Daisho Con

It's about Zombies(moaners)
The desert sun beat down on the sand pit that would soon serve as a slaughter ground. Stick squinted his eyes to shelter them from the blaring sunlight. Deafening roars, jeers, and cheers rolled across the crowded coliseum, signaling the expectations of the crowd. They anticipated a slaughter. Stick’s hands and knees shook from the nerves. A familiar noise rose above the crowds cries, the haunting moans of the undead rose from a cluster of at least thirty moaners as they were raised from their pit in the center of the coliseum. The fetid mob contained a single undead bear, two large cats, a pack of massive dogs, and a large number of former pit fighters in various states of decay.
With the accompaniment of a massive roar from the crowd Kesheon’s Heroes stepped into the pit. The largest warrior nonchalantly held a massive hammer over his gaudily armored shoulder. A short thin man was sitting on the ground sharpening the blade of his sword. Boulder stood off to the side of the group holding stringing a massive bow and arrow. A pair of wickedly curved knives hung from his belt as well. A bald woman wearing heavy armor held a scythe as she conversed with a similarly armored man holding a spear with a spike on the butt end.
Stick was in a group of ten ill equipped fodder slaves. Their purpose, as they had been told before going into the pit, was to distract enough of the moaners so that the heroes wouldn’t get swarmed. In thanks the heroes would end their slavery by ending their lives. A wry smile crept across Stick’s face at the thought of death being repayment. He wondered if the audience thought about that, but guessed they didn’t.
The moaners split up, shambling towards whichever cluster of fresh meat was closer. Kesheon’s heroes casually placed themselves as Boulder launched arrows at the moaners. The arrows didn’t do much against the undead swarm, neither the spine nor the brain are easy arrow targets. Stick’s teammates immediately began to run away from the swarm of moaners. Stick stood his ground as best he could, against the approaching mass of putrescence, but he realized that getting surrounded by the undead wasn’t a good idea. Instead of running he circled around the cannibalistic mob avoiding the more dangerous predatory cats. Three moaners, two humans and a dog, broke off of the main swarm to pursue him. When he was surrounded by enough open sand he stood his ground. The first moaners approach was met with a swift arcing slash at its leg. The weakened bone snapped from the impact, causing the moaner to tumble to the ground. Stick backed off, knowing the thing would continue to approach as long as it could squirm. He brought his staff close, and sent a barrage of swift blows at the canine moaner. Eventually it snapped at Stick’s staff. As it bit down he wrenched the staff out of the beasts maw, tearing off it’s mandible. A roar went up from the crowd as One of the mercenaries across the field, the man with the hammer, crushed the skull of one of the feline moaners. Stick knelt down and slammed the end of his stuff up through the canines soft palette and into its brain, permanently killing it. The last uninjured moaner approached Stick.
Somewhere up in the stands a man shouted, “Hey look at the kid with the stick. He’s taking out as many as the Heroes.” Several people turned to watch as Stick expertly snapped the grounded moaners spine with a full strength staff slam. He dispatched the third moaner with equal ease.
When Stick looked over at his teammates they were still fleeing the slowly advancing swarm of undead. The mercenaries were having trouble dealing with the Ursine moaner. The man with the spear went down, the bears powerful mouth around his skull, crushing it like a melon. Boulder drew his knives and approached. Stick ran to his friends aid. The woman with the scythe stepped in his way, swinging her scythe straight at his neck. A primal reflex caused him to duck at the last second, drawing scattered oohs and applause from the crowd. He spun his staff, attempting to make her back off. Instead she blocked his staff and sent it flying. Her next swing was at Stick’s legs, he dove backwards, narrowly avoiding her attack. His hand closed on something round as he rolled to his feet. He swung at his feminine opponent, attempting to make her back off. Instead he slashed the blade of his newly acquired spear through her throat.
Stick stared in awe and horror at what he had done, until the low moan of the bear behind him caught his attention. He whipped around to see the bear send Boulder flying against the coliseum wall with a gut wrenching crunch. The crowd was roaring. Stick looked around. The sword-master was engaged in a furious duel with a trio of canines, while the hammer-wielder was turning a clump of humans into pulp. They seemed oblivious to their companions current predicament. Stick stepped up and poke his spear at the bear. It swung at the spear and charged. He realized the bear must have recently died, it maintained most of its natural flexibility and speed. Stick slowly retreated a few steps and feinted at the bears left side, but when the bear swatted at his spear he spun off to the side and slashed one of the bear’s rear tendons. The bear collapsed momentarily, giving Stick just the opportunity he needed to stab his spear through his opponent’s eye, removing it from undeath. Stick charged towards the other mass of moaners in an attempt to help his cowardly compatriots.

pretty good start Aminar. But like any writing there are a lot of kinks you need to work out. The part where the crowd member yells out is too obvious and a little corny.