The Code of Malacath [Ze Blitzkrieg]

[Lazy Kitsune]

Name: Urzula gra-Shurkul
Race: Orsimer
Age: 26
Gender: Female
Appearance:


Background: Born another daughter among several to the chief of Shurkul Hold and his second shield-wife, Urzula's prospects for life were not grandiose. She would be raised at her mother's knee, learn the ways of war beneath her watchful eye, and when she came of age, she would be married off to the chief of a neighboring hold. There, she would live among his other wives, follow him into battle, and sate his lusts when his blood was up after a conquest. She would bear him children, strong sons and daughters, the former of which would either flee into exile, or take their father's head and usurp him one day, while the latter of which would be sold off to a different hold as she had been.

Those prospects infuriated her. Even when she was small, she was the greater warrior to her brothers and sisters. She could best them in the yard, and in the field, and even in the market, where she bartered as well as any of her father's hearth-wives with fair haired nords and cunning imperials. She was meant for greater than being someone's broodmare and shield-bearer. So, when she came of age, rather than allow her father to see her married off for the sake of political unity, she fled Shurkul on the back of the first wagon out of town. She rode it all the way through the mountains, into Skyrim, where she contacted the local garrison and signed herself up for a stint in the Imperial legions.

There, she found her purpose. She made war with men and women who saw her not as a lesser, but as an equal, and in time, even a greater. She learned to fight not just as a warrior, but a soldier. She learned to lead, and to trade, and to read and write and fuck and live. But it wasn't enough. While she had loved her comrades, loved her time in the legions, she had always chafed under the orders of officers. She wanted independence, to be able to call her own shots, and lead her own life. So, when the time came to re-enlist for another term, she politely declined. She turned in her arms and armor, collected her salary, and made her way back to the mountains where she had grown.

Her septims bought her sword and shield and armor well enough. She challenged her father for control of the hold; he laughed at her. But when she called him craven, and claimed he feared to be bested by the daughter who had brought him shame by exile, his laughter turned to rage. They dueled before the hold, her mother and brothers and the wives of her father all, and she used every trick she had learned during her leave from home to get the upper hand. She slew him, in front of everyone who mattered, and dared any who remained to challenge her right to rule. Few did, and those that had the courage to do so either followed in her father's example, or were driven into exile. She now rules Shurkul, and already her eyes turn to the neighboring lands, eager to test their mettle against the newest chieftess in the region.

Perks:
Authoritative Leader: Command comes naturally to Urzula, who speaks with a natural authority befitting a leader. She is more than capable of inspiring and motivating those beneath her, delegating tasks so as to see objectives accomplished quickly and efficiently, and maintaining order in her ranks. If not for her grander ambitions, she likely would have risen to a position of leadership within the legion.
Formidable Fighter: Trained at arms from a young age, Uzula has always been a talented combatant. The years she spent as a career soldier only enhanced her skills. Her abilities allowed her to wrest control of the hold from her esteemed father, a veteran chieftain of an orcish hold, and she regularly drills against multiple opponents in the hopes of better simulating battle.
Orcish Vigor: As a proud scion of Malacath, Urzula is a powerful physical specimen. She is tall, lean and powerful, and possesses considerable stamina and endurance, both physically and mentally, allowing her to throw herself recklessly into whatever endeavor she undertakes with little concern for fatigue.
Silver-Tongued Daedra: Despite cutting the figure of a warrior, Urzula is also a charismatic speaker. She is equally skilled at plying merchants and fair maidens with sweet, honeyed words to get what she wants as she is at cutting down the proud and mighty with carefully placed barbs and mockery.

Flaws:
Magically Inert: Despite her best efforts during her stint with the legion, Urzula never quite managed to learn even the basics of magical skill. While most Orsimer are inclined to prefer more direct methods of conflict than magic, her ineptitude goes a step further than a simple lack of applied effort, indicating a fundamental lacking in ability.
Overly Ambitious: Urzula is a proud, driven woman, who has always found herself wanting more. She is rarely satisfied, always looking to see how she can improve her position and legacy, even to the point of undertaking foolhardy and ill-advised endeavors to feed her never ending hunger for glory.
Sexually Voracious: Despite being an orc in her prime, Urzula's appetites go above and beyond what most of her kind experience. She rarely goes a day without sating her needs, and becomes increasingly aggressive and impulsive if she's left without the sweet relief brought on by a good, hard fuck. Her high sex drive also leads her to be rather forward with objects of her desire, as more than one imperial recruit learned over the years after a 'training exercise' led to being rutted into the dirt for a few hours.

Turn Ons: Ahegao, huge cock, large insertions, excessive cum, cock comparison, humiliation, domination, sexual favors, sexual rewards, cock worship, teasing, MILFs, femdom, musk, femboys, harem, romance
Turn Offs: Guro, death, torture, heavy BDSM, eggs, bathroom stuff

Next to the Longhouse's firepit, your mother holds a shield up to the light, polished well enough that the flickering orange hues of the flames catch across the surface of the shield. She runs her eyes across it, nodding, before turning and setting it on its place on the wall, staring at it carefully to make sure it was affixed properly. "To think after baring only daughters and seeing them sent away, one would leave and return in such a bold manner as you have." she says, turning to you with a smirk. "You truly have Malacath's favour."

