I'm pushed back by the blow, and I see him go for a dagger hidden in his boot.
I lunge forward, dashing to his back before wrapping my forearm around his throat as I begin choking him.
Yamarz takes the dagger he was able to snatch from his boot and begins wildly swinging behind himself.
Most of the strikes glance harmlessly off my half-plate armor, but some lucky hits slip into the gap between the front and back armor, cutting through the thick black cloth and digging into my side.
I feel the dagger's cut sting deeply, but I hold fast, pulling my arm even tighter around his neck for what feels like an eternity as I feel the struggle between us slowly die down.
Eventually, Yamarz's struggle stops entirely, and I make sure to finish the duel by snapping his neck hard to the left and letting his body hit the floor.
I turn and raise my fist to the sky in a pose of victory as the giants begin slamming the heads of their weapons against the ground chanting in unison, "Ta-Ru Kan! Ta-Ru Kan! Ta-Ru Kan!"
And after a few moments to process my victory, the orc begin to join in with a chant of their own slamming their weapons against their grieves, one by one, starting with those who fought with me against the giants but ending with every orc shouting, "Chief Tarruk! Chief Tarruk! Chief Tarruk!"
The chants fill the surrounding area before a deafening and ominous laugh overshades and quiets the celebration.
"HA! HA! HA! I have not been so entertained in quite some time, ha! A fitting end for Yamarz the Weak! But, his deceitful ways have cost you all greatly..."
A voice echoes throughout us, bringing almost everyone to their knees. Only Atub and I were left standing among the orcs, and the giants as the gates to the Stronghold opened even wider.
From the opened gates emerged an ashen grey phantom of an imposing orc, it made its way through the orcs who had been guarding the gates, gently touching their shoulders as he passed.
Leaving behind a sooty handprint on each orc he passes, each step forward leaving behind an ashy footprint in his wake as he made his way toward me and Atub, who had made her way to my side after the duel had ended.
Atub gives a deep bow to Malacath's spirit before standing tall and saying with reverence, "We are honored to be in your presence, O' Lord of Ash and Bone. But Yamarz the Weak has been punished for his cowardice; what shall happen to us now? What is to be our fate? What more is there for us to suffer from his failure?" Atub asks, already adopting the new name for Yamarz.
"You must wash away the stain he placed upon your tribe's honor... You will prove yourselves under this one's leadership..." Malacath says, placing his hands on mine and Atub's shoulders before walking past us and continuing to talk.
"You fought like a true orc... I didn't expect that from you. Continue surprising me, and you might just earn that rank of chief you've attained... Place that hammer on my altar and receive your reward... Tarruk... And you..." Malacath says, emphasizing my taken name before stopping in front of Wru.
Even kneeling down, Wru towers over the shade of Malacath.
The ashen shade raises its hand and wraps it around Wru's neck as it begins to grow to the size of the Shrine of Malacath, lifting Wru into the air as he holds him by the throat.
"I have not forgotten what you've done to my Shrine... But, follow your new chief loyally, and you might just be forgiven... Until then..." Malacath says with a vindictive smile as a crackling line of ash wraps itself around Wru's body, covering the previously carved circular runes in his chest.
Healing them before replacing them with a searing brand in the shape of an intricate great axe.
And with that, the colossal shade of Malacath fades away in a swirling tornado of ash, leaving only the ashen marks he had left behind as proof of his arrival.
And with his disappearance, Wru falls to the ground on his knees, Clutching his newly scarred chest in disbelief.
The rest of the orcs and even the giants look at me with awe as I move through the open gate, following in Malacath's ashen footsteps as I come to the altar in the center of the Stronghold as I place the hammer in the antlers of the deer skull placed atop the altar.
A grey ashen light shrouds the hammer before it slowly grows large and is shrouded in spikes.
A glowing red gem, almost like an evil all-seeing eye, emerges in the hammer's head.
I wrap my hand around the handle of my first Daedric artifact, and I feel a surge of power rush through me, similar to a dragon's soul.
But, this is much darker, and with it comes an overwhelming urge to fight...
Like I could take this hammer and crush Ulfric's smug face, rip down the walls of any fortress, send that fucker Nazim into the stratosphere, I could... I could...
"Blüdtoth... Are you alright?" Gringar asks with concern as unbeknownst to me, a fiery red light had consumed my eyes, pulsing in time with the crimson jewel in the great hammer's head.
His question jarred me from the intrusive, violent thoughts as I nodded to him and raised Volendrung high into the air, causing the orcs and giants that had followed me to begin cheering as the mothers, children, and infants came from their tents and huts to join the celebration, before three women, a couple of children, and an infant are pushed forward from the group.
They had apparently been trying to sneak out of the main gate during the confusion.
Ugor was the one who caught them and brought them forward.
The whole tribe grows quiet and solemn, and it appears I am the only one who is confused as to what's about to happen.
Until Gringar leans in and whispers, "They are Yamarz's wives and children... They must be... Removed... To solidify your place as chief..." Gringar looks down with an expression as if he is already mourning their passing.
(Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, was doing homework and lost track of time. Hope you enjoy!)