Of Revolution

[Skipper]

Rain was falling. It was falling right onto Turrohn's snout. The hedgehog blinked the water from his eyes and simply stared out into the open air. From up here, from the roof, nobeast could bother him. This was his spot, and he dared anybeast to tell him otherwise. Unfortunately, it sat under the canopy of dark clouds that wept upon it every three days or so. It wasn't the most pleasant of spots, but it was his.

Turrohn held himself up with one paw, resting his free forearm on his one upraised knee as the other leg lay flat. His dark grayish-blue eyes read the black clouds with understanding, of the weather, of the slavery at Marshank. Things were stirring, dark things; blackened leaves tossed in the wind, desperate beasts tossed in their sleep. It would all collapse on itself in the end, wouldn't it?

Turrohn's thoughts were distracted when a noise sounded from the window nearby, the window through which he had gained access to the roof. He expected another guard to find him and pull him in for punishment. The large hedgehog drew back a solid fist threateningly but dropped it as soon as he saw him. Brant. The newcomer. Turrohn thought about saying something, but he didn't much feel like talking, so he simply resumed his previous, relaxed position and stared solemnly back into the clouds. Brant could speak if he wanted to. Turrohn had thoughts to mull over.

[historybug]

CRACK!BOOM!

A storm. A vicious, vile, violent storm brewed outside.

Black clouds hung low and shut out all the sun. No light could escape those clouds. Rain poured out on the land in sheets with no relenting. Sometimes it would slow, but it would never stop. The lightning flashed out of nowhere. Deadly and bright. Then the thunder quickly follows is deafening.

A storm. Not only was that the weather outside, but it was Brant Klahan Rudderwake's life at the moment.

He had been overpowered, captured, relieved of his father's sword, and made a slave against his will. Brant was taken from his family, chains slapped on his wrists and ankles and beaten into submission.

Now, Brant sat in a cold, wet, dark cell, alone. He had been worked all day, harnessed to a cart and whipped, and then thrown into his cell with no food or water.

Tears streaked down Brant's face as he ripped at the reins that had been shoved on his face and the muzzle attached to it. The contraption had been buckled onto Brant's face after while he was being forced to pull the moving cart on all fours, he nipped at the vermin soldier who thought patting the captive like he was a horse was a fun idea. The vermin soon discovered that was not a wise idea and Brant was muzzled for the rest of the day with a bit in his mouth and a clamp around his jaw.

After struggling with the buckles for a while, Brant was finally able to remove the muzzle and he chucked it across his cell where it thudded against the solid wooden door.

"Oy!" A voice came from the other side if the door. "Keeps it quiet in dere!"

Brant growled aloud."Make mea!" He roared at the door, but he knew it was no use. The guard was only making his rounds like he was told. He had no intention on going a cell alone with Brant. Brant knew the reputation he was gaining and liked it, in a way. Mainly all the vermin gave him a pretty wide berth, but when ever something went wrong and the culprit couldn't be found, Brant was the one that was made an example of.

Beating after beating Brant received, but he bore through it. He knew that if he gave in, just once, he may never make it back to his family.

He just wanted to go home.

After all the times he wanted to wander, when is "itchy paws" started acting up, the only place Brant wanted to be right now was home.

Resting his chained paws on his knees, Brant rested his head upon them as his rudder wrapped around his footpaws. Oh how he missed his wife and son. Nikki must be so worried. And Benji, oh Benji....He must be so scared. He hates thunder storms. When ever there was one, he always ran into his father's paws shivering like he had caught a cold.

Brant looked up. His son would be safe inside Holt Seaslate next to a warm fire surrounded by family. Where was he? A musty, moldy old cell of stone blocks. The floor was covered in a thin blanket of hey, all of which was wet. The walls were moist as well from the leaks. The only dry, or dryer, thing in his cell was the door. Brant received one of the 'special' cells when it came to the door. His door was solid oak, thick and immovable. The hinges were also on the outside of the door along with the large lock. There were no windows in this door, save for the bottom. At the bottom was a small flap through which Brant's meals would be shoved (if they came) when he was put in solitary confinement.

Sighing, Brant stood up, his chains rattling as he did so. He turned around and looked out the little barred window his cell had, just in time to see another flash of lightning light up the sky. From his little window, Brant could see the 'place' that was being built for the vermin. The building was beautiful architecture and adorned with many luxuries. It was however, incomplete. A new west wing was being built so that was only half done, but the rest of the place was lit with fire light.

