Things Better Left Unvisited:

Exactly What It Sounds Like, Mates

The Redwall universe takes advantage of a lot of "isms".

Aside from the all-powerful Racism, there's the jingoism, the isolationism, the creationism (and weird juxtaposition of evil ghouls existing alongside a separate afterlife), and last but certainly not least, the sexism. Sexism!

This sexism present in the stories is much more obvious in the female villains (because duh, if an evil female isn't going to be the victim of sexism in a black/white morality series, who is?). I'm talking straight up "male villain acts like an over-masculine jackass; female villain uses her sexiness to do her evil, because obviously evil females can't be awesome swordsbeasts or paw-to-paw fighters or even brilliant military generals" grade sexism. There is one subversion I will get to, but for the most part it's the central female villain that will be weaker, slyer, sluttisher, and crazier while the guy villains will just do… er, "man-ly stuf" type villainy.

Such as smacking beasts, instead of showing some leg to lure one of the protagonists into a cellar and then locking them in with a fiendish cackle. Female villains do their fair share of smacking, but for the most part if the villains are paired or come up against a hero of the opposite sex, the sexist genderyness will take over and render badass heroines somewhat whiny and useless, or just generally weaker all of a sudden.

*Case File: Urgan Nagru Vs. Silvamord. The Paired Villains.*

Things were looking shoddy in Castle Floret. Those dastardly foxes that the King had taken in and cared for had, sure enough, turned out to be wicked, wicked baddies after all. These nasty evil beasties sat in KING GAEL'S throne drinking KING GAEL'S wine and eating KING GAEL'S roasted dead bird—er, wait, no, that one was the foxes'.

"HARHARHAR, hey squirrely!" Urgan Nagru said in his fraternity-club-est voice, "Guess what? Y'wanna know why they call me Foxwolf, eh, eh?"

"OH FUDGE OFF!" Squirrelking Gael wanted to say, but he didn't because everyone knows douche fraternity foxes can get away with just about anything. The arctic fox gave a stupid grin and puffed his chest out.

"Cuz I killed a wolf, yo. That's, like, super awesome of me, eh? I mean, arctic foxes maybe weight, like, four pounds. BUT I FRICKIN' KILLED A WOOOOOOLF!"

"Eeeew, that is so totally groooooss…" Silvamord said as she walked about topless, like a typical vermin barbarian from the icy north would do. Queen Sarena shuddered with chaste feminine grace, a gesture which could hardly be detected from under her burqa. "You're always talking about, like, hunting big animals and stuff males like… Why don't we ever talk about our feeeeeeliiiiiiings?"

"Shuddup, woman!" Urgan Nagru grunted as he shoveled some dead bird in his face, like a typical male would do. Silvamord, with her devious sluttishness, decided she was bored of watching him belch and fart without so much as an "excuse me" and began to pick on members of the other clique—er, I mean, the captured castle staff.

"Hey baaadger, put on this silly hat and dance around!"

"…" said Muta, the badger nurse, because she was Muta/Mute, haw, get it?

With a sneaky topless smile and an overly arched back, Silvamord pointed a sexy claw towards the little squirrel prince brat. "Okay, well, we're gonnna, like, torture that kid if you don't~"

Muta put on the silly hat and started to do a very boring medieval dance. Silvamord punched the rat minstrel out of the way and made room in the corner for a legit rat DJ, soundboard and everything. As the beats started pumping out, Silvamord cried: "GET FUNKY OR I'LL CUT A BITCH!"

With surprising agility, Muta started getting' down like a badger'd never got down before. She spun and balanced like a pro, "worming" across the floor and joining little squirrel prince brat in a twerk-off. King Gael looked on proudly as his son showed his pelvic prowess, though Queen Sarena was less than thrilled that a nice old badgerlady would put on such a ghastly jiggling display.

"Oookay, Truffen needs his naptime…" The Queen dragged her husband upright and began to whisk the whole group off to where they would escape the hell outta there.

Silvamord, being a conniving female like they all are, tried to stop them.

"Like, stop them!" She whined at the rat guards. Turning to her still-hoovering husband, she huffed and crossed her arms over her, I stress this, completely bare boobage.

"Aren't you gonna, like, stop them?! You're such a loser!"

"Whut?" Urgan grunted through a chicken leg and a couple of rare steaks. Like guys do. You know.

Because the good married couple contains a female which is quiet, sweet, modestly dressed, gentle, and serves no purpose towards the plot except as a thing to rescue—and a male which is courageous, self-sacrificing, not much of a clever thinker, and takes action. While he doesn't get to be violent as well as those other positive traits often reserved for male heroes, he still gets to be major in a battle scene.

Meanwhile, the bad married couple contains an outspoken female who takes action herself instead of relying on her guy (who is subsequently arrogant, gluttonous and lazy), and also she walks around wearing nothing but a skirt. No top. Because evil females show their bodies and talk, but are still physically weak and need to rely on their conniving bitch-aura to do their villainous thang.

And Gael, an old unfit geezer of royalty, STILL gets to lead the Southsward army. Just bearin' that standard. That long, hard, shiny-poled standard. That rock-solid, well-endowed pole of a standar—oop, welp, this chapter's been Freuded…

If you wanted to know the exception to this "female/male villains rule"… it is, shockingly, Princess Kurda of the Pure Ferrets. She is undoubtably tough, not much more sneaky and conniving than the male villains in the same installment (no more than usual, and a point isn't made of it), and she is otherwise just a character that happens to need female personal pronouns to describe what she's doing or who she's stabbing with "der heavy sabre"…

Yeah… those faux… German/Dutch/Transylvannian accents… What is it supposed to be even? They're… an embarrassment to Eastern Europeans, I think.

Oh no—OH FLIPPIN' HELLGATES! I've found a Redwall accent that…

DUN-DUN-DUUUUUUUN~

…Annoys me MORE than Molespeech!

More may follow. If you like, you may leave an as-of-yet unanswered bit of unusual Redwall yore as a suggestion, but it is more than likely I'll cover the grand majority of oddness and unmentioned unmentionableness.