What makes a fight scene good?

[Hoshino]

Is it the emotions-nya? Is it the choreography? Is it the stakes? Is it the action? Or is it the... AURA.

 

[Eldoria]

All of the above are elements of combat, but you're forgetting one fundamental aspect: symbolism. Symbolism is the use of symbols or emblems to represent ideas, concepts, or meanings in fiction.

Combat isn't just a physical duel, but a clash of values, beliefs, philosophies, and ideologies. Combat isn't just about hitting, injuring, or killing; it's often about determining:

1. Whose true?
2. What values do the characters represent?
3. What are the characters fighting for through combat?

That's the symbolism of combat. Symbolism is crucial if you want your fight to be not only "cool" but also "memorable".

For example, the combat between Naruto vs Pain is not just a Konoha ninja against Akatsuki but a clash of ideologies between peace through pain (Pain - Nagato) against peace through connection and empathy (Naruto).

The result? This combat has been remembered for over a decade... a very memorable meme: "You know pain."

 

[DismaiNaim]

What makes a fight scene good is the same stuff that makes a sex scene good.

First and foremost, context. Foreplay. Build-up. Why are they fighting? What's at stake? A good fight scene is maybe 1000 words. A great fight scene is 20 chapters of why I'm bout to kill this mofo before you even get there.

Second, paint the scene. Sights. Sounds, smells. What's the weather? Who else is around?

Third, use the interplay to build the action. Action —> response —> response —> response. Give us the play-by-play. Imagine those radio hosts calling a boxing match in the days before TV. That. And don't be afraid to sprinkle in a little expository, either.

If you want an example on how to write a good fight scene, watch pro wrestling. (Yes, I said that). If you can watch a fight, knowing it's choreographed, and still be entertained, you know it has to be good. But pay closest attention to all the hype work, because that's where the real magic happens.

 

[Hoshino]

All of the above are elements of combat, but you're forgetting one fundamental aspect: symbolism.

Think of it as really bad examples-nya

 

[CharlesEBrown]

It varies. "Good" is subjective, so going for "memorable" is a better goal.
Technical elements can make it good or memorable - or get in the way.
Humor can make it great - or make it just a slapstick joke.
Tension is important - regardless of whether the tension is mortal fear or something more abstract or symbolic - but again, too much can be as bad as too little.
Balance is important, both between the forces involved and between the specific elements. But even that is no guarantee of it being "good" or even "memorable."

 

[JayMark]

Me.

I make a fight scene good.

 

[Hoshino]

Me.

I make a fight scene good.

Are you sure-nya?

 

[Worthy39]

Me.

I make a fight scene good.

Me too!

But in all seriousness, while the stakes are always important, I personally lean heavily on the choreography. If it's good enough, half the time people forget why your characters are even fighting because it's just a sick fight. Of course, while tension in a fight is always important, if you do too much "the hero is losing, but suddenly, due to plot armor they spot a weakness!" The readers get bored because they know the protagonist will never lose.

 

[Juia_Darkcrest]

Yeah... there has to be stakes, otherwise, you might as well just write it like this; *excerpts from my own works*

They made their way to the coast to check the marina, but were blocked by car wrecks and a horde of zombies roaming the streets. They barely managed to get turned around before the leading edge of the horde was on top of them. It was only because of Kohta's team of shooters on top of the Humvee that John's car was able to avoid being swarmed.

or


Only a few zombies were roaming around the station, which the group dispatched fairly quickly. John tasked Tsunoda to take a couple of people to clear the building, while he went over to Shizuka's Humvee and started to fill it up for her. Kohta and the two girls, now all armed with AR-10 style rifles, sat on top of the vehicle, providing them with overwatch.

Honestly, unless you plan on allowing your MC to struggle, get hurt, and nearly die, most fight scenes are boring. Here is one where I started to lose party members of my MC, nearly killing them. I am told it was quite well done, though there was a lot of buildup before the fight to make it more dramatic.

Spoiler: A Fight scene from DEN

Dungeon - Third Floor

"PUSH FORWARD!"

"TAKE OUT THAT MAGE!"

"ARGH! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!"

The shouts of the attackers echoed down the tunnel, arrows ricocheting off the rock wall or glancing off Terra's shield.

They spent the last hour and a bit making blocks with his Dig skill, and stacking them two deep on either side of the tunnel, narrowing the passage. John made the holes along the floor in a checkerboard pattern, making the footing near the gap treacherous for anyone trying to force their way through.

He had a few other plans in mind, but ran out of time, the arrival of the attackers forcing them to fall back behind the barrier. They sent Quackers to the rear incase any started circling around, but so far it appeared to be a full frontal assault.

