In five sentences or less (no less than three), write the quickest, most vicious fight scene you can think of. And...go!
The man said nothing because he was straining to pin me down, clenching his teeth tightly, neck straining, staring down with blue eyes filled with madness. I felt the metal blade.on my stomach and cried out in pain; there was a sensation of being stretched like I was human latex, a feeling so powerfully disembodying and alien my mind separated from the self, and I watched it happen as if it was nothing more than a television show.
"Huh," I said to nobody in particular. "I think I'm going to die."
>>7702818
That's more of a murder scene than a fight scene.
The woman who carried a volatile carnation within her midriff was taken hold by a knife. and with a swift gale of expertise, her very essence drained. She fell to the ground to be reabsorbed into her mother's womb, only for the fading images of utopia to erupt. The faces of each encounter began eating away at the dreadful walls and exposed the bones of which she stood. Her husk broken over the knee of death and cast towards the ever so frail eclipse of morning. He had crashed the plane, with no survivors.
A man died.
A man died.
A man died.
A man died.
The man left.
>>7702798
One, two, hop -- his bloodied mouth ran wild with laughter. Three, four, skip -- a tumble to the ground. Five, six, black -- pulpy eyes squeezed dry. Seven, eight, dead.
>>7702838
i really cant figure out whats going here
>>7702853
Pregnant woman gets her throat slit. The people around her start dying and all look into each other's eye's as they die. Reference to the Earth being a womb and a grave. Bane
>>7702866
>Come up with that yourself?
Well, yeah, isn't that the point?
It's not like the movies with loud cracking fists and yelling. This wasn't like anything the fighters had hoped for, and nothing like the audience would stay around for. Their little balled up hands made awful patting noises as their jaws and their ribs were jolted and bludgeoned again and again, and it was not glamorous and there was no winning and glory and no not even glory in the void it left in place of hope. The two didn't stop though. They were both gone, their bodies were now communal machines and they wouldn't stop until they were broken. Those machines spilled their sick red oil in ropes across the ground and it made little pits and plips as it dribbled off the collars of their shirts. Their heads were hit until they could not see and their hands hit until they could not close. No, there was no yelling. Just sad and hurting slobbers and spits and whines. Their mouths were all spit up and turgid like ripe fruit and their eyes were covered by their purple bleeding shells. They thrust and kneed and bit until the first one passed out and the sound the head made when it hit the ground was enough to know this one would never get back up, and even so the other continued to maul and gore it until it too passed out, lunging forward and laying still with its stomach atop the head of the other. There was no audience to help or clean or call. There were no fighters either.
Aw fuck I forgot about the sentence limit
Okay hold on
So the universe punishes you, uncaring , oblivious to your suffering. You rant and rail and scream at the heavens, you're mind is a riot of violent fantasies, you think up imaginary fights and brutality. Nothing changes, you die, th universe kicks your white ass.
Gary Totchers grabbed Wiggim's by the scruff of his snarled scrotum, and gave a sudden and deft twist. Wiggims screamed out in agony as the twisting mounted in strength, and with a mighty tug, old Gary has completely ripped the outer flesh of Wiggim's ballsack completely off. With a satisfied smile on his face, he lifted up the testicle-leather, covered in untamed red-orange curly hairs and wet with blood, and dropped into down into his open mouth like it was a grape. Wiggim watched in horror as Gary gave a sly smile while chewing, and told him "Ya dirty fuckscunt, I told ye I was hungreh and now yous made me whet my appetit".
>>7702880
>Their mouths were all spit up and turgid like ripe fruit and their eyes were covered by their purple bleeding shells.
ugh fuck you successfully repulsed me
For that I have to say well done
>>7702798
That pre-programmed urge for sex had squashed his survival instinct until the deed was done and the widow had turned on him like so many known before. Legs lacquered with gold severed her head while her legs thrashed with no rhythm. They pierced her body as the movement slowed and curled into sleep. He would mate again.
>>7702887
>you're
for real man?
