An epic Gladiators false hope

The stone structure shook violently, the stomps of the crowds, their voices roaring as the red lakes once again flowed across the center of the arena. This was found fufilling, as the masses thrived off the raw nature of primitve behavior, a feast of the eyes one was heard saying once. After the blood was laid dry in the baking sun, the events unfolding in a creeping exhiliratting manner, the sound of chains clanging against their captive piping as the gate door lifted to completion, ten more gladiators of different cultures took to the middle grabbing whatever weaponry they could spare. It wasn't much longer before the sound of a roar resonated the arena, the crowd in an uproar as two tigers entered gracefully, their large paws immedietly clamping down on two of the slaves,

The crowd lost control as the sound of sharp bone began slicing through fragile human bodies, the almost lifeless men struggling to gather their strength for one more last stand The small group of four bloody souls frantically clenched their blades and axes, the calices tearing from their hands as the anxiety of sudden death crept ever nearer. The sounds of the beast's rumble tore through the hearts of the quivering gladiators situated defensively amongst one side of the arena. The stomps of the furred monstrosities stirred the dirt wildly as they charged the group, their golden fur matted with blood from more than fifty other unfortunates.

Blades were swung, paws were grazed, and the final say was found in the fatal touch of a axe that found it's target within the juglar of one of the tigers, a blade of another meeting it's target with a smooth slice that left nothing more than a fountain, its red faults opening with every moment, threads of skin ripping from the fur attached. The blood frenzied monstrosities fell dead, the four only surviving men taken back in spectacle of what just happened, their only thoughts filled with traumatic memories of near death encounters. The crowds began to boo from their heroic efforts, a quite opposite reaction than what they percieved they would act like, the men looking into the royal section of the stadium, their vision catching a thumb that was quickly turned downward. The men ran but to no avail, walls on all sides as the sounds of whizzing could be heard in the wind, piercing arrows tearing through their targets as the men dropped, their eyes telling a story of revenge before the blood finally enveloped the earth below.

The crowds began to scream for more, the chanting almost unbearibly loud, "Nero".