Brakh
Brakh is an Orc hunter, and one of few words. He speaks in short sentences, and has a habit of not using articles and pronouns.  For example “That sounds good” would be “sounds good” or “Do you like cake?” would be “Like cake?” and so on.  His backstory revolves around his two childhood friends, an Imperial and another Orc.  It’s revealed that the Orc, Lagdu, killed the Imperial for reasons unknown, and now Brakh seeks revenge using the same arrow that felled him.

Conversation Start
You got guts, stranger.  Two feral wolves. But you didn’t flinch.
Train my arrows on most. Say “That’s close enough.”  They look raw, as if I didn’t just save their life.
You though, the wolves like.  Or fear.  Got curious.  Wanted to see how far you’d make it.
Looks like I slighted you. Or misread them.

Animals love me.  Especially ones that crawl on all fours.
Shows what you know.  Beasts are wild.  Even a dog’s love is fickle.
Same goes for mortals.  Can only trust Malacath. Sometimes not even him.
But man, mer, or beast, if you bite my hand, you’ll swallow my arrows.

Fools often do.  Underestimate me.
They also talk tough, and die slow.  Stick an arrow in your throat, but you aren’t my quarry.
No, Lagdu lives in a camp. Like a bandit.  All my hate, all my anger, is reserved for her.

You don’t mind that I killed your wolves?
Aren’t my wolves.  Can’t own a wild beast.  Free to roam, free to hunt, free to be hunted.
Besides, no vengeance to spare.  All for one Orc, and one Orc alone.  

Who are you hunting?
My quarry is Lagdu.  You find her, you tell me, she dies.

Let it go.  Vengeance is poison.
Lagdu is poison.  Killing her’s the cure.

Every minute you sit here your quarry escapes further from your grasp.
Won’t escape.  Blood debt.  Death’s ledger off by a count.  I make sure it gets paid.

How long have you lived in the forests?
All my life.  What’s it to you?

I thought you could give me some tips on hunting the game.
Could explain it.  But not good.  Best advice I can give?  Don’t miss.
You get one shot.  You miss, it flees.  Game is fast.  Harder to kill a dragon than get a second chance.

I want some advice on skinning meat.
Easy.  Lay it on the ground.  Skin one side, roll it over.  But keep the meat off the dirt.  Stretch out the skin, use it as a cloth.
Try not to make too many cuts.  Don’t want to butcher the pelt.  Try to keep the hairs off the meat.  Sucks up the moisture.

That’s what I do.  Ask the important questions.
Sound like a torturer.  Fine, ask.  But hands off.

Why are you hunting this Lagdu?
Some hunters work in packs. But only two I consider kin.  She was one of them.  She killed the other.

So you’re avenging one friend by killing the other?
Yeah.

Ah, a love triangle.
No.

I could help you find this person.
You might.  Maybe I’ll follow.  Lefthanded Elf is right half the time.  You may be too.
Keep a hundred arrows in my quiver.  99 are Orc.  Last one is iron, and blood.
That’s the arrow that’ll kill Lagdu.

So you tracked her down to Knifepoint Ridge?
Can’t track her.  Does more than double back.  Covers her prints like it were snowing dirt.
So I go from camp to camp.  Maybe follow an adventurer.  Maybe get lucky.

(Hunters Rest) This place bring back memories?
Yeah.  Lagdu, Sevaris, me.  Grew up close.  Hunters by trade.  Killed our first elk together.  Used to fight over whose arrow it was, put it down.
Probably her.  Aim was true.  My pride would never admit it.
But when we got into it, Sevaris always made peace.  Lagdu was sweet on him, and he was good with words.
Smart hunter.  Taught us how to skin, keep the hair and dirt off the meat.  Fletched arrows too.

How were Sevaris’ arrows?
Good.  Cut through the air like a gasp.  Perfect balance. Like nocking a lute string.  Knew which ones were his, by the feel.
That day we were out hunting.  Wind was lashing every which way.  Chased a fox down a hill.
Wind blowing like it was, couldn’t get a good read.  Couldn’t get a good shot. Took 3 arrows to kill it.