"Firebolt!" John called, tossing a ball of fire through the gap. He dived back behind the wall before he could see the results, but the screaming of a man told him he landed his shot.

Iris stood back further, bow drawn. "Terra, shift!" She called, loosing her shot a moment later. Terra moved to the side, narrowly avoiding the glowing arrows as Iris activated a multi-shot ability, the shots flying into the mass of bodies on the other side of the wall. Terra moved back in place, thrusting her spear forward, stabbing another Merc.

They were spoiled for choice for targets to hit, which didn't bode well for the exhausted party. The fighting continued, but Evie had to stop, her mana reserves tapped out. Iris had to pick and choose her targets, her arrows quickly diminishing, even when using skills to augment them.

That left only Terra and Shallia guarding the gap, Terra's plate mail degrading in real time, the punishing blows she received starting to break her armour. Shallia was limited in what she could do, thrusting her staff in the gaps Terra created, but was unable to unleash any of her abilities due to the limited range she had behind the barricade.

John watched the two work in tandem from the other side of the barricade, healing them as required. He didn't dare waste anymore mana on Firebolts. He could see Terra was lagging, her movements growing slower as her exhaustion was setting in. He drew his sword then, ready to relieve Terra for a break. He thought he could hold for a few minutes... even a few moments so she could get a breath.

He looked over her shoulder at the press of bodies, nearly a dozen people remaining standing on that side of the wall. The injured and dead were either dragged back or pushed to the sides. The remaining people were trying to push her out of the gap, but the uneven footing was preventing them from gaining enough traction to do so effectively. It gave him an idea.

"Dig" He called out, aiming for the area above the center of their line. The heavy block dropped from ten feet up, landing on top of the man in front of Terra, crushing his skull and giving her a moment of respite.

"You good Terra?" He asked, ducking behind the wall again.

"Never better. Thanks- ARGH!" She screamed out, an axe connecting with the gap in her pauldron, shearing the shoulder armour off and biting into her neck.

"SHALLIA, FILL THE GAP!" He called out, grabbing onto Terra and dragging her back. "Iris, support her! I'll get her back up."

He leaned over the injured bearfolk, thrusting his hand on her injured shoulder "Middle Heal!" he called out. His magic enveloped her, closing her wound slowly. "I got you Terra, you will be okay."

"Quackers sic him!"

"Nya! You can't hit me."

"HISS."

The din of battle continued around him as he pushed his magic deeper into Terra, trying to heal her body. After a few moments, her hand grasped his causing him to pause. He looked at her eyes, the silver streaked greys boring into his. She grabbed his chest piece by the collar then, pulling him in for a kiss, a fast, hard kiss full of passion.

"Thank you John-Sama. Let me up, I need to protect you now." She said, standing up and hefting her shield with her left arm. She bashed her shield with her spear, activating her taunting ability. "I'M NOT DEAD YET! COME AT ME YOU COWARDS!" She shouted, charging back into the gap where the enemies were trying to push through.

John froze for a moment, then stood up as well. He shoved whatever just happened to the side and surveyed the battle.

Shallia had injuries now, openly bleeding on her arms, but they seemed superficial. Quackers had the neck of one of the attackers in its maw, injecting venom into the mans body, causing him to scream and release his weapon, with Iris stabbing him for good measure. Evie was passed out, mana exhaustion taking her out of the fight. Terra, despite her bravado, was taking damage again, her armour failing her in more spots, the number of wounds growing on her limbs, her breastplate the only thing remaining intact.

"Heal! Heal! Heal!" He kept casting his lighter, cheaper spell, conserving his mana incase he needed to use the stronger spell on a more devastating wound. "Dig" He dropped another brick, this time only giving the enemy a glancing blow.

He waded forward then, stabbing with his sword in his left hand overtop of Terra's head, the blade deflecting off the merc's helmet.

He kept stabbing, backing her up, but it was clear they were about to be overwhelmed, many of the attackers who were injured, rejoining the battle now that they had time to rest and treat their wounds.

Did he have to return to DEN now? He wouldn't be leaving them to their fate, but he could grow stronger in other worlds, then return, kicking ass.

He growled at that, for some reason it sounded distasteful to him. He would protect his new family to the best of his ability. He swore it.

"Dig" Another block, this time it hit, stopping the man in his tracks.

"AHHH-!" Terra screamed, taking a crossbow bolt in the gut.

"Shallia, Iris, cover us!" He said, thrusting one last time. No answer. He risked a glance to his side, and Iris was staunching a wound on Shallia's temple, the catfolk unconscious.

"NO!" He shouted. He grabbed Terras body with his right arm and yanked her back. He felt something start to pop, but he let go, letting her fall roughly to the ground. She would forgive him, but if his shoulder dislocated now, it was over.

