Open The Trenches If You Whack It, They Will Come

[Keinruf Zvirskyy]

Keinruf was sitting at the edge of a park, safe in the shadows of the tall buildings of the Trenches, gloomily watching a squirrel and a rat throw an unripe melon at each other, then whack at it with sticks. His tail drooped over the end of the bench, and his whiskers likewise drooped. He hadn't murdered anyone yet. The math was upsetting. If he was to believe this so-called police force was as diabolical as they sounded, or the Kreehold, or the Stoatorian Guard, or any number of vaguely militaristic, justice-seeking (or otherwise) groups that might still exist, then he would have to play it very safe. He couldn't necessarily just go around stabbing everybeast he saw. He would need to sleep, and in sleeping, be defenceless and sought after.

It was a problem that was solved by doing what he was sent to do, of course. He'd just have to start with killing the ones who would be the most danger to him continuing with the rest. Until he worked out a plan to do that, there were other problems to consider. For instance, nothing in his mission briefing had mentioned woodlanders. The rat pup, easy, he could punt that little runt into a wall, stab, done. Like taking life from a baby. But the squirrel? What had the squirrel done to deserve it? Woodlanders were the enemy of the Imperium. And the enemy of his enemy was... was...

He wasn't sure.

Not a target, for starters?

How depressing.

As he idly watched, the rat had gotten her stick stuck inside the melon, and was waving it around like a mace while the squirrel screamed dibbun-appropriate profanities about cheating. This commotion drew out some older, slightly larger kits, with larger sticks, and a wobbling wagon full of more spherical items and broken mugs. Some of their sticks were table legs, some with large nails driven through them, and one had a very elegant looking rounded club. They were arguing, and the arguing only got louder as they got nearer, and some beasts in the upper storeys were opening windows and stepping onto balconies to observe. A ferret detached from the regiment and approached the marten on the bench.

"Oi, sir! Y'awright reffin' our circus scuffle for wagon an' mums?"

Keinruf stared at the ferret blankly long enough for some distant clock tower to start chiming over the city. A fox from the rear called out, "Aw Vulpuz's droolin' maw, Oi gotta go, that's me shift startin'!"

The ferret scowled and turned back to Keinruf.

"Or, we're down a Bounder, c'n ya lift a coconut an' hurl it?"

Keinruf continued to stare, continued to have no idea what was happening.

"Yes?" he said.

"Awright! Tag in, yer on Scuzzer's Mugs, we're against Th' Grand Notorieties on their territory, they're a lotta practicin' cheeks so skip wheezers an' don't step on the fuzzballs, an' it's a no-biscuit game 'cos of cheap sticks, an' don't worry about jigs or my gran, we ain't got none, so just for fun, aye? Even if it turns riot, as The Stinkbugs might come over if they hear about it. Still need ya on wagon an' mums though 'cos yer tallest."

Stab him, Keinruf thought. What he said was: "Okay?"

He stood up and let them lead him out into the street to join one of the groups. The other group of kits descended into chaos.

"Hey! That's not fair! We need a grown-up on our side then! Oi! You, yeah you! C'mon, let's play Whack Ball! Notorieties gotta protect our territory from them ugly Mugs, get in the circus scuffle!"

 

[Marble]

Miothiyle made her way through the park, taking her time with nothing in particular to do today. The vixen was still very much an odd sight in the Imperium with her strange clothing, the long socks were probably the only normal part of the attire with what appeared to be a sheet of mottled green,hung over one shoulder going down to just the knees and leaving the arms exposed, under which was an earthy brown woolen tunic , and over that all a simple cloak with a pin depicting a strange creature with arrows. If anyone was paying close attention they might notice the pin of the unsmudgeables, but that was slightly harder to see than the brighter cloak pin.

