Can someone give me some constructive criticism?

I wrote this story, and I'm trying to get an idea of what people feel about it.

Bak's Story​

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By Joseph R Long​

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Bak stood in formation with the rest of the battle line. He surveyed the field. In his minds eye, he saw great victory. An opposing army lay slain, their guts and blood glistening on the sun touched grass. His double bladed great axe covered in blood, and his right hand holding the head of the opposing forces general in his hand.

In actuality, the battle hadn't even started yet. In fact, his Lord Knight, dressed in gleaming ebony armor, and the other Lord, in white plate mail, were still discussing a truce.

Bak stood fingering a throwing axe, contemplating whether or not to split both of the Lords heads with some well placed throws.

Just as he was about to start the battle on his own terms, the two men in the middle of the field turned away from each other and began riding back to their respective battle lines.

Bak waited, jumping like a child filled with anticipation. Bak could tell the negotiations had failed, that the battle would still happen, by the way the Black Knight was sitting in his saddle. The Knight reined in his horse, right in front of Bak, and said "There will be a battle today. A war till the death of a Lord. I want you to kill the other Lord. Are you up to the challenge, Orc?"

"Well, human," Bak said in such a surly tone that the Black Knight stiffened in his saddle, "Of course I'm up to the Challenge. How would you have me do it?"

The Knight removed his helmet, all black penetrating eyes stared at Bak, as if to look through him. "I want his head, Bak. I want the eyes plucked out, and the tongue pulled through his throat. I want him to suffer, Bak!"

"What do I get out of this?" Bak asked, caressing his great axe lovingly.
"Ever watchful for your own interests, I see." Replied the Knight, "Alright, I will give you the Bristol fiefdom. How does Baron Bak ring in your ears?"

"I like the sound of that. Alright, I'll do it!" Bak looked forward to the coming battle. Battles were when he felt the most alive. He was covered in all kinds of weapons, from axes to daggers, hammers to swords, and he also had little pouches on his belt, all filled with nasty surprises. He was an expert with every single one of them. He had been raised since the days he could just walk to be a part of a lethal tactical assault team. Battle made the blood sing in his veins, it being what he knew best.

He held his double bladed great axe in front of him. The weapon that was his favorite of them all, with its double bladed axe heads with the fist of Grumnish engraved upon it. He began running towards the enemy line. Flaggers had set the infantry marching right behind him.

Bak neared the enemy line at a sprint, till it filled his vision, so that all he could see was the far line of people. He ran straight at the biggest man he could see, jumped almost over the man, brought his foot down right on top of the guys head, smashing his skull in, and sending Bak flying over the enemy lines. He spread his arms out, and began to kick his legs, trying to take out as many people as he could. He landed feet first, sending himself into a shoulder roll. Getting to his feet, Bak whirled his axe around, catching one guy in the torso, cutting the man's body in half. The legs continued to stand for a second after the upper body hit the ground. Continuing his onslaught, Bak waded into the sea of enemies. Slashing low, he took the leg of a man from the knee down, causing the poor fellow to drop to the ground screaming in pain. Blood squirted from the stump of a leg he had left, spraying Bak's leg with blood.

Reversing the swing, Bak sent the other axe head into the side of another man's neck, cutting straight through the man's body, popping the axe head out just below the man's left armpit. The body seemed to sway like a great tree, and then crashed to the ground.

People began edging around Bak attempting to stay out of reach of those horrid axe heads. A man broke from the crowd, charging at Bak. The man managed to slice Bak across the belly and right thigh. Blood gushed from the wounds, mixing Bak's blood with the blood of other people already covering him.

Bak held his axe like a giant one handed battle axe, still swinging and connecting with people, sending blood spraying every direction. With his other hand, Bak reached around to his back and pulled out the dagger there. He jammed it to the hilt into the eye of the man whom had wounded him. He felt the tip grate against the back of the man's skull.

Still swinging his axe one handed, Bak reached down to his belt and grabbed one of the many pouches there. This one had a red cross on it. He tossed it into the crowd of men on his right. It burst open as it hit the first man, permeating the air like fungus spore. It was so thick it seemed like a red cloud that you couldn't see what was happening inside. The men who were inside of the mist began to scream, as the mist ate through armor and flesh, eventually dissipating and leaving only the bones behind.

Bak spotted the Head Knight of the enemy, and he began to cut a path through to him, killing people left and right. Bak finally managed to get a path clear to the knight. The cut in his stomach and leg hurt horrendously.

The Knight finally noticed Bak. He looked down at Bak from his horse, as if to say his defense was impregnable to any assault that the orc could bring.

