Outlawed Part 2 (Patreon)

Check out the first part here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/outlawed-part-1-45321448

Thank you all for your patience- finally, after hulking out, the Sheriff gets some sweet revenge on the king that left him out to dry. Who knows, maybe he thinks he could do a better job, and strong arm his way to the top!

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ed his feet up on a barrel. The now-musclebound wolf was waiting for the next part of his scheme to play out, but he had some time to kill- his brother Reginald was a late sleeper, and wouldn’t find his surprise for at least a few hours. His history with Robin Hood should have taught him not to assume he was going to win, but with the rush of packing on more muscle than an ox, feeling the strength in his arms every time he tensed them, he was already thinking about what would happen when he won; he’d be running the Rainault Raiders as a much tighter ship. No more burning villages, for starters- if he had learned one thing in all his years as a Sheriff, burnt villages are a lot less likely to pay up than unburnt villages. Secondly, he would take a page out of Robin Hood’s book and go after the rich, the nobles and snobs that had looked down at him during his service to King John. Picking on the poor had lost its appeal; besides, he was looking for more challenging targets these days, to really test his strength. All his bulging muscle was wasted bullying beggars and lepers.

Yes, the wolf thought as the sun came up, it was going to be a new day for the Raiders.

“ROBBIE!”

And there was his cue. Smirking softly, the wolf propped up his feet and closed his eyes, pretending he was fast asleep.

“There you are, you useless, fat lump!” As a shadow was cast over Robert, the sheriff opened one eye to see his musclebound brother looming over him.

“G’mornin’ to you, too, sunshine,” the sheriff grinned.

“Get up! You did this, didn’t you?” Reginald, the bullying little brother, held up a twisted hunk of metal that had once been a very nice looking sword.

“Aw, well I ain’t strong like you, Reggie, how could I have done that?” the sheriff replied, ears perking up as some of the other raiders began poking their heads out of different nooks and crannies of the castle; good. He was going to have an audience.

“Get up!” Reginald snarled, kicking his brother’s side. “I’m gonna pound you!”

“Now, c’mon, Reggie, mama taught us better than that,” the wolf tutted, hauling himself up. His grin widened as he stood to his full height; thanks to Roland, he now stood taller than his youngest brother, whose snarl disintegrated, his ears splayed. “But if you wanna roughhouse, I can oblige.” The older brother smirked, cracking his knuckles.

The two musclebound wolves sized each other up; Robert still carried a thick middle, but every other part of him rippled with thick muscle. Reginald’s footing was off, and he still seemed confused about who was standing before him. It was all the former sheriff needed to take the first swing. He rammed his broad shoulder into his brother, and the fight properly began. The younger wolf attempted to wrap his arms around his brother, but the older wolf was too thickly built to reach all the way around; instead, digging in his heels, Robert responded in kind, locking his thickly roped arms around his brother’s sculpted waist and hefting him up in the air, flipping Reginald over as he hit the muddy ground hard. Robert’s ears perked up as he heard some of the raiders groan, some cheered, and others were making bets. Grinning toothily, he braced himself as his brother landed a punch to his cheek. The wolf’s vision swam, but he shrugged it off and tackled Reginald, knocking him to the ground again. His biceps tensed as he wrapped his arms around his brother’s thick neck, and squeezed.

“Say it! Say it, Reggie, nice an’ loud!”
His brother snarled chokingly, wriggling under his brother’s grasp.

“Say ‘uncle,’ an’ I’ll let ya up- oh,” he glanced up, seeing his mother’s jaw drop as she rushed out to the courtyard. “Go an’ say it nice an’ loud for mama.”

“U-uncle!” Reginald gasped, and finally the sheriff relented. He planted one foot on his brother’s broad back, turning away from his mother.

“Glad I got ya’ll’s attention!” he shouted up to the raiders watching the fight. “Now, ya’ll know me- I’m Robert de Rainault, an’ my pa led these raiders fer twenty somethin’ years. I left to become the Sheriff of Nottingham, it’s true- but don’t think I forgot where I came from. I robbed widows, beggars, lepers, and churchmen, called it ‘taxes’- and in that time, I learned how to make a tidy profit. Tell me, boys- ya tired of burning fields, villages, and orphanages- and not gettin’ decent pay for it?”

