The Monarchy - by

I lose myself in thoughts and almost immediately feel a sharp pain in my ankle. I look for the source of the pain, and see a tomahawk1 wedged there. I fall, there in the arena I fall, where so many have fallen. I awake from my mental monologue and remember the gladiator. He now stands over me with a grin on his helmeted face. He grabs me and throws me down again and again until I feel woozy. He snatches his trident and loathes over me.
He gives a small grunt and shoves the blade right for my neck. I do as my instincts tell me. I roll. But my instincts are too late. The left blade has clipped my right arm. I yell in agonizing pain, and the crowd roars.