Brant growled again. He was locked in this dump while the vermin partied themselves drunk in luxury. Brant gripped the bars of his window while the rain pattered against the roof of his cell. Oh that pattering!! Brant's cell was on the highest floor of the slave barracks so he got to listen to the never ending pitter patter of the rain and got to be baked like a flan in the oven when it was sunny. The noise gave Brant the biggest headache!

Leaning back against the left wall, Brant sighed and sat down on the damp hey. He was never going to get out of here, Brant thought as he slapped the wall with his rudder in anger.

Or was he?....

When he slapped the wall, Brant felt the brick that he slapped give a little. Brant knew that this building wasn't built well, but was it his luck that the original builders cut a few corners and didn't mortar this brick in as well as they should have?

Giving the large block a good shove, Brant tumbled into the next cell with a CRASH. Immediately jerking up to see if anybeast had heard him, Brant listened carefully. It seemed that no beast notice...or at least, if they did, they were slow in coming.

Once he was sure he had a minute, Brant felt it was safe to look around the room. Brant had tumbled into the cell next to him. It was similar to his. It was cold and wet, and there were the bars from the window on the floor....

Wait a minute....

Brant looked over to the window. The bars had been taken out and were now on the floor. Walking over to the window, Brant looked out it. Where was the occupant? Did they escape?

Or was he on the roof?.....

Brant climbed out the window, and pulled himself up on to the roof. This however was no easy task seeing as the roof was wet from the rain and his chains hampered his movements. Brant didn't find his chains heavy, not in the slightest. They did however, limit his movements of his paws which he finds highly annoying.

Once on the roof, Brant saw, with a flash of lightning, a hedgehog calmly sitting a few paw lengths away. The hedgehog was big, muscular and had a scar upon his head. Brant had seen him in the work yard. His name was Tur..Turr--somthing. And from what Brant had seen during his work periods, this hedgehog has influence among the slaves.

Truthfully, it wasn't hard for Brant to tell. Brant had been among enough groups to be able to tell who holds all the cards. The clues didn't have to be obvious; a glance here or there in a time of worry was all it took.

Rain beat against Brant as he sat on the roof next to the hedgehog, and it felt soooo gooood. The clear water dripped down Brant's thick fur, keeping the coldness out, but cleaning and soothing his sore and tired body.

Laying back, Brant was able to keep himself on the roof while he opened his mouth and drank the rain, his first drink of water since the morning, and it tasted so good, and pure.

Closing his eyes, Brant just lay there. The hedgehog didn't speak. The only sound was the rain and the faint voices and sounds from the 'palace'. Why Brant felt like he had to break the silence, he didn't know. Maybe it was his erg to talk to somebeast after being muzzled all day, or maybe it was the fact that nobeast was listening for now.

What ever the reason, Brant spoke. "Dere be a loose brick in yer cell wall mate." He said quietly as he lay on the roof.

[Skipper]

Turrohn kept his gaze trained on the dark sky. The clouds were dropping lower and lower every moment. But he knew they would not produce a funnel. It was too soon.

He nodded. "Aye. That would be ol' Durrin's doin'. He's one of our Furgetfuls, that one is." Forgetfuls. The slaves whose jobs were to intentionally exclude certain, necessary architectural designs. Turrohn tapped the tin roof absently. "We 'ave lots o' those furgetful types 'round these parts. . . A missing hinge here, a loose brick there, but hey, when yore workin' five big blocks at a time, y'miss things." Turrohn paused to turn his head and wink at Brant. Mischief shone in his eyes for a brief moment, but it was gone as soon as the raindrops reflected the next lightning bolt.

His eyes were back on the clouds. But the concentration wasn't there. There was something important sitting beside him. Turrohn sighed. "So. . . what's yore story?"

[historybug]

Brant kept his eyes closed as he felt the cool rain upon his fur. The water was sooo, cold, but so refreshing after a long sweaty day under the whips. The roof was very nice, and it also gave Brant and his new hedgehog friend a 'quiet' place to talk.

He nodded. "Aye. That would be ol' Durrin's doin'. He's one of our Furgetfuls, that one is."

Brant's nose and whiskers twitched as rain dripped down his muzzle. Forgetfuls? What is a forgetful? Brant opened his eyes when he heard the hedgehog tap the tin roof.

"We 'ave lots o' those furgetful types 'round these parts. . . A missing hinge here, a loose brick there, but hey, when yore workin' five big blocks at a time, y'miss things." Turrohn paused to turn his head and wink at Brant.