Bak charged, aiming for one of the horses legs. Bak swung, taking out one of them, the horse began to topple to the ground, spraying and arc of blood, causing the Knight to go down to the ground with it.

The Knight climbed to his feet unsteadily. He then pulled a great sword from off of his back. It was absolutely huge, easily as tall as the Knight was. The Knight rested the sword on his shoulder in a completely defenseless position, leaving himself wide open to an attack.

Bak rushed in, hoping to get a quick hit, but the sword flashed downward at him, lightning quick. Bak barely managed to get his axe up in time to block the blow with his handle. He jumped back, chiding himself for his over confidence.

Bak started a different, more defensive and probing attack of the Knights guard. Feinting left and slashing right, feinting and overhead swing and swinging the other axe head around from the bottom. But, the Knight was fast and an expert swordsman; He deflected Bak's axe blows with ease.

Bak stepped back, pulling a much smaller axe from his belt. Taking careful aim, he pitched it at the Knight. It clanged against the Knight's helmet, causing him to stumble off balance. Now Bak moved in for the kill, swinging as hard as he could. He caught the Knight in the arm, but the blow bounced off of the armor, leaving nothing but a dent behind. He rung the Knights bell again, punching its helmet with a gauntlet covered hand. Bringing his axe down behind the Knight's leg, Bak was able to make the knight fall onto his back. Slinging the axe back around, the other axe head plunged down onto the chest of the armor piercing the heavy metal plating, but still, no blood from the Knight was spilt.

His axe stuck in the chest of the Knight, Bak grabbed another dagger from his back, and stuck it through the eye slit of the Knight's helmet. The knife pierced the eye and plunged downward through the cavernous pupil of the Knight. The Knight let out a blood curdling scream. Fighting desperately, the Knight took his own dagger from his belt, and jammed it to the hilt into Bak's calf. The pain was a blinding white light across Bak's vision.

Bak grunted and stumbled away from the Knight. As the Knight pulled Bak's axe out of his chest and climbed to his feet, Bak pulled the knife from his leg and sent it sailing into the Knights helmet with a crash.

Grabbing a spiked hammer from his belt, Bak charged the Knight again, aiming for a killing blow to the head. The Knight, hiding his sword behind his back, brought it out just in time for Bak's momentum to cause him to impale himself upon the blade. Bak looked down at the sword in his gut. The pain was unbearable. He reached down and grabbed the Knights hand, pulling the Knight to him as well as impaling himself more, the pain just helping him to focus on his objective, the death of this Knight.

The other arm jammed the spiked hammer through the top of the Knights helmed head, straight through the skull. The Knight stood there for half a second, and then collapsed to the ground, his last breath sighing through his lungs.

Bak couldn't help admiring the Knights swordsmanship, or his courage to the end. Bak said a prayer to Grumnish, helping to send the Knights soul to the everlasting battle, and honor not usually bestowed upon humans.

Bak reached down and grabbed the arm of the Knight. He began to drag the body across the blood splattered battle field. As he passed groups of battle, the enemies would drop their weapons and surrender upon seeing their fallen hero. Seeing their fearless leader dead seemed to suck the heart right out of them.

Bak finally reached friendly lines, and dropped the hand he had been holding. He set about preparing the body. He pulled of the helmet and saw a surprisingly boyish face looking up at him. The blonde curly hair was stained with blood and brain matter.

He first slit the bottom of the man's tongue, so as to make it go down the Knights throat easier. He then bored a hole through the man's throat, and pulled the tongue through. There was no blood, seeing as the man was already dead. One eye taken care of, Bak reached for the metal spoon on his belt. He began to carefully pull the eyeball from the socket, as if he were scooping out ice cream, and once it was loose he popped it in his mouth. The salty watery taste was refreshing. He then used his axe and separated the head from the body.

The Black Knight rode up to Bak and took off his helmet. Those penetrating black eyes stared right through Bak. He nodded once to Bak, turned his horse away, and rode back to field central to have his men regroup for the march home.

Bak, knowing he was dismissed, stumbled back to the camp, the head still in his hand. His stomach and leg hurt terribly, but he went to his tent rather than the doctor, and collapsed onto his blanket roll. He had passed out on the way to the floor.

 

Let me first say that my notes are solely my opinion, and may not necessarily be the end all and be all, so use them as a guide if you like.

