* INIGO Introduction :)

Who is Inigo?

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.

PLEASE NOTE: Although Smartbluecat is a member on this forum, he would GREATLY appreciate it if you could please report any issues you have with Inigo

on the relevant Oldrim/SE Nexus 'Posts' pages (after carefully checking the FAQ first). You will find support there. Redirect links below.

Issues reported via pm will possibly go unanswered due to how EXCEPTIONALLY busy he is.

The more people who don't read the documentation and ask SBC to personally solve their issues, the longer V3 will take ;)

Thank you all for your co-operation. :)

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~Adventure Awaits~

     An arrow flies through the small square port hole on the guard tower and the last outside guard can be heard falling down the steps. We sneak into the tower and I search his body for any coins, and happen to find a key. I give a thumbs up to Inigo and we make our way to the lower back door. We unlock the door, slip in and then slip out, the horse papers in hand and no blood shed on the inside. We quietly turn the corner and reach the gorgeous white horse that is in the stable. I pet him and calm him down before leading him around the corner of the hill and out of sight. Inigo gives a quiet whoop as we get to cover.

     "It is a shame we had to kill the guards outside," I say as I pet the horse. "It is true my friend, but they would of killed us if they saw us, there was no avoiding it." Inigo gives a very strong nod as reassurance.  We begin to walk to the meeting place that was agreed upon. I notice Inigo looking at the horse, gazing lovingly at the white mane and gentle eyes. Frost gives Inigo a nuzzle and he laughs his giddy laugh.

     We approach the man, the sun catches in his oily and stringy hair. His beady eyes look at the horse with great greed. And I get an overwhelming feeling that I should not give him the horse. We talk, and when he asks me to hand over the reigns, I look at Inigo. He looks saddened at the thought of giving this sweet creature to this filthy man. "What if I want to keep the horse?" He scoffs and I can hear Inigo quietly click out his sword. "I don't this so!" He yells before jumping at us. But before he can even pull his blade, Inigo's sword is buried in his gut. I didn't even let go of the reigns. I take a moment to calm the now spooked horse as Inigo wipes his blade on the mans shirt. "Fool," Inigo hisses.

     After taking my payment from his coin pouch, we make our way back to Riften. As we get the horse set up in the stable, Inigo asks me what I'm going to do with two horses. "Actually Inigo, I want you to have Frost." His ears perk up instantly. "You mean the popular smelling horse with abandonment issues and hopes of a brighter future? What a gift!" He hugs the neck of Frost and thanks me through the horses fur. "My very own steed, wow." His tail dances wildly for the rest of the night.

