This tale starts in the early years of the 4th era. The tribe known as Kahzukul had lived contently for hundreds of years at the base of the mountains just west of bruma, on the border of Skyrim and Cyrodiil. However, as the tribe began to grow the natural resources began to deplete. Precious ore, water coal and wood had nearly all disappeared from the area. The chieftain who had guided them through the worst times of their history had now grown old and infirm; he was father to Krug and Mulak.

Most Orcs believe there is no room for the weak or old and that when your time comes you must die like a warrior or be cast out from the tribe. Not willing to simply give up his right to rule, he chose the warriors way. Knowing that it would mean his certain death, he challenged the tribes best fighters and hunters to a one on one duel; with the victory prize being inheritance to the throne and a right to all the women of the tribe.

His first son, Krug at that time was fairly naive and fresh to Orcish ideas and traditions. He didn't understand how his friends, family and mentors could all jump at the chance to kill his father. It felt as if the whole tribe was betraying him.
His mother however, reassured him that it was just something that his father had to do, something that would please Malacath.

"To cling to something past it's usefulness is just...wrong, Krug" she told him. It still made no sense to Krug, he hated seeing his own father go toe to toe with the more stronger orcs of the tribe. Surprisingly though the was fight in the old chief yet, he had defeated nearly all of the the warriors in the clan, the was only one more left. Mulak, he was a little younger than his brother Krug, but much skinner and gaunt. They used to respect one another a long time ago, but a falling out had left them enemies.

The chieftain, panting, beckoned Mulak forwards to take up his weapon and grant him a good death; a warriors death.
Mulak took up his thin curved sword he called 'little bird' and readied himself for the duel.
The chieftain lunged forwards with his cumbersome mace but missed and it pounded the ground with a loud 'thump'. Dust flew up into the air and the chieftain let out a loud cry as little bird cut into his thigh. Blood trickled from the chieftains deep wound which made Mulak smiled as a sense of victory washed over him. The nimble little orc slashed into the chieftains chest which made him stumble backwards and drop to one knee. Mulak turned to the cheering crowd and pumped his arms into the air. He strode slowly towards the wheezing chieftain and raised little bird into the air for the finishing strike, only to hear the clank of metal on metal
" I will not allow you to kill our father!!" barked Krug, who had just deflected the blow with the shaft of his battle axe.

Shocked, Mulak petitioned to the audience claiming that this was a violation of tradition, that it would anger Malakath!
But Krug turned to his dying father who was grasping at his shins and said "if anyone is going to kill my father it's going to be me...." the tribe seemed confused but appeared to enjoy the change of victor, after all Krug was firstborn and a more traditional looking orc.

The chieftain clambered to his feet and nodded in agreement with his son "sorry father" he muttered before swiftly finishing the duel.

The whole tribe stood and cheered "chief Krug!!" over and over again that day. However, the were those among the crowd who remained seated, neither clapping nor cheering; Mulak was one of those orcs. He shouted to the tribe "no, no! this cannot be! I am your chieftain! i am your leader!! You offend malacath with your cheering, fools!" but his desperate attempts to protest were drowned out by the deafening chants of the tribe.

Many years passed and Mulak's hatred for his brother Krug only grew worse; he resented him more than anything or anyone. Finally, he crumbled after hearing a rumour that chief Krug had denied the attack order on a nearby Breton town which would have provided the whole tribe with more food and resources; both of which they had nearly almost run out of. Mulak knew that something had to be done, a revolution.

Mulak was a cold and calculating orc, somewhat different from your run of the mill dumb brute. He casually slipped in ideas of new leadership into conversation with the tribe to see who would be in his favour. Most of the tribe rejected the idea, but the were about four other orcs who seemed keen that someone else; someone strong should be leading them. Determined to sit upon the throne of Kahzukul, Mulak devised a plan with the four orcs to take the throne. An idea snapped into Mulak's head, he thought about many things, but one plan stood out to him the most. He would aggravate the nearby Breton town just enough for them to send soldiers against the tribe. During the battle, Mulak would slay his brother and make out that he was instead protecting him, with no one else in line to the throne Mulak would be the favourite choice.

Months of skirmishes in secret against the Breton town finally resulted in them retaliating against the orcs. At about dusk one evening they heard the lookout blow the alarm horn. Mulak and the four other orcs raced to the balcony of the watchtower that lay in the mountainside. To their horror they could see an entire imperial company marching through the valley towards their home. Soldiers gleaming in full plate mail armour and carrying all manner of weapons were advancing. Mulak's eyes pierced the darkness and he could just about make out the faint image of three large wooden structures rolling slowly closer.

Suddenly catapults launched huge fireballs that lit up the the night sky, burning anything that got in their way. The orcs scrambled around their fortress at the base of the mountain; women and children were fleeing to safety of the caves, while the men donned their armour and weapons.
Mulak and his four revolutionists watched on as more fireballs smashed through their defensive walls. Their hearts began to sink. "What have we done..." muttered one orc as he took a large gulp of mead. The other orc, just paced up and down the room growling and mumbling to himself. The third orc was nowhere to be seen and Mulak....Mulak had just seen chief Krug emerge from his longhouse clad in his elaborate plate armour wielding his battle axe.

Mulak raced out of the mountain outpost, practically sprinting down the hundreds of stairs that led down to into the chaos of battle. All he could think about was how this was his chance to finally be chieftain. He blanked out all thoughts of the marauding imperial army. The soldiers were everywhere inside the mountain fortress, killing his tribesmen and burning their wooden huts to the ground. Mulak deflected a soldiers attacks with his sword 'little bird' and killed him where he stood. His only goal was killing Chieftain Krug and making himself the true chief of clan Kahzukul.

"KRUUUUG!!!" bellowed Mulak as he paced towards his brother weapon at the ready.
Krug retrieved his bloodied axe from a soldiers chest and turned to face his little brother...

(more to come!)