I was impressed with the effort you put in and also very thankful that I only spotted 3 very minor spelling mistakes. Judging by the rest of your work, I can only assume that they just slipped your attention, so I'll only mention them so that you can correct them later on, when you prepare your further draft. I am in no way the grammar gestapo, but bear in mind that a lot of people get put off by them when there's too many. For certain, publishers throw manuscripts in the bin, unless you know them in person, like some people Rest assured, however, that you don't have a problem in that field.

Since you put so much work into writing this, I will respond in a likewise manner and give you some detailed criticism.


I didn't realize that this was set in a fantasy genre until the 5th sentence and then I went back to the title. It might be worth changing it to 'Bak's Tale', rather than 'Bak's Story'. This will give a clue to the reader as to what he/she is about to read, and also draw more fans of the genre to your story.

To be honest I was put off at first with how you started the story, but I'm glad I read through (more on that later). It looks as if this is a later chapter in a book that you've already started. If not, it might be worth writing a prequel to this event, so we can identify with the characters and feel more for them. After all, it's a shame to go into such gory detail of a frenzied battle and feel indifferenty about the Knight, for example.

You've explained the situation well, but you need to spice it up a bit with a few words to draw the reader in. From the first sentence you should try and show magnitude, so rather than just:

Bak stood in a close-knit formation along with the rest of the long battle line.

(These are suggestions by the way to give you an idea. I'm sure you can come up with better words later on).

Again, give the field magnitude. Make it vast, or something, to place the reader better into the world you've created.

Typo: mind's, not minds.

Again, tell us how big the army is, so we can feel the awesome victory that has taken place. This is a good sentence by the way, but perhaps you could add more poetic pathos by changing 'sun touched grass' to sun-kissed meadow. Don't worry too much about cliché when you're writing. If we were to totally avoid cliché, we'd need to invent another 5 letters for the alphabet.

Be more dramatic with the axe, after all, it's just chopped off the head of a general. It shouldn't be 'covered'. It should be drenched, smothered, stained, anything that will give it more impact. Also delete the repetition at the end of the sentence, ie. 'in his hand'.

Before we go on further, I commend you for your paragraph structure. This is something that is overlooked by many new writers, at a great cost. Making things easy to read, will keep your reader interested, so bravo.

I would suggest getting rid of 'In actuality' and 'In fact', they're weak and this setting is anything but weak
Rather than 'dressed in gleaming ebony armor',try using 'stood out in gleaming ebony armor, whilst he discussed a truce with the other Lord'. Again, the word 'dressed' weakens the character, so you have to find an alternative. Also, don't describe what the other Lord is wearing in the same sentence, to keep the mood from fading to fashion, rather than war.

Cut and paste to restructure this sentence, ie:
Just by the way the Black Knight was sitting in his saddle, Bak could tell the negotiations had failed; that the battle would still take place.

erase 'all' before black penetrating eyes, and add and 'his'. Also, perhaps, don't have the knight speak to the Orc by name. Knights are aristocracy and tend to look down on people, never mind orcs! It will also make the sentence less awkward, ie. "I want his head, Bak..." sounds like "I want his head back..."

Excellent characterizations, and in this case perfectly acceptable of the orc's name in the Lord's speech, as he is refering to him in the third person. Just take care of the typo after 'I see'. It should read :"Ever watchful for your own interests, I see," replied the Knight, "alright, I will give you the Bristol fiefdom.

Try:

'Bak looked forward to the coming battle. That was when he felt the most alive.'

That gets rid of the repetition.

It's strange, that as you entered the depiction of the battle, you actually showed most of your strength as a writer. Suddenly, your descriptions and atmosphere not only changed pace, but were enrichened by detail. The only thing I wasn't sure about was

Now, unless they have ice cream in your fantasy world, I would refrain from using any direct images from our world, unless you're writing satire, because it destroys the illusion. Other than that a very bloodthirsty, messy, and violent battle. I was right in there (hiding under a corpse)

It would be a shame to lose a reader who would otherwise enjoy a very adventurous story, especially one that has so much work grafted into it, because of a weak beginning. If you tie those loose ends together, and dedicate as much effort to the pre-battle scenes, you will have a more striking story.

I hope this helps and be assured that if I didn't think you had potential, I wouldn't have spent an hour analyzing your work. Well done sonshine, hope we can read more of your work soon!

 

I want to thank you for critiquing my work. I’ve been trying to find someone to do it for a week now. It seems everyone I know is afraid to hurt my feelings. I really do appreciate the thought you put into your reply. And actually, I’m going to use quite a few of your suggestions, considering that they don’t conflict with my writing style, and I have to agree that they make the story even stronger. Thank you.

Joey