Though no remaining orcs dared to challenge you in combat, your position as chief was less easily accepted than your victory over your father. There was an unease in the air, and it may take a great deal of time and effort to keep everyone in line before you are truly accepted. Even after your father's death, the unprecedent nature of female chief caused a great debate to emerge among the wives of the old chief. Women as chieftain is something that is known to happen in rare occasions, but extremely rarely and never before at this Stronghold. There were objections, but none could point to what part of Malacath's code exactly they thought was being broken here. And through it all your mother vouched for you. From the moment you had returned to the Stronghold to challenge your father, she had welcomed you back warmly. She led the vote in your favour among the now widowed orcs, a vote she argued was unnecessary in the first place as the rules of succession are clear. There were a few women that voted against your legitimacy, but in the end the majority ruled in your favour. And now your mother was the wise-woman of the tribe, ready to offer words of advice whenever you should need them.

"And to think I am now Shield-Mother of the Stronghold. I never thought a day like this would come. You honour us all with this accomplishment, and in time the others will see this too." She turns to look towards the largest bed in the Longhouse, the only one allowed any privacy, the chief's bed. "I would burn the furs on that bed if I were you. Replace them with pelts of your own making. Your father had a... plentiful appetite."

Your time alone with your mother is interrupted by the arrival of one of your half-sisters at the door. Morth, a young woman with the heart of a warrior that reminds you a little of yourself before you left. No doubt she was not long off from being sent to another Stronghold to marry their chief, but with your father dead, her fate was now in your hands.

"Chief Urzula" She calls out, haste in her voice. "There is an issue at the gates that needs your attention. Several of the men are attempting to leave. Graza is holding them for now, but they are growing agitated."

Graza was the forge-wife of your father, and though she no longer holds such a respected title, she is still the best smith in the Stronghold and her word carries a lot of weight. She sided with your mother in the vote among the widows for your acceptance, a tradition normally only called upon when succession is unclear. That being said, she waited until last to speak, giving each other wife a chance to voice their views before she weighed up the situation and cast her own vote.

Exiting the quiet warmth of the Longhouse, you quickly catch the growing sound of a rabble at the Stronghold's edge. You, your mother and Morth make your ways across the yard towards the main gate where you find just over half a dozen men geared up and attempting to leave. Graza stands before them, a female warrior to either side as she yells over the crowd to get their attention.

"Turn back now!" Graza commands firmly. "There is nothing beyond these gates for you other than exile and disgrace. You are needed here, now more than ever. You act without honour and turn your back on our ways if recent events are truly enough to get you to abandon your home."

"We cannot stay here." yells one of the men at the front of the crowd. Dulac, a well respected warrior. Perhaps had you not returned he would have been chief one day. With you here, however, the odds of this happening dropped heavily. "Things are wrong here and if we stay we will only incur Malacath's wrath upon us as well."

"Wrong? Do you consider Urzula's challenge to be wrong? Her right to conquest? She slew the previous Chieftain before your eyes. Before all of us. There is no dispute here. She is our chief now, as is our way." Graza responds.

"None are contesting her victory, nor her skill as a warrior." Dulac continues, levelling out his voice somewhat. "But this is not the way. The men become chief to take multiple wives, have multiple children. To give a woman that position, it cannot be as Malacath would intend. If Urzula won her trial it was because our Stronghold was cursed with weakness, a curse we must lift ourselves."

"If you wish to lift the curse, why don't you challenge her... if you consider Urzula to be the source of this ill fate you are so worried about." The voice that spoke up now belonged to Lagtha, who stood off to the side, observing the commotion with great intent. She noted you arrive, smirking almost smugly before turning her attention back to Dulac.

She was a hearth-wife of your father. Perhaps his favourite wife. She lacked any of the talents as a warrior or smith that his other wives had, but kept your father's favour with her skills in the bedroom and as a pretty face by his side. She was open with her objections to you claiming the title of chief of Shurkul, but once the wives came through with a majority in your favour, she played the part of falling in line. Though even no she prods and probes with questions with the hope of encouraging your half-brothers to challenge you.

"Weakness is the curse, not Urzula." Dulac responds, seemingly uninterested in challenging you, at least for now. "Though she has shown us how to defeat it. Out there, we can be tested, made stronger. Myself and others would wish to join up with the Legion and become forged by the experiences of war. Others have different ideas on how they wish to get stronger, but all involve leaving Shurkul and returning once we are ready."

"Speak to them." your mother whispers in your ear. "Command them. Bring them in line or cast them out, its up to you. But make your voice heard as our chief either way."

---

Your mother, Bula

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Morth

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Graza

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Lagtha

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[Ze Blitzkrieg]

To think, though she had only just taken control, and already crises fell upon her.

It was true that Urzula had expected protest to her claim. Her return was unexpected, and her efforts to seize power before her brothers even more so. But she had fought hard, and won, and had little interest in allowing her prize, the the hold, to flow through her fingers like so much sand. The warriors she came upon at the gates scorned her, not for what she had done, perhaps not even because of what she was, but because she had managed to do it before they themselves could. Their victories, their dreams of seizing power and spending their days tended to be flocks of beautiful she-orcs were dashed the moment she drove her blade through her father's heart. She had no doubt in her mind they would have scorned her had she been born a man as well, but the fact she was not gave them a reason to derelict their duties and seek greener pastures.

Perhaps it was unfair to fault them for that. She had done the same, in her youth, and now they wielded her past against her as a weapon, a justification for their selfishness. Who armed them with that weapon was debatable, but as her crimson hues surveyed the scene, she couldn't help but catch sight of Lagtha's smirk. Her father's favorite wife had been a thorn in her side in the days since her conquest, and this smelled of her. When Urzula had settled matters, she would have to be dealt with. Whether that meant exile, or being forced face-first into the furs of the new chieftain remained to be seen.