"Fuck you!" He yelled, thrusting his sword into the gut of the man stepping through the gap. The mithril blade cutting through the leather easily, spilling his intestines across the floor. The next man was right behind him, and was about to catch John with his guard down when a wall of feathers got between them.

"ARGH! A Damn Cobragoose!"

"HISS"

The goose jumped forward, snapping at the mans limbs, causing him to step back. It gave John enough time to stand up, and toss a heal spell on Shallia.

"Dig" Nothing

Did 30 seconds not pass yet?

He spared Terra a glance but Quackers only had a leather pad on his torso, he wouldn't last long up front against these men. Not that John would either, but at least he had proper armour. "Hold on Terra." He said, moving up beside the goose again.

The din in the hallway was increasing, men were screaming and he had nothing to do with it. John looked out past the gap and in front of him were armoured knights, pushing down the tunnel, killing or knocking out the surviving mercenaries.

Amongst them he spied a pair of blue bunny ears.

 

[LeilaniOtter]

Not doing it the way Tolkien did it. ?

 

[DismaiNaim]

Oh, so we're posting our own work, then? Ok here's my fight scene:

We all crouched low in the darkness with bows out and arrows nocked, looking out.
All around us, thick vines and ferns filled the ground like a sea of green with islands of groves like the one we hid beneath as far as we could see—as much as forty yards in some angles.
Borel hid beneath a dense cluster of grass. He turned to look at Miyani, then looked around at the rest of our unit, only to look at Miyani again and swallow his breath.
She hunched low and lay her body over Blue's back, reaching her hand out towards us as she looked to our left. Makchuk wiggled his finger around the bowstring where his arrow waited to be drawn. Sweat dripped down our faces, and we all looked in that direction.
An enemy sekiwa raced through the vines between tree-islands and stopped twenty feet from us. I couldn't hear the whistles and chirps of the jungle over my thundering heartbeat.
The vita'o was a female, beige-green with a cute-ish look to her lizard face, and swished her tail left and right over the leaves behind her. The woman riding her was older, perhaps Ahmi's age, petite and muscular as they all were, same dark-green skin with white hair and yellow eyes. She had an arc of a scar like an old bite wound on her elbow and a white tattoo on her shoulder in the shape of a jaguar with its jaws open.
The cute-faced lizard raised her nose to the air and sniffed.
I felt like I was frozen in time. Every muscle in my body was tense. My fingers trembled around the nock where my arrow clung to its string.
The woman looked left and right, then urged her mount forward. They continued along their way and disappeared into the forest to our right.
Blue rose up, lifting Miyani high enough to look over each of us as she counted with her chin. In this darkness, my eyes had adjusted enough for me to see the silhouette of her gorgeous legs. He then croaked low and gave out a string of clicks. Miyani narrowed her eyes at me, pursed her lips, and shook her head. I had to look away in embarrassment.
She turned to our captain and pointed towards the direction the woman had come from, “first they come, then you shoot. OK?”
We all nodded. Borel did as well, “alright.”
With that, Miyani darted off and vanished into the woods.
I wiped the sweat from my brow and tried to settle my heart. This was real. This was happening.
Then, our captain belched out, “I don't like it. I think we should split up. Come, Jame, Jezi, Trey, Filau…”
Ales shot his hands up, “what the hell are you doing, man?”
Borel lurched at him, “I'm splitting us in two. Half of us stay here, half…”
Geraln scowled at him, “you're going to get us all killed!”
“HUSH!” The whisper-scream came from our right.
We all looked, and that sekiwa came back. The lizard stopped at the exact same spot as it had before, and the woman looked right at us. She leaned in and furrowed her brow, and an arrowhead punched through her skull and stuck out through the bridge of her nose.
As blood trickled down her face, the lizard reached her head up to look, then opened her jagged teeth and hissed hard. Not a second later, we pin-cushioned her. Poor thing had no fewer than eight arrows thrust into her at once. And those eupin bows, we got a good three-hundred-fifty yards with those things—imagine what that much power can do at close range.
They went down.
Miyani appeared from behind her and came up to investigate. She looked to our left once more, then gestured for us all to come out. “We need go. Now.”