Colin's Clips! / The Ebony Warrior 4
« Last post by Colin Burton on Yesterday at 19:06:07 »
Branded With Fire, by Onichu / Chapter 68
« Last post by Onichu on Yesterday at 17:08:34 »
     Trystan regained consciousness. He felt the familiarity of a straw bed beneath his back, the familiar plushness of a feather-filled pillow against his head, the familiar weight and warmth of furs draped over him. Tentatively, slowly, he opened his eyes. The seemingly bright light almost forced them shut, but they soon adjusted. In the now-dim light, Trystan saw a slanting section of thatched roof above him.
     And then, the soreness hit. His body ached all over. Lifting the covers, he looked down at himself and saw, to his surprise and dismay, partly bloodstained bandages wrapped around his entire torso.
     A familiar voice to his left startled him. “He’s awake!” Inigo cried out.
     “About time! I was about ready to give him a royal thrashing myself!”
     Trystan laughed in spite of himself—then winced as pain lanced across his chest. Classic Langley, he thought, grinning.
     While Langley went to work at his alchemy lab below, Trystan turned his head slightly. Inigo and Serana both looked down upon him from the side of the bed. Their faces were both softened with relief and etched with concern—relief that he was finally conscious again, concern about what exactly happened to him.
     “Are you alright? How are you feeling?” Serana asked, clutching his hand.
     Trystan thought for a bit, then answered, “Drained... sore... and like I got caught between two nordic spiked wall traps.”
     Inigo and Serana exchanged a glance, and then Inigo offered, “Well, at least you are still alive!”
     “Yes, and a good thing, too,” Langley remarked, coming up the stairs. “Out of the way, out of the way.”
     Realizing the miniscule second floor was two small to fit three standing people comfortably at a time, Inigo vaulted over the railing and broke his fall with a roll. With Inigo out of the way, Langley squeezed past Serana and offered Trystan a fresh healing potion. Trystan accepted it, drank, and felt some of his flesh knit back together almost instantaneously.
     Langley began to examine Trystan, wiping away spots of dried blood. “Well. Your face is no longer bleeding like crazy, and both of your eyes are still intact. That was a near miss—whatever got you missed them by a millimeter or so.” He pulled back the covers and undid the bandages. “Good, good,” he muttered. “Some scarring, sure, but no permanent damage to your vitals that I can detect.”
     Langley backed away, satisfied. “I must say, you are quite lucky, all things considered. You will want to take it easy for awhile, though. Nothing too strenuous, you understand.”
     “Right,” came Trystan’s reply. “And... thank you, Langley.”
     “Hmph. Don’t mention it.”
     The seer made his way back down the stairs. As soon as Langley sat down at his desk, Inigo bounded back up. Meanwhile, Trystan reached up to his own face, feeling it. With a jolt, he realized that it too was scarred.
     “What... What happened? How did I get up here?” Trystan asked with a little trepidation.
     Inigo and Serana pondered how to answer. After a pause, Serana spoke first: “That’s what we want to know. You got up before dawn and ran out of the bedroom without any warning. I was worried about you, so I tried following you after a little while, but you were nowhere to be seen.”
     Now Inigo spoke up: “Lahar said you ran straight to the Travel Room, so Serana and I followed you there. We couldn’t find you anywhere down there, so we went through the Travel Machine back out into Dawnstar. From there, it was a simple matter of following your tracks.”
     Serana spoke again: “We found you bleeding and unconscious near Snowpoint Beacon. The ground around you was scorched and completely bare for several feet in all directions.”
     “Did... anything or anyone get caught in my little firestorm?” Trystan asked.
     “We did find several heavily charred corpses in your vicinity,” came Inigo’s reply. “They were probably wolves at some point.”
     Wolves. Fire. Scars. So it wasn’t all a dream after all, Trystan realized with a shudder.
     “Anyway,” Inigo continued, “Serana noticed that you were still alive, so we carried you up here to Langley’s cabin. There... was the problem of getting you up here to the spare bed you are now on, but Langly figured out a solution with a little ingenuity.”
     “I see... How long was I out?” came Trystan’s next question.
     “Only a couple days,” Inigo answered.
     Trystan let this sink in a little. He supposed it could have been worse indeed, given the punishment he received at the hands of Vaermina and Hircine.
     Now, it was Serana’s turn again to ask questions: “So, what really happened? We know what you did on the surface, but I don’t think that’s the whole story.”
     Trystan let himself think, and he said, “If I had to guess, Vaermina didn’t like it when I laughed in her face back in Nightcaller Temple, so she ganged up with Hircine against me.”
     This response evidently did not satisfy Serana nor Inigo, so Trystan continued. “I found myself in Hircine’s Hunting Grounds. A massive pack of werewolves chased me to a clearing, where they and a whole bunch more surrounded me. I... let myself surrender to the fire welling up within me, and I let it all out against them. I did not hold back. There must have been thousands of them in that place. They did not stand a chance. All those werewolves, scorched to cinders...
     “But, as luck would have it, I got tired, so some of the survivors got a few good hits on me, enough to cripple me. But they did not kill me. Hircine wouldn’t allow it. The last thing I saw...” Trystan shuddered again. “The last thing I saw... was Hircine and Vaermina standing over me, pleased in their own separate ways.”
     The three of them did not speak again for several minutes. Inigo and Serana were struck with a combination of mild shock and stronger concern—they did not want to believe Trystan’s story. And now that he thought of it, Trystan didn’t want to believe it either. The implications of it finally began to dawn on him in full—the nature of the dream, and what happened in it—and they terrified him.
     But all of the sudden, something most foul reached Trystan’s nostrils. “And good gods, what is that stench?!” he exclaimed, half sitting up.
     A broad grin stretched across Inigo’s face. “That, my friend, is Langley’s latest culinary experiment!”
     Trystan fell back with a groan.
Alright so yesterday's stream went a little long since it's my last until Jan 27. Luckily, OBS went weird about an hour in, so it's in two parts! A lot happens - we get the last word, fight Miraak, go back to Skyrim, and see a very familiar big dragon...