"Weakness? Curses? Are you Orsimer or Nord to speak so superstitiously, brother?" She asked as she strode passed her mother and towards the assembled group, her head as high as ever as she looked upon them all, but Dulac in particular, "You have mistaken things. The chief and the hold are as one. If one is weak, both are weak. If our hold was weak, then it was that weakness which allowed me to usurp our father, as he did to his father before him. If you think yourself unable to do the same, to slay me where I stand and lead the hold into a more glorious future, then perhaps this curse of yours is no more than squashed ambitions."

Perhaps reprimanding Dulac and his fellows was a poor choice. They had thought to leave, and demeaning them would likely not win back their favor. An imperial might try to goad them to the table of negotiation, and ply sweet words and false concessions until they felt themselves heard and cherished. But she was not an imperial. She was an orc. Their way was one of conquest, and if these men were to remain in the hold, they could not just love her, they had to respect her. She could not allow the challenge to go unanswered.

"My victory cut you to the quick, did it not? You now wish to abandon this home of ours, to follow in my footsteps, to hope that whatever I found in the legions will help you seize this place from me years down the line. It won't. You won't find the comforts or the glory you so desperately desire. Not with them. You'll find that glory here," She told them boldly, "When was the last time you waged war in the name of the Bloody Curse? When was the last time you felt the rush of battle as your axe bit into your foe? When was the last time you felt the satisfaction of taking his bride for your own after the fact, feeling her submit to you, her very body acknowledging you the victor?"

She couldn't help but lick her lips at the prospect. She had spent too long waging war as the imperials had, and far too little waging war as an orc. That would change.

"I am not some old crone, content to sit upon my throne, serviced by the daughters of my allies while my sons wait for their scraps, and my daughters wait for their fate. I am a warrior, young and proud and strong. My way is the glorious way. I will lead Shurkul to greatness not seen since long before our father's time, with or without you." It was a simple declaration. The loss of young warriors would hurt them, but not so much that they could not carry on. They had more to lose than she did, if they decided to listen to the whispers in their ears and leave.

"If you can't stomach the idea of following your sister into battle, of keeping your hold mighty with the strength of your arm and of your conviction, then go. Find purpose in latrine pits and marching drills. Perhaps, one day, when you return, I'll do what I should have done today, and slay you before all Malacath's children. But should you decide to accept me, to accept your new chief, then stay, and I'll show you firsthand just how little weakness prevails in my stronghold."

[Lazy Kitsune]

As restless and agitated as these men are, your words cut through the mounting discourse as each cease announcing their excuses for leaving and turn their attention towards you. They may not respect you as chief, but they cannot deny the power your presence has, nor that you have proven yourself as deserving of at least some respect as a warrior. This is something they must acknowledge, whether they want to or not. Reactions to your words are mixed across this group. A few lose some of the fire you saw mounting moments ago - not quelled but clearly offset by your words as they second guess their decision. Others grow more agitated, their envy and pride getting the better of them as they put on a fiercer front against your declaration. Then the third group merely listens. Dulac, to his credit, falls in this latter sort - standing his ground, but paying careful attention to you as you speak. His is not the empty stare of a man waiting for you to finish so he can carry on his way. He listens, and at times looks thoughtful, considering your words carefully. He takes the situation with the seriousness it deserves. At least he could be counted upon to be less rash than the others among him.

Its only until reach out to their desire for glory and conquest - the same desire that burns deep within your blood and the blood of all Orsimer - does it become clear which men you seem to be winning over. A light enters their eyes as they envision the very conflicts and triumphs you discuss. One speech would never make even the most agreeable orc complacent, but if it gets through to them, then perhaps it'll keep them around long enough for them to see just how you plan to act as chief. A few nods and murmurs start to spread across the crowd and even Dulac gives a slow steady nod.

Though not all are on the way to being swayed. For some, their ambitions, or perhaps just their prejudice, are too strong for them to hear your words. The group was evidently split, but it seemed in your favour. Dulac steps forward, perhaps knowing his word carries weight with the other men, or perhaps simply because its in his nature to speak for those standing behind him.

"You ask us to push aside centuries of our way based off of your words alone. But there is truth to those words. I would stay, if only to see if you are as strong a leader as you are at choosing your words." His statement seems to tip the fence sitters in the group, as most stand with him. A few push away, spitting at his feet and walking towards the gate, clearly uninterested in listening to any more of this. Graza stands in their way still, turning to you to see if you wish her to let them pass.

[Ze Blitzkrieg]

"In centuries, my way will be theirs," Urzula answered in turn, pleased that the majority of her kin had decided against their misguided ambitions. She couldn't bring them all back around, of course. Some were too embittered by the loss of their 'birthright'. She could've seen them punished, perhaps lashed like deserters in the legion they sought to join. But she would gain nothing from that. If they wished to stomp off as spoiled children, then she would let them. In time, they would hear of the exploits of their betters, and perhaps come to realize the mistakes their pride had driven them to make. She locked eyes with Graza and gave a nod, indicating they would be allowed to leave.

"While our brothers of lesser mettle flee to the hills to lick their wounded pride, let us return to our duties. Shurkul shall rise mighty in their absence, and I will need every able-bodied orc to do their part in bringing glory to our name. Soon, we shall wash across these mountains as a tide and take what is ours. You need only wait a short while longer to see this."

With that, she turned back to her mother and sister, moving to their side. While she asked the others to return to their work, she could not slack in her own duties. She had to consolidate power in the hold before she could lead her people to greatness. To do that, she would need to root out those who would conspire to engineer more events to undermine her authority.

