Ishbosheth stood in a long corridor with doors on either side. He had just come through the one behind him, now being guarded by a man with a fur wrapped around his neck like a lion's mane.
Ishbosheth had his knuckles taped up again, just like in sparring practice, and had been put into a thick leather belt which was wrapped around his waist. He grabbed the ring handle on the door in front of him and pulled.
The room behind the door was a wide arena with an observation deck being held up by two tall pillars. Three large rocks were scattered in the middle of the arena floor. Ishbosheth took in the scene, and looked up at all the people seated on the upper deck. There were people lining the steps up to the deck, but there were some up there that caught Ishbosheth's eye. The first person Ishbosheth saw was Stark, standing in the very back corner, his broad shoulders hiding the fact that he had a neck. After him, on the opposite side, on the back wall was Luther, standing up, leaning on his staff, his graying mane framing his face. Finally Ishbosheth saw Killian, at the very front of the upper deck, leaning forward with her hands on the railing.
As he was looking around, Ishbosheth wandered further into the arena, between the two closest rocks. He could hear the crowd emit a few small laughs. Thinking this somewhat strange, Ishbosheth continued further into the center of the floor. The crowd's laughter became louder. Ishbosheth became a little more cautious and creeped into the very center. He heard some strange noises coming from behind him, like sacks of flour falling onto pavement. He turned around to see a lion, standing on its hind legs, between the two rocks he had just walked between, standing right in his own footprints. The lion threw back its head and let out a roar which shook Ishbosheth to the core.
The two stood there staring at each other in silence for a few moments. Then Ishbosheth ran. The crowd burst out in applause and cheers. The lion chased after Ishbosheth, switching between running on two and four legs, teeth bared all the while.
Ishbosheth ran behind the last rock on the opposite side of the stadium, but the lion followed and jumped on top of the rock. Ishbosheth took off toward the gate leading up to the upper deck, but it was locked. He turned just in time to see the lion jump off the rock and start running toward him.
Ishbosheth started running along the wall, keeping his hand on it to keep his balance, but the lion chased right behind him. Ishbosheth felt his foot slip beneath him and he fell to the ground. He turned around on the ground just as the lion jumped on top of him and, with balled, furry fists, began punching his face and chest.
Ishbosheth wriggled with all his might, flailing his arms and legs, until finally broke free from the lion's grip. From his position lying on his back on the ground, Ishbosheth raised one foot and planted it firmly into the lion's face.
The lion reeled backward and stumbled to his feet. When the lion had gotten to its full height, shaking from the blow to the head, Ishbosheth jumped on its back and began punching the back of the its skull. It reminded him of beating the brick wall, thick and hard. He punched with all his might until the lion fell to the ground and went limp.
Shaking with fear and adrenaline, Ishbosheth rose up, fists still clenched. The crowd was silent. Killian stood, took her hands off the railing and began clapping quietly. Soon the whole crowd was clapping. Ishbosheth even saw Torres slapping his monstrous hands together. Ishbosheth felt proud as he stood over the lion, its back slowly rising as it breathed in and out, unconscious.
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