Margaret Note Spelling
Small beautiful events are what life is all about.
I have here a 1,460+ word scene based around an impromptu sword-fighting demonstration, given by the two main characters, and I'd love some feedback on it from you guys, specifically for pacing of the action, clarity, feel, and combat realism. (Brief disclaimer, in case it isn't obvious from the scene--I have never fought for my own life before, and certainly not with a sword. I've seen some videos on realistic medieval sword-fighting, and I've spent hours at a time fighting my siblings and friends with polyethylene swords. But none of us had any more idea how to properly do it than the others--so I'm simply trying to work from my own imagination and avoid the obvious movie cliches here.)
I have a few things I'm looking for. Does the action flow smoothly? Can you catch the details of what happens--and if you can't, are you too confused to understand the main gist of it, or is it a clear enough progression of action that the details don't matter? I'm not writing it with the expectation that the average reader would be working through the play-by-play, but if you do try to follow it, does it make sense? It can be hard to deliver an action scene with any entertaining pacing, which is why I'm concerned about this now.
The setting, then. The two combatants are the commanders of two currently-cooperating armies, and they're staging a demonstration with wooden training swords for their audience of soldiers. The fight takes place within a ring of onlookers in an undefined, dirt-packed training field on a hillside, and their two lieutenants, Peter and Galen, are working crowd control. The two commanders have a slight history of dislike, although in front of their armies they work together. Neither of them actually want to injure each other. Their names are Robert and Nyssa (who is the perspective character).
Let's go.
Single-Combat
One shared look. Nyssa shut out the distraction of the crowd, and the world contracted to one twenty-five-foot circle and one cloakless man with a sword two sword-lengths away from her. She dropped into a light crouch and stood motionless, just waiting. Her sword was still. Every movement, every breath and shift and toss of wind about Robert became a thing to watch, an indication of where the next attack would come, where her next attack should strike. Where her target was going be in the next instant of battle.
Only the tiny part of the world they inhabited at this moment mattered.
Robert was pacing, his sword already in restless motion, in stark contrast to hers as he traced roving loops with the point and entirely ignored the noise and people around them in order to focus solely upon her. They had already agreed there would be no rituals, no salutes or gestures before they started--battle began when one of them chose to attack, which allowed for the unpredictability of combat. It could begin now, or after five minutes of feints, or in the middle of conversation, if one of them decided to start talking at some point. Which would have been an enticing option, actually, if it weren't for the fact that talking to Robert could be just as much of a single-combat as a swordfight half the time. They didn't need to make a battle of conversation now--not when they were actually fighting.
Robert stepped forward, blade swinging in a mock offense, an experimental probe into motion. Nyssa launched straight into the attack. Left, right--she twisted away, jumped back, closed in for the attack again and then reversed once more. Simply avoiding Robert's quick parry, she slipped in on his other side for a feint, and as he dodged the attack and responded she took his downswing on her angled blade, sending it skidding away. Amidst wild shouting from the onlookers, they both backed off, breathless and scowling grimly at each other.
First engagement, first flurry of blows, and both had played it relatively safe. This fight would go on until one of them scored a disabling blow--at this rate, it would last until sundown. Someone yelled a comment to this effect, and neither of them acknowledged it, although Nyssa grimaced fully at Robert. She intended to win this fight if it took her until sundown. Robert swung his sword in a small flourish opposite her, a grim, defiant little acknowledgement: so did he. Nyssa swiftly punished him for the unnecessary gesture with a ferocious attack on his nearest exposed side, forcing him to cut his flourish short and scoot to defend himself. It was a minor encounter, and ended with them both backing off again in short order; but it had washed over the temporary personal difference and now they were both focused again, facing each other with the tight and precise fury of battle.
At one point, she might have worried about being too emotionally involved in this fight for clear judgement.
But that was before she'd been through three separate wars.
