Writing Practice: Basic Fight Scene
#1 of Writing Practice
This is a basic fight scene I've written. Ripped from an RP forum I was a member of.
As you stand posed for battle, the soldiers turn, as one, turn to face you. Drawing their swords and readying shields, march charge toward you, eyes glowing a fierce black. Your claymore glows brightly, sensing the oncoming evil, filling you with strength. You charge forward, hurling your body into the line. You plunge your sword into the first, severing his spine. With a sweaping motion, you pull your massive weapon through him and gut the next. You sidestep the blow of another soldier, barely in time, feeling the wind of his sword wistling past your horns. The dodge puts him off balance and you grab him by the face, swinging him into his neighbor and breaking his neck in the process. The next soldier in line rushes toward you, the same black stare in his eyes. You kneel down and sweep your sword low, separating him from his legs. As he collapses to the ground, he reverts to his previous form, writhing in pain until, finally, he dies.
The Black Dragon stirs. "Yessss, feed me with their suffering. Slay them all and I will feast on their souls!"
"ENOUGH!" You yell, startling those around you that haven't run for cover. You bolt into the nearest alleyway, fearful of strengthening the Dark One. "The soldiers know not what they do" you tell yourself, "they are under the control of the evil ones." You summon the strength of the Silver Dragon, pushing the evil back, suppressing the black flames that rush to envelop your soul. You run from one alley to another, evading guards whenever possible, the wanning sun the only thing making this possible.
You stop for a minute to rest and survey the next street. You take a few deep breaths to slow the pounding in your ears in order to listen for oncoming troops. Hearing no advancing troops, only the sounds of a city slowly calming down for their night's sleep, you start to set out again. You hesitate, feeling that familiar energy from a building close by - the strangers you sensed earlier. You close in on the energy; it is coming from a local high-class restaurant. You remember eating here after your first major win in the arena ... great food ... good service ... bad customers; the kind of people that make lots of money, but only by stabbing someone else in the back. You get that sinking feeling again, like something bad is going to happen. You move around to the back entrance and wait to see who emerges ...