He was nearing the band of orcs now, his weapon raised and ready to deliver a puissant blow. The closest of the unruly bunch was smarter than he appeared and brought his shield to bear, sacrificing the slapdash tree-bark buckler to the armoured man's warhammer.
The fiend did not hesitate to counter with its cleaver, striking downward in an attempt to sunder the Salvarian knight; however, the latter was ready to intercept the attack with his weapon's lengthy handle.
Karl saw a chance and took it, kicking the orc in the shin and swinging his hammer to the side, smashing it against the beast's helmet and caving in its skull. He stepped back as the lifeless corpse collapsed onto the ground, blood trickling from the shattered head. 'One down, seven more to go' he thought quietly to himself, taking a deep breath and glaring at the remaining combatants through his helm.
Understandably, most of them were a bit hesitant to go up against this interloper after he just crushed the skull of one of their number in a matter of seconds. This lull in the fight gave the armoured man a quick respite to regain any stamina expended, preparing a strike as a duo of orcs rushed him - one armed with a sickle, and the other with a zweihander.
He was good at fighting but he knew to be cautious when the deck was still stacked against him, adopting a defensive stance when the weapons came soaring in his direction. The zweihander he dodged with ease, sidestepping out of the way; conversely, the sickle was a little too fast for him and ended up piercing the chainmail protecting his arms, leaving a gash that would have to be treated later.
Karl lurched, hurtling his warhammer into the abdomen of the sickle-wielder and knocking it to the ground. He reeled back, bringing his weapon up and then down into the chestplate of the orc on the ground, triturating the poor being. He moved to make some space between him and the remaining orcs, cupping his bleeding arm and rushing to focus the air of magic into the wound to reduce the bleeding by a small amount.
The zweihander tried to step forward and stab him while he was preoccupied, Karl managing to deflect the blow with his gauntlet and propel his warhammer into the creature's knee, twisting around to crash it into its back and execute it.
The knight turned just as a bolt of magick impacted against his coat of plates, searing a hole in his surcoat and sending him flying back.
Sometimes he really hated magic.
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