Treads-the-Ashes – Argonian, Male, Lines in black
Nord1 – Lines in red
Nord2 – Lines in blue
Mujeen – Argonian, Male,Lines in purple

Opening Scene
Some (non-hostile to player) Thugs stand by, talking.

I hope the damn lizard rots down there. Struggling just to breathe, never mind get out.

Ha! I hope he does get out, so the slaughterfish can tear him apart.

I don’t know if they’d bother. Not even a troll would eat something that ugly.

Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter either way. That chest is locked up tighter than an Imperial’s noose. And wouldn’t you know? It seems I’ve lost the key.

Ha-ha-ha!

Ha-ha-ha!

Thug Idles

What are you looking at?
Good riddance to leatherskin scum.
Mind your own business.
(If Argonian) [disgusted scoff]
What? [irritated]
(If Argonian) Do we have a problem, Boot? No? Good.
Out of my way. [impatient]
Keep that nose on your face.
Whatever you think you heard, you didn’t. Got it?

player finds key and chest, opens it, and releases trapped Argonian who immediately swims to shore

player comes ashore, finds Argonian knelt on the sand

Forcegreet

[still somewhat breathless]

Many thanks, friend. I think it just saved my life. (Note: Treads often refers to player as “it” – he’s not being offensive it’s just a race specific grammar tic)

Yeah, I think some of those slaughterfish were wearing bibs.
Ha ha, yes… I could hear them outside the box; ramming and snapping at the wood. It was only a matter of time, really.

What’s the big deal? I thought Argonians liked water.
Open water, swimming freely, yes.
But being shoved into a box, blind and deaf, as death swims around you?
No. Not at all. Not even a little.

And I deserve a reward for saving you.
I agree, but I’m not a person of means – and it won’t do much good to save my life if it ends up starving it.

I was hoping that chest was filled with boots, but not the kind that talk.
So it’s true. The waters of Skyrim are as cold as its people.
But I hope it’ll spare this humble boot’s tongue. When the landstriders come knocking, begging for mercy is my only real defense.

Why were those men trying to kill you?
I wish I had an answer. But truth is, I have no idea how a heart can hold so much hate.
They could’ve just killed me kindly. I would’ve been okay with that.
But death wasn’t enough. They wanted to ruin me first. Make me fear the one thing that made me feel safe.

You’ll be happy to know I killed them.
It shouldn’t have done that. Their kin might come looking for me. (Sigh) Still, I suppose it meant well.

Their cruelty was their undoing. It gave you time and a means to escape.
Then we’re lucky the gods were just. I’ve found that isn’t always the case.

But that’s like trying to drown a fish. It doesn’t make sense.
Well, even if I could hold my breath forever, I can’t say the same for my sanity.
Make no mistake, I would’ve cracked like an egg if the lock hadn’t broke first.

Well you’re safe now, that’s all that matters.
But for how long? What if their friends come looking for them?
(Sigh) Forgive me. I’m alive, thanks to its help. Sometimes I need to remind myself that’s a gift, and not a curse.

How long were you in there?
It could’ve been an hour. It could’ve been ten.
To be honest, when there’s no sun, no light, just the same stale water you’ve breathed a hundred times, well…it’s hard to tell.
But it was long enough to realize no amount of pushing or clawing would get me out.

Are you feeling all right?
Yes, now, thanks to its efforts. A little worse for wear, but Hist be blessed, still alive.
If anything, I should be asking it how it’s feeling. Slaughterfish didn’t get their names for being gentle.

Maybe a bite or two. Nothing that can’t be mended.
Ah, that’s good to hear.
Let’s go back to my camp. It’s not far, and I think I have a potion I could give it to express my thanks.

Not a scratch.
Really? Then perhaps the Hist smiles on the both of us.

Yes, the name is apt. I feel completely slaughtered.
Then I’m sorry.

Hands player a bottle of Mogo’s mead

Here. It’s some kind of potion, I think. The Breton who gave it to me swore it would cure me of my ills.
To be honest, I didn’t even know I was sick.

Better pray at a shrine, just in case.
We’re a long way from my gods, friend. Although granted, their branches run deep.

This isn’t a potion. It’s mead.
Is that all? Ha, and here I was going to rub it on my shoulders. No wonder those Nords threw me in the ocean!

