[ WP ] The last surviving member of a once prestigious warrior clan is getting ready to die .

I hear the roar of the crowd swell and climax and know the fight is ended, well by the length of the cheering. It is my turn. I ready myself and send a silent prayer to the twin gods of Death and Battle. I pray for glory in the coming fight and glory in my coming death. This time I will not be leaving the arena. They will sent their puny warriors against me until I fall. The gate behind closes. The gate ahead rattles up into the stone archway bathing the chamber in ruddy light. Squinting I trot forward and the fans erupt in howls once again at seeing one of my tribe still living in the Bloodring. They are not my fans but fans of my gift, they love the dance of war, nearly as much as I do. I reach the center of the ring and the other gates open as my opponents pour onto the red sand. I smile as the stands shake with the pounding of feet and the screams of the spectators. I begin. I end.