The wind must have made it difficult to hunt that day.
 No, but wasn’t going to let Lagdu best me.  She was the better shot, but I had grit.
Hunted all afternoon, all night.  Time I returned, had a fox on my shoulder, and two elks in tow.
Saw Sevaris sitting at the dining table over there, sharpening his knife.  Greeted him at the door.  He lifted his eyes.
Then I heard it.  A gasp.  Sucking the air out behind me.  Looked back to Sevaris.  Already dead.
Came from the south.  Went right through the heart.  Perfect shot.
Knew by the arrow.  Knew by the shot.  Lagdu’s work.

Three shots to take down a fox?  Pathetic.
Three shots, but all three hit. You might take it down with one, but empty your quiver.
Still, wasn’t good enough.  Knew Lagdu would do better than a measly fox.

(Shrine of Boethiah) You look pensive.  What’s on your mind?
Boethiah.  Say she ate Malacath, made him what he is.  Made us what we are.  Prince of Betrayal.
Would give her the iron arrow, if it weren’t meant for another.
Don’t get why she did it.  I needed Sevaris.  Never much for words.  Left it to him. Always said what I was thinking.

Were you and Sevaris close?
Yeah. A good friend.  My best one.  Don’t feel like me without him.  Was my voice.  But he was Lagdu’s heart.
Maybe that’s why.  Maybe she thought she was getting soft.  But you shoot an arrow through your own heart, you’re going to die.
That’s what the arrow is for.  To put the dead to rest.

Don’t worry.  We’ll find her, and get your vengeance.
I know.  Gods owe a blood debt.  Must be paid.

What if she were already dead?
Impossible.  Gods owe a blood debt.  Must be paid.  Until then, both must live.

This Sevaris sounds amazing.  It should’ve been you who died.
Wrong.  Should’ve been her.  But it will be.

Does the Jarl complain about hunters poaching on his land?
Maybe before the war.  Not after.  Not enough guards.  Fur traders will buy a good pelt at a good price.
Good for leather, good for warmth. Good for the purse, too.  Furs are cheap when the Jarl doesn’t get his cut.

The Jarl could put a bounty on hunters.
No.  Bounty ends up more than the taxes.  Adventurers don’t come cheap.

The Jarl can’t eat every deer, can he?
Don’t know.  Maybe he’s a fat one.  Jarls tend to be.

I thought the locals hunted for food and clothing.  Not profit.
Hunters who work in groups, maybe.  I kill a deer, it has a week’s worth of venison.  Don’t know alchemy, so the meat spoils.  Better to sell.

There must be a reason why Lagdu killed your friend.
Maybe.  No good one though.  Sevaris was plain.  Didn’t keep secrets.  Let you know where you stood.  Never told you how to stand.
Why’d she do it?  Not a riddle I care to solve.  Arrow holds the only answer I need.

If those wolves were wild, why didn’t they attack you?
Don’t know.

That’s it?  No explanation?
Not a good one.  Maybe wolves know the forest.  Know who to respect.  Maybe I leave some meat from a kill.  Or maybe these two are sheep.

You’re quite terse. Speak up my friend, for it takes 2 to have a conversation.
Sevaris didn’t think so.  Said I didn’t talk, but listened.  Said that was rare.

Well, I appreciate your honesty.
Likewise.

Brevity may be the essence of wit, but obviously not in your case.
Okay.

Quest

It appears we have a lead on your quarry.
Faldar’s Tooth. Know it well. High tower. Slow climb. Mountains in the south, block the wind. Perfect for Lagdu.

We should approach the tower carefully. They’ll be plenty of bandits as well.
Good. Will make it harder to get a clean shot. Lagdu will shoot anyway. But maybe she hits them. Then I hit her.

This is a suicide mission. You better take me along.
Fine. We go together. But my quarry, my kill.

Lagdu’s yours. I’ll just be happy to kill the rest.
No, not mine. Sevaris will have the final say.

Great.  Maybe now you’ll stop whining about your revenge.
Pot, calling kettle black. Don’t want to come, fine by me. But Lagdu dies tonight!

sees Lagdu

My quarry!

chases Lagdu down

Now it ends, Lagdu! Sevaris’ debt, paid!

You still don’t get it, do you? Sevaris sold us out.

Lies!

What reason do I have to lie? He sold our right to hunt on our own land. 
Sevaris was working for the East Empire Company, and some southern Baron named Gabania. 
They had a deal with the Jarl. If I didn’t kill Sevaris, you, me, we’d all be hunting for them. 

Doesn’t matter! Wrong, right, hunter has but one quarry.