She paused in her morning routine as she watched over the strange game the children were playing. The splatter of the fruit as it impacted the makeshift bat sending pieces all over to the cheers of the dubbuns. It was an interesting game that seemed to have no rules, or whatever rules came up at the time. The vixen wondered over, leaning against one of the lamp posts as she watched the game for a while as the cart of new fruit was brought in. There seemed to be a little bit of fuss as one unfortunate pine martin was conscripted into the game
"Oi! You, yeah you! C'mon, let's play Whack Ball!" and it seemed now Miothiyle was being conscripted into the strange game. The vixen gave a chuckle before moving over, taking off her cloak and tying it around her waist as she moved over to the game.
"Friendly game of Whack ball it is, I take it we are batting first." Watching the children as they got into position, if Keinruf was paying attention as the woman was removing her cloak he might notice the long knife at the back of her belt "Guess it is you to bowl then"

 

[Keinruf Zvirskyy]

Keinruf was lost, confused, and utterly out of his element. Tiny beasts half his size were pushing him around. One had shoved a foul-smelling melon into his paws.

The rules of Whack Ball were supposedly simple. The kits all yelled tidbits at him as they ushered him into position down the street. He glanced over their heads at the vixen who had joined the other team, a helpless, pleading look in his eyes. There was nothing strange about her at all, to him - everything in the Imperium was equally strange, scary, and confusing.

At first he thought they were on the same team, but then the four kits instruction him waved off and retreated across the street to take up positions.

As best he could understand it, the teams were thus:

	Scuzzer's Mugs:	Grand Notorieties:
Bounder	Keinruf - pine marten (m)- 30	Imperial Salute - ferret (m) - 17
Blunter	Scragguns - ferret (m) - 13	Miothiyle - fox (f) - 25
Blunter	Piffle - rat (f) - 12	Maxime - fox (f) - 13
Rounder	Louis - weasel (m) - 14	The Reckoning - otter (m) - 15
Rounder	Bop - hedgehog (f) - 10	Li'l Twist - stoat (f) - 11
Spiker	Scuzzer - wildcat (m) - 16	Slickers - rat (m) - 14

Along with the two dibbuns, the rat and the squirrel, who were sat in one corner pouting at the older players. They were apparently "fuzzballs" - their job was simply to run around the street being a tripping hazard.

He stood among the Grand Notorieties, holding the melon. Across the way, a burly teenaged ferret dressed in a sleek button-up shirt with a cravat tucked in under his throat hefted a coconut threateningly.

Another vixen, named Maxime, was giving the newcomer a piece of leg table to hold. "You take this'n, marm, an' we'll crush all and every! Gotta use the corner edge for a good whack to crack things, aye?"

Scragguns, the ferret who had recruited Keinruf, was still shouting across the street: "Awright! It's two tails per patch, ten tails total game, ten balls to score a win, 'cos we ain't got enough balls for more'n that!"

An otter who had introduced himself only as "The Reckoning" nudged Miothiyle. "The Mugs have the western half of the street, m'lady. To take their turf, we must break the whack balls beyond that marker." He pointed towards a tree branch that had been propped up against the side of a building, with a blue flag and a green flag tied to it. "We must also stop them from breaking any balls on our side, or they gain points. If we can score a full turf-takeover, we'll be qualified to get our team signed up for the Slups Tournament next summer, and then we'll practically be a Pro team!"

"Positions!" The wildcat at the back of the Scuzzer's territory yelled. Everybeast scrambled into some formation, then gently guided Keinruf and Miothiyle into their places.

"Bounders.... H'UP!"

"That means lift your melon," the rat behind Keinruf said, snickering. Keinruf decided he was going to smash that rat's head in later. Probably.

"Throw on three... one... two... THREE!"

Keinruf hurled the melon, and Imperial Salute, the ferret in the midst of the Scuzzer's territory, hurled his coconut. And then everybeast was charging off in some random direction or other, flailing sticks and clubs and roaring. A sporting event had begun!

 

[Bibby Stout]

Bully Harbor had a way of unfolding in layers. What began as a simple walk had turned, as it so often did, into a slow meander through its tangled streets, past leaning brickwork and narrow alleys, past the hum of trade and the brine-laced air that never quite left the lungs. Every turn offered something new: a shouted bargain, a clatter of crates, a glimpse of some curious little corner that begged a second look.

Bibby took it all in with bright, eager attention, her steps light as she drifted from one sight to the next, never quite in a straight line, never quite finished with one thing before the next caught her eye.

Marlow kept pace at her side, a little more measured, though no less attentive in their own way—eyes flicking from storefront to passerby, from shadow to movement, quietly mapping the rhythm of the place as it revealed itself.

They had no destination in mind. Only the simple, shared purpose of seeing what there was to see.

The noise reached them before the scene did.

