Wielchstone village

As Karthas and Gunther neared Wielchstone village, they spotted smoke rising in the distance.

"Damn it, we're too late!" Karthas cursed, urging his horse to gallop faster. Gunther, knowing he couldn't let the prince face danger alone, spurred his own horse to match the pace.

Upon reaching the village, they found a small group of knights locked in combat with a much larger force of orcs.

"For the light!" Karthas shouted, charging towards the enemy.

Gunther followed suit, crashing into the orcs from behind. "Support has arrived! Hold the line, men!" he shouted, rallying the knights.

As Karthas and Gunther thundered into the fray, the young prince leaped off his horse with a primal roar. His hammer gleamed in the sunlight as he brought it down with all his might, smashing an orc's head in a spray of blood and bone. Without missing a beat, he spun around, using the momentum to strike another orc with a powerful blow that sent it sprawling.

Gunther, ever watchful, moved like a shadow beside him, his own hammer a deadly extension of his arm. He deflected a swing aimed at Karthas, his hammer meeting the orc's with a resounding clang. With a swift move, he dispatched the orc with a well-placed strike to the head.

Meanwhile, Karthas was a whirlwind of destruction, his hammer crushing skulls and breaking bones with each strike. He moved with grace and precision, dodging and parrying attacks with ease. When an orc managed to get too close, Karthas unleashed a burst of light magic, engulfing the creature in flames that sizzled and crackled as it fell to the ground.

The knights, bolstered by their prince's bravery, fought with renewed vigor, pushing back the orcish horde. Karthas and Gunther fought side by side, their movements complementing each other perfectly. Gunther would deflect an attack, giving Karthas an opening to strike, and Karthas would cover Gunther's back when he was momentarily exposed.

The battle raged on, each moment filled with a deadly dance of hammers and blood. Karthas and Gunther fought with a fierce determination, their hearts beating as one, their minds focused on one goal: to protect the village and each other at all costs.

After a tiresome battle, the orcs were vanquished, but the village lay in ruins. One-third of the buildings were burned, and many lay dead or injured in the streets.

"Captain! Report!" commanded Gunther, his voice cutting through the chaos.

The captain of the guard stepped forward, his armor dented and stained with blood. "Yes, sir," he replied, saluting before recounting the events that had transpired before Karthas and Gunther's arrival.

"The orcs came in two waves," the captain explained. "The first wave consisted of regular orcs, likely a tactic to lower our defenses. They were followed by six massive orcish brutes, each three meters tall, with skin as red as magma and horns like bulls. They unleashed a devastating assault, burning the village and capturing several villagers before retreating with their prisoners, leaving the smaller orc squad behind."

Gunther clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing with determination. "We must pursue them and rescue the villagers. Karthas, ready your horse. We leave at once."

Karthas nodded, his expression grim. Together, they mounted their horses and rode out of the village, following the trail of destruction left by the orcish horde.