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Chapter 20. Support Your Local Gunfighter

by Brull

Sheriff Brull had to do some thinking, and he had to do it without the aid of alcohol. It wasn't a matter of choice; all the beer and grog had been hijacked by the local rowdies of the mansion, and this Sarkleyet didn't seem to believe in the importance of a well-stocked drinks cabinet. Glaring at the myriad of ink bottles and quill pens stored in this particular cupboard, the rat stomped sullenly out of the study. What was the point of having money if you weren't going to spend it on the right things?

"Ruddy big house," Brull grumbled as he paced the halls. Not even the Earl's palace was this big. What did some weed of a pine marten need with a shack this size? He wasn't likely to have any female acquaintances to impress with it. Not with that high and mighty attitude of his. Hijacking a group of random beasts and expecting them to bend over backwards to nab some science project he had lost… what a nerve some beasts had.

Hearing the sound of residents chattingly walking down the hall, the rat sidled against the corridor wall until the late night strollers had passed him by. He didn't like these Red Dusk chaps. Seemed to think they were the next Rapscallion Horde. They were already on Sark-whatever's ship, and trying to talk to them would be a minute-long lecture as to why Brull should listen to everything the marten said, ever. The only fresh minds he was likely to find in this place was the other nine beasts he had been locked up with.

Sauntering out to a balcony overlooking the sea, the Sheriff paused to ponder the situation more carefully. The roar of the waves and the sight of the open, unregulated water taunted Brull with its offer of freedom. They could get away, all of them. There was no need to stay and look for this "Red Brandy" thing. All that would do is give the locals another weapon, and that would lead to more fighting, and the last time Brull checked, fighting wasn't conducive to healthier living. If they could make a run at grabbing a ship… all things considered, the rat figured, the prospects of running the blockade seemed more positive than sitting and waiting to catch a near fatal disease, or get run through by hares, whichever came first.

He couldn't do it his own though, Brull thought. Not likely. The docks of the town, not to mention the town itself, were under the lock and key of woodlanders by now. He'd have to break them before he could make a run at getting off this rock, and he'd need all the help he could get. Which meant that he needed to convince his other nine inmates to go with him, instead of the Red Brandy.

At the very least, Pearl seemed to be on the same page. Had more to lose with the town than she would with the Brandy lot. Brull liked the vixen; competent, no nonsense, down to earth, and wasn't an upper class twit. She'd be more focused on saving the Marteroos (or whatever they were called), but could probably be swayed to run for it. The lizard was with them too, she had said. That was good; although Brull usually had no use for cold blooded creatures, he didn't suppose having one on his side would be bad.

Two down, seven to go.

"Aras! Hoy, Aras!" Forgetting to knock, Brull barged into the males' room, catching Ikaras on the verge of slumber. The rat was about to comment on sleeping when there was work to be done, but a heated glare from the large creature compelled him to mumble, "'pologies. Didn't know you were asleep."

Aras didn't look like he was in the mood for chatter. "What do you want, Brull?"

Skipping the small talk, the Sheriff cut to the point. "Look, I know I couldn't sway you earlier, but I think you should reconsider working for this Sarkleyet bloke. He's up to no good…"

"No."

This abrupt denial did nothing to improve Brull's opinion of the wolverine, but he needed Aras on his side. "What does a fellow like you need that weed for, anyway? Take him and his Red Brandy and chuck the lot. We head out of this dump, hop the next boat, and we're off to…"

"Good night." Without allowing Brull to finish his plea, Ikarus turned over and gave the pretence of being asleep.

The Sheriff waited until the wolverine gave a fake snore before taking his leave.

That was a shot in the paw, Brull grumbled as he walked from the room. Aras alone could have given the rat exactly what he needed. But the ruddy block head had bought that garbage the marten had spewed earlier. Really, a beast that size probably didn't have the brains to think for himself. Shame.

Gates, Brull needed a drink. Where were the kitchens in this place? Maybe they had some cooking sherry in stock.

Trying to navigate the gargantuan house was proving an arduous task. Every time Brull thought he had found a door to the kitchens, he wound up finding some closet, book storage, or some other means of paraphernalia. Discovering yet another study, of which there seemed to be an endless supply, the rat slammed the door, the sound resonating through the hall. There had to be a decent drink somewhere in this place…

"Careful with the doors, Sheriff. If you break it, you might have to pay for it." Brull's temper was not improved by the sight of Antonio pacing towards him, talking with that same "Holier than thou" voice he had used earlier.

"The marten can pay for his own doors, I'm sure," the rat retorted. "If he can nab a house this size, I reckon he can shell out for a few doors. Fates know he's not spending the money on drinks."

"He has drink, I believe, but you seem to have no taste for Brandy." Antonio smirked at his own play on words.

"I don't, and neither should you," said Brull, reluctantly conceding that, although he found the stoat personally unlikeable, he was at least a willing audience. "Even if we find the stuff, what's in it for us, eh? I don't even know these wretches, and until this afternoon, you didn't either. Why run errands for them?"