"Lagtha. You were hearth-wife to my father, were you not? Come with us. Your counsel will be much appreciated on the matters of the day," Though phrased as an invitation, it was not one that could be refused, and Urzula made sure the look that accompanied it indicated as much.

[Lazy Kitsune]

As the gates shut behind those that deserted the hold, those that remain return to their duties. Tensions are far from vanishing, though for now things seem to be in order. A quick glance in Lagtha's direction makes her displeasure evident. She tries to hide it as soon as she realises she's being observed, but seeing first hand how you managed to keep most of a group that were so set on entirely abandoning your cause has soured her mood.

"Well said, Chief Urzula." Your mother says, a proud smile on her face as you return to her side. "The Hold will be stronger without those that left. It is refreshing to see a real warrior take charge around here for once."

Morth stands by your side as well, keeping herself composed as a warrior should. She gives a nod of respect to you before casting her eyes towards the men, looking them over likely to gauge for herself if any were likely to cause more trouble soon. Perhaps with more experience under her belt she would learn to identify the real threat as you have.

Lagtha is surprised when you call out to her, but draws herself towards you regardless. She is quick to compose herself, playing the part of a flattered member of the tribe. "Of course, chief Urzula. You handled yourself well, for someone so new to the role, but I am always prepared to offer what advice I can." There is no doubt that she understood exactly your intent behind your words, though there was something to her tone that indicated she felt secure in her own position. Perhaps it was her years over you in age and experience, or her many years of having your father's ear, but she seemed confident that she had the means to play a game of wit and cunning against you. Perhaps it was time to disabuse her of that notion.

[Ze Blitzkrieg]

With her entourage in tow, Urzula led them back to the longhouse. During the trek, she thought on how to best handle the issue of her father's favorite woman. The way she carried herself proved that though the man himself had gone to the grave, the favor that he showed her still gave her the idea that she was irreplaceable. That she could continue to play the chief of Shurkul with honeyed words, or perhaps see the chief replaced with one of her sons, who she could continue to wrap around her finger as she had with their father before them. To exile her might well agitate those sons, who were little more than rivals to her. Upsetting them while things were yet so tenuous would be a mistake. She needed to win Lagtha to her side, somehow, while simultaneously putting her not in the place of honor that her father had, but her proper place, as a servant to the chief and a purveyor of order within the settlement.

The doors to the longhouse loomed heavy, and as they arrived, she turned again, this time to her mother and sister.

"Mother, would you do me the honor of inspecting our armory? I wish to know all the arms and armor that remain with us from father's rule, so that we may better know what Graza will need to forge for the battles to come," She asked, eying her sister, "Take Morth with you. She may yet make a fine shield-wife one day; it would do her good to learn what men must carry into battle if they are to win the day over our enemies."

It was as polite a way to ask their absence as any. She didn't want them present for when she disciplined Lagtha, not least of which because her intentions for the woman once she had reminded her where she stood within the hold. With a heavy hand, she pushed the door open, gesturing for the hearth-widow to follow.

"Come. We have much to discuss before they return from their duties."

[Lazy Kitsune]

Your mother's eyes move calmly between you and Lagtha before she returns to you with a nod. Perhaps she has an inkling of what you have in mind, or at the very least is aware you plan to deal with Lagtha's troublemaking personally. "I will do that right away. Come along, Morth." she says, gesturing for the younger woman to follow her as she leaves you to do as you will. Morth bows her head, uttering "Chief Urzula." as she bids you fair well, before following your mother away as commanded.

Leaving you alone with Lagtha, the older woman smiles at you with forced warmth as you open the door for her. She enters the Longhouse with a haughtiness to her, regarding you opening the door to her as a gesture of respect. "Yes, I imagine we do, Urzula. No doubt a woman in your position would have many things on your mind." She barely looks towards you as she looks around the Longhouse. Her eyes fall upon the shield your mother set up early, which she approaches and runs a finger across its polished surface.

"Hmm... I feel I preferred the trophies your father had here. Perhaps my sons could help you in acquiring more. I can speak to them if you would like, let them know how much you would appreciate their help."

[Ze Blitzkrieg]

Urzula pulled the thick doors of the longhouse closed once the other woman had strode so confidently passed her. She made sure it was well seated before grabbing the length of wood used to bar it closed and gently setting it into place, ensuring they would remain alone until she deemed their business over. She stalked towards Lagtha, listening intently as she said what she needed to say, and only once the widow had dared to speak once more of her sons, to subtly remind her of the influence she held in Shurkul, did she finally act. Closing the gap between them, she made to grab Lagtha by the shoulder and spin her around so they were face to face. Then, her other hand could ply its work, reaching to seize her by the throat, fingers coiled just taut enough to keep her from squirming away if she dared, and to remind her of the gulf between their physicality.

"Enough," She growled, shoving the older woman away from the shield her mother had so thoughtfully selected. She pushed and pushed until she had walked her father's prized possession to the nearest of the longhouse's sturdy walls, and then shoved again, until she was pinned up against it. "I do not know how thoroughly you worked your spell on my father, but I am not him. He is no longer here to protect you, and he is no longer here to enable you. I rule Shurkul now. Not you. Not your sons. I will not have you whispering poison into their ears in a bid to maintain control."

Maybe there was a weakness in the hold, as her brother had claimed. But it was not the weakness of a curse. It was the weakness of treachery, a disease allowed to fester by her father in return for a few pleasant nights between the legs of the woman she now held. It would not be allowed to fester longer.

