It was the hour of reckoning, for Yagadan, the immortal conqueror, the forsaken brother, the eldest of the Batok clan, and now the champion of Malacath. The thunder of hooves echoed through the wintery grounds as a giant trio of black steeds galloped steadily at the front of a wide diamond formation that stretched across the landmass, moving quickly along the rough terrain of the path leading to the heart of Craglorn in the Dragontail Mountains, a land nestled between Hammerfell and the Eastern Reach of Skyrim.

"So, when you become king, then eventual emperor... You're gonna need a spymaster right?" shouted Magni Crow, a Nordic man on the far left steed, a black-haired warrior with a grin that could pierce a thousand hearts. Yagadan, at the center of the trio, turned his head towards the Nord.

"I'll cast my lot in for master of war! None better to precede over your armies than a pureblood daughter of Malacath right?" Battha proclaimed wholeheartedly to Yagadan's right, arms waving from her steed as she shone a sweet but fierce grin over towards Yagadan. Battha was as fierce as they come for an Orcish woman, her heavy steel plate clanking as her steed rode steadfast against the incline of the oncoming hill.

Yagadan's mind stopped wandering, eyes locked on the road forward before replying to his companions' jests. "Bring me the head of my brother and I'll award any one of you a kingdom of your choosing." He responded, half serious and half joking. Since his brother's betrayal all those years, it's been the driving force behind his conquest.

As they approached the keep, a massive, possibly the biggest and most ambitious Orsinium ever built, a booming deep-voiced male commanded, "Halt! Who goes there!" Yagadan reared his horse back to stop and held out his hand for the army behind to stop in unison.

They stopped by the massive western gate of the castle-sized city built out of the ruins of Exarch's Stronghold, a formidable fortress that housed a deeper kingdom within and even further underground in the mountain. Atop a defensive tower, one of two on either side of the cobblestone wall, stood an Orc defender, one of four looking down on them from the wall, three of which aimed crossbows at the marchers below.

"We come seeking an audience with Gorgog, your King!" shouted Magni from below, addressing the defender that had spoken.

"Orsinium does not accept outsiders. Go back to wherever you came. Plenty of places beyond our reach for you bandits to sack with little trouble. Or stay and bleed for a few septims. Suits me," the Orcish defender replied, unshaken by the horde below and the quick demands of Magni.

Before any of his companions could speak, Yagadan jumped to the ground below from his horse. Walking closer to the gate, his brown tattered hood covering his face, fitted around his banded Iron plate. He looked up, slowly lowering his hood and revealing the withered and scarred face of Yagadan Batrok, his greying long beard and long ponytail flowing as the cloth came down.

"I challenge my brother by right as a son of Gorgac the butcher and champion of Malacath!" Yagadan commanded, locking eyes with the defender.

The defenders all looked at each other and then back towards Yagadan. "The sons of Gorgac are dead. His second-born, Gorgog, was the only survivor of the attack on the Frost Skin bandit clan. You are no son of Gorgac, nor are you a champion of Malacath!" The defender seemed offended and unconvinced.

Yagadan walked back to his horse, not muttering so much as a word as everyone present waited anxiously for his next move. He reached into the large carrying sack on the back of his horse and pulled out a scaly, green warhammer with a pulsating eye in the center of its spiked hammerhead.

"Is that-" the defender shouted, only to be cut off by Yagadan raising the weapon up in the air at them from the same position he had addressed them in.

"My words do not speak truth to you? But, my actions will speak for me." Yagadan walked towards the gate as the defenders still looked to be shocked completely.

He grabbed his hulking Orc hands against the hilt of the hammer, raising it above his waist and giving it three violent swings above his head before he hit his target. Splinters and iron flew everywhere like a rain of materials, the entire defensive gate was destroyed completely, like it was a freshly consumed sweetroll.

Orcish soldiers ran out to greet Yagadan, swords drawn, only to lower them in shock upon seeing the weapon he held. "I seek an audience with my brother, Gorgog. I will not ask a third time."

With the gate destroyed, the way was clear for Yagadan and his companions to enter Orsinium. The defenders, who had previously been so confident, now looked unsure and uncertain. Yagadan's display of power had shaken them, and they knew that he was not to be underestimated. Yagadan's quest for revenge and his claim to the throne of Orsinium would not be easy, but with his strength and determination, he was determined to succeed.