Quick starter story

Um

Short war/fantasy story

I herd it.
The lashing of his body as it withered, trying to break free of its sheath.
The gurgling as he throttled, being chocked to death.
The final whistle as he was finaly declared, dead.
The crowed roaring as they pled for more bloodshed, more sacrifice to the gods, for entertainment.
The hard breathing of the man who had killed him.
The iron lines doors, as they swung open, creaking as they were parted.
The crack as the winner was thrown onto the floor of the cell, his jaw hitting the hard stone floor.
"You did good mate, I would hate to see you lose." A cubby man in a perplexing perple toga. He kicked the muddy, sore, Brocken warrior. His lips parted as he growled, showing pitch perfect white teeth. He looked around at me and kicked him once again. He looked back at the warrior, "You will get your prize soon enough." He took a step over him, letting his toga drip onto the winners face, then took a look at me.
"You next girl, go and show me why I call you Fear." He snarled and walked out of the iron gates, they clanked as he walked through.
"People of Athrine! Listen up and listen well. The next thing that comes out of there doors is called... Fear. She is a devil! One of my most talented subjects. Be warned betters." He spat out the last word. "So let me introduce... FEAR!" I stood before the lashes could get to me. Suddenly, from behind I heard the voice of the cubby man.
"Make a show." I growled and shook my head like a bull as I summoned all my energy. Make a show? I'll give you a HD act.
I closed my eyes as the wind picked up and the sky darkened. Thick clouds of mist and fog made its way to the floor of the fighting ground. Thunder boomed above my head as I roared, my shabby leather armour turning into black steel, a helmet with red iron horns curving towards my head. A roared, a dragons roar as I opened my eyes, in the middle of the storm of fear I had created. My eyes, blood red for the occasion, flocked the crowed and took in the scenery.
I was in the middle of a sort of colloseum, sandstone walls with arch-shaped holes around the outside, for three floors up. Some sort of glass ceiling was above, holding people from there escape.
To kill or to be killed, that was the question.
Around me I heard roars of frightened children, scared women, laughing men and the rest who were having fun, oblivious to the change of scenery around them. The man in the perple toga laughed at the reaction as I stood, mid air, in front of him. I looked around at each person with a look of pure evil. I hope I will get rewarded well.
"Ha! Now that's what I call an entrance!" He laughed again, evil. "Verses Fear is the werewolf him self, DRANGORII!" A muffled silence fell over the arena as a figure in a black cape lined with blood red, walked steely into the colloseum.
I feel like this is going to be tough. I though as he studied me, slowly falling back to the blood stained ground. He looked up, fully, now observing the crowd. Then roared.
Not a lion roar (mew) a scaring dragons roar, he looked back at me, smiling to one side. He twisted his head like a predictor waiting for the next goal in game.
He was in his 20s, mabey 24? Grey eyes, like a wolf. The top of his head, before it gets engrossed with the hood of the Cape, grey hair trickled down. This is not natural I thought, taking his figure in.
I let the scenery die down again, but kept the mist... He is able, so I will not play safe!