I'm Really Not the Dragonborn.

The cold wind brushed against Ibnor's face, stinging his skin. His head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing through his temples like a relentless drumbeat. His heavy eyelids fluttered open, revealing a tragic scene.

He found himself sprawled on a frozen battlefield, under a few dead, motionless bodies. Corpses, both Imperial and Stormcloak, were strewn across the snow-covered ground, their lifeless forms twisted and contorted in different angles. The stench of blood and decay hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the carnage that had unfolded.

As Ibnor struggled to sit up, a lone Sabre Cat emerged from the shadows, its eyes glowing with predatory intent. Barring its sharp fang, it circled Ibnor who was weakened and wounded. He fumbled for a weapon and his gaze fell upon a random axe discarded by a fallen soldier. Without a better alternative, he seized the weapon, gripping it tightly despite the weakness that he felt on his arms.

The Sabre Cat lunged, opening its maw and extending its claw. Ibnor swung the axe with a roar of his own out of pain and desperation. The axe buried itself deep into the creature's side. The Sabre Cat howled in pain, its body convulsing as it fought to break free. With his strength waning, Ibnor struggled to maintain his grip on the axe. The Sabre Cat, sensing its opportunity, or simply out of desperation, lunged again, its jaws snapping at Ibnor's exposed throat, showcasing the large fang.

Depending solely on reflex, Ibnor jerked back and swung the axe, this time connecting with the Sabre Cat's skull. The creature's body fell limp to the ground, its life extinguished. Ibnor, exhausted and bleeding from the reopened wound, collapsed beside the fallen beast, his breath ragged.

Dazed and confused, Ibnor tried to piece together the events that had led to this horrifying scene. He remembered the fierce battle, the chaos, the pain. He had been caught in the crossfire, a victim of circumstance. Somehow, he had miraculously survived.

"I was complacent. Too overconfident in my ability… I need more strength before I can take on this world…" He muttered. 

His body ached, every muscle protesting his movement. He tried to sit up, but his weakened body resisted, forcing him back to the cold, unforgiving ground.

The scene before him was one of utter devastation. Bodies, both human and animal, lay scattered across the frozen landscape, their lifeless forms now stiffed, motionless on the ground. The stench of blood and decay hung heavy in the air, a macabre symphony that assaulted his senses. The once vibrant landscape, now a shadow of its former self, bore witness to the brutality of war.

Ibnor felt an alien feeling as he surveyed the carnage. He had survived the dragon's attack, only to be caught in the crossfire of a larger conflict. The battle had claimed countless lives, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

With a heavy heart, Ibnor rose to his feet, his body protesting with every movement. He knew he had to move on, to seek shelter and tend to his wounds. The road ahead was uncertain, but he thought that he would have a better chance at survival if he moved, rather than staying there, hoping for help to come. 

"Well, every cloud has a silver lining. I'll just count this as a blessing in disguise..." Ibnor thought as he collected all the scattered colored balls. His telekinesis now has improved and he can collect more at a time and further.

Ibnor

Status

Injured, Exhaustion, Hungry, 

Stats 

Strength

31.2

Agility

35.6

Mental

30.1

Physique

34.4

Sub-Stat

Charm

15.2

Actife Effect

[Resist Frost +10%], [Resist Poison +10%], [Resist Magic +10%] 

Skills

Passive

[Peak Human Condition], [Close Quarter Combat - Expert], [Dragon's Tongue - Beginner], [Dibellan Arts - Intermediate.], 

Active

[Archery (47.5)], [Blacksmithing (25.2)], [One Handed (54.8)], [Two Handed (23.1)], [Block 33.3], [Sneak (45.2)], [Lockpicking (39.1)], [Pickpocket (32.1)],

Spells

[Telekinesis], [Bound Bow], [Magelight], 

Shout

[Shout (Unrelenting Force) - FUS]

Notification

*The Passion Dancer has taken interest in you.

*The Mistress of Night and Darkness is curious about you.

"What the hell? I really should have checked my status often." Ibnor was surprised when he saw his panel. "I get why the first one has taken interest in me, I'm practically a practitioner. But how in the final destination, did the second one noticed me this early?" 

With great difficulty, he managed to get to Shor's Stone and bought a few healing potions. After spending a couple of days recuperating, he made his way to Riften as fast as possible, now without looking like a human pin cushion with arrows sticking out from him. Entering Riften, he spotted Maul hanging about as usual and and entrusted him with a message for Maven Black-Briar

Now that the communication has been taken care of, Ibnor turned his attention to the Cistern, the clandestine headquarters of the Thieves Guild. This subterranean labyrinth, with its hidden passageways and secret entrances, provided a secure haven for the Guild's operations, allowing the official members to easily move within Riften without being seen. The Cistern also has its own facilities such as living quarters and training area. 

The dim, flickering light of the lanterns cast long shadows across the cavernous chamber. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and stale ale, a testament to the age and purpose of this subterranean hideout.