Ah mead, my favorite kind of potion.
So that’s what it is? Huh, the label’s like no mead I’ve ever seen.
Well, if it likes the drink, it’s welcome to keep it. It’s the least I can do.

This will only cure you if you’re depressed.
Then it should accept the reward, and drink when it’s feeling blue.

But either way, I hope it finds a use for it. And thanks again.

I could use another blade. Would you consider following me?
Sure, it’s the least I can do. Fair warning though, I’ve mostly adventured on my own.
I might let it take the lead until I figure out how to work with a partner.

NOTE: This section is more or less misleading the player about his past, see below for truth, so when he says “the name fits” he’s referring to the people who died because of him, not people he’s killed.

Tell me about yourself. 
The landstriders know me as Treads-the-Ashes. It’s a warrior’s name.

You don’t seem like much of a warrior.
Compared to itself, few are. But my name is mine for a reason.

I don’t get it. Why is it a warrior’s name?
It means I tread the ashes of the men I slay. It’s meant to inspire dread.

I see, because you tread the ashes of the men you kill.
Precisely. Although as far as first impressions go, I doubt my name means much given how it found me.
But believe me when I say…the name fits.

And are you that? A warrior?
Sure, I can hold my own. Few can survive life in Black Marsh. I guess that makes me special.

Treads brought to Solitude

Mujeen?

So you’re still alive.

I am.

Hmph. The gods must be jesters, letting brave men die so a coward might live.

Mujeen, I…

No! Not a word from you! Not one word! You haven’t earned the right!
Don’t apologize, don’t even say goodbye, because it’s your fault those hatchlings never got the chance.

What was that about?
I wish you didn’t see that. But he’s right. I’m a coward.
The truth is, Treads- the-Ashes isn’t a warrior’s name. It’s an insult.

Why is the name an insult?
A long time ago, during my adventuring days, I came across a village.
I was desperate and hungry, so I told them I was a war hero, one who rivaled the great Dalum-Ei, and I’d teach them to fight in exchange for a meal.
And while I taught them a few basic techniques, most nights I sold them. I sold them on tales of my adventures – fantasies I spun out of thin air.

How did they find out you were lying?
It started with an argument. I can’t even remember what it was about. But by night’s end, two tribes were at war.
Normally the villages would’ve talked it out. But with a war hero on their side, the chief saw no reason to compromise.
But that was a lie. I wasn’t a hero, just some halfwit adventurer who couldn’t last two nights in the marsh.
And when the time came to fight, I froze.

Pathetic.
Yeah, maybe. It sure felt that way when everyone else was charging on ahead.

It’s okay, it happens.
Does it? Because everyone else was charging on ahead.
But me, I stood by and did nothing. No, worse than that.
I lay down in the shallow marsh like a corpse, and watched as the stems of Blackrose got neck-deep in ashes.
My life now? It’s penance. Every day I tell them I’m sorry, but it turns out the dead have no mercy for the living.

You froze?
Yeah. Everyone else charged, but me? I stood by (same as above)

Who is Mujeen?
He was the former leader of the tribal guard, and the man I replaced.
Mujeen despised me, but he was a man of honor.
He’s the one who saved the village while I hid in the water.

Is that why you came to Skyrim? To fight in the war?
Maybe. It should’ve been me that died that day. Sometimes I feel like I owe it to them to keep fighting.
In fact, the day we met, I was trying to join the Stormcloaks.

Why the Stormcloaks?
I don’t know. Self-loathing, maybe. But something about a smaller clan, fighting for survival, spoke to me.

Is there any way to make things right?
No. Not in this lifetime. Its eyes are staring at a man with a life sentence.
From here on out, all I can do is serve it.

Hellos
It is our most favored company.
Tidings.
You have questions?
It is pleased to see you, old friend.

Follower stuff
We move as the wind blows.
It leads, I follow.

Understood.
Got it.
As you wish.
Is there anything else?

Let’s trade.
All right, take what you need.

I’ll stand guard until you get back.
Okay, let’s go.

Very well. If you need me again, just ask.

Idles

Windhelm. I wonder if we’ll run into those Nords here. Doubt they’d recognize me. To them, all lizards look alike.
If their numbers dwindle, we could take this city, just like we took southern Morrowind.

 After reveal