The stoat shrugged. "All the same, an interesting venture. Bottled bloodwrath and all that. Might fetch a hefty price."

"What for? The blighter already said it was useless as it is. Who'd want to buy a one way ticket to the graveyard?"

"Sarkleyet, apparently. At the very least, he wants it back enough that he would probably give most anything for it."

The Sheriff furrowed his brow as he thought that over. Most anything? Did that include a trip off of Evnakt? "S'pose once he gets his magic mix, he soups himself up, reckons himself a King, and just puts us out of our misery?"

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, sadly. And if I do say so myself, Sheriff," Antonio said persuasively, "you seem to underestimate our combined abilities to avoid foul play. We do have a wolverine in our mix."

A harsh bark of a laugh escaped the rat's mouth. "Him? He'll not do anything. Ol' Sarky probably has him on a tether already. Why would he summon a thing that size to his chambers if he wasn't going to make sure it was on his side?"

Antonio blinked. "Most sorry, but to whom are you referring as 'it' and as 'he?'"

"Aras and Sarkleyet, who else?

"No, what I mean is, your use of pronouns is confusing. You interchange them, making it hard to tell whom you are referring to at different intervals."

Now it was Brull's turn to stare blankly at the stoat. What the blazes was he going on about? Probably just some excuse to remind the rat of how very intelligent he was. "Listen, Tony…"

Grimacing as if in intense pain, Antonio bared his teeth at the nick name. "Sheriff Brull, please never refer to me as 'Tony' again. My proper name is Antonio, and I would appreciate it if you remembered it."

Another lecture in phonics? Seething with fury at being talked down to like this, the rat pointed at the stoat. "Right then, Antonio, if you're all done being King of the Castle, I'd like to get us back on topic. Or are you gonna correct me on my posture, next?"

Smiling none too friendly, Antonio stood a little straighter. "You could do with some lessons on slouching, actually, but by all means, continue."

"I'm trying to round up support to grab a boat and head out of here. What do you say?"

Antonio looked disbelieving. "Sail off, just like that? There are an awful lot of woodlanders who might have something to say about that. Do you plan on sailing a ship by yourself?"

"No, I don't. That's why I'm seeing who's with me. And I want to know whether or not you'd be interested."

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Antonio contemplated. "If I thought it possible to achieve with any guarantee of success, then I would agree. However, if you will pardon my bluntness, there are too many holes in this plot. Making it to the docks without being seen? Stealing the ship without being caught? Making it past the blockade without being killed? That is not much of a plan, Sheriff."

With it all laid out like that, Brull confessed to himself, no, it didn't seem like much at all. "Alright, so it needs some tweaking, I'll warrant. But it's either that or sitting here waiting to go mad."

"True, too true. But there just is not enough there to sway me to your side."

This was not the answer Brull wanted. "So hunting for a mad marten's project, which might not even exist, is a rock solid proposal? Seems you're not thinking too carefully."

"On the contrary, Brull, I have been thinking a great deal. And I'll both give your and Sarkleyet's ideas more thought yet. What I will not give you is a decision at this moment in time."

It was an ambiguous, well considered answer that, while looking like a compromise at first glance, would ultimately lead to a negative. Brull had seen the Earl use the exact same tactic when dealing with other nobles. At least he wouldn't have to put up with the stoat's snide voice any more. "Fine, have it your way. Mull it over, I'll talk to the others. Have you seen Dirano any where?"

Antonio wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Probably with a female in a closet somewhere for several minutes of heavy breathing."

Brull shook his head. "That boy needs a tighter belt on his pants."

At least that earned a small grin of approval from the stoat. "Well put. Good night, Sheriff."

"G'night." Git.

Wanting a drink more than ever, Brull shuffled quickly off. This was rapidly becoming a failed venture. Even if he found Antonio to be a nuisance a minute, that was one less beast on his side. Going to bed might have been a better venture at this moment.

And he might have done just that, if, after turning the corner, nearly ran into the female marten from earlier.

Brull was slightly shocked by the sudden appearance of the marten, yet noticed that Sybil's face showed more than just surprise, border-lining dread. Most females didn't handle these sorts of run-ins as well as males. "Evening, ma'am," the rat greeted.

"Hello. Goodbye." Without so much as a nod, Sybil brushed past the Sheriff in what looked like a great hurry.

Brull was stunned by this abrupt brush off, but having just lost both Aras and Antonio, he wasn't about to admit defeat that readily. "Wait just a minute, I gotta talk to you."

"Well, I have absolutely nothing to say to you!" she snapped back over her shoulder.

Oh, that was cute, Brull sneered. If he wasn't in need of an audience, he'd give Sybil a piece of his mind. "Listen, missy," he shouted, trying not to sound threatening as he walked speedily after her, "I don't know what your problem is, but I've got a proposition that I think you want to hear…"

The speed and anger with which Sybil confronted the rat nearly made Brull jump out of his boots. "Another proposal, eh? Oh, that's fine. That's all I need from you. You've got some nerve."