Final Word of the Shout!" Skyrim Modded Ep 228
Part I :
Part II:
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Branded With Fire, by Onichu / Chapter 67
« Last post by Onichu on Sun, 14 Jan 2018 - 18:38:41 »
     Trystan stood alone in a great wood. Above him, the sky glowed red, dominated by the Blood Moon. All was quiet—no, not that: silent. Not a single creature stirred, not a single gust rustled the leaves—not in the trees, nor on the forest floor.
     “Trystan! RUN!
     The familiar voice of a teenage girl shouted at him from above, panicked. A second later, a wolf howled from behind him. Then another. Then another, and another, and another, until they all formed a great and terrible chorus.
     And run Trystan did. He did not stop, did not look behind him. He ran with speed and agility and grace to rival the bosmer of central Valenwood. Yet despite this, the howls—the terrible, savage howls—drew closer.
     He weaved around tree trunks, leapt over tangled roots, ducked under low-hanging branches. Sometimes, walls of nettles and sticks would block his path, but a mere fraction of his adrenaline-fueled power made short work of them. Time was meaningless to him. Pure instinct ruled him.
     But the howls—the terrible, savage howls—drew closer still.
     Abruptly, Trystan burst out into a wide clearing, breaking him out of his primal, trancelike state. He skidded to the center. He breathed heavily, his heart pounded as he scanned his new surroundings.
     The howls stopped—both before Trystan and behind. All around the edge of the clearing, glowing, malice-filled eyes peered out from among the trees. The great, bestial forms of creatures much larger than ordinary wolves soon emerged, surrounding him. At that moment, Trystan knew what his hunters were.
     A long moment of silenced reigned. Then, one of the werewolves broke rank, charged, and pounced.
     But the split second this wolf stirred, sheer power like Trystan knew only once before welled up within him. This time, however, he would encourage it, urge it to nigh-omnipotent heights.
     The werewolf was almost upon him. It pounced, but Trystan retaliated in a flash, turning the beast nigh into ash.
     All of Oblivion broke loose then. Not one single werewolf hesitated to lay claim to its prey, but all converged upon the single morsel of human prey.
     Trystan, however, was ready. Waves of white flame exploded out of him. He was Trystan no more. He was
fire—pure, primeval fire! As many of Hircine’s Hounds came at him were swept away like leaves in a fiery tempest. The occasional wolf would get a lucky swipe at him, but the end result was the same.
     Nevertheless, the wolves kept coming, and the wolves kept burning. Subsequent surges of flame reduced the already-fallen werewolves to fine ash, and the recently slain would get half-buried in it. Hours stretched on like this, and it seemed like they would stretch on forever more.
     But eternal it was not. While there were yet a relative few werewolves remaining, Trystan’s strength began to flag. His fire went from white to blue, from blue to green, and from green to orange. Fewer and fewer werewolves fell with each wave. The survivors sensed their prey’s growing weakness, and their fervor was redoubled.
     Out of the blue, wicked claws slashed at Trystan’s face. They penetrated his armor and dug into his chest and back. They picked him up and slammed him into the ground.
     Trystan was beaten. But before the werewolves could finish him, a mighty whistle pierced the air throughout the great wood and clearing, and the wolves withdrew.
     As he lay huddled and bleeding on the ground, Trystan looked out through blood-clouded eyes. Two tall figures approached him: a bear-chested man, his head like that of a stag’s, a spear in his hand; the other, a robed woman, her face red-eyed and fluctuating, a staff and two snakes in her hands.
     As these two Daedra Lords stood over his crumpled body, they exuded conflicting auras, and Trystan sensed it. From Hircine, he thought he sensed a sort of... pride—fatherly pride. From Vaermina, Trystan sensed nothing but malice—sheer, gleeful malice.
     He shuddered, and his vision faded...
That sad moment when you realize you'll never look as good in a photograph as Inigo does...
Colin's Clips! / The Ebony Warrior 3
« Last post by Colin Burton on Sun, 14 Jan 2018 - 07:44:50 »
Branded With Fire, by Onichu / Chapter 66
« Last post by Onichu on Sun, 14 Jan 2018 - 01:19:55 »