Robert prowled sideways and attacked, pounding at her guards. Nyssa warded him off with tight defenses, went on the counter-offensive the moment she had an opening, then disengaged and backed off. He was shifting around her, forwards and backwards and sideways, always in motion, his sword weaving in a near-random pattern and his shifting gaze scanning for openings as she turned in place to match his orbit. The moving sword was a distraction and a deflection tactic nearly useless in pitched battle, but excellent for masking intentions in single-combat. It could even be slightly hypnotizing on occasion. The reverse tactic, of course, was simply to wait, poised, sword angled in a basic defense position, and remain as motionless and ready as possible, and that was what Nyssa had chosen to do. It was more difficult; the energy and adrenaline generated during battle ensured that standing still was the last thing anyone wanted to do, but it could also be subtle, confusing, and frankly vicious when one did finally explode into action. The attack could come from anywhere, and there could be a lethal amount of backed-up energy in play. Enough energy, actually, to make anyone careless...no doubt Robert, who knew that as well as she did, was already expecting her to overreach herself in the next attack.
So she made sure to. A swing just a little too powerful, a step just a little too far, and he took the bait, batting her attack away and reversing his swing to cut down at her while she was too close--but she was already pulling her attack back to parry his cut, kicking out at him before the blades even made contact. Shrieks and excited yells from the audience almost made it into the two combatants' private little world, the instant after Robert saw the ploy just in time to avoid the blow; he leaped backwards, Nyssa transitioned into a spring as he swung his sword back around for a waist-level attack, and now they were so close together they were beyond effective sword-blade range. Her weapon caught Robert's on the hilt as they closed to within arm's reach.
The shouting circle around them tightened, despite Peter and Galen's efforts.
The difference between arm's length swordfighting and close-up swordfighting was simply that most strikes were sure to land--but also deal less damage, and the rest of the fight would almost certainly descend into hacking until one of them managed a decisive blow. The safest thing to do, for both of them, was to disengage and wait for another chance if they could--but they had both been through enough pitched battles to know that this was, in fact, the real fight. Survival in battle was decided, mostly, by skill and power at hacking; and if they disengaged now, there would simply be more showy dancing around each other until one of them closed in again. Hacking was, ultimately, true sword-fighting.
And clearly they both wanted the other down more than they were worried about going down themselves.
Robert slid his sword down from her hilt, aiming at her legs. She leveled a downswing at his shoulder and neck. He lunged sideways to avoid it. She drove forward. In the resulting tangle, Robert's sword drove into her left leg and she trapped his swordhand between her side and her arm, wrenching it in sideways and hacking at his neck. He ducked and rolled into her before she could land a good blow, sending them both to the ground.
And that was where it got messy, as all good swordfights did. It was why you always carried daggers in battle. Nyssa jumped against his roll and ended up on top, driving her pommel into the back of his head with as much strength as she dared--which wasn't much--as Robert dragged her down and sideways by the leg, bowling into her with his entire bulk. Everyone was yelling. She rolled onto Robert's sword arm, pinning it between her weight and the ground. He grabbed on the hilt of her sword with his free hand and wrenched. Her legs were pinned, but not efficiently--before he could fully gain control of her sword, she wriggled her leg loose and kicked his shoulder, freeing herself and sending her tumbling backwards with the force of the blow. Off his sword. He yanked it free and brought it around to hack downwards at her chest. She caught the blow on her left arm as she rolled away.
Now was the really smart time to disengage--or at least embark on an aggressive policy of defense. She turned the roll into a crouch. Before she could do more than lift her sword Robert had thrown himself forward, refusing to end. Her defensive jab was knocked aside. In the next instant she was on her back again, twisting, slashed in the shoulder even as her sword came up and flicked him over the head. A bit hard.