There was a low, growling murmur amongst the raiders, along with a few emphatic nods. “So, I’m offerin’ to take over, and make this whole outfit a real profitable venture- no more pillaging for us. No more burnin’ crops. No more harassin’ people who ain’t got a tuppence to rub together- instead, we set our sights on bigger, fatter, richer targets. I’m talkin’ the lords- I’m talkin’ the bishops. I’m talkin’ about robbin’ the King himself!”

“Are you crazy, Robbie?” his mother shouted, trying to wedge the bigger wolf off her youngest son, who was still facedown in the mud. “No one can just go up and rob the King!  Who the blazes do you think you are, Robin Hood?”

“No, I’m just the guy that’s been chasin’ Robin fer a decade, now- and I know how he operates. I’ve seen how he tricks all them high n’ mighty folks, and I figure, we can do the same- on a bigger scale.” Robert looked over the raiders, who started to look doubtful. “Aw, c’mon, boys! Tell ya what- If any of you have concerns, you can come and talk to my right hand-” He curled one arm, fist clenched, as his cannonball of a bicep swelled. “He’ll be runnin’ the complaints department from now on.”

There was a slight pause as the raiders looked down at Reggie, then up at the wolf looming over them. They then scrambled over one another to congratulate their new leader. Shaking off his new gang, Robert shrugged at his scowling mother. “What? He started it, ma!”

Moving from the city of York to London, a train of wagons carrying tax money and gifts from the local nobility to the new king trundled down the road. It was under heavy guard- burly rhinos armed with pikes and vultures armed with crossbows swarmed over the road. Unfortunately for these guards, many of them were from Nottingham- and Robert knew practically everything about them.

It started with a distraction; an incredibly burly and grumpy fortune teller wolf tried to seduce some of the guards to little effect, but it grabbed their attention, at least. From there, the Rainault Raiders sprung from their hiding places, training longbows on the archers until they dropped their crossbows. Others rushed in with clubs and swords to fight the rhinos, but the royal guard were harder targets than they were used to; the strongest of the guards rebuffed the raiders, until their leader stepped out. With the biggest leather jerkin he could find in the castle strained over his hulking torso, Robert waded into the fight, pushing back tree trunks as he forced his way out of the brush. Some of the guards stopped in their tracks, dumbfounded by Robert’s appearance.

“Sheriff?” one of the rhinos grunted, as the fighting came to an abrupt pause.

“How do, boys. Francis, De Bois, Agincourt- good to see you. Nutsy, Boltsy, is that you up there?” He chuckled deeply, his pecs bouncing and making the leather of his armor strain as he spotted two nervous looking vultures on top of the wagon. “Okay, fellas- we go way back, so I’m gonna give you the easy way out.”

“Why don’t you just maul them, already?” Reginald growled, kicking off his fortune teller disguise.

“Because that ain’t good for business, little brother,” Robert growled, before turning back to offer the guards a toothy smile. “Whaddya say, fellas- you saw what King John did to me, after years of loyal service. Now, my boys n’ me, we’re going to be taking the gold and the treasure from these wagons, and King John ain’t going to be too happy with ya. So you can come join me and rob the King blind, or you can go back to him with some black eyes- maybe he’ll even throw you in my old cell in the tower.”

Some of the guards exchanged anxious looks, and began to lower their weapons. Their captain, however, snorted angrily, shoving against the musclebound wolf. “After driving out bandits and outlaws from Nottingham, you think we’d join you? Hah!” He spat at Robert’s feet.

The wolf looked down at the rhino, sighing heavily. “Now, Francis, you never were too bright, were ya? Oh, well.” He wound back his battering ram of an arm, and slammed his fist right into the rhino’s face, knocking the burly guard out cold as he hit the ground with a heavy thud. Robert looked over his broad shoulder to the rest of the raiders. “Well? What’re ya waiting for? Grab the gold- any of ‘em give you trouble, they’ll be nappin’ a lot longer than their captain.”

