Climbing over razor-sharp bronze-backed tiles, prising them loose to look for hidden runes, we crawled, four lions and one lioness across the sun-baked island.
Feeling no relief but gritting rust-scented pain as our shredded soles rake across salty coral shoals, we infiltrate the enemy university.
It is high noon, and a towering rival Senator carrying a golden tray shoulders through our puny group, mistaking us for lowly Plebeians.
Enraged by our apparent effrontery and lack of tact for not prostrating ourselves before the giant tiger, he grabs and hurls a nearby stone dais assuming that the great weight would crush us to dust.
However, we are no ordinary felines.
Our tiny stature is complemented by a boundless capacity for berserk rage and sounding a ferocious and deafening war cry we mercilessly slaughter the stupid bully, the sounds of wretched death attracting scores more foes.
In the distance lay four moored Greek triremes with names of "Valiant Death", "Bold Soldier", "Rusty Cutlass", and "Victory Scabs".
