Well, for starters, I probably piss my loincloth in terror at the magic around me. I fall into a gibbering mass seeking the favor of whatever my city’s patron god is, that he/she will protect me from the sorcerers around me who conjure lights, images and sounds from their magic tablets. I then run screaming as they surround me and speak incantations at me in their arcane language and try to take a hold of me to do unspeakable things to me. Finally, I either succumb to one of the great, colorful beasts which zip by, hunting on great black stretches of black rock. Or, if I am lucky, I find a knife and kill myself before the sorcerers can devour my soul.