May. 28th, 2015

Setting: Court Archery Yard. A stand for nobles. A crowd for commoners. In the stand, a golden arrow sits on a decorative pillow beside a standing man.

Sheriff of Nottingham: This has been quite the exciting tournament. Nottinghamshire can boast some truly great archers. Alas, there is but one arrow. So, there can only be one best archer.

A laugh calls out from beyond the crowd: Ha HAH!

An arow flies upward and then arcs down to hit the center of a target. A tall, thin man, wearing a robe, with a cowl that hangs over his face, steps through the crowd.

Disguised Robin Hood: So sorry to join the tournament late.

A black-feathered arrow flies up, over the crowd, arcs down, and splits the previous arrow.

Sheriff groans: Oh really, Merida. We're all duly impressed with your skills. But, whether we like it or not, we do have to follow a narrative, here.

Robin Hood: A Hah! This is not Merida's arrow, but a new player in our midst!
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