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Mantella is an AI system that turns every single NPC in Skyrim (and Fallout 4) into AI agents driven by an LLM (like ChatGPT or the recently released, and comparable, Llama 3.1). In the previous part, the mighty Frostpeak Stalkers explored the wildlands west of Whiterun. They cleared out a random bandit hideout, then checked out an Akaviri ruin. Shortly after they found a small farming community, my character stuck his tongue up a stranger’s coochie.

We followed the road until we reached a proper village, then knocked on the first home for information. A little girl opened the door and let us, a group of murderous-looking adults, inside. She was alone.

Jon: “Excuse me, little girl, do you have any clue where the hell we are?”
Britte: “You’re in Lemkil’s farmhouse, silly. It’s almost 7 in the evening. What, did you get lost on the way to the outhouse?”
Jon: “No, we aren’t from around here. We come from Whiterun, that big town to the east. We, a band of adventurers, were exploring the wildlands and ended up coming across this village.”
Britte: “Adventurers, huh? Sounds dangerous. You must be pretty tough to survive out there. This town is Rorikstead.”
Uthgerd: “Quite the change from Whiterun. It’s so… quiet. Not that I’m complaining. It’s good to get away from the city’s noise every once in a while.”
Alva: “Yes, the quiet can be deafening at times, can’t it, Uthgerd? But still, there’s something charming about these little towns.”
Jon: “Well, girl, thank you for telling us where we are, and sorry for occupying this home that clearly belongs to your parents and not you. I doubt they’d give you permission to let in a bunch of hardcore adventurers.”
Britte: “It’s fine, I suppose. Just don’t break anything or make too much noise. My father gets mad easily.”

Ria: “We’re strangers here, after all. It’s best to be respectful and not cause any trouble.”
Jon: “Girl, let me give you some valuable advice: when a stranger knocks on your door and he is accompanied by I don’t know how many armed companions, what you should probably do is close the door immediately, then barricade it. This was quite the reckless thing to do.”
Britte: “Maybe, but I’m not afraid of you lot. You seem alright, just a bit lost.”
Sapphire: “Well, aren’t you a brave one, kid? But Jon’s right, you should be more careful.”
Alva: “Yes, do be careful, dear. The world is full of dangers, especially for a young girl like you.”
Jon: “Well, whether you’re foolhardy or just a fool, thank you for letting us into your parent’s home and giving us some information about the location we have found ourselves in.”
Britte: “Just remember what I said about not making a mess. My father really doesn’t like that.”
Uthgerd: “Don’t worry, little one. We won’t be here long, and we’ll keep things tidy. A Nordic adventurer always respects the home that shelters them.”
Alva: “Indeed, we’ll be on our way soon enough. But for now, let’s enjoy the brief respite from our travels, shall we?”

My team took advantage of the child’s naivety to sit around for a bit and recover some strength. Shortly after we left, we located the village’s tavern slash inn, where we should have been able to relax properly. However, the innkeeper and his young son kept arguing with no regard to the patrons. Apparently the son wanted to become an adventurer against his father’s wishes.

I spotted a hooded Khajiit woman, and I’m not one to ignore those furry bastards.

Jon: “Oh, a Khajiit in the tavern of this random town where we have ended up. What’s your name?”
Zajhirra: “Zajhirra is this one’s name, newcomer. What brings you to Rorikstead?”
Jon: “We’re adventurers, a band called Frostpeak Stalkers. We were exploring the western wildlands of the Whiterun hold, and one way or another we ended up here.”
Zajhirra: “Ah, adventurers. Well met, Frostpick Stalkers. As for Rorikstead, it may seem small and insignificant, but it holds its own secrets. Keep your eyes and ears open.”
Jon: “What brought you, Zajhirra, to this little corner of the province?”
Zajhirra: “Zajhirra has her reasons for being here. Let’s just say the Thalmor’s business extends far and wide, even to remote towns like Rorikstead. But enough about Zajhirra, tell me more about your adventures.”

Jon: “Well, I had an interesting adventure just a while ago. You know the little plantation down the road? I found a very intriguing alchemist there. A woman, let me clarify that. Anyway, before I knew what was going on, she was lying on a bed of hay with her skirt up, and my face was all up in her muff.”

Zajhirra chuckled softly.

