You step into the Ashen Forge. There must be hundreds of orcs drinking and indulging in their wives like chiefs. It's a welcome sight from the otherwise barren realm. You're a stranger here though. You aren't an orc like them. Just as their skeptical looks start to burn, Malacath himself appears, coming up to you. Much like the statues would imply, your neck is hurting to look up at his face. His toothy mouth turns to a grin as he pats you hard on the back.

Malacath: "I was waiting for you, champion. You've proven your strength as many times over as the orcs here. Come, drink like a chief. Even the bravest chiefs need a drink and a wife to come home to." He ushers you in. He's certainly kinder than the other Daedra you've met.