We all stepped out and came up to her, close enough to get a good look at the lizard with numerous arrows in her body, including two in her skull and one that buried itself in the center of her chest all the way to the fletching. The mangled mess of the woman who rode her was forever trapped beneath, and Blue reached down to rip a snack from her side.
Miyani pointed off in the other direction. “We go. We go now!”
Borel crossed his arms and lifted his big chin to her. “Why?”
Geraln lifted his hands, “bloody hell, man!”
Ales shook his head in frustration, but Miyani lifted her hand to calm them. Then she looked around, “Jezi, translate for me please…”
As she spoke, my eyes accidentally found her hard tummy and followed the curve of her hips. God, she was gorgeous.
Blue tilted his eye at me. I grinned.
Jezi explained, “this was not part of the plan. Our cover is blown. We must hurry!”
Borel stood with his feet planted and arms crossed, looking around. “We came here to shoot these guys, we can still shoot them.”
Jezi relayed the message along with her response, “she says there are twenty of them.”
Faren furrowed his brow. “There's only thirteen of us!”
Borel looked at the dead sekiwa, then glanced around at the numerous tree islands that surrounded us. “No. If we run, they track us, and we lose the advantage.”
Jezi didn’t bother to translate before answering, “we still have our sekiwa, that’s our advantage.”
Borel was resolute. “We make our ambush here.”
Ales threw his hands up and nearly shouted, “you’re going to get us all killed, man!”
Gino grabbed my arm and spoke to her, “which way do we go?”
Borel looked at Jame. He still held his arms crossed and wouldn’t move, but I could see a trembling in his eyes. Jame looked down and took a deep breath. Borel bit his lips.
I had to think of something. I stepped up and asked Miyani, “how much time do we have? Uh, pozʊ… ŋewe…”
She nodded, “I come back,” and vanished between two giant palm shrubs.
Borel looked at me with his eyes wide and his jaw locked. I stepped up to him. “We have until she gets back. What's your plan?”
Borel looked around. He glanced at Jame, then back to me. One of the twins pointed out, “look how she shredded those leaves as she went through, there and there; she was making a trail for them to follow. They’re going to come straight through this way.”
Ales shook his head. “Yeah, then they’re going to stop and see this, and we’re dead.”
“Wait,” Gino offered up, looking at the carcass. “She’s our timer. Instead of wondering when's the right time to shoot, as soon as they see her, we all draw. Then, when they try to communicate with the others, we let ‘em have it.”
Rock stood in the trail, tilting his head to see the bodies lying amid the ferns. He pointed out two tree-islands at a right angle from where he stood. “Half there, half there. We make crossfire.”
He turned to Northstar, pointing at some dead branches nearby, “toma-to ayi sa gaw’me.”
Northstar grabbed a few dead palm leaves and tossed them over the body.
Malchuk scratched at the scar that cut across his nose. “Listen up. We’re up against five-to-three. Take them out of the fight. Shoot to kill. Hit him in the leg, he can still shoot back. Also, if we all shoot the same man, that won't work. We need a way to call targets that won't give us away.”
Geraln raised a hand to that. “Everyone pick the guy who most looks like you. If you're tall, take the tall one. If you're short…”
I nodded, “I’ve got the good-looking one. Let’s go.”
Faren shook his head, “no, the good-looking one is mine.”
Jame echoed, “you can relax, I'll take the good-looking one.”
Miyani and Blue raced back and stopped before us. “They come now.”
While everyone else scattered to our positions, Borel stepped up to her, articulating with his hands. “yʊpi keʃo'ibi-ʒi ʃa tizo-ði.”
She nodded and swallowed her breath. “OK.”
She began to turn, and I stepped close to her, rolling my arm in a circle towards the ground. “pʊ kedase ‘æki. ‘uŋi koðuʒi ʃa xewekʊse.”
She looked at me and smiled, “OK,” then darted off.
Borel turned to me and sneered, “let them escape?”
I shrugged. “If they run, they're out of the fight.”
He grinned, “good point!”
And we took our positions.
I found myself in the same tree island I’d been beneath before with Jame, one of the twins, Faren, Rock, and Jezi while Borel stayed with Ales, Northstar, Geraln, Malchuk, Gino, and the other one of the twins in the tree-island directly across from us.
We hunched down low and nocked arrows.
Miyani was right. Within a minute of us taking our positions, a line of warriors emerged single-file between tree islands following the exact trail their sekiwa had made for them, stepping carefully so as to not disturb any extra twigs or branches.
