Outlawed Part 1

The Sheriff of Nottingham, now on the wrong side of the law, quickly toughens up and bulks up thanks to a trick of alchemy courtesy of his brother, as he plans to use his new muscles for the crime spree of the 13th century! This is one of the longer stories I've plotted out, it's ambitious, a bit comedic, and fleshes out one of the original furry crushes- in more ways than one! Enjoy everyone, thank you for your support as always, and Happy Holidays!

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King Richard was dead. The news came into London that the noble King of England had fallen in battle while on crusade, and the kingdom mourned. They mourned not just for the loss of their king, but also for being put under the thumb of his successor: the greedy Prince John, by all rights, was now King.

In the Tower of London, however, one person was celebrating. Robert de Rainult, the rotund wolf that had formerly served as the Sheriff of Nottingham, was bouncing on his heels when he heard the news, waiting expectantly. He had been one of Prince John’s most loyal lackeys during the fight with Robin Hood- and while that sly fox may have weaseled his way into King Richard’s good graces, he was expecting he would be trading places with the newly knighted Robin soon enough. He leapt to attention as the door to the cell block creaked open, and Sir Hiss, John’s personal aide, slithered in.

“Open the cell- the Sheriff is to be releasssed into my care, by order of the King” the snake declared. A burly jailer grunted, opening the cell for the wolf. Smirking as he gave his warden a mocking salute, the wolf sauntered out.

“Aw, I ain’t thought I’d ever be so glad to see you Hiss!” the wolf chuckled. “Say, before’n you take me to the palace, how about you and me go grab a drink and get some real food?” He patted his round middle. “I can’t tell ya how much I’m lookin’ forward to gettin’ back to work. So!” The sheriff rubbed his hands together. “What’s my first job? John want me back squeezing pennies outta beggars?”

“Not… exactly,” Hiss muttered. “His Majesty feels your multiple missssteps in Nottingham were part of the reason his regency unravelled.”

The sheriff scoffed. “Oh, what, he’s still mad about Nottingham Castle? Look, I told ya a hundred times, that was all Robin’s doing, it ain’t my fault if…” the wolf did a double-take as he caught one of the guards, his face shrouded by a black Executioner’s hood, sharpening an axe. “...If…” he gulped, eyes wide as he glanced at Hiss. “Y-ya can’t be serious! But I- I gave Prince John years of loyal service! Hiss, c’mon, we go way back!”

“I’m afraid the King findsss having you around is too risky. You know too much, and he feels you can’t be trusted with his ssssecrets,” the snake sighed. “Come now, Robert- at least face death with ssssome dignity, like a true Englishman.”

The wolf’s heart was pounding as two rhinos with pikes flanked him, their broad shoulders pushing in on him as he was led to the executioner’s block. He glanced around wildly, the wolf trying to think of something, anything to save his hide. In a moment of desperation, the wolf grabbed for one of the rhino’s pikes, jabbing the butt of it into the other guard. He fell back as the two burly guards, filling the narrow corridor, tripped over themselves.

“Oh, you idiotsss!” Hiss shouted. “Get up and catch the prisoner!”

The Sheriff broke into a sprint, bounding up a spiral staircase. Seconds later, he heard the clanging of the Tower’s alarm bell, and the clamor of guards by the dozens jumping to attention and grabbing their weapons. Biting his lip, the wolf quickly weighed his options- going for the gate would be impossible, which left the walls and the River Thames beyond. He made for the Tower’s walls and offered the first prayer he had given in ages. The Sheriff bounded for the parapets and leapt over the edge; he made a loud splash as he hit the water, and soon arrows were peppering the murky waters of the Thames as the wolf flailed, his swimming less than impressive. By some miracle, a few minutes later the half-drowned wolf managed to flop on the other side of the river on a muddy bank, somehow unscathed. Looking up at the sky as he wheezed to catch his breath, he held a thumbs up. “Thanks. I swear, I ain’t ever gonna rob a church again.”

The wolf sat up to see past his own thick middle; he could see the light of torches across the river, streaming out of the Tower. There was no time to lose- they were still hunting him, and it was time to skip town. Dusting himself off as best he could, Robert weaved his way through London’s southern half until he reached the outlying farms of the capital, and then finally, the safety of the woods. He sighed heavily, and looked up at a road post he could only just read in the gloom of night. There was only one person who could help him; his brother.

