagger in his chest.
His crew ran back to the cover of boats and started digging out the archery equipment.
  "Everybeast take a sling, bow or their choice of thrown weapons. We're going to take Castle Marl back from those mangy tree-jumpers!"

Mraso split up his horde into two groups. Half made large shields out of a wrecked logboat and charged the gates.
The other half sneaked around the back and prepared to shoot down the squirrels when they tried to shoot the other group.
Mraso and his second-in-command, Splitail the rat, notched their arrows. The two of them, as well as the other 10, took careful aim at the squirrel defenders.
He could see two of his own dead to the one squirrel draped over the wall.
He gave a quiet nod to his lot. A dozen arrows zipped off towards the squirrel on the wall top. Their aims were true, all but one was slain.
He turned and fired a shot off a Mraso the Assassin, the Marlfox also fired.
The High King's arrow found it's mark, but so did the squirrel's.
Mraso staggered back as the arrow slammed into his shoulder, he winced in pain and singled the others to continue the attack.
He grabbed the end of the arrow and snapped off the end, that would have to do for the present.

Splitail led the pack of vermin on a charge at the gates. They threw grappling hooks onto the wall tops and nimbly scaled the side.
When the reached the top, two were cut down by arrows.
"Git those squirrels!" Yelled Splitail, seconds later an arrow wiped him out.

Mraso has for the most part recovered from the injury to his left shoulder, he marched up to the gates and was helped onto the wall tops.
Castle Marl was his.

 

 

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