All of them were pure-blooded Na’uhui, with long white hair and dark-green skin wearing nothing but a loincloth and some straps. Half of them had that same jaguar tattoo as their sekiwa and half of them wore no ink, and they all carried their bows in one hand with an arrow nocked.
I had to pick out my target. I was tall and lean, fairly muscular I suppose, and so I sought that amid our enemy.
I found him.
Two of them were taller than the others, one wore the jaguar tattoo and the other did not. I figured that Borel, who wore the Falcon on his right shoulder, would pick the guy with the ink so I chose the one without.
He had an easy air about him. He turned briefly and said something to the man behind him, who gave off a light laugh in reply, then looked around smiling at the high trees that made the upper canopy.
The lead man stopped ten feet from their dead scout and jumped back.
I drew my bow. I struggled to control my breath.
The man behind the lead turned around and raised his hands to the others. My man looked up and stepped to the side a little.
I loosed.
A flurry of wood cutting through the air came at them from both sides all at once. My arrow rammed through my man's jaw and punched through the back of his neck.
He went down.
He went straight down and did not move.
A shout. A scream.
Na’uhui men scattered to the bushes. One of them drew and loosed an arrow somewhere.
More arrows came from our unit, but I couldn’t move. My fingers trembled.
A man crouched behind a small shrub and looked at the island across from us, tracing arrows coming out at him. Jame shot him in the back. He arched his whole body from the shock of it, and another arrow came from the island across to punch clean through his neck.
My man did not move.
At all.
Others twitched. One crawled along the forest floor with blood pouring out from his side where an arrow had buried the broadhead into his gut. The shaft banged against a fern as he tried to crawl past, and another arrow nailed his arm to his side and buried into his ribcage.
My man lay still in a patch of ferns growing out of some brown, broken palm branches, and didn’t so much as wiggle a toe. His chest didn’t lift up for any breath, either.
Two of them rushed at the island opposite us with knives fixed to the brackets in their bows. The one on the left caught two arrows in the chest, one for each lung while from our side Jezi put one in his spine below his shoulder blades. For the other, Borel jumped out and rushed at him, swinging his sword like it was a baton. He hacked at the man, who pulled back and swung his blade at him. Borel dodged that, and the man tried to thrust at him until an arrowhead stuck out from the center of his back with a red glob dangling down. Borel then shoved his sword into the man and forced him to the ground, then stepped on him to pull his blade free.
He looked at the carnage we’d caused.
My man still did not move.
There was one man lying prone amid the ferns with an arrow buried into his ribcage just beneath his arm. He heaved and coughed up blood onto the ground. Another one squirmed slowly; he had one arrow shaft in his gut and another in the center of his chest had pinned him to a lot behind him.
Borel turned around and grinned at us. “We got ‘em! Look!”
Jame fired an arrow off to my left—another man had crept among the vines. Now he screamed in agony and held his neck where the arrow had pierced him, while blood gushed out and poured down his arm.
While Borel jumped in shock, I took up my replacement medical kit and headed out to the man with the broadhead in his lung. He heaved hard and coughed up more blood, writhing in agony every time his body winced. He looked at his trembling fingers for a moment and tried to breathe, only to cough out more blood onto the bright-green leaves of a vine nearby.
I knelt next to him. “vʌ ɣaŋo. bomeŋɪsedu.”
Slowly, he turned his head upwards to put yellow eyes on me for a moment, only to heave once more in a fit of coughing. I opened the medical kit, and the arrow-puller was the first thing I saw, tucked away in its own pocket.
He shivered and he writhed, then winced hard, his muscles tense all over. Then he scrunched up and coughed, spraying more blood onto the ground.
I put my hand on his back to steady him. “ʃʊsi. kupade. ko’o ɣemaða toto. toto toto. toto toto toto.”
I wasn’t sure if that was the correct way to say that this was going to hurt a quadzillion, but Borel stepped up and shoved his sword into the man’s back.
The man stretched out his body and groaned. Borel pulled his sword from him and stabbed him a second time.
My eyes pleaded up at him. Had I the courage for words, I'd have said something.
“We don’t have time. We have to move. NOW.”
Miyani sat atop Blue, who had his head turned to one side to fix one blue-striped eye on me. A few of our men crowded around her, and she stared at me with deep worry on her face.

