“Have fun in hell.”
He let out a small grunt as he brought the axe down, just as he had each time before. I rolled deftly to my left, a breath before the razor sharp blade bit into the ground where I had been kneeling. My hand went unfalteringly for the leather-bound sword handle in the sand and I came up swinging. There was just enough space between us that the tip of my blade barely made a slice into his face. I let the momentum of the swing spin me around and this time I brought the scimitar down on the side of his neck. The steel sliced into his leathery skin with a spray of red. It was only when I heard the crack of his spinal chord giving way that I realized the crowd had fallen silent. The sword’s momentum stopped three quarters of the way through. Thick skin. His unsupported head flopped to the side, his eyes wide and lifeless. Tendons and arteries protruded from the stump, flapping wildly from the force of the blood gushing out of them. The towering man crumpled at my feet like a sack of wet bricks. I took a step back to avoid the growing red lake around his body, then raised both my hands victoriously.
As a single entity the crowd went wild. I stood gasping for breath in the center of the coliseum, hands in the air, and spun slowly. The people in the stands were cheering and jumping up and down. It looked as if they were bubbling, like a fiercely boiling pot of water. They loved me. I had quenched their thirst, and they loved me for it.
Suddenly the mob fell silent again. I heard the creak of the mammoth wooden holding doors and turned around. This time they sent two men to finish me. Would they never give me a break? I was still gasping for air as the reality of my near-demise sat fresh in my mind, but breath could wait. Out of the gate they came running. One man continued sprinting at me, sword in hand, and the other dropped to one knee. I took a battle stance, unsure of what to expect.
A whistling sound filled my ears, and before I had time to react an arrow had appeared in my stomach. I staggered back a step and coughed once. Blood ran out of my mouth and down my chin. Another arrow joined its brother. My sword slipped out of my hand and I dropped to my knees. The man running at me was getting closer, sinewy legs pumping faster than seemed possible. Behind him, the bowman stood and began running too, his bare feet kicking up fountains of sand in his wake.
He let out a small grunt as he brought the axe down, just as he had each time before. I rolled deftly to my left, a breath before the razor sharp blade bit into the ground where I had been kneeling. My hand went unfalteringly for the leather-bound sword handle in the sand and I came up swinging. There was just enough space between us that the tip of my blade barely made a slice into his face. I let the momentum of the swing spin me around and this time I brought the scimitar down on the side of his neck. The steel sliced into his leathery skin with a spray of red. It was only when I heard the crack of his spinal chord giving way that I realized the crowd had fallen silent. The sword’s momentum stopped three quarters of the way through. Thick skin. His unsupported head flopped to the side, his eyes wide and lifeless. Tendons and arteries protruded from the stump, flapping wildly from the force of the blood gushing out of them. The towering man crumpled at my feet like a sack of wet bricks. I took a step back to avoid the growing red lake around his body, then raised both my hands victoriously.
As a single entity the crowd went wild. I stood gasping for breath in the center of the coliseum, hands in the air, and spun slowly. The people in the stands were cheering and jumping up and down. It looked as if they were bubbling, like a fiercely boiling pot of water. They loved me. I had quenched their thirst, and they loved me for it.
Suddenly the mob fell silent again. I heard the creak of the mammoth wooden holding doors and turned around. This time they sent two men to finish me. Would they never give me a break? I was still gasping for air as the reality of my near-demise sat fresh in my mind, but breath could wait. Out of the gate they came running. One man continued sprinting at me, sword in hand, and the other dropped to one knee. I took a battle stance, unsure of what to expect.
A whistling sound filled my ears, and before I had time to react an arrow had appeared in my stomach. I staggered back a step and coughed once. Blood ran out of my mouth and down my chin. Another arrow joined its brother. My sword slipped out of my hand and I dropped to my knees. The man running at me was getting closer, sinewy legs pumping faster than seemed possible. Behind him, the bowman stood and began running too, his bare feet kicking up fountains of sand in his wake.
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