You chose Sevaris. Now, you die!

forcegreet

That’s it. Death’s ledger, balanced.

What about what Lagdu said?
Lies. Poison. Sevaris could talk, but not a wizard.  Most would say no to losing their freedom. If not, so be it.

It seems Lagdu was trying to protect the hunters.
No. Lagdu speaks for no one, spoke for all. Hunters never got a say. Sevaris never got a say.

Good riddance to that murdering bitch.
Agreed.

What will you do now?
Don’t know. Go back to hunting old quarry. Maybe go with you, find a new one.
Free to hunt, free to die. But can face Sevaris when time comes.

Follower Hellos
Mm-hm.

Follower Goodbyes
Alright.

It’s time to part ways.
Fine. Be out hunting if you need me.

Follow Me.
 Lead then.  Quarry awaits.

You got someone already.

I need to trade some things with you.
Right.

I need you to do something.
 Uh-huh.

Wait here.
Waiting.

Misc Dialogue
Hm?
Yeah?
Okay.

Random Commentary
Cave.  Always good hunting inside.

Dwarven ruin.  Foreign ground.  Bad place to hunt.

Nord dead sleep here.  Bad thing to wake them.

Got eyes trained on my quarry.  Hard not to see this.

The hunt begins.  Won’t be but a few arrows until it ends.

This is the place.  Where Sevaris died.  Where my quarry killed him.  Want  to ask me about it, now’s the time.

A shrine to traitors.  Lagdu ought to fit in here.  Mind stopping?  Need to talk.

An inn, huh.  Sleeping indoors isn’t natural.

Falmer.  Like ice wolves, walking on hind legs.

Vampires.  Blood hunters.  But hunters.

Farms.  Doesn’t seem right.  Everything stays in place.

Fletcher.  Good.  Quiver’s hungry.

Don’t like big cities.  Feel out of sorts.

Bandits here.   Don’t smell my quarry.

Dungeon’s too good for Lagdu.  Death too, but it’ll do.

Hagravens. Old birds.  Like hunting magic pheasants.

Sorcerers have thin skin.  Wards aren’t shields.

Inns are too hot.  No windows.  Beds are soft though.

Lots of game.  Smell it?  Fresh meat for dinner.

Out in the open.  Fresh air.  Best time to be alive.

Hunters like the taste of rabbit.  Not enough challenge.  Harder to kill, sweeter on the tongue.

Mines are like farms.  Quarry doesn’t move.  No real sport.

Can’t hunt a vegetable.  Farming is for rabbits, and rabbit food.

Those who can’t hunt, mine.  Those who can’t mine, farm.  Those who can’t farm, they become merchants.

Stronghold Orcs.  Good hunters.  Good smiths.  Good people.

Wind and snow.  Not ideal to hunt.  Love the challenge.

Rain’s good.  Plants get a drink. Rivers too. Sun comes out, the game will want a taste.

Eyes forward.  Never know when the hunt will call.

Animals are good.  Dead animals are better.

Strange to hunt in caves.  No wind.  Sounds bounce.  Can’t see.

Dwarven machines.  Metal skin.  Like chaurus.  Aim for the joints.

Breathing in sawdust, bad as any gas.

Ocean’s for fish.  Try to swim, this happens.

Mud’s for mortals, ocean’s for fish.   Water’s there for a reason.  Not our place.

Don’t get these homes.  The forest is a house.  No sense making a smaller one.

Love Spriggan groves.  Plenty of game.  All come at once.

City food isn’t the same.  Too much dressing.  Sauces.  Spices.  Doesn’t taste like meat anymore.

Life of a hunter is pure.  Simple.  Don’t need to rely on others.  Mortals or Gods.

Hunter’s got to have a creed.  A heritage.  Lagdu broke that.

The Reach.  Goats scamper on the rock like it’s a meadow.  Can’t chase them.  You’ll fall.

Hjaalmarch.  Bugs like the marsh.  Hard shells, bad meat, not a good place to hunt.

Rift has plenty of game.  Hunters prefer Falkreath.  Less colors, less camouflage.  Me, blood boils for a challenge.

Eastmarch.  Not ideal terrain to hunt.  Even the springs, water’s too hot to drink.  Should head south to the Rift.

Snow fences animals in.  No food, no warmth, so they hibernate.  Good hunting in caves, but nowhere else.

Doesn’t matter if the arrow got lost or stolen.  Gods would bring it back.