Back in London, King John was pacing furiously, his brow furrowed as he pushed his crown back up before it slipped off his head. The lean lion snarled to himself as he looked over the tax records. Gold had been slipping through his fingers from Yorkshire to Gloucestershire, and there was only one person King John could think of that could be responsible.

“Sssire,” Sir Hiss slithered into the room, his head bowed to avoid the monarch’s gaze. “We’ve had more reportsss of robbery on the royal roads, I’m afraid- our tax collectors are getting nervous to travel outside of London’s walls.”

“It’s him, Hiss! I know it!” King John turned on his heel with a dramatic flare. “Robin Hood! He is responsible for this- oh, he couldn’t leave me alone, not even when I am King!”

The serpentine royal advisor chose his words carefully. “Sssire, I do hate to contradict the royal mind, but thiss wave of crime has none of Robin Hood’s signature moves- whoever is responsible is relying on brute force and heavy raids. It lacks all of Robin Hood’s usual cunning, though it is brutally effective. From what we know, Robin Hood and his allies are in hiding, possibly outside of England. I believe that we should consider another suspect- the Sheriff of Nottingham, sssire.”

John took one look at Hiss, and let out an airy laugh. “Hah!” he scoffed. “The Sheriff? That fat, blundering idiot that burned down my mother’s castle? Oh, he may have escaped the Tower thanks to your bumbling, Hiss, but what was he to do after? If he were smart, he would have fled my kingdom, but I expect he’s in some beggar’s alley by now. No- only one man would dare defy me this way, and that is Robin Hood!”

Hiss rested on his coils, biting his tongue. “As you say, Sire,” he said wearily.

“I do say! And I say, what Robin Hood needs to learn is that his pathetic excuses of ‘fighting for the rightful king’ don’t hold any water, now- I am King, and as such, I need to project power! Let us overwhelm Robin Hood with royal shock and awe- let us prepare a tour, a royal progress from London to York. The royal procession will present far too tempting a target for Robin Hood, and when he comes slinking into my trap,” John chuckled, rubbing his paws together. “I’ll turn him into a pair of foxskin gloves, a-hah, a-hah!”

“Hey! You two, yeah, the skinny ones! See if you can find somethin’ heavier?” Robert shouted across the courtyard, thumping his heavy chest. “It ain’t gonna do me any good to lift these grain bags if they’re startin’ to feel like pillows.”

The wolf paced for a few moments, palming his fists. He had just gotten word that King John would be travelling on the road to York- his road now, as far as he was concerned. He wanted to be ready to receive his old liege, and to do that, he had to be as strong as possible. The two raiders he had sent to find a weight came back, rolling a millstone between them, catching their breath from the effort.

“Ahh, now this is more like it! Thank you, fellas!” Robert chuckled, gripping the ponderously heavy stone and hefted it over his head with one mighty swing. He rested it on his sprawling, ox-like shoulders, his back flaring out wide as he lifted the weight up and down, his muscles surging in a rhythmic fashion.

In the middle of his exercises, Robert’s lean brother, Roland, approached, arching his brow. “You seem to be in a good mood.”

“Mm! Why wouldn’t I be?” Robert grunted, lifting a weight ten times as heavy as his brother. His trunk-like legs tensed as he hefted the weight off his shoulders, the millstone hitting the ground with a heavy thud. “I got you to thank, Rollsy- ya turned me into the strongest man in England,” Robert grinned, curling his arm to flex, his pumped bicep swelling bigger than his brother’s head. “And we got King John on his way- and I can’t wait to give him a royal welcome,” the wolf said, grinning toothily.

Roland’s eyes boggled. “What- the King? Truly? Are- are you sure, Robbie? It’s one thing to rob tax collectors, but you’re not strong enough to take on the entire royal host.”

“Not yet,” Robert replied.

“Not- what?” Roland grunted as Robert’s huge arm swung over his narrow shoulders, slamming the thin wolf against his brother’s wall of a chest.

“Now, I want you to look around, Rollsy- we’ve done real good, haven’t we?” He gestured to the courtyard of Rainault Castle, the walls covered in scaffolding and under repair. Some of the raiders were still hauling off chests of gold from the last raid, or polishing swords nicked from a local armory. “We’re makin’ ourselves our own little outlaw kingdom out here.”