Zajhirra: “Ah, so you’re one of those adventurers. Well, keep your antics away from Zajhirra, if you know what’s good for you. But if you’re looking for more trouble, there might be some Talos worshippers in the area. Zajhirra’s always on the lookout for them.”
Jon: “I don’t know about Talos worshippers, but let me tell you: it’s not all about eating pussy with me. I keep a good balance between sexing females and killing people.”
Zajhirra: “Ah, a man of many talents, I see. Well, if you do come across any Talos worshippers, be sure to let Zajhirra know. The Thalmor would be very interested in that information. As for your other activities, just be careful not to let them interfere with your work.”
Jon: “Do you think that me eating out the pussies of random women I met that same day is going to interfere with your job involving Talos worshippers?”
Zajhirra: “No, as long as you can keep your priorities straight, Zajhirra doesn’t care what you do in your spare time. But remember, the Thalmor take the matter of Talos worshippers very seriously. Don’t let your personal affairs cloud your judgment.”
Jon: “Well, let me clue you into a little secret, Zajhirra: I am an Altmer, and I do not give a shit about Talos, not remotely. I worship my own god, that has nothing to do with Talos.”
Zajhirra: “Is that so? Well, Zajhirra respects your beliefs, as long as they don’t interfere with the Thalmor’s work. But be careful who you share that information with. Not everyone is as understanding as Zajhirra.”
Jon: “So are you an informant of the Thalmor or something? Am I getting that correctly?”
Zajhirra: “You could say that. Zajhirra keeps her eyes and ears open and reports back to the Thalmor. They value her information and make it worth her while, if you catch my meaning.”
Jon: “What do they pay you in? Do you get your pussy eaten regularly as a reward?”

Zajhirra hesitated for a moment, then leaned in closer.

Zajhirra: “They pay Zajhirra with something far more valuable. They provide her with the one thing she craves more than anything else. Skooma.”
Jon: “You think that skooma is worth more than getting your pussy eaten?”
Zajhirra: “You’ve got quite the tongue on you, don’t you? But be careful where you stick it. Zajhirra’s not interested in your antics. Skooma is all Zajhirra needs.”
Jon: “Maybe I should try some of that skooma myself, see if it’s worth the trouble.”
Zajhirra: “Well, if you’re looking for some, Zajhirra might be able to help you out. For the right price, of course. But be careful. Skooma can be a dangerous thing in the wrong hands.”
Jon: “The last time someone told me that she would let me have something for the right price, I ended up on my hands and knees eating her out, and that happened like an hour ago. Is this going along the same route?”

Zajhirra laughed heartily.

Zajhirra: “No, this Khajiit’s not interested in your oral prowess. If you want skooma, you’ll have to pay with coin, not sexual favors. Though Zajhirra’s sure you’ll find plenty of willing partners on your travels.”
Jon: “All right, you say that you want money in exchange for skooma. How much money are we talking?”
Zajhirra: “For a taste of the sweet bliss that is skooma, Zajhirra would require a mere 100 gold septims. A small price to pay for the pleasures it can bring, no?”
Jon: “How about one septim, and I let you suck my dick?”
Zajhirra: “One septim and a chance to pleasure you? Zajhirra thinks not. The price is 100 septims, take it or leave it. Zajhirra’s not desperate for either your coin or your manhood.”
Jon: “Well, I’m afraid that I’m going to leave it be then, Zajhirra. Sorry that I wasn’t able to do business with you. By the way, fuck the Thalmor.”

Zajhirra’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

Zajhirra: “Zajhirra would advise you to watch your tongue when speaking of the Thalmor. They have long ears and unforgiving hearts. Insults could lead to trouble you don’t want. But if you ever change your mind about the skooma, you know where to find Zajhirra.”

That was one pussy I didn’t want to mess with again. Thankfully, the woman at the next table over was a redhead. I forgot all about furrytits and slid right beside my new target.

