Demonic ritual

As Karthas and Gunther valiantly fought off the orcish horde, a horrifying ritual unfolded in the depths of the orcish encampment. Villagers, captured during the raid, were cruelly impaled alive on massive wooden spikes, their agonizing screams echoing through the forest. Their blood cascaded down the wooden structures, pooling in a macabre circle at the center of the encampment.

Within this circle sat an orc warrior, his eyes closed in what appeared to be meditation, as if he was absorbing the life force of the victims through their blood. He seemed unaffected by the chaos around him, completely focused on the dark ritual.

"Our lords will reward us for the offerings!" bellowed the orc leader, a monstrous figure standing four meters tall. His skin was a bloody red, his tusks large and demonic. Strapped to his back was a colossal axe, a weapon so massive it seemed impossible for a man, or even an orc, to wield. He was more akin to a demon than a member of any mortal race.

The other orcs joined in, their voices raised in a savage chorus. "For Gartak! For the new Horde!"

"Squeeze them until nothing remains!" the orc leader roared, his laughter echoing across the encampment, filled with malice and cruelty.

As the ritual continued, the orc seated within the bloody circle began to convulse, writhing in agony as his body underwent a horrific transformation. His muscles bulged, his skin darkening to a deep, bloody red.

"Good! Good!" Gartak shouted, his voice filled with savage glee. "Quickly! Bring the next one!" he ordered, his eyes gleaming with a dark and twisted purpose.

As Karthas, Gunther, and the knights made their way to the orcish encampment, the villagers took refuge inside the local fort. While they were not trained soldiers, they armed themselves with whatever they could find, ready to defend their families.

Inside the fort, the narrow corridors and sturdy stone walls gave them an advantage. They prepared makeshift weapons, using forks and other tools, knowing that in the tight confines of the fort entrance, they could hold off the orcs for a time in case they were attacked.

"Boy, I can feel the demonic magic lingering in the air. The orcs are up to no good!" Gunther shouted over the sound of hooves.

"I know, master, but they must be met with justice!" Karthas roared back, determination flashing in his eyes as he urged his horse onward, galloping towards the orcish encampment.

As they approached, the air filled with the sound of wails and cries of anguish from the orcish encampment.

"Damned beasts!" cursed Karthas, his grip tightening on his hammer.

"Reign in your fury, boy! Do not become like them," Gunther advised, his voice tense with restraint as they rode closer to the source of the cries.