The Armoury

The armoury was dimly lit; the candlelight flickered in the razor sharp blades and breast plates. It seemed almost as if the room was full of people, the fiery eyes of the empty armour surveyed them in silence. They circled each other steadily, their footsteps were light and their movements interlinked. As one of them moved forward the other moved back, their feet positioned carefully, always on guard.

Alrighty. My little sister read this, and while I was reading over her shoulder, I remembered something I had wanted to tell you.

I'm going to get into a specific...

Mark, of course, already knew that he had to judge a fighter by the eyes, and for a moment there was something there. It was not to be called hatred but it may have been something along those lines.

He attacked again, with everything left in him. But his guard was down, and the other sword stopped half an inch away from his armoured chest. He wasn’t dead, but he would have been and for a fighter that was almost as bad. He turned and walked away, in every possible way defeated.

Mark watched, shook his head and went to the other side of the armoury feeling bewildered. How a boy of sixteen could last that long in a sword fight against a professional twice his age and then take it badly he did not know. There was no doubt that Guido Grieves was a remarkable boy and extremely talented, his reflexes were excellent, all he needed was a bit more control…

This is really cool, and I agree with the others, dont add any stunts, it could ruin the whole thing. Keep it simple.

PS Please review my story The Shadow Blight in the Fantasy Section...

Thanks! I'm so glad you thought that, don't worry about me I'm feeling loads better. I actually had to go to shool today because my mam and step dad wanted me out of the house as it's their anniversary. I'm starting editing right this second.

Then congradulations! That's the mark of a good writer. Well...fencing is less like that, it's more of a sport, no "stunts". Still very complicated. But your writing held resemblance to a bout between the more and less experienced.

I think choreographers that make those kinds of fight scenes are really cool--because they actually work with the actors to do it etc...and it's based on actual swordsmanship (plus that theatrical touch... ). Pretty neat stuff.

Anyway...

Oh, thanks. Yeah, I know what you mean now. I'm glad you thought that... No, I've never done anything like that, I was fascinated by the sword fight on the Pirates of the Caribean though...

It's the sport of...sparring? Swordfighting? What they were doing. I'm a (novice)fencer myself, and you portrayed it so well, I wondered if you were one.

I'm so sorry you're sick! You're very dedicated to come on here anyway. Get well soon!

What's fencing? Maybe it's because I'm blonde. Maybe it's because I'm English, but I don't know that it means... The next installment is driving me crazy, I don't want to put it up yet as it is too unbelievably bad . I basically have too much information that I've got to fit in somehow... I don't want to talk about it though. I'm ill. I keep hurling every five minutes, if anyone wanted to know that... I looked for an emoticon for being sick but I couldn't find one. *sighs* Oh well, these will have to do.

You don't happen to be a fencer, do you?

Wow! This is awesome. I've been fencing for a little while, and I can identify with this. It was very well-written, I thought. Ah...I wish you had named the two so that I could keep up. I wasn't sure at the end who had attacked last until he walked away in defeat.

I have no criticism for now. No stunts, please.

~Jacquie~

Ok, cool--can't wait to see the next installment; any plans to put it up here on the boards?

Wow, thanks for two really in depth reviews, great suggestons. This is a part of a much longer story, the whole point of it is to introduce the two characters. It's more to give the reader a glimpse of their personalities which I've tried to portray here... You're right that it's not to good when it's on its own, I'll edit this a little on what you bnoth have said. Thanks again.

I'm a real buff for fight scenes and weapons and armor--so when I saw this, I was really jazzed for a great time.

I feel slightly let down, to tell you the truth. It's a well written, cut and dry fight scene--nothing wrong with that. As part of the novel with many other scenes like it, it would be fine. However, as a stand alone piece, it's much too bland to keep my attention, as much as I tried to concentrate on it.

I think it was probably the lack of definition in what the two fighters were doing. All I got from this was "he attacked, then attacked a different way, then the other guy didnt do anything, then he attacked and attacked again, etc." You description of the younger fighter's exhaustion was great, however. Kudos. Maybe if you described more what the fighter's moves looked like rather than just what they were doing, the scene would have a bit more life to it...just my own opinion though, I love hardcore action sequences.

--Hunter

The armoury was dimly lit; the candlelight flickered in the razor sharp blades and breast plates. It seemed almost as if the room was full of people, the fiery eyes of the empty armour surveyed them in silence. They circled each other steadily, their footsteps were light and their movements interlinked. As one of them moved forward the other moved back, their feet positioned carefully, always on guard. The pace started to quicken and they were on the balls of their feet; making occasional jabs at each other with their weapons. They made a rhythmic pattering sound as they got faster and faster. They gripped their swords tightly and Mark felt the tension between them climax, then as if they had arranged it they slowed down, still circling.

A look of determination was set in the younger man’s face. A smile flickered on Mark’s lips. They both knew who would strike first, though the younger man tried hard to hide it. And now a new sound had begun. A sharp slicing as Mark’s sword cut through the air in a complicated pattern. As quick as lightning, the sword was in a thousand places at once. He slowed it down and the blade didn’t so much as quiver as he held it at his side, his muscles flexed, and his body tense. It was clear that Mark’s opponent wasn’t letting his skill bother him; Mark had taught him well.

The younger man knew that he had to judge an opponent by the eyes. A novice fighter with hate in his eyes was far worse than a professional who was merciful, the eyes of the man opposite showed nothing but concentration. He carefully chose his moment and brought back his sword. Stepping forward he swung it round; it struck another sword of course, as he knew it would. He tried to strike from a different angle this time. Still it was blocked; he tried again, and again, and again. His heart sank a little with every unsuccessful blow. He jumped back and they circled slowly again.

Mark pretended to be waiting for an opportunity to attack as he let his opponent catch his breath. His own blow was harder, although it wasn’t his hardest. The younger man’s sword moved back an inch or so on contact, the next three strikes were blocked poorly and he stepped back painfully. His sword was heavy, much heavier than it had felt when they had started; his armour had grown heavier too. His muscles and lungs screamed in protest but one look at the calm, relaxed, almost bored face of his opponent made his anger flare and it gave him a new short burst of strength.

Mark, of course, already knew that he had to judge a fighter by the eyes, and for a moment there was something there. It was not to be called hatred but it may have been something along those lines.

He attacked again, with everything left in him. But his guard was down, and the other sword stopped half an inch away from his armoured chest. He wasn’t dead, but he would have been and for a fighter that was almost as bad. He turned and walked away, in every possible way defeated. Mark watched, shook his head and went to the other side of the armoury feeling bewildered. How a boy of sixteen could last that long in a sword fight against a professional twice his age and then take it badly he did not know. There was no doubt that Guido Grieves was a remarkable boy and extremely talented, his reflexes were excellent, all he needed was a bit more control…