“Come one, come all- sample the splendors of Spain, the peerless potions of Persia, the elusive elixirs of Egypt! Good people, I, Roland de Rainault, accomplished and accredited alchemist and ascertainer of ancient artifacts, have come to provide you with the solutions to your problems- I have potions of youth, potions of health, and the cures to any malady you care to mention.” A lean grey wolf dressed in a gaudy red robe stood next to a colorful wagon in the village square, surrounded by neat stacks of glass bottles and vials. “But name your problem, and I promise, Roland de Rainault has the solution. Yes, step lively now, step lively- yes, Sir Gavin, I can see you’re in need of a tonic for your gout, ah, Goodwife Sybil, a potion of youth for you, right here…”

The crowd dispersed after an hour, leaving Roland to chuckle quietly as he counted his coin- he had nearly sold out. He made a list of what he would need for the next batch- dye from the weaver’s guild for that magical coloring, vinegar, rain water, and some lemongrass for the taste. He climbed into the back of his round wagon, ready to put his feet up; he had lived on the road for a few years, now. That made it easy to avoid people; especially angry customers who learned colored water with grass clippings in it did not, in fact, give them eternal youth. The wolf rushed nearly leapt out of his fur when he found someone waiting inside- his older brother, Robert. The former sheriff was leaning back in Robert’s chair, his feet propped up on the table. “Well! Look he finally decided to show up!”

“Robbie?” Roland gaped. “B-but- we were told you had been sent to the Tower!”

“Yeah! I escaped! Ain’t it grand?” Robert chuckled, slinging an arm around the smaller wolf and pulling him up against his thick middle. “What, aint’cha happy to see yer big brother?”

“I-I am! I am!” Roland gasped, pulling free of the larger wolf’s embrace. “But what are you doing here?”

Robert stood up, sighing. He was still dressed in his prisoner’s rags, threadbare and torn. “So, playin’ lawman didn’t really work out so well. So I thought I’d go back an’ take my rightful place as the oldest an’ lead he family business.”

“What, you mean back to mother and the raiders? What about Reginald?” Roland asked.

The older wolf scoffed. “What, you think my baby brother scares me?”

“Yes,” Roland replied bluntly. “You’d be a fool if he didn’t scare you, he’s big as a house.”

“Oh, c’mon, we both know that ain’t but his puppy fat,” Robert said.

“Ah-ha, no, no.” Roland squeezed at his brother’s belly. “This is puppy fat. Reginald’s fat comes from eating the raiders that disappoint him. And last I saw, there was a lot disappointing him.”

Robert balked slightly, remembering his brother’s size during the last time he was home. “You mean he’s bigger now?”

“Mother always fed him the best cuts,” Roland said, shrugging.

The older wolf whistled low. “W-well, that’s why I came to see you- see, I’ve learned a thing or two facin’ down Robin Hood, and I wanna play this smart.”

“You want to play it smart?” the other wolf rolled his eyes. “Stay away from Reginald and mother. That’s what I do.”

Robert scowled. “Well I ain’t got a lotta choice- the King wants me dead, so if I’ve gotta play outlaw, I ain’t doin’ it by listenin’ to my kid brother. And you’re gonna help me.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I know how King John runs his operations- I know how to rob ‘im blind. Reggie and ma are fine just lettin’ the Raiders pick off fat merchants- but you n’ me, Rolls, we’ve got ambition. So if we team up and knock Reggie out of the limelight, we could live rich as kings.”

Roland leaned back, drumming his fingers on the table. “Alright. But if it comes down to a fight, it’s all on you.”

“Yeah, because you’d be loads of help in a fight, beanpole,” Robert snarked.

The lean wolf rolled his eyes, and then shuffled to one side of his wagon. Lighting a stove, he began to boil water in a small cauldron, tossing in strange ingredients, including a coxcomb, a claw of some kind, and Robert swore he saw an eyeball tossed in, as well. Any attempt to ask questions was shut down as the younger wolf held up his finger and shushed his brother without turning around. After a few minutes, he wordlessly presented a deep red, slightly viscous liquid and pushed it across the table to his brother.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Well, you drink it, naturally.”

The larger wolf scoffed. “I ain’t one o’ your customers, Rollsy. I just saw you put heaven knows what in that thing, what was that, a lizard eye?”

“This is real, Robbie. It’s an elixir of strength- it’s the only thing that’ll help you in a fight against Reggie.” Roland clicked his tongue after his brother only stared at it apprehensively. “Would you just drink it? I wouldn’t poison you or anything.”

