Quest for the Name of Martin
The wind whipped through the crowd of beasts, who bustled together in small groups around a figure standing on a crate. A few stoats and rats here bundled closer in many layers of thin clothing, and beyond them, a few foxes huddled more within their nicely insulated cloaks. Upon the crate, a stoat shifted his scarf, and put his hands up for silence.
"Fellow creatures, you know our plight! In this land, with these creatures that call themselves peaceful woodlanders, we are oppressed, called vermin and scum! We are denied services because of superstition and fear, and kept out of the places of warmth and goodness because of our looks, because of our species!
"This has happened before; to us, and to others! Once, in the past, Martin the Warrior marshaled his oppressed people against their tyrannical rulers! They broke free from the degradation, the imprisonment, and made for themselves a safe haven! With a mighty sword and a goodly conscience, they created Redwall Abbey, a place of safety for woodlanders.
"But what about us, we who come not from the woods, nor from the sea, nor any place, but war? For warlanders, there is no place we can take refuge in. We must follow the example of the woodlanders all those years ago. The oppression must end, and the woodlanders have shown again and again that they have no sympathy or care for us! Trained as warriors, raised as killers, we shall spend our energies as did Martin the Warrior, creating a home so that those after us shall be trained as equal creatures, viewed as more than scum, and able to live a peaceful life!"
The crowed cheered loudly, their voices carrying on the wind and over the land as the stoat stepped down from the crate, and into the smiling faces of his comrades.