In one corner, Sapphire, the Guild's master thief, was meticulously cleaning her prized blade, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns etched into the steel. Her movements were precise, almost meditative. Nearby, Cynric Endell, the Guild's skilled jailbreaker, was practicing his sleight-of-hand tricks, his nimble fingers disappearing into a blur of motion.

In another part of the Cistern, Thrynn, the Guild's resident enforcer, was sparring with Vipir the Fleet. The clash of steel echoed through the cavern, punctuated by the grunts and shouts of the combatants. Sweat glistened on their brows as they exchanged blows, their movements a blur of speed and power.

Meanwhile, Mercer Frey, the leader of the Guild, sat at a worn wooden table, sipping a tankard of ale. He was deep in contemplation, planning something with blueprints stacked in front of him.

In the background, the soft hum of conversation filled the air. Rune and Niruin gathered together, sharing stories, jokes, and gossip. They were simply enjoying the camaraderie of their fellow thieves, the warmth of the fire, and the promise of adventure and profits.

Making rounds in the Cistern, Ibnor collects all the scattered colored balls with a subtle gesture of his hand. His recent experience made him reluctant to waste the given opportunity. The more he collects, the more his ability increases and the more they increase, so does his proficiency. His last collection point happened to be near Sapphire.

"Back from a job, huh? Hope it went well." She greeted him.

"Yeah.. no problem with the job, it's the return trip that took most of my time. So, Sapphire huh?"

"They call me Sapphire because I love to steal them. Don't get me wrong, I'll steal any gem that isn't nailed down. But there's something about those blue stones that gets my blood boiling. When other people ask my real name, know what I tell them? Don't ask."

"I'm not exactly 'other people'. So, will you tell me your real name?"

"Look, I don't really know you. I don't even really know anyone here. Why do you care anyway? It's not like we're family. This is a business."

"Something had to make you this angry."

"You really want to know about me? Alright, I'll tell you. I'll tell you about the time I was a young girl, barely out of her teens… living on a pig farm in the middle of nowhere. Didn't have a coin to spend between our entire family. Ate the same slop we feed our livestock."

"Sounds horrible."

"Oh, wait… It gets much better. How about the fact that our farm was attacked by bandits, and that they killed my entire family who didn't even brandish a weapon against them. Here's the best part. They took me as a prize, and violated me for a fortnight. Tossed me from bandit to bandit like… like…" 

"You don't have to continue."

"It's fine… I had to tell someone I suppose. Carrying around a weight like that… It hurts after a while. Cuts you inside like a dagger to the heart."

"How did you escape?"

"Over time, I managed to gain their confidence. Then one night I grabbed a knife, waited until they fell asleep and cut their throats. I never returned to that pig farm you know. There;s nothing for me there. So, that's my sad story. What do you think?" Sapphire smiled sarcastically. 

"You still never told me your real name." Ibnor said with a straight face. His words made Sapphire burst into a chuckle.

"Maybe one day, just not today."

At that moment, Vipir called Ibnor.

"Rookie, Brynjolf sent word that Maven wanted to meet you. She's waiting at the Bee and Barb."

"Alright." Ibnor gave a short answer. He then turned back to Sapphire. "That's my cue. See ya later."

Arriving at the Bee and Barb, Ibor was greeted by Maven with an impatient tone.

"I trust you have good news for me."

"That depends. If you're asking if the job's done and was it done correctly, then yes. But If you're asking for the objective behind the job, I regret to inform you that you'll have to make do with this, the only thing that I found." Ibnor said, handing her the papers he found in Sabjorn's desk.

"This doesn't tell me much. I expect more from you. It seems like all that glitters is not gold."

"As per our agreement, we were commissioned to reduce the market share of your competitor to a negligible level, through all available means. However, there were a few oversights in your initial request. Firstly, your associate neglected to include a pertinent detail that may influence the task's outcome. 

Secondly, he anticipated that the Guild would provide additional services without charge as a gesture of goodwill. Thirdly, by fulfilling said service, the Guild has alleviated the need for further expenditures on your part. I believe both of us can agree that the assignment was carried out successfully and the Guild also went above and beyond, for this particular task." Ibnor responded. 

"Hah! I was not in the hospitality industry for nothing." He thought, seeing Maven went silent.

"I supposed we can. The only thing that could identify Sabjorn's partner is this odd little symbol. Well, whoever this mysterious marking represents, they'll regret starting a war with me. You should bring this information to your Guild immediately. There's also the matter of your payment. I believe you'll find this more than adequate for your service." Maven said and handed him a large bag of coins..

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Matriarch Black-Briar." Ibnor gave a little bow and left the inn, heading back to the Ragged Flagon. 

Entering the Ragged Flagon, he was greeted by Brynjolf who was waiting for him there.

"My sources tell me that Sabjorn is now a guest of Whiterun's prison. How unfortunate for him."

"And one could say it's the opposite for Maven."

"Indeed. You're beginning to understand the intricate workings of our network. We were told that you found something on that mission. Sounds like something that requires the Guild's attention."

"Yeah… the symbol that was previously found on Goldenglow's Bill of Sale is also present on the Honningbrew's Promissory Notes."

