Taxation With Hooded Representation [Open]
Discontent paled in comparison to explain how Robin felt about suddenly being thrust from his home of merry old England and into the bowels of this nameless city. But it was not simply that he was displaced from all that was familiar. It was that this new range of land and dwellings were so completely alien to him that he did not know how to begin to make a mark for himself. So, after his untimely arrival and subsequent meeting of the Lost Boy, Robin kept to the woodland that seemed to border every edge of The City proper. True, it was not always bordering the same edges, as Robin had noted that the forest, itself, appeared to move (by some magic unknown to him.) But Robin soon learned how to remain within the tree coverings and avoid confrontation with those rock-solid roads and the blaring noises of fast-moving carriages (horseless and engulfing of the individuals on the inside.)
The technology was beyond him in knowledge and understanding. And though he was no fool when it came to books and learning, he knew when to yield to something beyond his own capacity. And figuring out The City was one of those things. So Robin did what he was best suited for. He created for himself an overgrown hideout deep within the forest and searched for his compatriots; John Little, Friar Tuck, the Maid Marian, Will Scarlet. (Though he knew that the possibility of them not being within finding distance of him was quite strong.) And, though he could not say with any certainty that this land was governed by the Lionheart, he still held strong to his allegiance to King Richard and hoped for his inevitable return. And if this land was not under Richard's royal rule? Well, then, perhaps Robin would see that it one day came to be as such. (He'd heard of these elections, as they were being referred, but he knew there was little truth to such a thing. Politicians won out with lies, brute strength, and by subjugating the poor and helpless.)
He sat on the long branch of a tree which hung out over the dirt road that magically appeared through the forest. It was an amusing set of circumstances. There would be no road and then, without warning, the road would attach to those streets that entered into The City, bringing a myriad of confused drivers (or wandering pedestrians) into the root relentless woodland. Robin found it amusing, at times, and often took that opportunity to collect his own form of forest tax. Not for himself, of course. But for the poor souls of Nottingham and Locksley that he planned to help upon his return. And if that return was not imminent? Why, then, he would use his borrowed goods to assist the forgotten people of The City. Though it seemed that everyone was kept content and well above their means, Robin could not believe that there was no disparaging separation of income among all the people in The City.
He would find someone to help.
He bit down upon an apple as he waited for someone to cross the threshold of The City industrial zone and into the unregulated forest. True to his character, a pouch of homemade arrows rested upon his back, his bow in his lap, preparing to interrupt any passerby with a particular jingle in their pockets.