Smiled a bit to himself, Brant turned his gaze back up to the clouds as another lightning bolt crossed the sky. "So dat be 'ow yer doin' it." Brant chuckled. "Once ah saw ye, ah knew dat dere was som't'in' cookin' in dat noggin' o' yers. Ye just 'ave dat look 'bouts ye."

Turrohn sighed. "So. . . what's yore story?"

Brant's brief smile faded away as fast as the lightning bolts came and went. "Mea story..." Brant muttered as he stared up at the darkening sky. "Mea story...." A salty tear streaked down his cheeks and mingled with the fresh rain. "Ye could start mea story from any number o' places, it's dat complex. But, 'ow ah gots 'ere be dat worst part. Ah'm a messenger. Ah run parcels, messages, letters, an' stuff from 'olt Seaslate ta da Strait, Wildness, ye name it. Ah live at 'olt Seaslate wit' mea beautiful wife, Nikki....an' mea son...Benji...O' ah miss dem so muc'....."

Brant had to take a minute to regain his composure as he talked about his family. It hurt so much to be away from them, not knowing how they are or if they were safe. But after a minute, Brant coughed a bit and continued. "...Surry. So, ah 'ad been doin' mea job, an' da vermin patrol were gettin' fiercer and fiercer. Ah 'ad ta be takin' longer routes ta avoid dem, an ah was wearin' mea sword just in case. But didn' 'elp real muc. Ah 'ad delivered mea package an' was 'eaded 'ome, when a crossed a road an' ah gots stopped by a patrol. Dey were demand some tax. "

He shrugged. "Ah 'ad not'in' on mea ta pay an' ah didn't t'ink ah 'ad ta anyways. T'ain't deir land! T'ain't deir road! So ah tell dem dat, an' ah tell dem dat ah ain't payin' not'in'. As ah walks off, dey attack mea from be'ind. Ah'm fig'tin' dem well, w'en dey call in deir mates in, an' ah'm outnumbered."

Sighing, Brant looked over at the hedgehog. "Gots knocked out, broug't 'ere, an' well...Guess ye can guess da rest...." Brant nodded at the other slave. "'Ow 'bouts ye? 'Ow ye end up in 'ere?"

[Skipper]

Turrohn nodded. Fair question. "One day, they came t'mah house an' said, 'You need t'pay us this much.' I don't r'member 'ow much it was anymore. It was ridiculous, Ah know that. . ." He shook his head and gave a short, mirthless chuckle. "We 'ad enough to pay 'em, but then we wouldn' be able t'feed the dibbuns. So, Ah told mah family t'curl up -- nobeast can touch 'em that way -- an' I wen' outside an' fought."

Turrohn nodded. "It worked. They beat me, sure, but they furgot all about my family. Dragged me 'ere, had t'knock me out twice." He chuckled again. There was a little mirth this time. "Said I's t'work fur Marshank 'til my debt's paid off, but every day it's not paid off, it goes up. I did the math later; should finish in two-hundred 'n' sixty four years. Almost there." He joked, but not so much as a smile crossed his lips.
". . . Anyway, when they first got me 'ere an' put me t'work, I had a nasty concussion, since they hadda knock me unconscious thrice, the last time with a rock. . . An' y'know, the funny thing, is I don't think I ever recovered from it. Never had time to. I'm a troublemaker, I am." He laughed heartily this time.

A moment of silence passed as Turrohn left Brant to consider whatever thoughts the otter had. Turrohn used the time to stare back out at the storm. No doubt, it would continue through the night. Good. Turrohn liked storms. That is, now that he had nothing to lose to them. The only ones the storm could hurt now were his captors.

[historybug]

"One day, they came t'mah house an' said, 'You need t'pay us this much.' I don't r'member 'ow much it was anymore. It was ridiculous, Ah know that. . ." He shook his head and gave a short, mirthless chuckle. "We 'ad enough to pay 'em, but then we wouldn' be able t'feed the dibbuns. So, Ah told mah family t'curl up -- nobeast can touch 'em that way -- an' I wen' outside an' fought."

Brant narrowed his eyes as he looked up at the storm. Debt collectors? Toll roads? Who did these vermin think they were? The owners of everything?

Turrohn nodded. "It worked. They beat me, sure, but they furgot all about my family. Dragged me 'ere, had t'knock me out twice." He chuckled again. There was a little mirth this time. "Said I's t'work fur Marshank 'til my debt's paid off, but every day it's not paid off, it goes up. I did the math later; should finish in two-hundred 'n' sixty four years. Almost there." He joked, but not so much as a smile crossed his lips.

