You are hurting and those fucker bastard asses won't let your night be over yet. The audience is howling with excitment. The Host Herry Flinger holds his voice box up to the spitting hole in his throat and he challanges tough guys from the audience to come get some. A hulking redneck with massive muscles takes off his shirt and screams he is the to take a dirty ass mollkin down. Flinger intones, "Its your funeral buddy". Above in the rafters six snipers watch the action, ready to put anyone down they have to. The man selects a broadsword with both edges sharpened to lethal gleaming readiness. You pick a metal pole with little barbs on the edge, only that. The gun fires and the action starts. The man howls like a viking and runs at you holding the sword up with both arms. You slam the metal pole into his chest and he drops hard. You spin the weapon and bring it down in a wild arc as he reaches for his sword. The pole comes down on his wrist and breaks it. The man howls and rolls away signalling that he has had enough. You don't kill the human contestants like the mollkins. They have some degree of rights, even here in the areana. They drag the man off to recieve some free medical attention. "Anyone else?", Asks flinger. A asian man almost as broad as he is tall steps forward. He selects spiked iron braclets and razer boots for weapons. You select the iron pole again. You are able to keep the man back from you with pushes swings and jabs of the pole. He grabs it, but you wrest it free, constantly whacking him with the pole. You slowly wear him down and he gives up and as. All in a nights work. You are stitched up and sauves are applied to your wounds. They give you your favorite meal that night! Poached eggs and toast. And a pound of crispy Bacon. Along with a mug of coffee and a couple gallons of orange juice. You love your owners right now. You just love them!