A loud end to it all...

Fifteen minutes passed and the duel was still ongoing, both combatants were heavily sweating under the armour as they continued to fight at full force with little break. Each felt as if they were in a sauna solely located within their armour, their weapons feeling heavier than tree trunks, and harder to swing than iron chains.

Out of the two however, Torygg had come off the worst. His armour was dinged and dented in all manner of places, his legs, arms, chest plate, and even his helmet had seen a remarkable amount of damage for someone still relatively unharmed. Ulfric's axe proved to be the superior weapon in this match, its weight allowing it to act as a hammer and chisel as opposed to Torygg's heavy blade.

Unfortunately for Ulfric, his shield proved to big his biggest weakness, it's wait had begun to exhaust him, so much so that he'd discarded it halfway through the battle, intent on using his armour alone to protect him.

All was not as it seemed however, as a niggling sensation shot through his knees as he viciously slams his axe into Torygg's arm. The King tiredly backs away, but Ulfric felt as though he was low on blood, or something similar to it.

While the duo had some distance from one another, Ulfric raises the visor on his helmet and turns to the side, spitting out some dark blood that bubbled strangely as it hit the floor. "P-Poison!?" he mutters, enraged that someone would attempt this during such an important event.

He looks over at Torygg who was steadily making his way over, "You dare have me poisoned, boy!?" he roars, his voice easily reaching the observers.

Torygg takes a moment to recover his breaths, "Poison!? You dare question my honour Ulfric!? Even after all of this!?"

"Maybe not you, but one of your allies wouldn't have such qualms!" he growls, looking over at the crowd, "Mage, check me!"

Sybille quickly makes her way over and begins scanning him with magic, quickly identifying the problem... Only, she doesn't reveal it. It wasn't poison that was afflicting Ulfric, it was a slow-acting curse that'd been cast relatively recently... The vampire catches Elenwen's eyes momentarily but quickly turns to face the irate Ulfric. "There is no poison. You can yield if your injuries are proving too much, no one would question your honour."

Ulfric angrily pushes her to the side and grips his axe tightly, "Enough of this farce! Whether your mage admits it or not, these tricks will not save you, Torygg! I will save Skyrim, from the Thalmor, Empire, and from you." he proclaims as he throws the helmet off, revealing his pale white face and steadily bluing lips.

"Your plans to 'save' Skyrim will only destroy it! I won't let that happen, Ulfric!" Torygg shouts as he charges his enemy, only for time to slow down as Ulfric greedily sucks in some air. Indeed, he'd all but forgotten one of Ulfric's most famous abilities, abilities that were technically allowed in such duels since most old Nords knew the Thu'um to some extent...

"FUS. RO. DAH!!!" Ulfric roars as a shockwave powerfully escapes his mouth, cracking the walls and floor of the room as a ripple shoots forwards through the air at tremendous speeds. Ulfric himself slides back a few feet from the force of the attack, but this is nothing compared to what awaited Torygg.

*CRAAAASH!*

The young King is struck by the Thu'um, his body acting as if it'd been hit dead on and full force by a train. Most of the bones in his body instantly shatter, his internal organs tearing or liquefying under the force as he flies through the air as if a giant had just kicked him.

*THUD!*

Torygg hits the wall on the opposite side of the hall, barely alive and only this way because of the armour that plated the entirety of his body. Even so, he was quickly expiring, his internal organs too far gone to support his mangled any longer.

"TORRRYYGGGG!" Elisif wails in horror as she observes this, forcing Sybille to grab and hold her in place... The duel had not yet ended.

Ulfric lets out a breath and begins marching over to Torygg's downed body, a permanent look of anger marked on his features. "You lack everything that makes a true Nord, a voice, courage, honour, independence, the will to do what's right... Your wife will be safe, and Skyrim's people will be better off without you." he grouses, voice hoarse from the powerful shout he'd just unleashed. He wasn't done yet however.

"I will end you in a way befitting of a true Nord. Not like a snivelling cripple, or Thalmor whore you currently are."

"G-rrr-rrrghhkk... U-Ul-ULFRRIIIIIC!... T-the gods-... A-avenge-..." Torygg gasps out, his lungs not working well enough to properly produce sound.

Ulfric shakes his head, "If you think the god's would care enough to avenge you, you are far more foolish than I thought. The gods, they care not of our plight, it's us men who will determine our fate... Farewell." he says before taking another deep breath.

"FUS RO DAH!"

*CRAAAASH!*

*SQUELCH!*

*CLANK!*

Torygg's body all but disintegrates as the second shout hits, his body turning to mulch as it separates in all directions in the most bloody and gory fashion possible... If anyone had any objections to who was the victor then they'd need to get their head looked at...

"BETRAYER! GUARDS! AVENGE YOUR KING!" Elisif shrieks irately, gesturing erratically towards the nearby guards who stood uncomfortably as they tried to figure out what to do.

Ulfric turns to address them, but finds his voice too weak to speak at the volume required... This, unfortunately, leads to many misunderstandings.

"THE TRAITOR USED MAGIC TO SLAY THE KING! DISHONOURABLE MEANS! KILL HIM! AVENGE MY HUSBAND NOW!"

Dengeir growls, "Damn harpy! The Thu'um is an ancient tradition! You knew this when the duel started! Shut your mouth and accept the new High King!"

"I think not! That wasn't the Thu'um, just magic designed to resemble it!" Elenwen proclaims as her Thalmor mages rush into the room.

This, combined with the confusion of the guards, shouting of Elisif, and neutrality of some Jarls leads to an all-out shit show...

"Gods fucking damn it!" Galmar groans as he runs over and picks up Torygg's dropped blade, intent on using it against those bastard elves that dared to try and scheme.