Not the usual hum of the city, nor the distant roll of carts or market-call chatter, but something sharper. There were bursts of shouting, laughter, the wet splatter of something meeting an unfortunate end. It cut through the street like a thrown stone skipping across water, uneven and impossible to ignore.

Bibby’s ears perked at once.

Her step slowed, then stopped entirely as the street ahead opened just enough to reveal the source of it all. A loose ring of beasts moved in a flurry of motion, sticks swinging, fruit bursting in bright, messy arcs across the cobbles.

Her eyes lit.

"Marlow! Look!"

There was no hesitation in her voice. Only a bright, immediate delight as she leaned forward onto the balls of her feet, already half-drawn into the scene.

"Oh, what fun!"

She didn’t wait for agreement before drifting closer, slipping easily toward the edge of the gathered crowd, drawn in by the rhythm of the crack of makeshift bats, the scramble of paws, and the wild, ever-shifting rules shouted from every direction at once. It didn’t matter that it made no sense. It felt like sport, and that was more than enough.

"Hey, looks like some form o’ stick ball… Oi! Any coin ridin’ on this?"

Bibby’s head turned, and without missing a beat, her paw came up in a light, playful swat against their chest.

"Always the River Rogue, aye?"

The response to Marlow’s call came back in an unexpected tidal wave.

“Mugs’ll smash ‘em! Gimme 20 on ‘im!”

“Nah! Notorieties got this! Ten says they take turf!”

“Oi! I’ll double that if they break past the marker!”

It happened all at once.

Coin was pressed into Marlow’s paws from one side, then the other.

Marlow's eyes lit up greedily. The shift was immediate.

"Right! Twenty on Mugs—hold that—ten says Notorieties take turf—nah, nah, odds just shifted, you’re late on that—aye, I’ve got you, keep it comin’!"

Their voice cut clean through the rising din, quick and confident, weaving order out of sheer insistence as their paws began sorting, stacking, and stuffing coins into whatever pocket they could manage.

Bibby, for her part, had already forgotten them.

"Ooh!"

She leaned forward as one of the players, Miothiyle, stepped into position, her grin widening in recognition as she lifted a paw high above her head, waving eagerly.

"Go on Marble! You got this!"

Her voice carried bright and clear over the clamor as she bounced lightly on her toes, fully invested now.

A blur of motion suddenly cut across towards where Bibby stood. A small, fuzzball had woven wildly through the legs of larger players, zigging where it should have zagged. It darted past a swinging club, narrowly avoided a charging pair of Rounders...

...and promptly lost all coordination at once.

There was a small, valiant attempt at recovery. A wobble. A second wobble. Then, with all the dignity of a dropped sack of turnips, the little creature went down in a soft but decisive tumble across the dusty ground, rolling once, twice, and coming to rest just shy of Bibby’s boots.

Bibby burst out into a fit of giggles as she crouched slightly, instinctively reaching as if to help, even as the game thundered on around them without pause.

Behind her, Marlow’s voice rang out again, sharper now, fully caught in the current.

"Odds just changed! Did you see that? Keep up or keep out, I ain’t repeatin’ it!"

And at the edge of it all, Bibby stood bright and open, laughter still lingering on her lips, close enough now that the boundary between watcher and player had begun to blur, whether she’d noticed it yet or not.

 

[Marble]

Well how hard could whack bat be, she had watched people play it before and could guess at the rules, sort of. A young otter gave her a quick rundown of the game, nodding in understanding and hopefully she could help the team win. Hit the thing and have it break inside the enemy turf, right? She took the table leg, measured its weight, flipped it into the air and caught it again. Yeah how hard can it be, just hit the thing. She did give a sympathetic shrug to the pine martin, now the pair of them were stuck playing a game that neither understood, with people they didn't know and stuck by not wanting to disappoint the children around them.

Her ear twitched and she looked to her side at the growing crowd that had decided to watch this strange sport, there among the group she thought she saw familiar creature among the crowd and raised her bat in a salute before focusing on the incoming throw from her companion in the unwitting game.

The fruit went out and the teams charged, nipping around the players, ducking and diving, Miothiyle was swift but did have the slight issue of being larger, so she moved in support of the others following along with the game and making sure she was in the enemy ground before swinging at a fruit herself.