“Alright, alright, calm yer horses.” The wolf braced himself as he snatched up the potion and guzzled it down. He frowned softly. “Rollsy, this is why you never woulda made it as a cook. This tastes somethin’ vile, it- oof!” Robert grabbed his thick middle, bracing himself. It was like someone had turned his stomach into a furnace; he felt like he was burning from the inside out.

“Rollsy, I’m gonna-!” Robert grunted, clenching his fist in a vaguely threatening gesture before he felt another jolt hit him in every part of his body. With each labored breath, his chest puffed up, straining the threadbare rags hugging his frame. At first, he thought his arms were twitching, panic seizing him, but then, as he focused on his body, he saw his arm was growing- his biceps and triceps inflating like a bellows. The rags he wore were reduced to shreds as his shoulders spread out and his chest hardened and grew, his legs thickening to support the extra mass. “Woah! I-it’s actually working!” Robert gasped. “I-I ain’t gonna explode or nothin’, right?”

“Uh…” Roland glanced away for a brief moment as he remembered he had never actually tested this potion, before. “Nnnnnno, of course not.”

Robert was left catching his breath, a shaky, if thickly roped, arm grasping the chair to steady himself. His fingers were splintering the back of the chair until he finally stood up straight, patting himself down. He had burst out of his prisoner’s rags, nearly twice the wolf he used to be. His arms puffed up whenever he bent them, his broadened back and shoulders made him feel the extra space he was taking up, and he wanted to find some jerk to pick a fight with to test his strength.

Roland, now certain his brother wasn’t going to explode, inched closer. “So… how do you feel?”

Rounding his shoulders and palming his fists, Robert smirked. “I…” his smile slipped as his stomach growled loudly. “I-I’m starvin’. Watcha got to eat?”

An hour later, and Roland tried not to think too hard about the cost of feeding his big brother, staring at the several chicken carcasses now strewn about his wagon, massaging his forehead as Robert beat his fist against his chest, belching loudly in the remains of his massive meal. The former sheriff sighed happily as he leaned back, gently patting his keg-like middle. “Ah, that hit the spot! So why ain’t ya making this sorta stuff all the time?”

“Because making real potions put a target on my back when all the nobles that can pay only wanted various poisons for their enemies. Nevermind that it is enormously expensive,” Roland scoffed. “As are, what, half a dozen chickens on such short notice? Not that I’m asking you to pay me back after I just gave you the strength of a dozen men…”

Robert waved it off. “Yeah, yeah, anyways! Let’s start makin’ our way home, Rollsy. I can’t wait to see Reggie and ma’s faces,” he said, flexing his arm and patting down his bicep. “We’re gonna turn the Raiders into King John’s biggest nightmare, when I’m done with ‘em.”

Years ago, the Rainault family had been respected nobility, until the sheriff’s ancestors had discovered that pillaging, robbing, and cheating were far easier ways of making money than serving the crown. Their noble status and respectability were gone, but the family still clung to the crumbling remains of their ancestral castle, which served as a base of operations for the Raiders. It was dusk when Robert and Roland approached, coming near the walls after fighting through overgrown brush and trees.

The sheriff whistled low as he looked over the frowning castle walls, smiling as he rest his hands on his hips. “Well, don’t this just bring back memories, Rollsy? Don’t ya remember playin’ on top of the parapets?”

Roland glanced at the larger wolf. “I remember you tripping me which led to me falling into the moat.”

“Heh!” Robert chuckled, slapping his brother on the back. “Yeah.”

“Ready to meet mother after all these years?” Roland asked.

The larger wolf stopped, brushing himself down. Robert had stolen a set of new clothes for himself on their travels; a red tunic, mainly, the sleeves of which had not lasted long over his muscular arms. “Ah… ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go greet the ol’ battleaxe, then.”

Rainault Castle was crawling with all kinds of low-lifes; muggers, bandits, and highwaymen greeted the two wolves with suspicious, narrowed glances as they were led inside to the main keep. They were scruffy, their gear was rusty, and some looked hungry.

Robert clicked his tongue. “Well, don’t this just make yer heart ache. ‘Member when Pa was alive and runnin’ things, the place was loaded with gold and loot?”

“I remember him nagging me about picking up a manlier interest besides herbology and alchemy… before tripping me while we walked on the walls, causing me to fall off the parapets into the moat.”

“Heh, well, lucky yer such a good swimmer!” Robert quipped, smacking Roland on the back again, nearly throwing the smaller wolf off his feet.

“Well, well, well!” a harsh, shrill voice called from the top of the stairs leading into the castle’s keep. A short, hunched wolf, dressed in colorful skirts with a scarf wrapped around her whitening head, hobbled down the stairs. “Look who it is! The respectable lawman. What, are you here to finally arrest your poor ma?”