     Movarth and his coven proved no match for Trystan and his entourage; incidentally, Alva got caught up in the raid as well. Therefore, with their deaths, their plot against Morthal died with them.
     In the early hours of daylight that followed, Trystan, Inigo, and Serana continued their trek to Winterhold. This time, they stopped in Dawnstar for a respite from the cold. And once again, Trystan felt the need to look into the local crisis; this one, as it turns out, was much more apparent.
     A priest of Mara by the name of Erandur professed to be looking into the widespread nightmares that plagued Dawnstar, though he looked as though he had stayed put in the exact same spot in the Windpeak Inn as when Trystan first visited days or weeks ago. Trystan approached him, and the elf divulged a few of the details concerning the nightmares: that they were being caused by Vaermina, and that Nightcaller Temple was the source.
     In spite of evidence that Erandur seemed to be hiding something from him, Trystan trusted him enough to accompany him to Nightcaller Temple and see what could be done.
     But as the four of them—Erandur, Trystan, Inigo, and Serana—were about to enter, Inigo was hit by debilitating dread. Serana took pity on the khajiit, so she decided to keep him company outside while Trystan and Erandur took the job from there.
. . . . .
     “Behold the Skull of Corruption, the source of Dawnstar's woes,” said Erandur, himself and Trystan looking down the central shaft of the tower. “We must reach the inner sanctum and destroy it. Come, there's no time to lose.”
     According to Erandur, the Skull hungers for memories like the Daedra who created it. Now that it was in a period of “starvation,” it began to reach out from its resting place to feast on the memories of Dawnstar’s citizenry, therefore leaving nightmares in its wake.
     Getting down there would not be easy, however. For one, the survivors of a massive raid conducted by nightmare-ridden orcs had all been put to sleep by a ritualistic gas known as the Miasma; this began to dissipate as soon as the temple was unsealed, waking the combatants. For another, a magical barrier blocked off the default path down to the Skull.
     Erandur, however, had an idea about getting past the barrier, the validity of which was confirmed in the ransacked library. One of the many famous alchemical concoctions of Vaermina’s followers is called Vaermina’s Torpor. This potion initiates within the imbiber the Dreamstride. While the Dreamstride is active, the subject experiences the dreams of another (how to determine which person’s dream—indeed, which dream at all—would be experienced, Trystan had no idea). Ordinarily, this would not seem very useful in the situation at hand, but there’s more: the Dreamstride allows the subject to travel to another location in the real world, which corresponds to where the Dreamstride ends!
     Given the rarity of Vaermina’s Torpor and the ransacked state of Nightcaller Temple, it was an absolute miracle that Trystan and Erandur managed to find even a single sample intact. So, with the Torpor now in their possession, it was up to Trystan—not Erandur, who gave up his past life of service of Vaermina—to drink the (potentially rancid) potion and enter the Dreamstride...
. . . . .
     “The orcs have breached the inner sanctum, Brother Veren.”
     “We must hold. We can't allow the Skull to fall into their hands.”
     “But... no more than a handful of us remain, brother.”
     “Then we have no choice. The Miasma must be released.”
     “The Miasma? But, brother...”
     “We have no alternative. It's the will of Vaermina.”
     The dunmer named Veren turned to Trystan. “And what about you, Brother Casimir? Are you prepared to serve the will of Vaermina?”
     Trystan could not control the words that came out of his mouth: “I've made my peace. I'm ready.”
     “Then it's decided. Brother Casimir, you must activate the barrier and release the Miasma. Let nothing stop you.”
     Veren then turned back to his nord brother. “Brother Thorek, we must remain here and guard this Skull with our lives if necessary.”
     “Agreed. To the death.”
     “Then let it be done. Farewell, my brothers!”
     Trystan/Casimir set off in a sprint up the tower, leaving his “brothers” and the Skull behind. All around him, priests of Vaermina and orcish raiders tore each other to pieces with magic and steel. Trystan/Casimir wove his way through the chaos, and he soon found what he sought: a pull-chain that was connected to a soul gem. He tugged on the ring at the end, and the scene began to fade...