 

[Keinruf Zvirskyy]

The sport whirled around Keinruf like water flowing over a rock in a stream. Whatever purpose he had served seemed to be over. He stood there, paws in his pockets, staring at the chaos. The young beasts screamed at each other - curses half the time, gibberish the rest. For whatever reason, all the players on the Notorieties team apart from the older vixen were bobbing their heads towards every swing of an enemy's bat.

"Piffle and Bop, round up longside, breach th' tangle an' hold for down catch against the bloody cheeks!"

"Twist! Get yer tail topside-turvy, we need more knackered Scuzzers eatin' hard bark!"

"Oi! Tall git! Nutter's crackin', duck or fat-head afore it's come home!"

That one seemed to be directed at him. He was not sure what any of it meant, except that by looking towards the source of the shout, he spotted the coconut flying directly towards his face. He stepped aside, not noticing the little female stoat underfoot until it was too late. By instinct, he kicked instead of losing his footing, and there was the hedgehog with her bat...

The coconut shattered against the cobbles, the hedgehog screaming bloody murder as she pummelled the broken shell to pieces, while the stoat screamed bloody murder and tried to un-impale herself from the hedgehog's back.

At the same time, across the other end of the street, the strength of a Huntress had demolished the melon in one swift swing of her bat.

Imperial Salute, the ferret, rushed to the wagon of whack ball fodder and selected a cabbage, clutched it to his chest, and ran up to Miothiyle, grinning.

"Nice score, but they tied us. Run to the end, I'll heft it your way when Mugs are ready for second scoot!"

Scuzzer sauntered up to Keinruf, glaring.

"Tall git, wots yer name?"

"Keinruf."

"Well, it's kind-a-rough watching you standing about like an idjit. Go get a mug from the wagon and throw it my ways on count, an' then start moving, would ya? Try and block them from getting in our turf, push 'em back, trip 'em like you did the stoat, pull their tails, I don't care. Bloody tie, and you almost lost us the nutter, if Bop wasn't there to pull yer slacks up..."

Muttering, the wildcat pattered past, leaving Keinruf to blunder awkwardly over to the wagon. A mug, or a Mug? He wasn't catching even half their words...

Meanwhile, The Reckoning was consoling Li'l Twist, who had finally been pulled free of the hedgehog's quills, for the most part. One was still dangerously close to her eye, another stuck inside her nose.

"Sal, Twist can't go on, we need another stand-in..."

Imperial Salute nodded, gazing at the crowd for a good pick. Another big otter, but the fellow looked like he was in the middle of bets. And the strangely wide ferret-ish beast who had been shouting at their other stand-in... Hm.

"You!" He called, pointing to Bibby. "Welcome to th' Grand Notorieties, yer our new Bounder! Go grab that bat over there an' stand behind the tall vixen, in front of the tall marten, think his name's Git. Second scoot, lads! Positions!"

Salute scampered over to the Mug's territory and took his place, hefting his cabbage high.

"Bounders, H'UP!"

Keinruf, returned to the spot he'd been standing the whole previous turn, lifted a broken mug high.

"One... two... THREE!"

Keinruf hurled the mug as far as he could towards the wildcat at the far end of the street. A sporting event was continuing, despite his wishes!

---

Scuzzer's Mugs: 03 -- The Grand Notorieties: 03

 

[Marble]

Miothilye moved around the field, darting over and around players continuing to whack at the fruit with a triumphant war cry. Looking over her team she was rather disappointed in how they in how they were trying to force a skim
"Hey, stop playing the Cheek and focus on the game" Honestly that was about all of the vocabulary she knew. "keep em out of the street and get whacking" Trying her best to sound like she knew what she was doing and organise the team into some sort of strategy in the game as she continued to focus on points, and also not harming the younger players as she moved around.

Part of her felt bad for the pine martin as he had, evidently, no idea what he was doing and very much struggling with the game, she was barely a step above him at least knowing how to play her role in the game and the strategy boiled down to hit things, where as he had to chose what to throw, who to throw too, making sure to keep the game moving whilst also not giving her team points. Hopefully he was having some fun.

Wait when was a mug part of whackbat? Watching it sail overhead and deciding to not be near where it landed

 

[Bibby Stout]

Bully Harbor had a way of swallowing beasts whole into its nonsense. One moment Bibby had merely been watching. The next, a bat had been shoved into her paws.