 

[Juia_Darkcrest]

Oh, so we're posting our own work, then? Ok here's my fight scene:

We all crouched low in the darkness with bows out and arrows nocked, looking out.
All around us, thick vines and ferns filled the ground like a sea of green with islands of groves like the one we hid beneath as far as we could see—as much as forty yards in some angles.
Borel hid beneath a dense cluster of grass. He turned to look at Miyani, then looked around at the rest of our unit, only to look at Miyani again and swallow his breath.
She hunched low and lay her body over Blue's back, reaching her hand out towards us as she looked to our left. Makchuk wiggled his finger around the bowstring where his arrow waited to be drawn. Sweat dripped down our faces, and we all looked in that direction.
An enemy sekiwa raced through the vines between tree-islands and stopped twenty feet from us. I couldn't hear the whistles and chirps of the jungle over my thundering heartbeat.
The vita'o was a female, beige-green with a cute-ish look to her lizard face, and swished her tail left and right over the leaves behind her. The woman riding her was older, perhaps Ahmi's age, petite and muscular as they all were, same dark-green skin with white hair and yellow eyes. She had an arc of a scar like an old bite wound on her elbow and a white tattoo on her shoulder in the shape of a jaguar with its jaws open.
The cute-faced lizard raised her nose to the air and sniffed.
I felt like I was frozen in time. Every muscle in my body was tense. My fingers trembled around the nock where my arrow clung to its string.
The woman looked left and right, then urged her mount forward. They continued along their way and disappeared into the forest to our right.
Blue rose up, lifting Miyani high enough to look over each of us as she counted with her chin. In this darkness, my eyes had adjusted enough for me to see the silhouette of her gorgeous legs. He then croaked low and gave out a string of clicks. Miyani narrowed her eyes at me, pursed her lips, and shook her head. I had to look away in embarrassment.
She turned to our captain and pointed towards the direction the woman had come from, “first they come, then you shoot. OK?”
We all nodded. Borel did as well, “alright.”
With that, Miyani darted off and vanished into the woods.
I wiped the sweat from my brow and tried to settle my heart. This was real. This was happening.
Then, our captain belched out, “I don't like it. I think we should split up. Come, Jame, Jezi, Trey, Filau…”
Ales shot his hands up, “what the hell are you doing, man?”
Borel lurched at him, “I'm splitting us in two. Half of us stay here, half…”
Geraln scowled at him, “you're going to get us all killed!”
“HUSH!” The whisper-scream came from our right.
We all looked, and that sekiwa came back. The lizard stopped at the exact same spot as it had before, and the woman looked right at us. She leaned in and furrowed her brow, and an arrowhead punched through her skull and stuck out through the bridge of her nose.
As blood trickled down her face, the lizard reached her head up to look, then opened her jagged teeth and hissed hard. Not a second later, we pin-cushioned her. Poor thing had no fewer than eight arrows thrust into her at once. And those eupin bows, we got a good three-hundred-fifty yards with those things—imagine what that much power can do at close range.
They went down.
Miyani appeared from behind her and came up to investigate. She looked to our left once more, then gestured for us all to come out. “We need go. Now.”
We all stepped out and came up to her, close enough to get a good look at the lizard with numerous arrows in her body, including two in her skull and one that buried itself in the center of her chest all the way to the fletching. The mangled mess of the woman who rode her was forever trapped beneath, and Blue reached down to rip a snack from her side.
Miyani pointed off in the other direction. “We go. We go now!”
Borel crossed his arms and lifted his big chin to her. “Why?”
Geraln lifted his hands, “bloody hell, man!”
Ales shook his head in frustration, but Miyani lifted her hand to calm them. Then she looked around, “Jezi, translate for me please…”
As she spoke, my eyes accidentally found her hard tummy and followed the curve of her hips. God, she was gorgeous.
Blue tilted his eye at me. I grinned.
Jezi explained, “this was not part of the plan. Our cover is blown. We must hurry!”
Borel stood with his feet planted and arms crossed, looking around. “We came here to shoot these guys, we can still shoot them.”
Jezi relayed the message along with her response, “she says there are twenty of them.”
Faren furrowed his brow. “There's only thirteen of us!”
Borel looked at the dead sekiwa, then glanced around at the numerous tree islands that surrounded us. “No. If we run, they track us, and we lose the advantage.”
Jezi didn’t bother to translate before answering, “we still have our sekiwa, that’s our advantage.”
Borel was resolute. “We make our ambush here.”
Ales threw his hands up and nearly shouted, “you’re going to get us all killed, man!”
Gino grabbed my arm and spoke to her, “which way do we go?”
Borel looked at Jame. He still held his arms crossed and wouldn’t move, but I could see a trembling in his eyes. Jame looked down and took a deep breath. Borel bit his lips.
I had to think of something. I stepped up and asked Miyani, “how much time do we have? Uh, pozʊ… ŋewe…”
She nodded, “I come back,” and vanished between two giant palm shrubs.
Borel looked at me with his eyes wide and his jaw locked. I stepped up to him. “We have until she gets back. What's your plan?”
Borel looked around. He glanced at Jame, then back to me. One of the twins pointed out, “look how she shredded those leaves as she went through, there and there; she was making a trail for them to follow. They’re going to come straight through this way.”
Ales shook his head. “Yeah, then they’re going to stop and see this, and we’re dead.”
“Wait,” Gino offered up, looking at the carcass. “She’s our timer. Instead of wondering when's the right time to shoot, as soon as they see her, we all draw. Then, when they try to communicate with the others, we let ‘em have it.”
Rock stood in the trail, tilting his head to see the bodies lying amid the ferns. He pointed out two tree-islands at a right angle from where he stood. “Half there, half there. We make crossfire.”
He turned to Northstar, pointing at some dead branches nearby, “toma-to ayi sa gaw’me.”
Northstar grabbed a few dead palm leaves and tossed them over the body.