"I meant every word I said when I dismantled your ill-fated ploy earlier. This hold will be driven to greatness, and I will not tolerate those who would sow discord in my ranks," There was animosity tainting her tone, and she made no attempts to hide her venom, unlike Lagtha had. "Make no mistake. You will fall in line, as the others have, or I will ensure that you cannot possibly challenge my authority again. Do you understand?"

Her fingers tightened, just enough to make her promise all the more real, and she leaned ever closer, until her tusks could brush the subtle point of the matronly orc's ear, the weight of her body pressing her deeper into the wall. She asked again in a mixture of whisper and hiss.

"I want an answer. Do. You. Understand?"

[Lazy Kitsune]

Whatever shocked retort attempted to instinctually rush past Laghta's lips as you gripped her shoulder and spun her around, it fell silent as soon as your hand gripped for throat. The woman's eyes went wide, the golden pupils catching in the firelight with a similar sheen to the necklace that hung below where you gripped, resting its jewelled head in the valley of her breasts. Similar to the golden trim on her scarlet dress, that hugged tightly to her form with its silken smooth make and salacious trim, leaving her smooth thighs to bare and lifting her matronly breasts into proud view with how low the neckline cut was - the golden trim helping pretty them up all the more almost like a prized trophy for show in some Nord Jarl's display case. So gilded with finery was she, she looked more the part of Imperial whore than proud Orcish woman. It was a look she had learned to use as a tool, and at times a weapon, in her own ways - but it also spoke of how cushioned she had made her life at the Stronghold, and how ill prepared she was to face a warrior of your ferocity.

"My... chief..." she croaked out, an acknowledgement of your title that came too little too late as you pressed her back against the wall behind her. Her hands clutched feebly onto your forearm; if she was making an attempt to pull your grip away, it wasn't one worth noting.

She fell silent once again as your grip tightened, wincing as she felt the cold, hard walls of the Longhouse pressing in behind her. Whatever schemes and lies her mind raced through to try and salvage this situation - ploys on your pride, your youth, your duty - or claims that this was all a misunderstanding - all she seemed wise enough to know would only make her situation worse. With an effort to try and steady her frantic breathing, she met your intense glare and gave a shaky nod in response to your question.

[Ze Blitzkrieg]

There was something about the situation, something about the power she felt, that made things almost titillating. She could feel Lagtha's pulse beneath her fingers, hear the panic in each frantic breath she took. The older orc was was helpless, fearful, and totally at her mercy... and that felt good. Perhaps too good. The way she had dressed certainly hadn't helped things. She was meant to be a proud orcish woman, a hearth-wife, and the mother of great warriors. Yet she dressed in such fine silks, displayed the bounty of her body with such shamelessness, and girded herself in gold rather than the orichalcum of her people. Urzula had half a mind to strip her of her finery then and there, and show her that she would no longer occupy a place of such prestige within the hold. That her influence had long since fallen from its zenith.

The other half of her mind wished to do the same, but for far more selfish reasons. Malacath had seen fit to bless her with certain qualities than her other sisters seemed to lack, and as she held the widowed orc so close in her grip, the foremost of those qualities began to make itself known. If she hadn't inherited her father's weakness, she had inherited his appetites. Her member, tucked as carefully as something with such mass could possibly be, swelled against the sweet, long leg of her captive, pressing ever harder into through the rough hide breeches that covered Urzula's own legs. She hadn't found release with anything more than a swift hand in the few hours of peace she had gotten since returning to Shurkul, and amidst such a showing of dominance, she found herself desiring a more thorough unloading.

"Good," She whispered, her voice heavy against Lagtha's ear, "Because if I catch one more whiff of treason from you, I'll send you on to the Ashen Forge myself."

Her threats might have found themselves lessened somewhat by the rise of her desire, but she meant them no less, regardless of how she felt her own pulse quicken. Her fingers loosened along the she-orc's neck, and eventually fell away, the tips of her fingers trailing down across her collarbone, tracing the chain of her heavy amulet until they reached the end. She held it gently between her fingers for a time, red eyes dipping down to look it over.

"A gift from my father, no? He made sure to show his favor to all. But he no longer rules here."

Then, with a suddenness, she seized it, and yanked swiftly to snap the clasp and rob her of it. It would find itself sailing across the longhouse not longer after, clattering somewhere in the hall.

"You serve a new chief now. If you wish to wear the finery of a whore, then you will serve your new chief as a whore," She all but snarled, pinning Lagtha fast with the weight of her body. Her hands fell next to the neckline of her dress, where they yanked hard and fast until the fine fabric tore to the bounty of her matronly tits.

[Lazy Kitsune]

Lagtha frantically nodded as your grip loosened on her neck. Though you did not choke the air out of her, she drew in a deep breath the moment she felt the pressure lessen. Her face showed clearly how rattled and sullen she was, to be brought down and made so vulnerable by a younger woman that had taken her security and privilege from her. The necklace you held was clearly not of Orsimer make. At best it was loot taken from traders that drifted too far from their safe roads. At worst, Lagtha had your father part with barter goods for it at one of the nearby Nord towns, instead of trading for items of real value that would benefit the hold.

She winces as you tear the necklace away from her, shattering the chain and tossing it across the room. Though she bites back any objection, knowing full well you could have torn away something much more vital should you have wished. Still, as much as she was prepared to take this humiliation as penance for her words against you, nothing in her expected your next move.

