“Picture in your mind’s eye a coliseum. 4 unfortunate souls have been selected to battle to the death, and only one may walk away with their life and their freedom. There is the holy paladin, a mountain of a man adorned in the armour of the lord. Second is the assassin, an individual well-versed in killing, but usually from the shadows. Third is the knight, who through bravery and a can-do attitude rose above their initial status as a peasant. Finally there is… Uh, a jester. Completely out of their element, with no combat experience to their name.”
“As they stand across from each other, assessing their options, the fool charges towards the paladin, sword raised above their head, yelling like a lunatic. The man of god simply swats away their approach with his shield, connecting with their head. They fall to the floor, one of their legs convulsing for a brief moment, before their bowels relieve themselves as they expire, the most pathetic of deaths. Now, the real fight begins.”
“Many argue about what it takes to win a fight. Is it strength? Heart? Agility? Technique? Guile? It’s never easy to judge, for history seems to be littered with victors of all kinds. However, all three remaining combatants are absolutely unshakeable in their belief that it is they who shall survive the day. Two of the men respect each other, and one of them just don’t fit in. As the other two turn to the lowlife that is the assassin, realisation dawns on him – Without cover to obscure him and provide his defence, he could not take on one, let alone two. His blood soon stains the floor.”
“Finally, there is the two true warriors, although one is clearly the underdog. Then again, he has been all of his life. I do not know who would be victorious, but the gap between survival and death for both will be miniscule. It will end with one, breathless and bloodied, on their knees looking down as their opponent exsanguinates on the floor, breathing their last. Then, their eyes widen. Something protrudes slightly from the front of their throat… And realisation kicks in.”
“Wielding the assassin’s dagger is the jester, covered in sand and shit, having plunged it through the last remaining obstacle. The crowd rain down their boos, but it is all for naught. It was none of the aforementioned attributes that won the day, but the ability and willingness to debase oneself. Much like in real life, it is the casting aside of principles, of ego, of one’s public image that is a common thread in those wielding the greatest of power. The liars, the dictators, the manipulators and abusers… They would sacrifice their humanity to ascend above humanity.”
“For most of us, such degradation is tantamount to the death of self, a fate to be avoided at all costs. People will do all they can to feel like a ‘good person’, to impress their peers and command respect. Thing is, most people fear this humiliation. For the rest of us… Humiliation is simply a kink.