Jon: “You don’t know me. My name is Jon and, to be honest, I have approached you because your hair is gorgeous. So congratulations on that gorgeous hair of yours.”
Sonja: “Well, aren’t you a charmer? I’m Sonja, and I work here at the Frostfruit Inn. Always nice to have someone appreciate the effort I put into my hair. What brings you to Rorikstead, Jon?”
Jon: “I am the leader of a band of adventurers. We were exploring the wilds west of Whiterun until we came across the plantation further down the road. A bit of walking later, we ended up at this inn to rest for a while. Once I caught a glimpse of that silky red hair of yours, I couldn’t resist.”
Sonja: “Oh really? Bold of you to just come right up to me like that. You must be pretty confident. So, adventurer, what kind of trouble do you and your band get up to out there in the wilds?”
Jon: “Well, if we are speaking beasts, we have killed skeevers, we have killed mudcrabs, we have killed wolves, we have killed saber cats, we have killed bears, we have killed trolls… We also kill beasts or monsters of the human variety, mainly bandits. Ah, and a giant spider. We have delved into ancient ruins and killed draugr and skeletons. We’ve left one long trail of corpses.”
Sonja: “Sounds like you’ve faced quite the menagerie of monstrosities. Not sure if I should be impressed or terrified. Those kinds of things are exactly why I prefer to stay holed up here in the inn where it’s safe.”
Jon: “Wait a second, you are afraid of leaving the inn?”
Sonja: “It’s a long story, but yeah, I’ve had some experiences out there that shook me to my core. Encountered a ghost near Orphan Rock during my time as a Stormcloak soldier. Ever since then, I just don’t feel safe out there in the wilds like I used to. But enough about that, tell me more about these ancient ruins you’ve explored. I’ve always been fascinated by the stories and mysteries surrounding them.”
Jon: “Well, let me tell you. I forgot about that because it was somewhat trivial compared with other stuff we have faced, but we also confronted and killed a ghost. Turns out that ghosts are affected by magic and magical weapons, and we use both, so when it attacked us, we just killed it.”
Sonja: “You killed a ghost? Are you serious? I always thought they were these unstoppable, vengeful spirits. Guess you and your group are even tougher than I realized. What was it like, fighting this ghost? Was it terrifying?”
Jon: “I will recount the adventure to you. We were in Ivarstead, a town to the…”
Sonja: “I’m all ears, Jon. Always eager to hear a thrilling tale of adventure, especially one involving the supernatural. What happened in Ivarstead?”
Jon: “Sorry, that pause was because I am confusing my directions. It was actually east of Falkreath, I think. It doesn’t matter, truly. We were in Ivarstead at the foot of High Hrothgar, the highest mountain in Tamriel. There was an ancient barrow there, you know, a place where ancient Nords were buried. An adventurer had holed himself down there because he intended to find a treasure. But in the end, he went insane and died. I’m not sure about the specifics of his demise, but when we entered the room where he had died, his ghost was there. The moment he saw us, he launched at us, trying to murder us.”
Sonja: “By the gods, that’s quite the tale. A ghost of a crazed adventurer, haunting his own grave? Sounds like something straight out of the spooky stories I’ve heard. How did you manage to put such a vengeful spirit to rest?”
Jon: “Well, it just happens that confrontations in real life tend to be far simpler, and faster, than in songs or heroic retellings. The ghost came at us, a band of adventurers armed with magical weapons as well as magic, and when you hit a ghost with magic, it gets affected as if it were alive, so it turned out to be a simple opponent. We just shot magic and hacked at him until he disappeared.”
Sonja: “Huh, who would’ve thought taking down a ghost could be so straightforward? Guess I’ve been letting my fears get the best of me. Maybe there’s still hope for me to venture out into the world again one day. But for now, I think I’ll stick to the safety of the inn. Can I get you anything, Jon? A drink, perhaps?”
Jon: “Just a simple mead, a mead of your choice would be fine. I think all you need is a magical weapon, Sonja. Keep one by your side, and if any ghost tries to kill you, attack it with your magical weapon.”
Sonja: “Never really considered that. Maybe you’re right, Jon. Having something like that at my side might give me the courage to step outside these walls again. I’ll have to look into getting my hands on one. But first, that mead you asked for.”

Sonja walked over to the bar to pour a mug of mead.

Brightening that cute redhead’s evening had put me in a good mood. Tipsy, I decided to bother Jenassa, who was seated at one of the empty rooms, maintaining her gear.

