Prologue, Part 1

The huge ship Otterwake sailed boldly through the Deepwater ocean. The vessel, built and manned by otters, was on its way to discover new lands. The sun, partially covered by white fluffy clouds, shone down on the ocean, and on the Otterwake. It also shone down on Javelin, a strong, tall otter, who leaned on the starboard railing, gazing into the vast expanse of the ocean.

"Harr me mateys, ain't it not just th' best day t' be a-sailin'?" he said to whoever happened to pass his back. He was a cheery fellow, and a true sailor. The best of his kind, except for his father, Lance, who could outsail any vessel. Javelin was in his teenage years, wearing a pair of dark green pants, a dirty white shirt, damp from splashes of seawater. He carried no weapons, except for his sling, which he, along with all other otters, carried in his small belt pouch. He never knew war - only sailing.

Lance walked up to him and joined him on the railing. "Aye, th' day has blessed us with clear skies an' calm waters. Th' best day for traveling."

Lance, on the other hand, was not only a true sailor, but a true warrior. Strapped to his back were twin blades, and in his right paw has a double-pointed javelin, which was what inspired him to name his son Javelin. Apart from the sling, a small, blue shield was strapped to his belt. He was strongly built, tall, and very muscular. His dark brown fur perfectly matched his equally brown eyes - overall a very handsome figure.

Javelin grinned. "So, you ol' waterskimmer, any news?"

Lance nodded. "Our watch crew has seen traces of seagulls, a sure sign o' land. Our maps don't say that there is any land 'round here, so I think we're about to find new land."

A small bell rang from the main cabin. Javelin pushed himself off the railing. "Harr, it's time for th' noon meal. What do y' say, shrimp soup an' glasses o' water?"

Lance chuckled. "Aye matey, sounds good t' me. Hurr, you're always anxious whenever food's around."

"Harr, can't work on an empty stomach!" Javelin replied, already entering the cabin.

After the meal, Javelin was dozing on the starboard. His father sat next to him, in a paw-carved chair. He smiled as he watched the waves crash onto each other, and the odd fish that would jump here and there from the waters. The serenity was shattered when Rudder, one of the watch crew, hurried up to Lance.

"Lance sir, we have urgent reports about th' land we're approachin'. It seems densely wooded, an' very suitable for life. The downside is that we've seen traces of vermin on th' shores. But as of now, they don't seem as much of a problem."

Lance nodded, eyes halfway shut. "Harr, vermin, eh? Well, matey, no problem th' crew can't handle. We've held vermin attacks from those ships off twice... we can surely do it again. Hurr, watch it or you'll trip over my Javelin sleepin' there."

The watch crew otter took a step back. "Aye, I almost did. Well, I'm going to get back to th' lookout tower. Anything I can yer, cap'n?

"Peace an' quiet," Lance said, dozing off.

Meanwhile on the shore of the land a rat named Scurv ran up to a weasel sitting on a miniature throne on the beach. "Lord Garrath, I and my team of scouts have spotted a huge ship approachin' us. It's still very far away, but you can never be too careful."

Garrath narrowed his eyes. He was an enormous male weasel, fully named Garrath the Fierce. He wore a cloak made from squirrel skins, and long pants of owl feathers. His fur was deep grey, with lines of jet black down his arms. The claws on his paws were capped with razor-sharp knife blades, and his small helmet he wore was laced with thorns. His eyes, red as fire, could send a chill down the spine of any creature. His voice was deep and powerful.

"So, a visitor." He clacked his knife-claws together.

Scurv scratched his black head. "No supply ships or any of Monikkar's vessels were sceduled t' arrive today."

"Ah yes, Monikkar. That old lizard. When's his next visit planned?"

Scurv flipped through a small bundle of bark parchment. "Ah, er, uh, the records say sometime soon to now. Possibly a season or so?"

Garrath nodded, eyes still narrowed. "I'd like to see that horde again. If we were to, with him, invade another land, we could take it over swift and silent."

"Not like we couldn't do it ourselves. We've got hundreds o' troops here," Scurv chuckled.

"We'll wait that ship out," Garrath said. "Well see what they bring. At the first sign of trouble, we'll swarm 'em."

"Cap'n Lance!"

Lance awoke from his sleep on the chair.

"Lance! Bad news!" Rudder said, running up to Lance. "Th' island we are heading to is infested with vermin! Hundreds upon hundreds of 'em! We could never hold 'em off!"

"Hurr, matey, I think we'll have t' leave this land an' find another. You're right: we could never hold 'em of," Lance agreed.

"Harr, that's th other thing," Rudder sighed. "Th' tiller's jammed. We 'ave no way t' steer away!"

Lance's eyes burned red. "There's only one option left, matey. War."

Rudder gave a stressed sigh. "Yes sir. I'll get th' weapons ready."

As the otter ran off, Lance woke his son. "Javelin, a war is going t' break out soon. I will lead it, but may not succeed. If I don't, I'd like you to at least have my javelin, swords, an' shield." He unbuckled his equipment.

Javelin had no idea what was going on. Before he could say anything, his father had already placed his weapons and shield in his paws.

"Vermin will push you. They'll threaten you. They'll kill your comrades. But promise me, my son, they'll never get the better of you."

Javelin looked over the railing at the hordes of rats, weasels, stoats, and ferrets filling the island they were heading to. "I promise."

Lance gave his son a final pat on the back, then ran to find his soldiers.