The Sheriff blinked blankly at Sybil's outburst. "What are you going on about? Is this about the breakout? I know I might have called some beasts cowards, but…"

Sybil sneered at the perplexed rat. "Don't act dumb, Brull. How is that cushy job of yours, by the way? I'd hate to think I went to prison for nothing."

A quick flash of a vague memory appeared in the rat's mind, but disappeared before he could even identify what it was he saw. "What do you mean? Have we… do I know you?"

The look of hatred was replaced by hesitation. "Do you… of course you know me! Remember…" Sybil paused, before remarking with realization, "You don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

Sybil opened her mouth as if to say something, but thought better of it and walked quickly down the hall.

"Hey!" Brull called, following slowly at first, and then jogging after her. "Hey! Remember what? What should I remember?" The little wretch was keeping something from him, and he didn't like the idea of some beast other than himself being in control of his memories. Lunging forward slightly, Brull grabbed Sybil's arm, disrupting her bandages slightly. "Talk to me, or I'll…"

"What do you think you're doing?" In an evening where sudden appearances were commonplace, Brull was not completely surprised to find Rea running towards the scene, looking none too happy with what she saw. "Haven't you had enough bloodshed for today?"

His attention diverted from the marten, Brull sneered at the bushy tailed freak-fox. "Can't go ten seconds with getting yourself involved in other beast's business, can you? Take a hike, the grownups are talking."

Not impressed, Rea scowled at the Sheriff. "Oh, yeah, you're a big bad rat, picking on beasts smaller than you. Why not try your luck with someone who can actually defend themselves?"

"I can defend myself!" Sybil cried indignantly, looking none too happy with the wolf's interference. "I've got it under control, thanks for asking."

"I'm on your side! I'm trying to help!"

"I don't need your help!"

"Now bugger off!" Brull roared, who was sick and tired of beasts not listening to him.

Instead of buggering off, Rea grabbed Sybil's other arm in an attempt to drag her away. "I'm not going anywhere until…" Her voice trailed off suddenly, which was odd; even odder was that Rea had stopped looking at either the marten or rat, and was staring intently at the wall behind Sybil's shoulder.

At first annoyed with what he considered an act, Brull started to become concerned with the strangely comatose wolf standing in front of him. "What's she doing?" he whispered.

"I have no idea," said the equally perplexed Sybil.

They waited a little while longer, looking for Rea to make any kind of movement at all. Finally mustering up the nerve, Brull gave the wolf a small, harmless poke, just to check if she was still alive. "Hoy, miss, you all there?"

Rea was not only all there; once she came too, she began to yell in a blind rage. "You traitor! You corrupt little vermin! How could you do that to me?!"

It seemed that the wolf had started contracting symptoms of the local madness. Releasing Sybil's arm, Brull back up slightly. "It was just a little tap to make sure you were breathing…"

"Thought you could get away with it? And you did too, didn't you?! Didn't he?" Rea looked at the marten for support, only to find she was just as confused as Brull. Calming slightly, the wolf lowered her voice. "You… did see, didn't you?" A few more bewildered looks, compelled Rea to tuck her tail between her legs sheepishly. "No, I don't suppose you did."

Perhaps unwisely, Brull took this moment to voice his thoughts. "All we saw was some young diva making a spectacle of herself. Now are you going to beat it, or are you planning on breaking into song?"

Glaring at the Sheriff, Rea did start to walk away, but still held the arm of a heavily protesting Sybil. "Hey! What're you doing? Let me go!"

"You're coming with me. You don't need to be around… that!"

"You're nuts!"

Seemingly at a loss for words, Rea put her paw over Sybil's shoulder and led her down the hall. Smirking at his small verbal victory, Brull remembered with a start what it was he was looking for in the first place. "Hey! Either of you keen on helping me out with a plan?"

"Go to Hellgates!"

All things considered, Brull should have seen that coming.

Not having the heart to continue his hunt, the rat sulked back to his bunk. The now genuinely asleep Ikaras was the only other beast in the room right now, his heavy breathing the only sound in the darkness. What a waste of an evening. No one but Brull seemed to know exactly the danger they were in. Laying on his back, staring at the ceiling, he tried to focus on furthering his escape plan, but caught his mind constantly going back to Sybil. She knew him. Did he know her? He had seen hundreds of pine martens over the seasons. Maybe he had her brother hanged or something. No, she said she had gone to jail for him. What did that mean? Brull didn't remember anything like that. He mulled over his career, trying to remember anyone potentially connected to Sybil. No, nothing was coming up in that timeline, not from this moment on the island, to when he became Sheriff after solving the museum robbery… with that young female marten…

Sheriff Brull was momentarily paralyzed as he remembered exactly where he had seen Sybil before.