Grab your sword, my boy! The scouts have returned, and the battle horn has been sounded. The NFL writers have begun their attack on the TV and internet providers. Soon we shall start our journey to leap into the fray.
The skirmish began just earlier today. Baron Chappell, from the Midlands of Foxshire, struck first, agitated by the overlords who restricted access to the unique and questionably desirable luxury that is Wednesday foot-ball:
The eye of AT&T focused its gaze on Baron Chappell, attempting to cow him into submission by publicly recounting its own esoteric "carriage dispute" involving the equally treacherous forces of TEGNA, but he was neither sympathetic nor deterred:
Just as the fight appeared to reach a stalemate and all hope seemed to be lost, the recently exiled Baron Clayton and his army crested a nearby hill and flanked the enemy. They delivered such a booming blow to AT&T and its vile lackey DIRECTV that it roused Agroná and Andrasta from their slumber:
To dishonor an agreement in such a way would invite intervention by the Privy Council. DIRECTV would have been wise to tread lightly here ...
Baron Clayton's spat with the providers had been dragging on for months, but yestreen it reached a head:
Baron Clayton's energy was eventually drained, and DIRECTV's bulwark prevented him from accomplishing any further damage:
But wait—could it be? That's the brutish Joel Dreeſſen, one of the many mercenaries known as the Remembered Fellows. This man does not tolerate those who renege on their word. He too has a bone to pick.
And now, we march to battle. This is what we've trained for, boy. Into hell we descend, so that we may reach heaven!
