Stu v.s NaNoWriMo Day 6: Fight Scene

Well after a few days of no writing I am seriously lagging behind. This evening I was back with a vegence having written my first fight scene since my second year of uni. Back then I reinacted the battle Peter Jackson styly to check I wasn't doing anything impossible. I fully intended to do the same with this one but as it happened there was no need due to lack of moves. Yes it was a short one yet no less important and fleshed out with a spell, some description and even more inner monologging(?)

Here we go, enjoy and as always comments and critiscisms are most welcome

Shaken out his trance by his sons, the three made their way over the rubble and bodies. The edge of this brick is scorched and blistered. No catapult could have done this. I must get answers. I must find the king. Their progress down the stairwell was slow due to Nathal’s injury. As they descended; fighting could be heard on each floor, yet they found no conflict of their own, only corpses. I only see Etheran corpses and this strange green substance. Is it blood? Has the enemy suffered any loses and if so where are the bodies? I cannot stand all this confusion.

“Irmane, Nathal! In here no-” He was cut short as he opened a side door on the first floor. There confronting them was some huge armoured monstrosity.

The newcomer was fast, swinging his blade, slicing horizontally in an attempt to behead the elf. However Traemidan was quicker. Keeping his weight on his left side, he dived back towards the staircase, rolling and twisting together, coming up on one knee facing his attacker. However with no weapon he was defenceless. That thing’s huge! The monster emerged from the sunless corridor, stopping briefly to retrieve it’s sword that had become embedded in the beech door. Standing at over eight feet it dwarfed the three Etherans, its head and chest hidden by some strange amour, studded with what looked like blue emerald crystals. Its skin was a semi-translucent blue-green colour. Traemidan could see dark veins pulsating underneath.  

Seeing his father weapon less, Irmane let go of his brother and leapt forward, bringing his sword up to meet the creatures deadly thrust as his father backed away. The creature’s sword was made from a single piece of corral. Not a single join could be seen. As the blades met the air seemed to shimmer as if giving off some mystical energy. The force of the blow brought Irmane painfully to his knees and the blade fell from his grip. All he could do was clutch his injured arm as the creature prepared to strike again. Traemidan watched their eyes meet, knowing that without a weapon, he could do nothing. He tried to shout. Nathal! Help your brother... Irmane to me... Not a sound came out. Nathal, weapon forgotten, began to mutter something under his breath.

Fear gripped both father and son, paralysing them as the creature stabbed downward towards Irmane. No. The corral blade connected between the neck and collar bone, biting through mail, flesh and bone. All Irmane could manage was a sharp gargling noise as blood bubbled up through his mouth as he slumped to the floor. Relentlessly the beast unsheathed his sword from the half-elf’s body and turned on Traemidan. A second later the stairwell was flooded with a bright light and intense heat causing Traemidan to shield his eyes. Confused he saw the charred remains of the monster crumble to the floor. In an instant the dim conditions returned but the heat somewhat remained. He blinked successively, trying to bring moisture to his stinging eyes. It actually hurts to breathe.

As he stood he noticed Nathal, standing quite breathless where Irmane had left him. His right arm was outstretched with something small glowing in his balled up hand. Did my son do that? How? What manner of sorcery was that and what of Irmane? He rushed forward to Irmane, crouching down he scooped his body in his arms, cradling him to his chest. He was limp and cold. That look of fear still etched across his young face. At that moment his resolve vanished; he began to whimper and tears began to pool on the stone floor beneath him. It should have been me. He was just trying to protect me but it should have been the other way around. No longer will I hear his voice, see him test his skill in the yard, get to see the man he would become.

“Father?” A familiar voice. Distant.

“Father!” There it is again, but my son lies before me. Dead.

“Father! We must go, there will be many more after that and I am unsure I have the strength for a repeat performance.” Nathal was standing over his father, trying desperately to pull him up. Slowly Traemidan rose; not wanting to take his eyes off the body of his son, now lying in a pool of crimson. I will return and retrieve you my son. You shall find peace amongst the trees as your ancestors did. He turned away, glancing briefly at the creature’s charred remains before bringing his foot down on its skull, reducing it to ash.  I have never seen fire do this bone. Did the same thing happen to the walls of Nethergal?

Oh and an updated word count now has me at 1,691. Woohoo, just 49,309 words to go in just 24 days.