[ WP ] In the land of the blind , the one-eyed man is king .

Ramsey swung his club over his head. The air cried out in pain. The club connected with another of the tribe. His eyeless head caving in like a halloween pumpkin. 
 
 Fenton crawled, reaching, searching, clawing, feeling for the feet of another. He brought the hammer he carried down on any he found. With gleeful cackling joy, he'd move on in search of another. 
 
 The Impaler, marched through the morass, stabbing forward, swinging wide, hammering down, and crowing with satisfaction at every scream and grunt his mighty spear elicited from the others. 
 
 Vincent The Knee Breaker, twisted and twirled, slinging his hammer in wide arcs that caused hundreds to squeal and scream and cry out in pain. Knee caps and femurs shattered with the force of strikes. 
 
 The Calico Kid, ran forward, his giant crooked legs, knotted with muscle and bulging with veins as thick as his grubby finger, thudding down in the mud and blood and bile. He stabbed and sliced and sawed his way through tendon and cartilage and arteries, bringing low those foolish enough to stand before him. 
 
 The Gut Miner grabbed up any who came close and ran his wicked blade across the underside of their belly, spilling out their entrials for others to slip and slide on. 
 
 Peter the Proud sat on a rock in the middle of it all, nibbling on a leg of lamb, roasted with seasoned potatoes and spiced corn on the cob. He drank wine from a silver urn and watched the eternal battle play out. The sightless tribe battled one on the other, but never in the three hundred years he'd been in attendance, had he seen the size of the tribe shrink. He shrugged. It was good to be the king.