She gasped as you pinned her in place, murmuring out a "Wh-what are you-" before your hands find their grip on her dress and pull hard enough to tear the fine fabrics open. The cloth that she dressed her body with so finely now as useless as rags ripped open with ease, letting her heavy breasts bounce free before falling with their weight and swaying before your eyes. Shaped and plumped by a comfortable life and multiple children, its no mystery why your father would enjoy this woman - or at least her chest - as much as he did. The darker green of her tits swelled as they were exposed to the air and your gaze as Lagtha trembled with her back against the wall. Panting heavily as she realised what was happening to her, the older woman took a moment to whimper under your gaze, before lowering her head meekly. "As my chief commands."

[Ze Blitzkrieg]

"Good girl..."

No sooner than the deep, husky purr left her lips did Urzula descend upon Lagtha. Her mouth found the older woman's jaw at first, claiming the fine green flesh with a bestial hunger. She dipped lower yet, leaving a trail of greedy, suckling kisses and love bites all across her throat and collarbone. Her fingers found purchase once more, grabbing the thick, silky thigh that her prize had so haughtily displayed to the world, feeling the softness of a pampered mother beneath each of her digits. She gripped one of them taut, hiking it up so that it could loop around and rest against the swell of her own hips. From that position, she mashed their hips together, grinding her growing need between the legs of the minx who had so thoroughly bewitched her sire. She went even as far as to use her might, and the support of the wall behind them, to hike Lagtha further up, robbing her of the satisfaction of footing on the floor, and making it all the easier for Urzula to bury her face into the valley of her cleavage.

Bury she did. With a ravenous hunger, she pressed her face into the heavy breasts before her. Her tongue lapped at them, dragging the thick, dexterous appendage all across Lagtha's bountiful titflesh, savoring the taste of her skin, the subtle sweat, the mixture of her scent and flavor mingling as one. Eventually her tongue found one of her dark nipples, and in her frenzy she sucked it up into her mouth, lashing about it with her tongue and rolling it between the points of her teeth. One could spend all day lost in the redhead's tits, feeling her squirm against them as they indulged in the plenty of her chest. But Urzula had more pressing needs, as become obvious when the hard, frenzied grinding led to the head of her sex, swelling ever larger by the moment, beginning to crest above the waist of her trousers.

"Hnngrrh... You feel that? That cock. You're going to become very familiar with that cock. You're going to take it, whenever I want, for as long as I want. It's going to rut into you as deep as deep goes, and fill you until there's no more room to fill. Maybe it'll even give you new sons," She growled against her conquest's clavicle, kissing at it hurriedly as she pawed at the older woman's underclothes, "That'll put an end to the scheming, mm? Fill that womb of yours until you're too pregnant to worry about who rules the hold. Mark you mine and let your body show the others where your loyalties lie now."

[Lazy Kitsune]

The older vixen's heavy breaths fall upon your ear as you begin to taste her with your tusked lips. She rests her head back against the wall, casting her eyes up as she opens up your access to her throat as you kiss and nibble along her neck. Her thigh gave to your grip, lifting as you directed. Soon you heard her gasp, no doubt feeling the unmistakeable bulge of your swelling member pressing oh so firmly between her legs. "Wh-what..." she stutters out, though soon falls silent once more as you started to grind your length against her.

As you hefted Lagtha up higher, her feet shook as her toes searched for the ground. Finding nothing, she was left with little choice but to wrap her thighs more firmly around you to keep herself steady between you and the wall. This just made it all the easier for you to press your hardening length against her. Positioned like this, each mashing of your hips against hers caused her to lightly bounce. Her eyes would widen slightly with each thrust, mouth twitching in a small gasp. Her tits would sway and shake with small, fluid motions. In this pantomime of fucking you good get a sense of just how she'll look once your cock was truly buried inside her.

To think there was a time you could recall this woman as a superior, if in an entirely unearned manner. How she was always haughty, even when watching over you and the other children playfight. How she always favoured her own children over any other of your siblings. Even back then she seemed to have a dislike of you, one that led to you getting colder portions of food, or taking the brunt of a scolding after a fight among your siblings went too far. Now here she was, no longer the judgemental guardian of your childhood memories but a prize for you to take and runt and make swell with your young. Perhaps she would show your kids the same favouritism she showed hers if she would be their mother too.

Your lips claimed her tits hungrily and this forced more than heavy breathing and restrained gasps out of her. After a strained grunt to try and hold back her voice, moans started to slip past her lips as her clearly very sensitive breasts were assaulted by your tongue. The buds of her tits stiffened more against the warmth of your mouth, becoming acquainted to your tongue's sensations to mark the beginning of a lifelong relationship. Your spit coated her breasts once you were done lavishing them so greedily, given them a shine to match the polish on the shield on the wall.

Though her face may deny it, as you paw at her underclothes you feel a noticeable dampness on the cloth. Your ferocious attention had begun to win over her body, regardless of her mind's objections. For a few understandable moments, she was utterly at a loss for words to respond to you with. After a few moments, however, she managed to gasp out some murmurs of confusion. "You... you can't... can't possibly be as big as you feel..."

[Ze Blitzkrieg]

Urzula could only chuckle darkly. After all that had happened between them, after the position she had been put in, that was all dear Lagtha could manage to come out with? The chief rocked herself against the haughty widow in her arms, muttering into the crook of her neck between nips and kisses.

"All those years I was gone, all the men who shared my tent... I could never find one bigger than me," She murmured huskily, letting her lips brush all along the side of her neck until she could whisper a promise into the older woman's ear, "And after tonight, you won't find one either."

