text: Your heart beats.
  
  You stand in an great amphitheatre, on shifting sands. It's quiet for but a moment, and then the clashes of weapons rings out in great echoes, with cheery yells of murder providing a bass quality. Smiles flash all around as people hack or are hacked about and nothing but snorts of laughter without the barest hint of pain accompany the carnage.
  
  Sprays of blood float on the air. Spilled guts and limbs sink deep into the sands. Heads laughing are choking on sand and sweet blood spills out of their lifeless bodies.
  
  You smell gore in the air and it clouds your thoughts. Little droplets rain down in your vision. You count each as they pass. Some spray in the corner of your eye hits your cheek and you can taste the liquid life.
  
  Liquid life.
  
  Life.
  
  You're alive.
  
  Where is your weapon?
  > You an axe in the hands of the man to your left
  The man next to you screams and whacks a corpse on the ground with your simple battle axe. He smiles and pulls himself up to grip the weapon with two hands and bring it down over the head of another distracted man.
  
  Your heart beats.
  
  You spare a quick glance over the rest of the battlefield.
  
  Men fight all around you, clanging metal and shrieking warriors ringing in your ears. There's laughter, joy, fear, and hatred in those screams. Shadows stand all around the raised edge of the arena, perfectly still.
  
  You need a weapon in your hands, something to defend yourself against this writhing mass of life and death. You need your axe; it's yours. It fits perfectly in your hand and bites at the flesh of your enemies like a loyal dog. There is no question: you must get it back.
  
  Beat.
  
  The man is chopping here and there and everywhere. He's not even holding your axe right.
  
  Beat.
  
  Attack him now and rely on your skills, or sneak up behind him?
  > You attack now!
  You rush, hoping to catch him unaware. He swings the axe around to his right and slashes another man.
  
  Beat.
  
  Your feet both push you forward and you put your hands into the perfect position to attack himand grab the handle of the axe. Both feet leave the ground and propel you into the man.
  
  Beat.
  
  Your right hand curls to give him a brutal punch with all your weight in his throat. Your left hand opens to grab the axe before he can swing it around to you.
  
  Beat.
  
  Beat. Beat.
  
  Beat. Beat. Beat.
  
  Your fist makes contact with him and he falls back a bit, his face twisting in pain. You grab the handle of the axe and wrench it from his grasp as he's weak. Your fist only glances his neck and he recovers quickly to tug back at the axe and kick your shins. You quickly push him off and bring the axe down while he's still weak, but he blocks his face with one arm. There's a sickening thud as you bury it into his shoulder. He tries to pull it out and push you away as adrenaline covers his pain, but you elbow him in the face and kick him to the ground as you pull out the axe.
  
  Laughter takes him and he thrashes about on the ground. You sink the axe into his back and he stops moving, but that laughter continues. You're just about to end his pathetic life when an arrow catches your leg and tears open a huge gash. You collapse onto one knee and drop the axe as someone stabs you with a sword. The end sticks out of your left side and blood flows as the sword is pulled back. You lie on the ground and something bubbles inside of you.
  
  Well now, isn't that funny. You didn't get it before , but now...
  
  It's too much and you giggle until you can't breathe, but even when you try to stop and take a breath all you can feel is that hole in your torso. The other man grabs your hand and lets out a shriek, squeezes, and then his smile is stuck on his dead face. You can't help it. You smile too. And laugh. And laugh and laugh until a sword somehow finds its way into your eye. Woopsy daisy. How'd that get in there?