“We are, yes,” Rollsy said cautiously, his cheeks squeezed on either side by his brother’s bulk. “Which is why we shouldn’t risk too much!”

Robert scoffed, laughing and jostling his little brother as his pecs bounced. “See, that’s where yer wrong! Now, I know that with all this gold, you’ve got plenty of materials for more of that muscle juice you made me. For this to work, for us to really stick it to King John, I’m going to need a big batch.”

Roland’s brow arched. “But Robbie, I’ll need at least a month! Some of the herbs haven’t aged right, it could be unstable- hrk!” he gasped as his brother’s grip on him tightened, a swollen, tensed bicep hard as rock pressing on the side of his face.

“Rollsy, I ain’t lookin’ for excuses, I’m lookin’ for results. Look over there-” he gestured to the other end of the courtyard, where Ma Rainault had come out in a new dress. Smiling sweetly, she waved to her eldest son. “Ma ain’t looked at me like that in years. I’m finally on top, and I’m gonna make sure I stay that way- but not unless you get me my favorite drink. Now.”

Roland bit his lip. “I can have it ready in an hour.”

The smaller wolf was smacked heartily on the back, nearly sending him tumbling to the ground. “Atta boy!” Robert chuckled. “I always knew you were my favorite brother,” he quipped as Roland rushed back inside the castle. Robert continued his work with the millstone, wrapping his powerful arms around it until he thought he heard the stone crack, and then pivoting on his huge leg, he swung it out like a discus, the millstone hurtling through the air and embedding itself in the ground with a heavy thud, causing Reginald to jump back- the youngest brother had been hauling more loot, and yelped when the stone landed next to him.

“Hey! Watch it, Robbie!” he snarled.

“Oh, I am sorry, Reggie,” Robert called back, smirking. He rolled his shoulders and puffed up his pecs, threatening the straps of his already suffering shirt. “Here, you’re the strong brother, why don’tcha just toss it back to me, and I’ll get out of your way?”

The now-smaller wolf glowered, muttering darkly as he slinked away. Robert chuckled, prying the stone loose himself with little effort. He could definitely get used to being his own man and calling the shots. It was mystifying to him how and why he ever worked for such a puny, pathetic man like John- something he would remind the so-called King of when they met again.

Robert milled about the courtyard until Roland returned, a large bottle filled with that familiar red liquid. “Alright, Robbie, here we are- this is all I could muster on short notice, but I warn you, it is still slightly-” the middle wolf brother huffed as the bottle was snatched out of his hands, “-unstable.”

“Psht. Go and talk to ma if yer gonna fuss like an old maid, Rollsy,” Robert grunted before guzzling down the entire concoction. Roland bit his lip for a tense moment; the quiet before the storm. Robert then inhaled sharply, gripping his thick middle. “Boy! T-that has some kick, Rollsy.”

“I-I tried to warn you…” Roland furrowed his brow, backing away slightly.

“N-nah, it’s fine,” Robert grunted, staggering to stand up straight, every part of his body pumped, every muscle tensed like he was about to pounce. “I-I feel great!” He staggered over to the millstone, which had been wedged into the ground on its side, gripping it for support. He was breathing rapidly, and his chest rolled and inflated with each breath, but was not retreating, slowly building like the tide coming in. “I just- n-need to catch my breath a-and I- ah- AWOOO!”

