Orc encampment

As Karthas and Gunther arrived outside the orc encampment, the sounds of tortured villagers and orcish roars filled the air. The stench of blood and dark magic permeated the surroundings, a grim reminder of the horrors within.

"Karthas, do not rush," Gunther began to warn, but it was too late. Karthas was already charging into the heart of the orcish camp, his hammer held high.

Raising his hammer with one hand, Karthas began to chant, his voice filled with righteous fury. "Light, grant me the power to vanquish those who dare to defile the natural order. Let me execute your divine will." As he chanted, a holy aura enveloped him, brimming with an intense light that baptized him with a newfound power: the power of the light.

Sensing the presence of this holy power, the orcs erupted into chaos. "Paladins! Paladins are incoming!" one orc shouted, before Gartak swiftly silenced him by cutting off his head.

"You dare raise panic, and I will make you a part of the offering!" Gartak roared, his voice bestial. "What about paladins? We are orcs! We fear nothing!"

Karthas leaped into the midst of the orcish horde, his hammer of the righteous swinging with divine purpose as he bestowed the verdicts of heaven upon the vile orcs. Due to the show of power by Gartak, the orcs showed no fear, their axes swinging towards Karthas with murderous intent.

"Die, paladin!" they roared, their voices filled with hatred and bloodlust.

But Karthas was a whirlwind of skill and determination, dodging and parrying their attacks with grace. With each swing of his hammer, he seared his opponents with the glory of light, a beacon of hope and justice amidst the chaos. He was the harbinger of doom for the vile and evil, his resolve unshakable, his will unbreakable.

Gartak, watching the battle unfold from the safety of the back lines, grew enraged by Karthas's prowess. With a snarl, he ordered one of the demonic orcs, a hulking brute with twisted features, to join the fight.

"You, join the fray!" Gartak commanded, pointing with his chin towards Karthas, his eyes burning with hatred and malice.

As the demonic orc charged into battle, Gunther and his knights charged from a different direction, their hammers and swords poised for combat. The clash of weapons intensified as the two forces collided, the sound of metal striking metal echoing through the encampment.

Despite being outnumbered, Gunther and his knights fought with unmatched skill and determination. They moved as one, their movements coordinated and precise, striking at the orcs with deadly efficiency. Gunther, in particular, was a force to be reckoned with, his hammer swinging with a brutal grace as he laid waste to any orc that dared to stand in his way.

Some of the villagers started to regain hope, but their hopes were short-lived.

With a single fell swing, Gartak, his massive axe gleaming with malevolent energy, cut down all the remaining villagers, his blade slicing through them as if they were nothing but paper.

"You dare have hope?" Gartak bellowed, his voice dripping with contempt. "Not on my watch! Hahaha!" His laughter echoed across the battlefield.