The slave who attacked me didn't have a chance. They'd paired me against a sick and weak person, no doubt thinking that I would be weak due to my age. The crowd cheered at my victory, after which I was thrown back into the pit.
(Fighting +10)
The life of a gladiator was pretty good. The audience loved my advanced age, finding me new and interesting compared to the other slave fighters. I learned that the people on this side called themselves the Vallorn. They were honest, hard-working people with no magic of their own.
The more matches I won, the better my living conditions. I was given good food and a nice bed to sleep in. I climbed the ranks and gained the respect of the other gladiators.
(Fighting +10)
My life as a gladiator was very simple: as long as I won my fights, I lived a very luxurious lifestyle. I remember the day I was scheduled to compete against the champion. The roar of the crowd was deafening, and I was quite pleased to see that nearly half of the audience was cheering for me to win.