Well, if they weren't both of them dead by now, they were at least reasonably disabled. Someone was yelling for them to pull off, let go, you're done, keep it safe, and without conference they both rolled away from each other. Nyssa clambered to her feet immediately--never stay down, get up, always get up or you die--and turned to face her enemy with her sword returned to a warding angle. He was up as well. They were done, although if either or both wanted to continue there was no way any of their soldiers could stop them. She grinned viciously at Robert, who raised his eyebrows--then, with a flick of her wrist, she tossed her sword away. His sword followed suit. They would have to determine a winner from what had already happened. End of fight.
I have a few things I'm looking for. Does the action flow smoothly? Can you catch the details of what happens--and if you can't, are you too confused to understand the main gist of it, or is it a clear enough progression of action that the details don't matter? I'm not writing it with the expectation that the average reader would be working through the play-by-play, but if you do try to follow it, does it make sense? It can be hard to deliver an action scene with any entertaining pacing, which is why I'm concerned about this now.
The setting, then. The two combatants are the commanders of two currently-cooperating armies, and they're staging a demonstration with wooden training swords for their audience of soldiers. The fight takes place within a ring of onlookers in an undefined, dirt-packed training field on a hillside, and their two lieutenants, Peter and Galen, are working crowd control. The two commanders have a slight history of dislike, although in front of their armies they work together. Neither of them actually want to injure each other. Their names are Robert and Nyssa (who is the perspective character).
Let's go.
Single-Combat
One shared look. Nyssa shut out the distraction of the crowd, and the world contracted to one twenty-five-foot circle and one cloakless man with a sword two sword-lengths away from her. She dropped into a light crouch and stood motionless, just waiting. Her sword was still. Every movement, every breath and shift and toss of wind about Robert became a thing to watch, an indication of where the next attack would come, where her next attack should strike. Where her target was going be in the next instant of battle.
Only the tiny part of the world they inhabited at this moment mattered.
Robert was pacing, his sword already in restless motion, in stark contrast to hers as he traced roving loops with the point and entirely ignored the noise and people around them in order to focus solely upon her. They had already agreed there would be no rituals, no salutes or gestures before they started--battle began when one of them chose to attack, which allowed for the unpredictability of combat. It could begin now, or after five minutes of feints, or in the middle of conversation, if one of them decided to start talking at some point. Which would have been an enticing option, actually, if it weren't for the fact that talking to Robert could be just as much of a single-combat as a swordfight half the time. They didn't need to make a battle of conversation now--not when they were actually fighting.
Robert stepped forward, blade swinging in a mock offense, an experimental probe into motion. Nyssa launched straight into the attack. Left, right--she twisted away, jumped back, closed in for the attack again and then reversed once more. Simply avoiding Robert's quick parry, she slipped in on his other side for a feint, and as he dodged the attack and responded she took his downswing on her angled blade, sending it skidding away. Amidst wild shouting from the onlookers, they both backed off, breathless and scowling grimly at each other.
First engagement, first flurry of blows, and both had played it relatively safe. This fight would go on until one of them scored a disabling blow--at this rate, it would last until sundown. Someone yelled a comment to this effect, and neither of them acknowledged it, although Nyssa grimaced fully at Robert. She intended to win this fight if it took her until sundown. Robert swung his sword in a small flourish opposite her, a grim, defiant little acknowledgement: so did he. Nyssa swiftly punished him for the unnecessary gesture with a ferocious attack on his nearest exposed side, forcing him to cut his flourish short and scoot to defend himself. It was a minor encounter, and ended with them both backing off again in short order; but it had washed over the temporary personal difference and now they were both focused again, facing each other with the tight and precise fury of battle.
At one point, she might have worried about being too emotionally involved in this fight for clear judgement.
But that was before she'd been through three separate wars.