>>7702798
HuuuaaaaaaaaaaAarrrrkkkk!!!, Chroooooooooottt! Chrrrroootttt! AaaaaAaaAaaaAaaaaaAaaaAaaaAaa.......
>a thread for edgy writing
oh /lit/, what have you become
Wham! Boombalata! the taste of rust.
>>7702798
Take away from me this chalice, caged in eternity.
No glory is worth that much, let me go.
We sealed a pact with blood, the night blackened.
The sinister Sabbat brought us together.
STOP!
FUCK OFF
Be merciful
I do not know what it is
I beg
You bore me
Let me die
You are already dead
I rebel against you
Naive!
As you did
I'm a renegade
I will face you
Do it!
I do not accept your..
Try it!
Your will
You will succumb
I will deny you
In the depths
I do not kneel
You are at my mercy
I will not yield
...A toy for my
I shall find how to defeat you
Get out of my sight!
I curse you
Heaven fall upon you
Burn in your hell, I spit at your deity
Dwight Jensen, a cabinetmaker and expert marksman, was viciously tackled to the ground by an enemy combatant. He was engaged to the daughter of the mayor of Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan, an American-Canadian border town where he had been born and raised. He joined the war as an act of patriotism, seeking valor, and almost certainly underestimating the inherent danger of this vocation. After a brief struggle he was disarmed, his own nine-inch blade stabbed under his chin, tearing the flesh that compartmentalized his skull. The shock of death gripped him consciously for a moment, freezing his eyes open and wide while his limbs stiffened and then went limp.
A palm-strike to the temple knocked her off balance, before being tugged back sharply; the figure grasping her hair and swinging down a forearm onto her lower jaw. She moaned in pain but quickly let out a powerful roar, roundhousing and jabbing and elbowing wildly; her leg was caught and the next thing she heard was the smack of her skull landing on solid concrete. A downward stomp followed, connecting with the side of her jaw, dislocating it entirely, and leaving it yawning. Distorted shrieks filled the area, and in a last ditch effort, she went for the small knife she carried inbetween her legs, unsheathing it and managed to stab the shoe of her assailant. The dark figure reached down and pryed the knife from her hand, snapping both index and middle fingers; she looked up in dismay as her killer brought up the knife and drilled it deep past her eye socket and into her pink brain.
One valentine's day your parents were drunk and horny and fucked without making sure the condom was secured. Tears and motivational quotes and 9 months later, you were born, thrust out of comfortable nonexistence to suffer in your flesh prison. The gods rest in their own comfortable void, indiffferent to your cries. So you fight against the absurdity and suffering and toil, not quite sure what exactly you're fighting or why you even bother. No one wins in this fight, but you certainly lost.
>>7702848
I laughed out loud at this one, but I think I would give it an honorable mention if I was a contest judge.
>>7702848 makes me want to watch Oldboy.
Two men walk into a bar, the fight ensues.
One man bites the others face off while the other stabs him in the gut.
His guts spill out and the faceless man begins strangling his enemy with his own intestines.
The intestineless man begins to gouge out his enemies eyes.
They both die slowely of blood loss, the fight slowing more and more as they slowely die in eachothers arms.
>>7702848
Fuck, man. This is some hardcore shit.
>Have some sort of "cold-blooded killer" character
>Maybe establish him as an assassin, or a mercenary, or a biker or something
>Kicks open door or walks into bar all casual-like
>Brings up gun and...
>"A man died."
>"A man died."
>"A man died."
>"A man died."
>"The man left."
>Begin Chapter 1: "Slow Russian"
>>7702798
"Five against one. Is that really fair?" Gabe flicked his hand outward, and from the grip of his palm, the long, metallic rod of a collapsible baton sprung out from within.
Gabe began to grow nervous when the men in black continued to move forward without breaking stride; and when they were just a few feet from away, he swung once, in desperation, the same way a cornered cat will swipe at a larger, scarier dog.
All hell broke loose.
