General

There was stillness on both sides. If hatred was visible the air would have been scarlet. Then suddenly movement, so much force in every blow. Oliver rained blows onto Jerome as if he meant to smash him into the very earth and Jerome did the same. Each didn't just want the other dead, they wanted him smashed, obliterated, nothing left to bury.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, February 25, 2016.
General

When Kirsten opened the door there was something that made her nervous. It could have been a tincture of the wrong aroma, or the temperature being too cold - like a window had been opened in her absence. She wasn't sure. Her instinct told her to run, call Fred, ask him to come, but she decided she was being silly and walked in regardless. No sooner had she hit the light switch did a golfing iron hit her in the head. She felt the pain and saw the second blow come for her abdomen.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, February 25, 2016.
Crime

Attacking was what what Ned liked best. He got all his "medication" in one go, money and violence. He knew he shouldn't, knew it was wrong, but he didn't care. It was his addiction and rich people would pay good money for his "skills."

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, February 25, 2016.
Dystopian

The gangs would attack as a mob. In those days of fear and hatred there was no feigning honour. Everyone wanted what they wanted and force was the accepted method. It was better to be a dog in a big group than a loner and many took that route - servitude over death. Not me and Gregor though, we swore we'd rather go down free and fighting - not that we wanted to die, we were just so committed to life we couldn't bare to see what it was becoming.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, February 25, 2016.
Dystopian

When it came to attacking we never played by "the rules." We aimed to get back to our kids in one piece and read the bedtime story. In a way we saw it as defence, just taking it to 'em when they weren't expecting it. We sat in the dark with weapons ready and picked them off before they could send a hit squad after us. Times are dark. The only freedom the authorities want now is the freedom to lock us up for non-compliance. So we comply by daylight and fight after dark.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, February 25, 2016.
General

There were no holes barred when Jess went in for the attack. She pulled out hair in handfuls, scratched, bit, kicked and head-butted. Then there was the rageful scream that paralyzed her victim's thinking, shutting them down into the fetal position to protect their vital organs and ride out the storm

General

It was pitch black, a crowd gathered around the castle, ready to attack any minute.

By laxiuspower, February 24, 2014.
General

Screams broke out. The men rushed forward, shouting orders. Swords clashed. Guns fired. More shouting. More screaming. More running. The attack was fierce, efficient and deadly.

By genrestorm, December 11, 2014.
General

It was the rings on his fingers that really hurt. Baddalzer wasn't afraid to get blood on his jewel encrusted rings. My head jerked back and I tasted that familiar copper tang in my mouth. Didn't need to look at it to know that Baddalzer wasn't going to win this fight. He was arrogant for one, a pure showoff that flaunted with flurries of kicks and flips, fast, yes, but left himself open. I let him jab me just to get my blood rushing in heat. I wanted to see him smiled his golden teeth and roar to the crowd. It multiplied the reason for me to break him. And I would. Second thing about Baddalzler: he never met me. He was fast, but I was more focused, not staring in his eyes, but at his chest, the center point for all attack. I could see his shoulder, waist, and wherever he was going to attack, from whenever, I was going to greet him. He came with a leg. I grabbed it then hit it, hammer fist. Hard. He screamed. I was on him in a second. Each blow I made was precise, an exhale of breath with each one. Breathe. I remember Richard telling me that. Breath.
I felt my fist land in his gut, the once hard bones along his body now crumpled like cereal. He started to get slower. I got faster. I was penetrating his defences before he could turn around. in the middle of the fight, my anger faded and blankness was its replacement. Like I was watching my body at work. I could see all his soft spots. So when he finally gagged then spat blood one last time, I wasn't surprised that he fell, cracked on the stone floor afterwards. Then silence. His chest rose a few more times before he finally gave up. Then he died.

By dobithebear, June 26, 2020*.