Her fingers coiled taut again, but this time not against a throat or a thigh, but against the fabric of Lagtha's smallclothes. She pulled hard and rough, ripping and rending until it tore away and rendered the sweet, wet folds between the imperious she-orc's legs free to claim. She was a little more careful with her own clothing, not least of which because tearing proper orcish garb was much more difficult, but she certainly wasn't ginger about it. She forced her belt open, and pushed her trousers until they passed the wide swell of her hips, her loincloth going with them. Her length sprung free from its confinement with gusto, filling the space between their bodies with ease. Long, and thick, and throbbing, it pressed against Lagtha's sex and managed still to stretch ever higher, the heavy head brushing along her ribs. A few more cursory grinds followed, letting her soon-to-be-lover know just how deep it would soon go.

But she couldn't tease forever. However much Lagtha's body had betrayed her, craving the touch of a stronger orc, Urzula's own lusts burnt undoubtedly higher. Her balls, having flopped free of her underclothes, were heavy and swollen with seed. They needed to be emptied, and with a tight, wet hole only inches away, she could not bring herself to resist. She hiked Lagtha just a little higher, and gripped her bitch-breaking tool in the same motion, lining it up properly in the process. Then, without more warning than a deep, needy groan, she rolled her hips forward and dragged Lagtha down onto her length, taking big handfuls of the motherly orc's plentiful ass to help provide the necessary leverage to see as many fat, throbbing inches of her member as possible found blissful purchase within the former hearth-wife.

[Lazy Kitsune]

A shudder ran up Lagtha's spine as she felt the full length of your cock press against her body. "That... can't be... so big... Easily larger than even your fathers... But it feels like you were just a little brat not too long ago." She manages to collect herself well enough to add on to her words and avoid the risk of incurring your wrath. "Ah, I mean... just that I find it hard to recognise my... powerful chief... as the same little girl I helped raise." She gulps, though you feel her juices start to wet her thighs and the side of your cock now that her undergarments were ripped away.

And then the time came. It was only rightful, the way of orc conquest. She had been your father's favourite wife, and now that you had slain him she was free for the taking. It was in the nature of your culture... your people's blood... for her to be claimed by the superior warrior. You felt it burning inside you, urging you to take her. And she undoubtedly feels it inside her too, no matter how much she tries to dress up as an Imperial whore.

She grunts as you heft her higher, her tits spilling across your face as she sucks in a deep breath. One that is soon cast out of her with a heavy moan as you pulled her back down onto the tip of your cock. Her tongue spills past her tusks as her head rocks up and down from the feeling of being stretched open upon your cock. You feel her thighs twitch around your hips as she takes the first few inches of you into her. Then more, her experienced knowing how to relax and take you into her better than most of your previous partners have, all while still gripping you warmly and tightly as she went down. Experience really was a blessing, it would seem. Still, even she had depths that weren't used to you, and you felt a notable pride as you reached a point within her where resistance grew tighter - before even half of your cock managed to press its way in. Her body was still accepting you, but it was enough of a change to tell - you were deeper in her than your father had ever been. And the bewildered expression on her face was all the evidence of that you needed.

[Ze Blitzkrieg]

Since the time she was small, Urzula had sought power. She had always fought for it. Against her siblings when she was young, against her peers as a soldier, even against the foolhardy Nords, or Imperials, who had thought to tame her in bawdy taverns, and found themselves conquered instead. But never had bottoming out in an ill-prepared human brought such a rush of power and dominance as when she felt the woman who had looked down on her for so much of her life tighten like a vice around her shaft. She had been impressed that Lagtha had managed as well as she had initially, but even her father's favorite wife couldn't handle the full breadth of what his exiled daughter had dangling between her thighs. It stoked the fire roaring in her blood, that even though the man who had sought to sell her as a sow had gone to the grave, she still found ways to prove herself his superior.

She pumped her hips forward, letting her length ford ever deeper into her conquest's depths with each long, lustful stroke. Every time she rocked up against the fiery haired she-orc, she pushed just a little deeper, claimed just a little more of her. She made her pleasure known, groaning and grunting against the pointed curve of Lagtha's ear, relishing in the sopping heat that had come to encompass her maleness.

"I bet you never thought you'd see the day... that the little brat you so disdained would be here, inside you, claiming you. Taking you deeper than your husband ever had, making you feel things he never could. It must be humbling, to know that you know belong to that little girl," She breathed heavy as she muttered her venom, but never ceased in her efforts, continuing to carve her shape into Lagtha's sex with every hot, heavy motion. Every thought of rebellion would be fucked out of her mind, replaced only with a shameful desire for more, and the knowledge that she belonged entirely to her new chief.

[Lazy Kitsune]

Lagtha's vision struggled to focus as you pressed yourself deeper within her, and her arms fell around your shoulders - if only because she could no longer hold them anywhere else. Listening to your groans, seeing your face before her, feeling you inside her; this must have left her dazed and stunned whenever she takes a moment to compare her current situation to her memories of you. As she lets out moans and grunts of her own as her body feels your cock conquer every inch of her depths, she tries to steady her voice enough to speak. "You've... hngh... clearly grown... somewhat... since then..."

If she's trying to find it in herself to be snide of resilient, clearly the will to do so is currently being smothered by your cock. No doubt it would be hard for her to ever think of herself as important again, knowing full well that she's been made the personal bitch of someone who up until this moment she saw as a troublesome child. Your cock continues to work away at her depths, loosening them up to suit your shape better as her body betrayed her more and more. Every hint of resistance and regret in her moans was gradually fucked away as she tried to burry her head into your shoulder to hide the pleasure escaping her lips. A deep, angled thrust sent her head flying back and crying out in a heavy moan, leaving behind some of her drool on your shoulder.