Robert prowled sideways and attacked, pounding at her guards. Nyssa warded him off with tight defenses, went on the counter-offensive the moment she had an opening, then disengaged and backed off. He was shifting around her, forwards and backwards and sideways, always in motion, his sword weaving in a near-random pattern and his shifting gaze scanning for openings as she turned in place to match his orbit. The moving sword was a distraction and a deflection tactic nearly useless in pitched battle, but excellent for masking intentions in single-combat. It could even be slightly hypnotizing on occasion. The reverse tactic, of course, was simply to wait, poised, sword angled in a basic defense position, and remain as motionless and ready as possible, and that was what Nyssa had chosen to do. It was more difficult; the energy and adrenaline generated during battle ensured that standing still was the last thing anyone wanted to do, but it could also be subtle, confusing, and frankly vicious when one did finally explode into action. The attack could come from anywhere, and there could be a lethal amount of backed-up energy in play. Enough energy, actually, to make anyone careless...no doubt Robert, who knew that as well as she did, was already expecting her to overreach herself in the next attack.
So she made sure to. A swing just a little too powerful, a step just a little too far, and he took the bait, batting her attack away and reversing his swing to cut down at her while she was too close--but she was already pulling her attack back to parry his cut, kicking out at him before the blades even made contact. Shrieks and excited yells from the audience almost made it into the two combatants' private little world, the instant after Robert saw the ploy just in time to avoid the blow; he leaped backwards, Nyssa transitioned into a spring as he swung his sword back around for a waist-level attack, and now they were so close together they were beyond effective sword-blade range. Her weapon caught Robert's on the hilt as they closed to within arm's reach.
The shouting circle around them tightened, despite Peter and Galen's efforts.
The difference between arm's length swordfighting and close-up swordfighting was simply that most strikes were sure to land--but also deal less damage, and the rest of the fight would almost certainly descend into hacking until one of them managed a decisive blow. The safest thing to do, for both of them, was to disengage and wait for another chance if they could--but they had both been through enough pitched battles to know that this was, in fact, the real fight. Survival in battle was decided, mostly, by skill and power at hacking; and if they disengaged now, there would simply be more showy dancing around each other until one of them closed in again. Hacking was, ultimately, true sword-fighting.
And clearly they both wanted the other down more than they were worried about going down themselves.
Robert slid his sword down from her hilt, aiming at her legs. She leveled a downswing at his shoulder and neck. He lunged sideways to avoid it. She drove forward. In the resulting tangle, Robert's sword drove into her left leg and she trapped his swordhand between her side and her arm, wrenching it in sideways and hacking at his neck. He ducked and rolled into her before she could land a good blow, sending them both to the ground.
And that was where it got messy, as all good swordfights did. It was why you always carried daggers in battle. Nyssa jumped against his roll and ended up on top, driving her pommel into the back of his head with as much strength as she dared--which wasn't much--as Robert dragged her down and sideways by the leg, bowling into her with his entire bulk. Everyone was yelling. She rolled onto Robert's sword arm, pinning it between her weight and the ground. He grabbed on the hilt of her sword with his free hand and wrenched. Her legs were pinned, but not efficiently--before he could fully gain control of her sword, she wriggled her leg loose and kicked his shoulder, freeing herself and sending her tumbling backwards with the force of the blow. Off his sword. He yanked it free and brought it around to hack downwards at her chest. She caught the blow on her left arm as she rolled away.
Now was the really smart time to disengage--or at least embark on an aggressive policy of defense. She turned the roll into a crouch. Before she could do more than lift her sword Robert had thrown himself forward, refusing to end. Her defensive jab was knocked aside. In the next instant she was on her back again, twisting, slashed in the shoulder even as her sword came up and flicked him over the head. A bit hard.
Well, if they weren't both of them dead by now, they were at least reasonably disabled. Someone was yelling for them to pull off, let go, you're done, keep it safe, and without conference they both rolled away from each other. Nyssa clambered to her feet immediately--never stay down, get up, always get up or you die--and turned to face her enemy with her sword returned to a warding angle. He was up as well. They were done, although if either or both wanted to continue there was no way any of their soldiers could stop them. She grinned viciously at Robert, who raised his eyebrows--then, with a flick of her wrist, she tossed her sword away. His sword followed suit. They would have to determine a winner from what had already happened. End of fight.
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