"You!" Imperial Salute barked, pointing at her with the sort of urgency usually reserved for naval invasions. "Welcome t’ th’ Grand Notorieties, yer our new Bounder! Grab that bat an’ get behind the Tall Vixen!"

Bibby blinked at the bat... Then her face lit up.

"Okay I'mma play now, bye!"

The words were tossed cheerfully over her shoulder toward Marlow as she hurried off before they could possibly object, clutching the battered table-leg bat in both paws as she darted into position.

"Oi wha— Bibby!"

Marlow half-reached after her before the crowd surged again around them, voices already rising with fresh excitement at the unexpected addition to the field.

And then the betting resumed.

"Ohoho! We’ve a new, boisterous addition t’ th’ Grand Notorieties!" Marlow called at once, recovering with startling speed as they climbed halfway onto a crate for visibility. "Odds in favor o’ th’ Mugs have gone up on accounts of her flagrant lack of experience!"

That was apparently all the encouragement Bully Harbor required.

Coin immediately began changing paws again.

“Five says she gets flattened!”

“Ten says Notorieties take turf!”

“Mugs still got this!”

Marlow’s paws filled rapidly with low denomination clutter; copper tails, half-bits, chipped markers, bent little coins so worn smooth they barely looked official anymore. The sheer weight of it all was beginning to add up faster than the value. Every pocket they possessed had begun to sag and clink ominously beneath the growing mass.

Their grin widened all the same.

"House always wins, aye?"

Meanwhile, Bibby had already become entirely absorbed in the game itself. She slipped in behind Miothiyle, giving a few experimental swings with the bat as she tried to make sense of the chaos unfolding around her.

It did not seem overly complicated.

Something got thrown. Somebeast hit it. Then everybeast screamed and ran.

Simple enough.

Well... mostly.

Before she could ask anything further, Keinruf hurled the mug.

Not a melon. Not a cabbage. A MUG.

Bibby had only enough time to think that seemed rather dangerous before Scuzzer stepped forward with a wildcat’s grin and swung.

CRACK.

The ceramic exploded spectacularly.

Shards burst in every direction across the street, skittering across cobbles and bouncing off walls, but the largest chunk clipped awkwardly off the edge of Scuzzer’s swing and spun high behind him in a lazy wobbling arc.

The wildcat froze, then immediately whipped around with a horrified snarl.

"Aw COME ON!"

"CRACKBACK!" one of the Notorieties screamed instantly.

"IT’S A CRACKBACK!"

"THAT AIN’T NO CRACKBACK!" another Mug shouted back.

"BAD THROW!"

"Yer swing bent longside, y’cheat!"

Scuzzer jabbed an accusing claw back toward Keinruf without even looking at him.

"Git threw crooked!"

"THREE COUNT FER HOTSIDE!" Imperial Salute bellowed over the uproar.

And somewhere nearby, another voice immediately began counting at full volume.

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

Everything accelerated at once. The field dissolved back into frantic motion as beasts scrambled into new positions, yelling terminology Bibby could no longer even pretend to follow.

Then suddenly—

An orange was flying directly at her face.

Bibby’s eyes widened.

There was no time to think.

On instinct, her paws moved on their own as she swung the bat up defensively.

THWAP.

The orange burst wetly across the wood in a spray of pulp and juice, the remaining chunk bouncing off the edge with a lazy little arc before splatting down onto the cobbles a short distance away.

There was silence for a heartbeat—

Then the Grand Notorieties exploded.

"HOTSIDE!"

"SHE GOT IT!"

"RUN RUN RUN!"

Bibby startled visibly as the entire team began screaming at her all at once.

"Go!?" she yelped back instinctively.

Miothiyle had run in a direction earlier... That seemed important.

So Bibby ran.

Orange pulp clung to the bat as she dropped it where she stood, and bolted after the taller vixen with complete commitment despite having absolutely no idea what advantage she had apparently just secured.

Back at the sidelines, Marlow finally exhaled the breath they’d accidentally caught.

Then, instantly:
"Ay! It’s a HOTSIDE!" they shouted, pointing dramatically back toward the field as though they had understood any of that. "Grand Notorieties are gainin’! Any more wagers!?"