“Ma!” Robert groaned. “I would never arrest ya, we’ve been through that.”

“Hmph!” Rowena Rainault, mother to Robert and Roland, sneered at her oldest son. “You and your brother here abandoned me to rot, but at least he had the decency to do something respectable to the family name, like fraud! It wasn’t enough you left my precious angel Reggie to take care of your poor mother, you had to break my heart by working for the law!”

“W-well I ain’t no more!” Robert replied. “Ma, I just escaped from the Tower of London, the toughest prison in the whole kingdom! King John wants my head on a pike!”

“Oh?” Rowena folded her arms, looking at her son skeptically. “And I don’t suppose the High Lord Sheriff of Nottinghamshire over here has a wanted poster or anything to show for it?”

“A wanted- ma!” Robert groaned, running a hand over his face. “I’ve only been a wanted felon fer a week, now! It takes a while to write wanted posters!”

“Heh, well when ya get that wanted poster, Li’l Robbie, we should compare crimes- I just got arson added to my latest ones,” a booming, familiar voice called out from across the courtyard. Robert and Roland turned around to face their youngest brother, Reginald. “Along with assault, murder, mugging, assault, robbery, and cursing in a church.”

“You said assault twice,” Roland said, before his youngest brother smacked him in the back of the head.

“I’m good at assault,” Reginald chuckled darkly. A brute of a wolf, his fur was nicked and littered with scars across his muscular body- broad shoulders, strong arms, and a rock-solid torso, with the type of abs Robert could only dream of. And as much as the former sheriff puffed up his chest and stood as tall as he could, he balked when Reginald came close- he was still the biggest of the Rainault brothers, even if the gap had been narrowed significantly.

“...Hi, Reggie,” Robert muttered darkly. Instantly, Reginald wrapped his huge arm around his brother, tensed boulder of a bicep pressing into Robert’s cheek as he was trapped in a headlock. “Hey- hey! Get off, ya dumb brute!”

“Let go of your brother, Reggie, you know he ain’t strong like you,” Rowena sighed.

“Sure, ma,” Reginald smirked, shoving Robert aside. “What dragged you out of that cushy sheriff’s office?”

“I ran afoul of the law, as it happens,” Robert said stiffly. “Got a rap sheet a mile long, now- made King John real embarrassed. So with things so hot in London right now, I thought I’d come back and take my rightful place as eldest son of the De Rainault line and get involved in  the family business.”

“Well, don’t that beat all? We were just lookin’ for a new lookout,” Reginald grinned.

“What- lookout?”

“Yeah!” the bigger wolf said. “Someone to watch when we burn the fields in Middleham, and when we bust up the windows at St. Agnes’ Orphanage.”

“What- burnin’ fields and vandalizin’ orphanages?” Robert gasped, aghast. “That’s awful! How do ya expect to make money off-a all that?”

“Tsk, Robbie, yer still that soft-hearted lawman ya were when ya left!” Reginald replied.

“Hey, hey! I went into the law to gain power an’ extort money, there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Reginald waved off his brother’s defense. “Admit it, Li’l Robbie, ya still ain’t man enough to run the Raiders! Who’d trust you with rapin’ and burnin’ a village?”

Robert was massaging his forehead at this point. “No one, I hope, because there ain’t no good way to make money if ya burn everything down!”

Reginald scoffed, folding his huge arms. “Hey, Robbie, there’s more to this life than makin’ money.”

“What- criminently, Reggie! You’re bandits! Makin’ and stealin’ money is the whole point!” Robert sighed, holding up his hand. “Look, I came back because I know all o’ King John’s operations. I can make us all rich as Croesus, but you gotta listen to what I say, and if I have to beat that into you, I will- ow!” Robert rubbed his head, flinching as Rowena hit him over the head with her cane.

“Robbie! I did not raise you to lie, cheat, and steal so you could bully your baby brother!” the Rainault matriarch declared. “Now if you don’t behave, you can forget staying here! That goes double for you, Roland!”

“What? I didn’t even do anything!” the smallest wolf protested.

“I don’t want to hear another word! Reggie’s got to plan his latest raid, so you two, stay out of his way and go to your room!” Rowena commanded.

Moments later, Robert and Roland squeezed into a dark chamber that was overly filled with dirty, unpolished boots. “...A shoe closet. Momma turned my old room into a shoe closet,” Robert muttered, flopping onto a dust-ridden bed.