Two-hundred and sixty four years!!! Brant's eyes widened as he looked over at the hedgehog. In these conditions, Brant would be surprised to see anybeast last 10 years, 234 is just impossible! How do these vermin expect to make any money? Especially out of a beast who never owed anything?

". . . Anyway, when they first got me 'ere an' put me t'work, I had a nasty concussion, since they hadda knock me unconscious thrice, the last time with a rock. . . An' y'know, the funny thing, is I don't think I ever recovered from it. Never had time to. I'm a troublemaker, I am." He laughed heartily this time.

Brant chuckled a little with his friend, but for the most part, he kept his mouth shut. His friend's story was hard to swallow. How much did he miss his family? As much as Brant missed his? How much pain was he in? As much pain as Brant was in? What about all the other slaves here? They have families! They feel pain!

He had to do something!!!!

Brant's eyes were narrowed in thought. "Trouble maker eh? W'at kinds o' trouble ye be cookin' up 'ere? Ot'er dan yer furgetfuls dat is...."

[Skipper]

Turrohn shrugged. "Everything, really. Lots o' times, we all jus' stopped workin'. Just t'see who's on our side. We 'ad t'treat it like a major move, 'cos sometime, we get a beast who won't go through with a plan, an' if'n 'e don't help now, he won't 'elp later, when it counts." He shook his head disapprovingly at some unseen memory.

Lightning lit up the sky thrice before Turrohn continued. "The rest of us, though, we got unity. Move like one big clock, we do. Some of us, the leaders, the beasts with more reason than everybeast else t'scape. . . we know wot we're each thinkin', jus' by lookin' at each other. And other ways. . ."

Electricity and light flooded the surrounding air. A deafening crash blasted from the roof of a nearby watchtower. Turrohn could hardly hear himself laughing afterward. "Hahahaha, that's, haha, that's our cue, otter." The hedgehog's ears rang loudly, but he didn't seem to mind. "We'd best be gettin' inside now. Can't have beasts flyin' off roofs."

[historybug]

Turrohn shrugged. "Everything, really. Lots o' times, we all jus' stopped workin'. Just t'see who's on our side. We 'ad t'treat it like a major move, 'cos sometime, we get a beast who won't go through with a plan, an' if'n 'e don't help now, he won't 'elp later, when it counts."

Brant nodded. Thinning the herd, checking for the weak links. It was good strategy. It is better that you know who is with you and who isn't with you before the battle starts. Because once the fight starts, there is no going back.

Lighting lit of the sky and the rain continued to fall upon Brant's wet fur. It was starting to be a little cold, but not really. Brant just shrugged it off. So, it was cold. At least the air was fresh and he had some one to talk to. And besides, this conversation was too important to miss.

"The rest of us, though, we got unity. Move like one big clock, we do. Some of us, the leaders, the beasts with more reason than everybeast else t'scape. . . we know wot we're each thinkin', jus' by lookin' at each other. And other ways. . ."

"Aye.." Brant nodded again. "Ah've started ta notice. Sometime ah'll c'atch a message ur two..." But Brant didn't get to finish his thought. Before he could, Brant felt his ears pop and his fur become charged with the electricity in the air. A large jolt was coming and very close to them.

Suddenly a loud CRASH broke the silence. Brant snarled and clasped his paws to his ears. The loud noise increased his headache 3 fold and deafened his hearing a bit. It took Brant a second to hear the hedgehog laughing.

"Hahahaha, that's, haha, that's our cue, otter.[....]We'd best be gettin' inside now. Can't have beasts flyin' off roofs."

"Fur da best!" Brant tried to reply. He probably was shouting a bit. He could hear himself over his ringing ears so his voice naturally tried to compensate. Before he started to get down, however, Brant stuck out his paw. "Brant Rudderwake. Ah'd be pleased ta 'elp ye ta da best Ah can if ye'd 'ave mea."

Doing his best not to slip and slide all the day down to the ground, Brant slid to the edge of the roof and gripped it tight, letting his hind-paws and rudder hang. Brant gently swung his legs back and forth, until his footpaws caught the edge of the window. Using all due haste and the little underside Brant slid in the window and landed on the floor of the cell.

Turning around, Brant wanted to make sure his new hedgehog mate would make it in all right and to do anything to help if he could.