a one minute commission I completed for a really nice guy on FA! Story as follows:

"My breath came heavy, and my armor felt as if it weighted thrice its normal amount.

They said I would be nervous.

All that separated me from my inaugural coliseum battle was the wrought iron bars. I could see the blood-stained torn battlefield from under my helm.

Sweat poured from my brow. Nervous. That, I was. No matter.

The crowd jeered as my name was called, a nobody Stallion representing a lowly house. i thought to myself, I'd defeat this so called Trojan Horse and claim the honor due to me!

The bars lowered, and i was thrust into the sunlight. I stood proud even as the crowd boo'd me. I was clearly not the favorite. No matter. My skill and honor will carry me to fame this day.

I laid eyes on my foe for the first time. Hardened, larger than me, a blond mane flowed from under his battle worn armors. I'd taken mares larger than him. He had a thick aura of arrogance around him; I joked to myself that if there were any more air in his head he'd float to the Gods above! He holds a beaten shield and a heavy mace.

Short range. No counter to mine.

This would be easy. Charge at the legs, strike as he falls.

The horn sounds.

I charge. I lower my pike and shield as my mentor taught me. Deflect. Parry. Thrust.

Three moves to my win. I run.

He doesn't move, just stares at me with a glint of a smile. A target that does not move will make a quick death.

I see him snap his fingers. Immediately I feel a sting in my leg. I look down to my left calf...is that a dart?

My breath came heavy, and my armor felt as if it weighted thrice its normal amount.

This time, it was not nervousness.

D-Damnit!

Did someone shoot me from the crowd?! Was this deceit arranged!?

My run slowed, but I was determined.

I will win this! This cheating COWARD knows nothing of my honor and wit!

I am within striking distance. My pike feels heavier than ever.

Deflect.

I jab to his leg to throw off balance, knowing he would counter with a mace blow to my brow. I was ready, and I lifted my shield. There was no strength in my once proud shield arm. I lose my grip, my shield is thrown.

The damn poison...!

Parry.

I roll away, I lift my pike to parry the incoming shield bash. The Trojan brushes it aside. He swings his mace downward, I roll forward. I throw a punch into his uncovered gut. I land the blow. I relish in his pain, yet he backhands me with his shield.

The sky is spinning now. I cannot hear the crowd.

Thrust.

I lie on my back, feigning unconsciousness. I will wait for him to advance, then end this nonsense with a pike to his chest.

He advances, i wait. He advances closer. I can see that smile wavering above me.

I strike.

I gash his shoulder--damnit! I cannot see to strike true!

The mace swings to my helmet.

I remember nothing after that moment. I remembered nothing for the next two weeks, until I woke up in the infirmary.

...

Bastard."

~An excerpt from the journal of an anonymous gladiator