. . . . .
     True to the documentation, Trystan found himself right where the Dreamstride ended. The experience was a little bit of a shock to his system, but he reckoned it would have been even more so had he not messed around with Elder Scrolls and the like before.
     Regardless, he was now on the other side of the barrier, and deactivating it was as simple a matter as removing the soul gem from its place. With this obstacle thus removed, Erandur and Trystan continued to fight their way down to the inner sanctum.
     But as the two of them neared the Skull of Corruption and its protective barrier, two familiar faces—both to Erandur and Trystan—showed up: Veren and Thorek. It was quickly revealed that “Casimir”—the person whose dream Trystan experienced—was none other than Erandur himself! Fighting soon broke out, and Erandur’s former brothers lay dead at his feet.
     Now, with all other obstacles removed, the time for the Skull’s destruction had come. With Mara’s aid, Erandur dissipated the Skull’s barrier and commenced his work in banishing it back to Oblivion.
     But at this moment, a woman’s voice sounded in Trystan’s head. “He's deceiving you,” she said. “When the ritual's complete, the Skull will be free and then Erandur will turn on you. Quickly! Kill him now. Kill him and claim the Skull for your own! Vaermina commands you!”
     This caught Trystan off guard, but he soon broke out in laughter bordering on maniacal. “Vaermina commands me?! Ha! You’re just trying to protect your own artifact!”
     Erandur’s work stretched on, while Trystan’s merciless laughter died down. The breton began to grow concerned about what got into him, and he suspected that Vaermina would not take the open defiance lightly.
     Nevertheless, Erandur and Trystan were victorious in their endeavor: the Skull of Corruption would torment Dawnstar no more. And with that, they parted ways: Erandur returned to his shrine to Mara in the temple’s antechamber, while Trystan looted the rest of the place and returned to his traveling companions outside.
     “You okay, Inigo?” he asked upon their reunion.
     “I think so. For now.”
. . . . .
     Night had all but fallen by the time the group exited the alchemist’s shop. After a bit of bartering with the blacksmith, they made their way back to the Windpeak.
     “Um, Trystan? Aren’t we going to spend the night here?” Inigo asked when Trystan went to the back of the inn instead of through the front door.
     “Nah. I don’t think I could stand any more of Karita’s singing.”
     Trystan soon found the trapdoor he wanted, and the three of them descended into Dawnstar’s Terminus Machine.
Branded With Fire, by Onichu / Chapter 65
« Last post by Onichu on Sat, 13 Jan 2018 - 03:51:39 »
     Trystan, Inigo, and Serana stood around Alva’s house that night, trying to remain inconspicuous. With their superior senses, Inigo and Serana determined that the coast was clear, prompting Trystan to pick the lock. As soon as the door opened, the three slipped in.
     The man inside the house—probably Hroggar—soon heard and caught sight of them. He tried to fight them. They won.
     There was no evidence to be seen on the main floor. A flight of stairs led down to the basement. It was mostly empty—no, not empty: a coffin in place of a bed.
     A journal was left behind in the coffin, and Trystan began to read. It confirmed Helgi’s story and Trystan’s suspicion: Laelette started the fire and tried to turn Helgi, and Alva was a vampire.
     But there was more: Alva got turned by Movarth. The two vampires plotted to enslave the people of Morthal—to use them as cattle for their bloodlust, and to use their homes as shelter from the sun.
. . . . .
     The Jarl was pleased with Trystan’s work. The master vampire Movarth’s involvement, however, surprised her—she thought he was slain 100 years ago! But now that evidence of Movarth’s continued existence had been brought to her, Idgrod deemed it time for his true destruction.
     A ragtag group of warriors from among Morthal’s populace soon gathered in front of the Jarl’s longhouse. Thonnir himself led them, eager to exact vengeance for Laelette. Therefore, he and Trystan’s own little band led the way to Movarth’s lair. However, most of the improvised warriors had second thoughts in the face of the lair, and so they turned back.
     Thonnir, on the other hand, was not so easily intimidated. Therefore, he, Trystan, Inigo, and Serana dove inside, hunting the hunter.
     Boy, won’t Isran be happy when he hears about this venture! was the thought that ran through Trystan’s mind...
~Adventure Awaits~