Malchuk scratched at the scar that cut across his nose. “Listen up. We’re up against five-to-three. Take them out of the fight. Shoot to kill. Hit him in the leg, he can still shoot back. Also, if we all shoot the same man, that won't work. We need a way to call targets that won't give us away.”
Geraln raised a hand to that. “Everyone pick the guy who most looks like you. If you're tall, take the tall one. If you're short…”
I nodded, “I’ve got the good-looking one. Let’s go.”
Faren shook his head, “no, the good-looking one is mine.”
Jame echoed, “you can relax, I'll take the good-looking one.”
Miyani and Blue raced back and stopped before us. “They come now.”
While everyone else scattered to our positions, Borel stepped up to her, articulating with his hands. “yʊpi keʃo'ibi-ʒi ʃa tizo-ði.”
She nodded and swallowed her breath. “OK.”
She began to turn, and I stepped close to her, rolling my arm in a circle towards the ground. “pʊ kedase ‘æki. ‘uŋi koðuʒi ʃa xewekʊse.”
She looked at me and smiled, “OK,” then darted off.
Borel turned to me and sneered, “let them escape?”
I shrugged. “If they run, they're out of the fight.”
He grinned, “good point!”
And we took our positions.
I found myself in the same tree island I’d been beneath before with Jame, one of the twins, Faren, Rock, and Jezi while Borel stayed with Ales, Northstar, Geraln, Malchuk, Gino, and the other one of the twins in the tree-island directly across from us.
We hunched down low and nocked arrows.
Miyani was right. Within a minute of us taking our positions, a line of warriors emerged single-file between tree islands following the exact trail their sekiwa had made for them, stepping carefully so as to not disturb any extra twigs or branches.
All of them were pure-blooded Na’uhui, with long white hair and dark-green skin wearing nothing but a loincloth and some straps. Half of them had that same jaguar tattoo as their sekiwa and half of them wore no ink, and they all carried their bows in one hand with an arrow nocked.
I had to pick out my target. I was tall and lean, fairly muscular I suppose, and so I sought that amid our enemy.
I found him.
Two of them were taller than the others, one wore the jaguar tattoo and the other did not. I figured that Borel, who wore the Falcon on his right shoulder, would pick the guy with the ink so I chose the one without.
He had an easy air about him. He turned briefly and said something to the man behind him, who gave off a light laugh in reply, then looked around smiling at the high trees that made the upper canopy.
The lead man stopped ten feet from their dead scout and jumped back.
I drew my bow. I struggled to control my breath.
The man behind the lead turned around and raised his hands to the others. My man looked up and stepped to the side a little.
I loosed.
A flurry of wood cutting through the air came at them from both sides all at once. My arrow rammed through my man's jaw and punched through the back of his neck.
He went down.
He went straight down and did not move.
A shout. A scream.
Na’uhui men scattered to the bushes. One of them drew and loosed an arrow somewhere.
More arrows came from our unit, but I couldn’t move. My fingers trembled.
A man crouched behind a small shrub and looked at the island across from us, tracing arrows coming out at him. Jame shot him in the back. He arched his whole body from the shock of it, and another arrow came from the island across to punch clean through his neck.
My man did not move.
At all.
Others twitched. One crawled along the forest floor with blood pouring out from his side where an arrow had buried the broadhead into his gut. The shaft banged against a fern as he tried to crawl past, and another arrow nailed his arm to his side and buried into his ribcage.
My man lay still in a patch of ferns growing out of some brown, broken palm branches, and didn’t so much as wiggle a toe. His chest didn’t lift up for any breath, either.
Two of them rushed at the island opposite us with knives fixed to the brackets in their bows. The one on the left caught two arrows in the chest, one for each lung while from our side Jezi put one in his spine below his shoulder blades. For the other, Borel jumped out and rushed at him, swinging his sword like it was a baton. He hacked at the man, who pulled back and swung his blade at him. Borel dodged that, and the man tried to thrust at him until an arrowhead stuck out from the center of his back with a red glob dangling down. Borel then shoved his sword into the man and forced him to the ground, then stepped on him to pull his blade free.
He looked at the carnage we’d caused.
My man still did not move.
There was one man lying prone amid the ferns with an arrow buried into his ribcage just beneath his arm. He heaved and coughed up blood onto the ground. Another one squirmed slowly; he had one arrow shaft in his gut and another in the center of his chest had pinned him to a lot behind him.
Borel turned around and grinned at us. “We got ‘em! Look!”
Jame fired an arrow off to my left—another man had crept among the vines. Now he screamed in agony and held his neck where the arrow had pierced him, while blood gushed out and poured down his arm.
While Borel jumped in shock, I took up my replacement medical kit and headed out to the man with the broadhead in his lung. He heaved hard and coughed up more blood, writhing in agony every time his body winced. He looked at his trembling fingers for a moment and tried to breathe, only to cough out more blood onto the bright-green leaves of a vine nearby.
I knelt next to him. “vʌ ɣaŋo. bomeŋɪsedu.”
Slowly, he turned his head upwards to put yellow eyes on me for a moment, only to heave once more in a fit of coughing. I opened the medical kit, and the arrow-puller was the first thing I saw, tucked away in its own pocket.
He shivered and he writhed, then winced hard, his muscles tense all over. Then he scrunched up and coughed, spraying more blood onto the ground.
I put my hand on his back to steady him. “ʃʊsi. kupade. ko’o ɣemaða toto. toto toto. toto toto toto.”
I wasn’t sure if that was the correct way to say that this was going to hurt a quadzillion, but Borel stepped up and shoved his sword into the man’s back.
The man stretched out his body and groaned. Borel pulled his sword from him and stabbed him a second time.
My eyes pleaded up at him. Had I the courage for words, I'd have said something.
“We don’t have time. We have to move. NOW.”
Miyani sat atop Blue, who had his head turned to one side to fix one blue-striped eye on me. A few of our men crowded around her, and she stared at me with deep worry on her face.