The former sheriff’s howl caught the attention of some of the raiders, who watched with rapt attention, eyes wide and mouths open as their chief was growing before their very eyes. Robert’s fur stood on end, toes curling and claws digging into the earth as he grew- his trunk-sized legs trembled as his thighs grew wider, supporting a wall of muscle that made up his torso, from wing-like lats to his dense middle tightening into abs the size of cobblestones. He towered over the other bandits as his chest billowed out like sails in full wind, a mountain range of muscle making up his shoulders, swallowing up a neck thick as a bull’s. His arms tensed and ballooned, triceps swelling to the size of shields and biceps like boulders crowning them. He gripped the millstone tighter and tighter, until his claws dug into the stone and his fingers cracked it, turning into powder into his hands. He took a few staggering, lumbering steps, the ground cracking beneath his feet. His clothes were shredded, tatters of cloth falling off his monumental physique, and some of the raiders tried to turn away to spare their chief. Robert ignored them, moving to the moat to catch his reflection in the water. “Woah…” he rumbled, his voice sounding deeper as it rose up from the mass of his mammoth body. His muzzle split into a grin as he leaned forward and flexed, swollen biceps jostling his engorged chest, his sprawling, engorged hill of a back rippling. “I look like a million pounds!” He tensed his arm again, making his bicep bounce. “Heh. Could probably lift a million, too…” He turned back to the raiders. “Alright, boys! We’re gonna make King John wish he never heard of the Rainault Raiders- and maybe, if ya do a good job, I’ll see about some of you gettin’ some of Rollsy’s treatment for yourselves.” He bounced his pecs, his hands on his hips, swollen arms framing the mass of his torso. “I gotta tell ya boys, it feels pretty great. First, some of ya beanpoles gotta get me some new gear. Hop to it! I ain’t gonna nab King John in my birthday suit.” The bandits broke into a flurry of activity, quick to outpace their boss as he lumbered back into the castle. As the forge went to work crafting something, anything to accommodate Robert’s girth, no one noticed a sullen, pouting Reginald glaring daggers at his brother, and then slipping out of the castle.

The Royal Procession travelled down the road at a grand and stately pace, with trumpeters and heralds announcing the king’s progress. King John specifically put on the most ostentatious display he could muster, with gold cloth for flags and banners, bejeweled ornaments on his carriages, and rich, garish outfits for everyone from his closest courtiers to the guards; sure, the city of London was effectively bankrupt footing the bill for this, but if it drew out Robin Hood, it would all be worth it.

The procession then came to a sudden stop, nearly throwing King John from his seat. “Hiss! Hiss where are you, you’re never around when I need you! Why have we stopped?” the lion ranted, thumping his fist against the carriage door.

The serpentine courtier slithered his way to the king. “Sssire, there ssseems to be an interloper blocking the road!”

King John scoffed. “Is that all? Order him out of the way of his King, and if he doesn’t, remove him, by the guards’ pleasure.”

“He is a rather large and muscular wolf, however, and he insists on speaking with you.”

The lion rolled his eyes. “And why would I give a royal audience to some random brutish thug, hm?”

“‘Cause yer life depends on it, Kingy!”

A broad-shouldered, musclebound wolf pushed his way through the ranks of guards, trying to get the King’s attention. “Hey- hey, get those spears away from me!” He snarled. “I’m tryin’ to save the life of yer King!”

King John arched his brow, sitting up a little straighter as he held up his hand. “Let him speak- the King never has too little time to speak to a loyal subject,” John said grandly. He had a good feeling about who this brute was going to warn him about. “Speak- what threat is there to the crown?”

Reginald cleared his throat. “There’s an ambush, just up the road- a bunch o’ bandits’ll are gonna jump ya.”

“Ah, hahaha,” John laughed airily, patting Reginald on the head. “You see, Hiss, the loyalty the lowly peasantry have for their king? Worry not, serf, I am well aware of the threat Robin Hood presents, that’s why I have prepared to deal with that perfidious fox.”

“But it ain’t Robin Hood! It’s-”

“Gah!” John yelped, leaping back as a crossbow bolt embedded itself in the carriage wall. The king’s thumb was halfway into his mouth, when the ground began to shake. John’s soldiers scrambled, but the king’s heart skipped a beat as he heard the sound of a punch to a face, and a second later, a rhino went flying over the wolf’s head.

“Dangit, Nutsy! I almost had that shot!” a familiar, if much deeper voice, rumbled.

“Oh, it ain’t your fault, boss, your brother was in the way.”

“Ah, don’t try and butter me up…” John lost color in his face as a hand large enough to wrap around his throat clamped down on the wolf’s shoulder, engulfing it. “It’s not like Reggie’s that big of a target.”

A wolf that dwarfed Reginald filled John’s line of view. Robert was clad in make-shift armor of leather and steel, precious little of it able to cover a sprawling wall of grey fur and pure, stone-like muscle. Shoving his little brother aside, Robert leaned in, his massive chest pressing against the royal carriage as he forced his face in, smiling toothily. “Greetings, Your Highness.”

