The battle began with a single mighty blow. I swung my whip viciously at my opponent, striking him across the sternum. He recoiled in pain, yet I could tell that hewas clearly impressed by the rigidity and girth of my mighty weapon. I swung yet again, and victory seemed to be at hand. However, it was not to be.
My opponent quickly gobbled down three 400 lb sharks (the realism is stunning) and began a counterattack. With two swift blows to my chest and neck, I was near death. I scrambled, fearing for my life, and reached into my knapsack for one of my sharks. As I slipped its moist tail into my mouth, I saw my opponent reach to his side for a terrifying dagger, with a blood-red blade covered in a vile green stain. My opponent swung the blade viciously at my neck, and I felt it slit my jugular vein. As the blood poured out of the gaping wound in my neck, my vision faded, and I knew I was going to die. I fell forward on my knees, and as I did so, my opponent quickly dropped into a cross-legged position on the ground. I fell forward, and as I saw the last bit of light fade away, I knew that I was in the most humiliating pose possible. My death had been most dishonorable.
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