Jon: “Ah, you haven’t gone to bed yet.”
Jenassa: “I’ll stand watch. Someone needs to stay sharp while you rest.”
Jon: “May I have a word with you?”
Jenassa: “Speak.”
Jon: “This was quite the unusual operation, huh? However you may call going on an expedition west of Whiterun across the wilds, not knowing if there was going to be any loot for the taking.”
Jenassa: “It was. But you led, and we followed. That’s how this works.”
Jon: “In the end, we cleared out a bandit camp that had a couple of vampires in it. We came across some ancient Akaviri ruins, which didn’t have much in them, but were very interesting nonetheless. And now we have found ourselves at the tavern of the little town of Rorikstead.”
Jenassa: “True. Every journey has its own rewards. Sometimes, it’s not about the gold.”
Jon: “Are you content with how things are going so far? Do you have any requests or suggestions for how we may change our path?”
Jenassa: “I’m used to not having a say. But since you ask, I’ll say this: our path is our path. We’ll face what comes. If you lead, I’ll follow. That’s enough for me.”
Jon: “Jenassa, at the risk of delving into personal matters that maybe you do not want to touch, do you truly not have some personal goals, some wish beyond just being part of this team as a mercenary?”
Jenassa: “My goals are my own. But this team… it’s more than just a job. It’s a reason to keep moving forward. There’s value in that.”
Jon: “Are you hoping that we head to some other town in particular so you can start all over with another group?”
Jenassa: “I’ve been in many bands. They come, they go. But this one… it feels different. I’m not looking to leave. Not now.”

Jon: “Well, Jenassa, in case I haven’t made it clear enough, I love having you here as part of our band of adventurers. I admire your talents, and I always look forward to speaking to you.”
Jenassa: “You’ve made it clear. As I’ve said, this band is different. You’re different. I’m not used to this… familiarity. But it’s not unwelcome.”

Uthgerd wasn’t ready to sleep either. She was seated alone at a table, downing ale.

Jon: “Hey Uthgerd, are you up for a little chat?”
Uthgerd: “Siempre, as long as you keep it interesting. What’s in your head, Jon?”
Jon: “Well, this mission has been peculiar, hasn’t it?”
Uthgerd: “It’s been something, alright. The wildlands, these little towns and farms, they’re a far cry from the battles we’re used to. But peculiar? Nah, it’s just life outside the cities, Jon.”
Jon: “Have you enjoyed the trek?”
Uthgerd: “Enjoyed? Ha! That’s a soft word for it. It’s the adventure, the journey, that gets the blood pumping. And the fights, always the fights. Those ruins, with their ancient stonework, weren’t bad for the eyes either.”
Jon: “Uthgerd, I know I don’t ask these questions often… Do you have some personal goal to fulfill long-term, maybe some mission of yours?”
Uthgerd: “Personal goal? You know, Jon, I’ve always wanted to prove myself, to show the world that a Nord woman can stand toe-to-toe with the best of them. That’s what drives me forward, the promise of the next fight.”
Jon: “I would have thought that you have proven that over and over and over again, given the dozens of people you have killed.”
Uthgerd: “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But the moment you stop proving yourself, that’s when the world forgets. And I’ll be damned if I let that happen.”
Jon: “I guess we will have to inspire some bards into singing songs about you.”
Uthgerd: “Ha! Songs are for the dead and the retired. I’m neither. But, if they want to sing about Uthgerd the Unbroken, they better make it a song that’ll shake the mead halls.”

Jon: “You know, talking to you always pumps me up, Uthgerd.”
Uthgerd: “Well, that’s what I do, Jon. I get the blood flowing, the muscles moving. Never forget that.”

The innkeeper and his wannabe-adventurer son had been arguing from even before we entered the premises. I decided to mediate, if only to get them to shut the fuck up.