“I tried to warn you this wouldn’t be so easy- mother’s not going to budge with Reginald still blustering all over the place.” Roland began to pace. “But if he were to be… let us say, incapacitated, somehow…”

Robert sat up, his brow furrowed. “What’re you sayin’, Rollsy?”

“I still have a collection of recipes that were popular with my old noble clients, including a variety of… let’s call them, anti-antidotes that would take care of Reginald for us.”

Robert gasped. “You wanna poison our brother?”

Roland spread his hands. “‘Poison’ is so… unmusical a word. We’re merely altering his vitality and the circumstances of his health.”

The larger wolf scowled. “We ain’t gonna poison our brother. It’s too… messy, momma would find out.”

Roland scoffed. “You know, this is why Reginald was able to push you out in the first place- mother and Reginald think you’re too soft.”

“Soft?” Robert snarled, looming over his brother. The wolf grabbed Roland by the collar and hoisted him up in the air like he was a sack of flour. “Do I look soft to you, Rollsy?” He huffed, puffing up his beefy chest and pumping his free arm. “I ain’t goin’ soft, I’m playin’ this smart. Reggie gets poisoned soon as we show up, that’s gonna tip momma off. What needs to happen is we need to goad him into a fight- I tried the same thing once with Robin Hood, danglin’ a challenge in front of him he couldn’t refuse at an archery contest- that time, it almost worked, but this time, Reggie ain’t nearly as smart as Robin Hood.”

“Okay, alright! Mother’s wrong, you’re not soft!” Roland gasped, his legs kicking the air as he dangled from his stronger brother’s grasp. “What’s the plan, then?”

Robert smirked, setting the smaller wolf down. “We’re gonna get Reggie to throw the first punch- momma won’t be able to say a thing if he starts the fight. We just gotta find a way to tick him off… what’s his favorite thing he’s got stored away?”

Roland thought for a moment. “Well… he is terribly fond of a long sword he stole off a knight- he claims- that he killed. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he just picked it off a dying man he happened across. He keeps it locked up pretty tight in the armory.”

Robert grinned devilishly. “Perfect! But first, to level the playin’ field, you’re gonna make me more of that beef-up juice.”

“W-what?” Roland gasped. “But Robbie! It’s horrifically expensive, I barely have enough ingredients, and-”

The sheriff leaned into his brother, pinning him against the corner. “Look, Rollsy- ya got two choices, here. Either you stick with me, an’ I make us all rich, or, ya just let Reggie roll over both of us- an maybe I’ll tell ma you wanted to poison her baby boy.”

“Y-you wouldn’t!”

The larger wolf guffawed. “I spent ten years robbin’ every beggar and widow in Nottingham- you think I won’t tattle?”

“Fine- fine! I’ll have it ready for you tonight,” Roland gasped.

“Good.” Robert backed off. “And be ready t’make more later- oh, don’t gimme that look, Rollsy- consider it an investment in yer future.”

Well after midnight, Robert was pacing up and down the gloomy corridor outside his room. The wolf’s ears perked up when he spotted Roland, who held up a small vial of the same deep red liquid. Greedily, the sheriff snatched it and guzzled down- the same intense, sharp feeling billowed up inside him, but he braced himself against it, powering through it. Bearing his teeth in a wolfish grin, he turned his eye to his billowing, pulsing arms as his hand travelled down his torso; his fingers were forced apart by an expanding chest, back spreading out in either direction like a swollen river flooding its banks, the dam of his shirt about to burst. A surge of adrenaline rushed through the wolf as he swung a fist, cracking the stone wall and leaving a small crater.

“Woo!” the sheriff howled, clapping his hands. “That stuff is potent, Rollsy!” Growling softly, he curled his arm, making his engorged bicep bounce. “Aw, I can’t wait to tussle with Reggie and see his face when he loses… now, where’s he keep this fancy sword?”

Roland led his bigger brother, now swaggering behind him, to the armory, where Reginald’s sword was left on a stand, separate from the other, far less impressive weapons the Raiders used.

“Criminy,” Robert muttered, grabbing the sword in one hand. “This is why Reggie can’t cut it as a bandit leader- he ain’t think to lock up his fancy sword? Ah well.” The wolf took the sword, and, gritting his teeth, began to twist the metal in his hands. The blade buckled as his heavily roped arms tensed, rippling triceps and biceps pumping as the wolf ruined the sword in his hands. “Perfect. Now- we just leave this for Reggie to find, I wallop him, and then the Rainault Raiders’ll be under new management.”