"Please... too much... you'll break me..." she murmurs out, eyes utterly unfocused as you watch before your eyes the delightful sight of her tits bouncing and shaking with the speed that you made her ride your cock.

[Ze Blitzkrieg]

The vinegar in Lagtha's words was easily snuffed out by the sweetness of her moans. She could try and cling to those memories if she wished, try to dig her fingers into that ill-deserved scorn, but they both knew it was futile. How could she look down on someone who had so thoroughly bested her? Who had made her cry out in pleasure and beg for mercy? Who could take her and use her however they wished, whenever they wished? Their dynamic had been forever changed, and that knowledge, coupled with the sweet satisfaction of having a tight, wet hole to rut into over and over was a greater boost to Urzula's ego than any wound her rival's words could ever inflict.

She lost herself to the pleasure as they continued to fuck. Her body, lean and powerful as it was, had no trouble crushing the softer woman into the longhouse wall. Over and over, she threw her weight up against Lagtha, keeping the big bitch of an orc pinned and submissive, mastering every inch of her sex until her moans started to spill over. When Lagtha cried out, she could only let out a laugh between breathy pants and involuntary groans.

"Too much? I haven't even gotten started yet," She told her, a daedra's grin on her lips as she continued to rut, never slowing her pace, not even for a moment, "You aren't the prize of some impotent old man any more. You're my bitch. We fuck for as long as I fuck. If that breaks you, then so be it. Break! Let go of all of that pride. Give in to your new chief, and learn your new place!"

[Lazy Kitsune]

Lagtha's legs shook on either side of your hips as you pounded deep into her in a heavy rut. Her toes curled and feet kicked in the air, twitching from feeling spots within her ignite with pleasure as your cock pounded its shape into her. "Please..." she continued to beg through what brief gaps in her wanton moaning she managed to find. "Please... please..." It was no longer clear if she was begging you to stop or to keep going, if even she herself knew. Not that it mattered, as her body had all but given in to you, her hips moving on their own to welcome your conquest. No matter how she wanted to dress herself up, she was enough an orc to know the proper way of things. This was in her blood, blood that now urged her body to submit to you. To please you. To reward you for slaying her husband and assaulting her in the Longhouse to claim her as your own. And she was doing a really good job at it.

As delightful as her tits were, her ass was just as fun to grip and play with. But it was really the motion of her hips that was selling her skill in the bedroom right now. Even pinned and overwhelmed as she was, she managed to sway her hips so as to glide along your cock, helping your conquest of her depths proceed even faster. And to think this was her still trying to resist giving in. Fully breaking her seems even more appealing. You could start to hear your heavy balls slap against her as she subconsciously fucked herself onto your cock in time with your own thrusts, even while occasionally still murmuring out her futile pleading.

Not long later, that pleading stopped, cut off by mounting moans. Her voice pitched up, becoming more of a cry that came out in short bursts. Each seemed to surprise her as it came out, but the source of them became clear as her body tightened around you. Soon she knocked her head back against the wall and let out a deep moan as her eyes rolled back into her head, as the petty woman that once shunned you reached her most pleasurable orgasm in her lift so far upon your cock.

[Ze Blitzkrieg]

If this was the life that awaited, of being tended to by women like Lagtha, having them join her in her bed in the cold, long nights and ride her well into the morn, well Urzula couldn't well blame her brothers for envying her. Her father's widow, desperate to deny her feelings as she was, had already proven herself to be an excellent lover. With time, once she had demurely accepted her place as the breeding sow of a newer, better chief, perhaps she would regain a small portion of the favor she had once wielded within Shurkul. But that sweet future remained just that; a future. To get there, she would need to have the fight pounded out of her, one earthshaking release at a time. Luckily enough, it seemed the first of many had finally reached her, the hot, sweaty, ball-clapping sex the two shared resulting in her finally losing her resolve.

"Do it! Cum for your chief. Don't you dare fight it. This is your life now!" She growled, keeping her pace all the way through until she finally squealed out and banged her head back in the rush. She tightened her grip on Lagtha, holding her close enough that she could feel every tremble and shudder as her folds worked to milk the seed right from her balls. As she came down, Urzula lunged forward, seizing her lips in a hungry, sloppy kiss, letting the embers of her scream die in their throats. Once the last desperate clenching had died down, she parted the kiss, licking away the strands of saliva that yet connected them.

She envied that release. Oh how she wanted to give in, and follow Lagtha to a powerful finish. To fill her womb so completely, and know she had brought the arrogant low. But she couldn't. It wasn't just a quick fuck to blow off steam. What she found herself doing was not just for the sweet bliss of laying with a beautiful woman, but putting that woman in her place. To give her the satisfaction of knowing she had brought a strong orcish stud off after just one orgasm? It was unacceptable. She had to be taught the way of things; her new lot in life wasn't just to be fucked dumb by a powerful new chief. All would pull their weight in Shurkul, and that meant she would also be working to satisfy her stud.

Holding her fast, Urzula found her legs once again and pulled away from the wall, showing just how easily she could heft her new conquest even while buried balls deep within her. It was a short enough walk to their destination; to the throne, where generations of her ancestors had ruled their kin. She ascended the stairs easily enough and, upon arriving, turned her back to the mighty chair and settled backwards until she could assume her rightful seat, with Lagtha still in her lap.

"You worked your spell on my father, who once called this seat his own. Now work it on me. If you're to be my new breeding sow, then I expect you to earn that honor. Show me why I should give you any of the favor you so badly desire," She demanded, giving a good sharp smack across one of those bountiful cheeks now resting on her thighs, "Serve your chief."