[CENTER][i][sub][color=silver]Dedicated to the memory of Brian Jacques...[/color][/sub][/i][COLOR=SLATEGRAY][h2][b]T H E   Y U R A Z E N   P R I N C E[/b][/h2][/COLOR][hr][IMG]https://i.imgur.com/oDTTaZ5.jpg[/IMG][hr][COLOR=SILVER][SUP][B]A   T A L E   O F   R E D W A L L[/B][/SUP][/COLOR][/CENTER]
[INDENT][sub][sup][h3][COLOR=SLATEGRAY][b]P R O L O G U E:[/b][/COLOR][/h3][/sup][/sub][/INDENT][hr][INDENT][INDENT]The warm autumn winds shifted through the bustling courtyard, carrying the various crimson and golden leaves through the air and across the sandstone walls of Redwall Abbey. Anticipation hung in the air as the various beasts hurriedly finished their tasks, knowing the excitement that awaited them. Outside the towering gates, music could be heard in the distance as the colourful banners of the Travelling Thistledown Troupe appeared on the horizon. In the lead was a tall hare, who betwixt his paws held a large conch shell. Holding it to his mouth, the hare's ears stood up as he emptied his lungs through the shell. Its cry echoed ahead of the troupe announcing their approach.

The arrival of the troupe only further served to signal that the Name Day festivities would soon ensue. Delicious aromas wafted from the abbey's kitchen, filling the Great Hall and making their way into the courtyard where the Thistledown Troupe was receiving a very warm welcome. Dibbuns who could barely contain their excitement broke out of their single line formation behind the Sister watching them, descending upon the arrival troupe with squeaks and giggles of unbridled joy.

Jugglers and tumblers suddenly moved to the front of the crowd, wooing and entertaining them well into the evening, Their antics caused the Dibbuns to roll around the grass in fits of giggles while deep belly laughs came from the adults in attendance. As the night wore on and the smell of the feast being prepared overwhelmed the senses of the hungry crowd. As if hearing the cries of the stomachs of those in attendance, the Troupe's Melodious Mice broke into song, humming a simple melody while the hare returned to the stage and placed the shell to his mouth again blowing a few well-timed notes before breaking into song.

[CENTER][I]"Food to eat and games to play.
Tell me why, tell me why."[/i][/CENTER]
The hare's question was barely out of his mouth before the Dibbuns cried back in response, their less than on key voices drowning out the three mice lasses joining along with them.

[CENTER][i]“Kind muvva, gudd muvva, er, er, O pleeze tell this beast
Dat this is our Nameday, an’, an’, an’ we wanna feast!”[/i][/CENTER]
The hare chortled with laughter before responding once more.

[CENTER][i]“Serve it out and eat it up.
Have a try, have a try.
Nameday, Nameday, fun and game day,
Come, Brother, Sister, join our play.
This season has a name!”[/i][/CENTER]
As the hare let his final note ring out, a pair of moles in colourful clothes and silly make-up snuck up behind him. The Dibbuns cried out for the Hare to watch out but it was too late as the mole dumps a pair of buckets over his head. Laughter erupted from the crowd suddenly as the buckets emptied, as in place of water, flower petals rained over the hare. 

"Let's eat!" The Friar cried out as the crowd moved into the Great Hall. Sprawling tables were filled with all sorts of foods. It was a joyous meal for honest creatures. Dishes went this way and that from paw to paw. Dishes made to be passed and to be shared. Dishes both sweet and savoury. 

Hot cornbread with hazelnuts and apple baked into it, and a salad of celery, lettuce, shredded carrot, and white button mushrooms. Steaming soups, new bread with shiny golden crusts, old cheeses studded with dandelion, acorn and celery. Turnip-potato-beetroot pie, shrimp 'n' hotroot soup, and numerous cheeses rounded out the savoury dishes. But that was hardly the extent of the feast.

Snowcream pudding, hot fruit pies, colourful trifles, tasty pastries and nutbread cake iced with clover honey. Sugared plums and honeyed pears vied for a place with the harvest salads and vegetable flans. Turnovers, fondants and tarts alternated with beakers of cold fizzy strawberry cordial, cowslip and parsley liquor, brown ale, greensap milk, mint tea, rosehip cup and elderberry wine to wash it all down. 

Not a single beast walked away from the Nameday feast with an empty stomach and more than a few walked away plumper than they had been when the day began. The watchful eyes of Martin the Warrior peered down fondly from his image upon the sprawling tapestry that nearly spanned the entire width of the Great Hall. The tapestry originally detailed the founding of Redwall Abbey and Martin's triumph over Tsarmina Greeneyes but over the years it had been added to and now was a visual history of the Abbey's history. From Martin to his reincarnation, Matthias and beyond, the tapestry depicted the Abbey, its warriors and the events that had befallen it.  

Studying the tapestry in an effort to stretch his legs after such a full meal, the young initiative paused upon coming to a fearsome figure looming at the edge of the intricate piece of art. The stitching here was newer than other places, a more recent addition to the tapestry. The figure in question was drawn like a wildcat, but larger, the ears different, more pointed with tuffs coming off of the end. An army of vermin surrounded the figure, shields like the initiative had never seen, interlocked and creating a wall.

"Have you ever heard the tale of the Yurazen Prince?" A voice asked from behind the initiative, causing the young squirrel to nearly jump out of his fur.

"Abbot-"

"Oh young one, I didn't mean to frighten you." The Abbot chuckled, "Beautiful isn't it? The tapestry is one of the Abbey's most precious possessions. Arguably more so than the Sword of Martin itself." He added, gesturing with a grayed paw towards the blade hung above the tapestry. Forged of a fallen star, the Sword of Martin the Warrior was a family heirloom that was reforged by the Badger Lord, Boar the Fighter. In times of trouble, the Spirit of Martin would elect a champion from the Abbey to wield the legendary blade. A simple weapon adorned with a red pommel stone, the blade was inscribed with the phrase 'I AM THAT IS'. 

"I've never seen anything like it." The young squirrel responded. "It's almost like it was calling to me."

"It's not unusual for the Spirit of Martin to do so." The Abbot mused, "He has quite the eye for potential."

"Who was the Yurazen Prince?" The squirrel asked returning to the Abbot's initial question.

"Oh, that is quite the tale, so much so perhaps everyone should gather around." The Abbot answered, raising his voice to address the Great Hall. "Come, young ones," The aging beast stated as he moved towards his chair with the aid of his cane. 

"The tale of the Yurazen Prince comes from the first-hand account of Brother Rigby, nearly twenty seasons ago. Gather around my friends, our story begins now."[/INDENT][/INDENT][hr][img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d3/f5/11/d3f5115734b4c11b0c4b6366efe96026.jpg[/IMG][hr]


Our tale begins in the peaceful abbey of Redwall located within Mossflower Forest. As the harvest season draws near, a travelling circus troupe has knocked on the abbey doors trading performance for food.

Tales have often told of a nation to the far South East, beyond the Bell and Badger and across the Southern Plateau. Located in the sprawling land of Yurazea, there sits a kingdom ruled by twin Kings with a cruel claw.

Two Kings
Yurazea 
Hellados - Kingdom
Lake Daemon - Home of the House of Lynx
 where the House of Yura rule with all of Hellados a cruel claw.

Lake Daemon