ARGH!!! A WALL OF TEXT!

Serious question. Why are you not double-spacing your work?

Edit - NVM I went and did some sleuthing, it must be a copy/paste thing, your novel is double spaced =)

 

[LightHikari]

I like fight scenes that are over fast. If I already know the protagonist is gonna win, you might as well write a paragraph or two fight scene. Otherwise, I'll skip it. A fight scene with no meaning is like filler.

 

[Eldoria]

I like fight scenes that are over fast. If I already know the protagonist is gonna win, you might as well write a paragraph or two fight scene. Otherwise, I'll skip it. A fight scene with no meaning is like filler.

It might be more accurate to say that the protagonist can't die (if MC does, the story ends); however, the protagonist can lose, be injured, beaten, destroyed, or even maimed. This kind of human stake... makes the fight more unpredictable (except for the author, of course).

 

[JayMark]

I like fight scenes that are over fast. If I already know the protagonist is gonna win, you might as well write a paragraph or two fight scene. Otherwise, I'll skip it. A fight scene with no meaning is like filler.

My central character has lost everyone her fights so far and is suffering greatly for it.
Also I have a lot of characters, partially in order to make fight scenes unpredictable.

Edit: Also I designed the narrative so I could kill off the central character and still have a perfectly interesting story if I wanted to.

Edit 2: Because I'm a bull, I'm whimsical like that. I can do whatever I want.

 

[Naravelt]

I think all of it matters, and the unpredictability factor also matters. If the MC always wins in the same way, even the best things can turn bad

 

[Sylver]

All of the above are elements of combat, but you're forgetting one fundamental aspect: symbolism. Symbolism is the use of symbols or emblems to represent ideas, concepts, or meanings in fiction.

Combat isn't just a physical duel, but a clash of values, beliefs, philosophies, and ideologies. Combat isn't just about hitting, injuring, or killing; it's often about determining:

1. Whose true?
2. What values do the characters represent?
3. What are the characters fighting for through combat?

That's the symbolism of combat. Symbolism is crucial if you want your fight to be not only "cool" but also "memorable".

For example, the combat between Naruto vs Pain is not just a Konoha ninja against Akatsuki but a clash of ideologies between peace through pain (Pain - Nagato) against peace through connection and empathy (Naruto).

The result? This combat has been remembered for over a decade... a very memorable meme: "You know pain."

Personally I prefer the Pain vs Jiraiya battle x)

 

[Eldoria]

Personally I prefer the Pain vs Jiraiya battle x)

Jiraya sensei?

 

[MajorKerina]

If it has a purpose. Fight scenes are like any scene they have back-and-forth up and down it's characters with a certain point and objective in conflict with one another so the way they faced that conflict in battle should be translated through their actions in that fight. You can have cool sword slashing or whatever but the point is it needs to have an objective. For the characters for the story.

 

[DismaiNaim]

It might be more accurate to say that the protagonist can't die (if MC does, the story ends); however, the protagonist can lose, be injured, beaten, destroyed, or even maimed. This kind of human stake... makes the fight more unpredictable (except for the author, of course).

Why must it be this way? Why not just continue with a new MC?