Gabe managed to swing again, smashing the metal ballcap of his baton into the face of one of the agent's, and for a second, the agent just stood there, holding his jaw in his hand before screaming, kneeling down and SCREAMING into a clenched fist.
Gabe could see the agent's jaw, wiggling without support, before being tackled by the other agents; and from there, it was all a blur as they kicked and beat into the pavement, bringing their heels down into the meat of his thigh, kicking his chin so that his head jolted upward on some sort of sick pivot, and they kicked and beat him even as Gabe yelled to them; screamed to them. "Jesus Christ, STOP, I'm just a kid! STOP."
(Not quick, sorry, but I enjoyed writing this so much)
White cloth loose around his solenoid-winding, he rested his hand on the hilt, not a single piano wire pulsing in his wrist, sword held low. His eyes tempered radiance, secant lines cutting across to the extrema opposite him, the hardened eyes, the furrowed brow of the man in flowing black, bare feet planted, blade held above his head in a frozen chop. The tiniest of winds carried dust between them, sky holding only the beating sun, a cruel slavedriver whipping beads of helpless sweat down their olive foreheads, down their still-life necks. You could never guess it, but the man in white is, internally, jittering with epinephrine, pulsing with a vitality found only in those two steps away from death, feeling its hot breath on your face knowing that, accepting that force of purest life, tempering it to perfect peace and oneness, you are perfect equals with the death's emissary before you, and while you cannot fight the natural order of things, you can strike out in your final moments and see a cut on death's cheek, proof of your having lived with honor and courage, earning a fitting death. It is the white knight's turn to advance on the black king, from g6 to h6 he steps long inwards, the king closes lashing downwards, knight crosses his arms swiping sideways, both blades shine in the moment, tools of the purest death, a steel crucifix that assembles for only a moment, replaced for one of blood just as momentary; two men fall in the desert with perpendicular cuts across their hearts.
>>7703766
i meant h8, not h6
>>7702798
For sale. Bloody shoes. Worn once.
>>7702798
*unsheathes katana* *teleports behind you* nothing personnel kid *cuts you in half*
>>7703664
Yeah! Nobody could stop the man who was written that way!
>>7705801
Awww, c'mon, man. It's written like that to "introduce" the damn character, not to make him invincible.
Obviously when there's a real need for characterization and action, it would be written much more traditionally, but this is just kind of a demo version of him, to show what he can do.
Thrust in, thrust out, bleeding, joy.
His fist cracked the stone. A thousand years of erosion in a single second at the small price of a hand that would last maybe forty. In the war against nature he had won an invaluable victory. Though resolute in his quest he could never shake the dread brought on by the unflinching stone. Knowing full well that patience was the weapon the earth would use to slay us all.
Strange snarls detached themselves from inside the pathway -- it was dark out, and cold. The noise caught a passerby's attention and he turned reflexively. He first saw the shapes: white, naked, vicious forms against the cold autumn earth. Next he saw blood that pooled in surprising quantities trailing up to the disembowelled dead man. The other shape, covered in its victim's flesh, was atop him and successively kissed and bashed the ripped up body, visibly aroused.
>>7705955
>dat sentence fragment
Eight little stings- I didn't count them at first. Too many lead teeth, too short a moment. But I tasted: yes, I tasted. A hell of a lot of copper, or maybe shitty rusted iron, and then
I saw his first blow coming from a mile away, aimless and predictable. I stepped back and deflected it on my shield easily, before he could raise his arm again I chopped down on his exposed hand and felt my blade hit his and and then go free. He let off a terrible scream clutching his maimed hand with his remaining one and begged for mercy. I was not feeling merciful.
>>7703637
...actually decent comedy.
Man hits man.
Man hits ground.
Brain hits skull.
Light leaves eye.
I leaves man.
>>7705812
>*it's a hologram*
-vô te comer de porrada, fidaputa! -disse o ébrio coitado.
-vai nada! -respondeu o rival
-vô sim!
E o bebum comeu-o de porrada.