     I stand in the doorway of his room, light filters in through windows and bug sized holes in the wall. Inigo slumbers, but restlessly. He seems to suffer from unpleased dreams. Much like I do. Inigo was not in my dream last night, however. My dreams have gone back to the winged beast and the fires that burn hot and strong.

     Inigo shifts in his sleep again, letting out a sort of whine you'd hear from a kitten. His claws clutch at the bed before releasing a moment later. I quietly sigh and leave him be, closing the door lightly behind me. I gather the rest of my things and head downstairs, I tell the Inn keep that I am heading to the stables and to tell my blue companion where I've gone if he comes down before I'm back. I toss her a coin and she nods.

     As I head for  the door a weasel of a  man stops me. He asks me if I am looking to make some gold. I pause for a moment and ask myself the same question. I wasn't sure what I'd do after the war, but the idea of being a mercenary wasn't unappealing. I nod and he goes on to explain his elaborate horse stealing plan. Horse thief....why did that sound familiar? I shake off the thought and tell him I'll do it, but I expect good compensation. He agrees and gives me the rest of the needed information and I leave the Inn.

     Riften is warm and buzzing and I love it. I happily gaze at the tops of the massive trees that peak over the wall ahead of me and make my way through the front gate. I turn to my left and walk to my horse that is napping in the stable. I whisper softly to him as I pet his side and wake him up, he nuzzles me as a greeting and I scratch his neck. This poor war horse has been on the road as much as I have since joining the war effort and now he gets to enjoy a long rest. I pull out a brush from my bag and begin to groom him, he flicks his tail and lets out a happy neigh as I do so.

     As I'm finishing up with my horse, Inigo comes out of the gate, I hear him calling to me, "My Friend, where are you!? Oh! There you are." He smiles a huge smile as he walks up to me. "Good morning Inigo." I say as I put away the horse's brush.

     "Good morning! Is this your steed? He is BEAUTIFUL!" He lets out a low whistle and asks to pet the horse. I nod and he does so, gently and with great care. "By the way, do you know how to whistle? It is a great form of communication on the road!" I reply with a yes and a short whistle of my own. "Excellent! I have this great book about whistling. I have finished reading it, so here! I want you to have it!" He hands me a book and I thank him with a warm smile.

     He beams at me. His bright smile shows clearly in his blue fur. It is a nice sight to behold.
Before I could forget, I tell him about a job offer and ask his opinion on being Sell Swords.
"I am all for making gold my friend! And this time I will not have a Skooma addiction to cloud my mind! I am all for it if you trust me to be your partner again." He looks at me eagerly and I smile. "Of course I do Inigo." He gives a quick jump of joy and we get ready for our first job as a team again.

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