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“Great Scott! It’s ... ''Robin Hood''!” mouthed the sell-siders, in awe and wonder. | “Great Scott! It’s ... ''Robin Hood''!” mouthed the sell-siders, in awe and wonder. | ||
But — and this is true of all archetypical mythologies, readers, so don’t be disheartened: the wondrous spell sparkled and crackled in the air, but it did not seem to stop the relentless advance. The poor little sell-side negotiator quailed out there, in front of her ramparts, and monstrous buyside warriors guffawed and swaggered towards her. | |||
“’Tis but a fleshwound,” they roared. You’ll nae stop us with a weedy concoction like ''that''. Now let’s take that harmless wee lockie and put it back taegither, and we shall pretend this did no’ happen aye?” | |||
And with that, the enormous bearded ogre picked up the damp fragments of the shredded lock-up, and in a show of force altogether more terrifying than anything he could do with a broadsword, waved his great, meaty fingers over it and the paper magically knitted itself together on the palm of his hand. He leveled his great, green eyes to regard the negotiator. | |||
“Now, my young friend. What was that about no lockup?” | |||
But where the sell-sider had been was a curlicue of disturbed dust. | |||
The colossal trebuchets imploded. A great wind flattened the buy-side encampments. Sigils burned. The mercenary forces of the [[Dark Lord]] scattered to the four corners of the earth. | The colossal trebuchets imploded. A great wind flattened the buy-side encampments. Sigils burned. The mercenary forces of the [[Dark Lord]] scattered to the four corners of the earth. | ||