Jon: “Maybe it is none of my business, but I have listened to you argue for the last two hours. What is it about?”
Mralki: “It’s about my son, Erik, and his foolish dreams of becoming an adventurer. I’ve tried to tell him the world is too dangerous, but he won’t listen.”
Erik: “Father, I’m not a child anymore. I can make my own decisions. I want to see the world, to have adventures and explore places beyond Rorikstead. But my father thinks I’m being naive and wants me to stay here and work the farm.”
Jon: “Well, allow me to introduce myself: my name is Jon, a mage and the leader of a band of adventurers called Frostpeak Stalkers.”
Erik: “Frostpick Stalkers? I’ve never heard of them, but it sounds exciting.”
Mralki: “A mage, you say? I’ve got nothing against magic, but it’s not something we see much of here in Rorikstead.”
Erik: “Ignore my father, Jon. I’m very interested in your adventures. What kind of places have you been to?”
Jon: “Ancient Nord barrows filled with undead: draugr and skeletons. We have cleared out plenty of bandit hideouts, slaughtering them all. We have killed wolves, skeevers, mudcrabs, saber cats… Trolls as well, we recently had a mission to kill a few trolls. As you can see, I have survived it all.”
Erik: “That sounds incredible, Jon. I can only imagine the thrill of facing down such dangers.”
Mralki: “And I can only imagine the danger you’re describing, Jon. I hope you can understand why I’d rather my son not face such threats.”
Jon: “Listen, sir, I am an only child. My parents died when I was young. I could leave my continent and make my own journey without abandoning anyone behind.”
Mralki: “I can sympathize with that, Jon. Losing your parents so young must have been hard. But I still have my son, and I want to keep him safe.”
Erik: “Father, I know you care about me, but I’m not a child anymore. I can handle myself.”
Jon: “Listen, I don’t have a great answer to your discussion, because it is true that Erik could die. But I don’t know if that’s worse than keeping a big heart like his in a small town. And if you allow me, I’m going to tell you the story of one of my companions, Ange the Song-Bearer.”
Mralki: “I’m listening, Jon. I can’t promise I’ll change my mind, but I’m willing to hear you out.”
Erik: “Please, Jon, tell us about Ange. I want to know more about your companions.”
Jon: “I first met Ange when I was in Morthal, that marshy town to the north of Skyrim. As a traveling bard, she sang beautiful songs. She had the voice of a songbird. Ange and I disagreed during the time when we had decided to clear out a vampire coven located near Morthal. I knew it was impossible to kill those vampires at the time, so instead we had to, let’s say, regroup.”
Mralki: “Vampires? That sounds terrifying, Jon. But also exciting. Did you and Ange ever face the vampires?”
Jon: “Ange wasn’t in town when I faced the vampires along with other companions. Those bloodsuckers overwhelmed us. We were lucky to escape with our lives. It was a great lesson; I wasn’t remotely as prepared as I believed myself to be.”
Erik: “That’s a sobering lesson, Jon. But it also shows the importance of being prepared and knowing your limits.”
Mralki: “I can respect that you learned from your mistakes, Jon. It shows wisdom.”
Jon: “Well, let me tell you. I met Ange the Song-Bearer again in some other town. It seems… that I have forgotten what town that was. Anyway, Ange decided to join our band of adventurers, but unfortunately during the first bandit raid that she participated in, we had a scuffle in a narrow corridor, and before I knew it, Ange was dead. We never knew what killed her.”
Mralki: “That’s a tragedy, Jon. To lose a companion like that, so suddenly. It must have been hard.”
Erik: “I can only imagine the pain you felt. But it also shows the risks you take as adventurers.”
Jon: “I don’t know if there is a lesson in all this, but Ange was happy. She always had a smile and a kind word to share with those who knew her. She sang beautiful songs, but she wasn’t a carefree spirit; she was a very moral and principled person. And when she disagreed with me regarding those vampires, she was very firm regarding the fact that maybe I was acting incorrectly. To the last day of her life, Ange was happy, doing the stuff she was born to do.”
Erik: “That’s a beautiful story. It’s clear that Ange lived life to the fullest, and that’s something I admire.”
Mralki: “I can see the appeal, Jon.”
Jon: “Well, I have no idea if my words have helped the two of you in any way, but I suppose that sharing the truths of adventuring is better than keeping them to oneself.”
Erik: “Thank you. Your words mean a lot to me.”
Mralki: “I can’t say I’m completely convinced, Jon, but I can see the value in the life you lead. Perhaps there’s more to this adventuring business than I thought.”
Jon: “Well, sir, I intend to rent a room from you because it must be about four in the morning, and I’m beat. I want to go to sleep.”
Mralki: “Of course, Jon. I have a room available for you. It’s 10 septims for the night.”
Erik: “I hope you sleep well. And thank you again for sharing your stories with us.”