Fight Scene Anthology

practicing writing fight scenes. *places jar marked "CRITIQUES" on desk in front of me* *nudges jar forward*

SURRENDER.

Terry felt the rapier-point against his throat like he would a sewing-needle in his thumb.

His arms were at his sides, weak with fear. The sound of a rapier dropping on concrete rang between Terry's own shallow breaths.

A few seconds later, Terry did the same as his sword had done.

***

CLAWFANG.

The clashing swords sounded like bells chiming. People screamed as they were ripped open, fabric tore and soaked up blood. It was the world's most gruesome tie-dye workshop, and the man heading it was a hulking behemoth who liked riding Harleys and holding kittens. He was six-foot-two and called himself Clawfang.

Anyone who asked or criticized found themselves in a jousting tournament without a lance, armor, or, in this case, motorcycle.

Clawfang looked around at the destruction his cohorts had caused at his behest. His belly shook like a bowlful of jelly, though a far sight more grim than any Santa Claus.

A wounded civilian, whimpering almost inaudibly, underneath a pile of trash, clinging to what appeared to be a pommel. Clawfang raised his weapon, a vorpal blade used like a battleaxe, still howling in laughter. Spittle flecked the man's beard, his tongue wagged.

A thin blade appeared in front of the civilian's face, but it was no match for the khopesh, which continued on as if nothing had crossed its path. The civilian's arm broke as their blade was deflected, but the latest victim of Clawfang's raid never felt it.

**

DAGORHIR.

"HEED!" the herald called across the field. The battle for Sybil's hand was beginning.

"TO ARMS!" the herald called. The fighters, Quinn and Cedric, faced each other, bowed as was custom.

It was, to the casual observer, an unfair fight. Cedric used a morningstar, and had flowing golden locks that fell a yard to his waist. Quinn, on the other hand, was an archer, and stood at Cedric's waist.

The battle began with Quinn nocking an arrow and firing it in less than a second.

A moment later, it met the blunt spikes of a morningstar flying through the air.

The flail narrowly missed the archer's face, in part owing to Quinn's quick wit. A small barrage of arrows whizzed past Cedric, one stopping halfway in his ear. He screamed.

Cedric bolted across the field to his morningstar. Arrows clanged off the back of his chainmail; he thanked the Lord for dwarven blacksmiths.

He rushed Quinn, took an arrow to his dominant arm and dropped his flail. The archer had used his quiver up, though, and ran to one stuck in the ground.

A shadow came up behind Quinn.

Quinn nocked his arrow, but the morningstar shattered his bow, clumsily swung as it was.

Out of options, Quinn tried to simply stab the other warrior's eye, but was halted by another swing of the flail.

Sybil was quite a lovely woman, especially in her wedding gown.

Author's Note

I know the plots suck. I'm more worried about the flow of each scene (for Dagorhir, I know, the ending is really disjunct...sorry).

I guess what I'm saying is...does the fighting actually sound believable/interesting?