John blinked, the lion plastered against the opposite end of the carriage. “Sh-sh-sheriff?”

“Heh! In the flesh. I’m here to take, ah, everything- down to the rings on your finger. Now, you could be obligin’, and just give ‘em to me, or I can pry ‘em off. Your choice.”

John gulped, glancing at an arm that was thicker than his entire body. “N-now, Sheriff, we can come to some sort of arrangement, surely…”

Robert’s smile soured, slightly. “You tried to have me killed.”

“Oh, well, we can let bygones be bygones,” John tittered nervously. “I am King, after all- I can give you a proper title. J-just think of it… Lord Ronald sounds rather nice, yes?”

If John had any chance of winning the wolf over, it evaporated instantly. “Ronald?” Robert snarled, his hand splintering the wooden door he had been leaning against. “My name is Robert de Rainault- and after workin’ for you, doin’ every dirty, under-handed thing you wanted, I thought you’d remember that!”

“Right! Yes!” John pleaded, clasping his hands together. “Robert! Lord Robert- Duke Robert, if you please! Just don’t hurt me!”

Robert grunted, shaking his head. “Y’know what? Fine. I ain’t gonna beat you up for yer pocket change.” The wolf  rumbled, prying himself loose out of the too-small carriage doorway.

King John breathed a sigh of relief. “Ah-haha, Roger, I always knew that you could be reasonable. Now, if you would- AUGH!” Suddenly, the lion was violently thrown off his feet as the whole carriage jerked to the side.

Beneath the king’s feet, Robert had gripped the underside of the carriage. The mountain of a wolf tensed his powerful arms, each one big as the carriage wheels as he primed his sprawling shoulders, he jerked the entire carriage up over his head. Column-sized, earth-shaking legs tensed as he supported the massive weight, letting the gigantic gilt wagon rest on his immense back.

“Alright, boys!” the wolf shouted. “We got what we came for, so let’s move out!” He barked his orders, bandits scrambling to get out of his way as he lumbered off with King John.

“Give it back! Give it back, you fiend! You brute!” John howled, thrashing impotently in Robert’s grip. Back at Rainault Castle, the king was in the personal custody of the Raiders’ boss. Seated on a throne big enough to contain his titanic mass, Robert was holding the king at bay with one hand, holding him effortlessly in the air as the king pawed uselessly at swells of rock-hard muscle. The two were surrounded by the spoils of Robert’s raids, chests overflowing with gold and jewels in numbers that he was certain would only increase, once the answers to the king’s ransom note started coming in. With John now harmlessly scrambling to get free, Robert had plucked the king’s crown off his head and rested it on his own, chuckling enough to make his pecs bounce rhythmically.

“Aw, what? I think it looks good on me!” Robert smirked.

One of the raiders darted in. “Sir! Boss!” He announced, waving a parchment in the air. “We got an answer from the barons!”

“Oh-ho!” Robert glanced back at the king. “Ya here that, Johnny? Let’s see what people think you’re worth.” He took the paper, and his smirk grew nearly as wide as his mountainous shoulders as he read it over. “Hah- haha! Listen here- looks like some barons will take ya off-a my hands after all… and ya know who’s offering to take you in instead? The barons elected some plucky young go-getter to be their leader… Sir Robin of Locksley.”

John jerked up. “You wouldn’t!”

Robert chuckled darkly, leaning back as he curled his arm, his bicep rising to meet John’s line of sight. “Oh, but I would- especially since they’re willing to pay much more than I think you’re worth. Ah, besides- I want to see Robin’s face when he gets a look at ol’ Bushel-britches, heh.” He then perked up. “Oh! I just realized- with me giving you over to Robin, you probably won’t be King anymore, will ya, Johnny? And with no kids of yer own, it’ll be up for grabs…” With his free hand, Robert straightened the crown on his head. “Ah, but, y’know, I think what England needs a real strong leader,” he gloated, thumping his fist against his mighty chest, tensing his arms like he was about to tie John in a knot. “I dunno, seems like it’s real good to be the king.”