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Inigo is a fully voiced khajiit adventuring companion with thousands of lines of unique dialogue. He's essential. He’ll level alongside you. He’ll avoid most traps. If you’re sneaking he won’t chatter. If you talk to him while sneaking he’ll whisper. He can run out of arrows. He’s highly skilled in archery, one-handed, and sneak. He has unique, random combat dialogue for most enemies. Your morality is his morality. He tells stories, sings, and is influenced by your time together.

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Author Topic: Chapter 46  (Read 53 times)


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Offline Onichu

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Chapter 46
« on: Thu, 02 Nov 2017 - 20:01:39 »
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  •      Trystan led Serana and Inigo up the wide steps to what must be Labyrinthian’s main entrance. He couldn’t help but be reminded somewhat of Bleak Falls Barrow.
         But before the imposing entrance into the Northern Kingdom, Trystan was caught by surprise as several ghosts appeared before him! They took no notice of him or his friends, but talked amongst themselves before disappearing. Whoever they were, they were clearly from the College, and Trystan thought he recognized one of them...
         Trystan put the scene out of his mind for the time being. Taking a few steps forward, he beheld the door into the ruin. It showed no signs of a traditional means of opening, but Trystan did notice a sort of protuberance in the center; it looked like a part of it was missing. Realizing what this was, he pulled out the torc that Mirabelle gave him and attached it to the door. Then, using the torc, he knocked twice.
         The door swung upwards, and the three of them stepped inside.
    . . . . .
         All throughout Labyrinthian, those same ghosts kept appearing, their number growing smaller all the while. Trystan realized that these scenes were of Savos Aren’s past excursion into Labyrinthian, back in the days before he became Arch-Mage.
         Tragically, this experience did not turn out like the young mages thought it would. In spite of their being trained at the College, Savos and his friends were clearly unprepared for whatever lurked within. Nevertheless, they persevered.
         But there was something else: at the same time that these scenes—these memories—played before Trystan’s eyes, a voice spoke to him as well. It sounded ancient and guttural, as if one of the draugr inside the ruin was speaking. And when the voice came, it sapped the breton’s own magicka reserves.
         Interestingly enough, the being who spoke to Trystan from afar thought him to be Savos Aren, returned to finish the job. When the being realized that this was not so, he started warning him, taunting him.
         Trystan, however, did not turn back.
    . . . . .
         Trystan knew that he was close: close to obtaining the Staff, close to containing the Eye.
         A being of immense power stood trapped inside a cage of pure energy. Two ghosts fed the cage, keeping their captive from breaking free.
         It may have been a favor that Trystan was doing for these ghosts when he set them free from their perpetual task.
         So, with the ghosts put to rest, the energy cage dissipated, and the lich was set free. And to Trystan’s surprise, the lich had what the three of them sought: the Staff of Magnus!
    . . . . .
         Trystan, Serana, and Inigo rushed back to the College, Staff in hand—and not a moment too soon! The ward that the Eye of Magnus generated had grown exponentially, and everyone from the College had been forced outside.
         Trystan found Tolfdir standing just before the bridge and reported his success in retrieving the Staff to Tolfdir. Once he did, he couldn’t help but notice... someone was missing.
         “Where’s Mirabelle?”
         “She... She didn’t make it,” Tolfdir replied, downtrodden. “When it was clear we were going to have to fall back, she stayed behind and made sure the rest of us were all right.”
         No, Trystan thought. First Savos, now Mirabelle. “All right, Tolfdir,” he said aloud, now determined. “Let’s get in there. Ancano will pay!”
         Turning his attention to the ward, Trystan pulled the Staff of Magnus from off his back. He felt powerful; the Staff, together with Morokei’s mask and Savos Aren’s amulet, made him feel like anything was possible. After all, Ancano’s associate down in Labyrinthian got turned to ash from a single spell!
         In any case, a short burst of power from the Staff caused the surrounding the College to dissipate, allowing the four of them to charge in.
    . . . . .
         “You’ve come for me, have you? You think I can’t destroy you?” Ancano’s voice rang out, filled with megalomaniacal madness. “The power to unmake the world at my fingertips, and you think you can do anything about it?”
         A fireball flew from Tolfdir’s hand—and passed right through Ancano. “Spells have no effect!” the old mage cried out.
         “Ha! I am beyond your pathetic attempts at magic! You cannot touch me!”
         Tolfdir cried out again: “The Staff! Use it on the Eye!”
         At that moment, Ancano let out a burst of power, paralyzing Tolfdir, Serana, and Inigo. “Still you persist? Very well. See what I can do now.”
         The Eye opened then, fragmenting into a multitude of pieces and revealing its blinding core. But just before the power that was released flung Trystan to the ground, he sent another short surge of power from the Staff directly into the Eye's core.
         But before Trystan could do anything else, before he could get back on his feet, the fight was already over.
         Ancano, in his arrogance, crumpled to the floor, killed by the very power he sought to destroy Trystan with.
    . . . . .
         The Eye of Magnus was gone. It was gone, and Trystan was now Arch-Mage. The two Psijic monks who guided Trystan on this path appeared inside the College and transported the Eye away, away to the Isle of Artaeum.
         In addition to the robes befitting Trystan’s new station, Tolfdir also gave him a dagger of curious workmanship; it too had belonged to Savos before he died. When Trystan held it in his hand, he felt a further surge in his own power.
         Still, in spite of what he had done to get to this point—and regardless of Tolfdir’s approval—Trystan did not feel suited to the position. He knew that he would have to spend most of his time away from the College of Winterhold, which is something that does not befit the leader of any stationary organization.
         Inigo broke him out of his reverie. “So, you’re the Arch-Mage now. If anyone here crosses you, turn them into a troll’s bottom. You do know the spell for that, don’t you?”
         Trystan laughed. He laughed until a fit of coughing seized him, the Hall of the Elements echoing his mirth. Finally, catching his breath yet still chuckling, he replied, “No, my friend, I do not know that spell. But if you happen to find a scroll or book that teaches it, let me know, will you?”
    "I don't suffer from mental illness. I enjoy every minute of it!" -keychain at a dollar store


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