"Sure sounds nothing like a simple coincidence. First Aringoth and now Sabjorn. Someone's out there trying to take us down by driving a wedge between Maven and the Guild."

"Who do you think it is?"

"I don't know… True, some people dislike the Guild, but most of them are neither capable nor have the resources to do something like.. This." Said Brynjolf, his hands animated with gestures. "But Mercer thinks he knows a way to identify this new thorn in our side. He told us that he wants to meet with you once you're here. A bit of advice, if I were you I'd hurry. I've never seen him this angry before."

"He's pissed off because he had an inkling on who is behind this. He just refuses to acknowledge it. I bet he wanted to see me because he needed me to confirm his suspicion." 

"What are you talking about, lad? You know something about this?" Brynnjolf asked, his voice low.

"It's not for me to say. You're a decent guy, Bryn. Trust me on this. Talk to Delvin but don't let him or anyone know about this. The Guild's fate is at stake here." Ibnor responded in a hushed manner.

"You clearly know something. Fine. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. Once I'm done with Delvin, we're going to talk about this. You'd better have a good explanation, or you'll have to answer to the whole Guild." 

"Sure. And before I go… Vex! Did you get the thing?" Ibnor called for Vex.

"Sure did. Here you go." She approached them and handed him two scrolls. "If you didn't say what was inside, I would have thought they were guarding a treasure trove. The security is so tight that I almost didn't manage to get out safely." 

"It is a treasure trove, Vex. For them. One man's trash is another's treasure."

"Whatever. Find me if you need anything else." She said and started to walk back to her table at the corner but Ibnor stopped her.

"Vex…"

"What?" She turned around, annoyed.

"I know you've seen the Dwemer Puzzle Cube."

"Come on, it's mine! I worked for this."

"Before you start to feel… vexed, I just want to let you know that if you show it to Delvin, he'll offer you a good price."

"Hey, Delvin!" Vex rushed to get Delvin.

"Hold on to this. You will need this when the time comes." Ibnor said, giving Brynjolf one of the two scrolls. 

He made his way back to The Cistern, heading straight to Mercer Frey.

"Mercer, you wanted to see me?"

"Ah, there you are. I've consulted my contacts regarding the information you recovered from Goldenglow Estate, but no one can identify that symbol."

"I found the same symbol while handling the Honningbrew Meadery job."

"It would seem our adversary is attempting to take us apart indirectly by angering Maven Black-Briar. Very clever…"

"Is that admiration I hear in your voice?"

"They're well funded and they've been able to avoid identification for years. I'm impressed it reached this point." Mercer said, before continuing, "however, don't mistake my admiration for complacency, our nemesis is going to pay dearly."

"Of course…"

"Even after all their posturing and planning, they've made a mistake. The parchment you recovered mentions a 'Gajul-Lei'. According to my sources, that's an old alias used by one of our contacts. His real name is Gulum-Ei. Slimy bastard."

"Alright. So, where I'm heading and what I'm going after?" 

"Gulum-Ei is our inside man at the East Empire Company in Solitude. I'm betting he acted as a go-between for the sale of Goldenglow Estate and that he can finger our buyer."

"Wow… finger our buyer huh? That… Is so wrong on so many levels."

"What?! This is not the time to joke around! Do I make myself clear?"

"Alright, Boss. So, how do you want me to do this? Hand him to authorities? Permanently disable him?" 

"I thought it was painfully obvious that Gulum-Ei was important to the Guild. Get out there, shake him down and see what you come up with."

"Alright. See you later, Boss."

Ibnor then took one of the secret passages to go out to Riften, bypassing the Ratway. When he emerged from the secret passage, he found out he is currently at the small graveyard on the east side of Riften. He went out of the main gate only to find there wasn't any carriage waiting for passengers, forgetting that the regular one he took was lost in the dragon's attack. Having left with no other choice, he bought a horse from Shadr and began riding west, towards Falkreath. 

As he rode, he couldn't help but marvel at the breathtaking beauty of the landscape. The towering peaks of the High Hrothgar mountain range loomed in the distance, their snow-capped summits piercing the clouds. Ibnor paused to admire the majestic sight, his heart filled with awe and his thoughts wondering, how Harin was doing. He continued his journey and soon, he passed by the ruins of Helgen, a somber reminder of the dragon's destructive power. The once bustling town was now a desolate wasteland, overrun by bandits who had made the ruins their home.

Ibnor, ever vigilant, kept a watchful eye on his surroundings. The bandit scouts eyed him from a distance, trying to assess whether he was worth robbing or not. Fortunately, for whatever reason unknown to him, they simply watched him like a hawk as he passed by and finally he reached Falkreath. Just as he walked into the town, a guard stopped him.

"Hey, you there. Stop!"

"Yes? How can I help you?" Ibnor looked at the guard and asked.

"Have you… Have you seen a… A stray dog running outside town?" the guard asked, with his face showing uncertainty. Even he himself found the question he just asked is somewhat odd.

"A dog?"

"Yes."

"Running outside town?"

"Yes."

"Have I seen it?"

"Yes."

"That's an od…"

"Just tell me if you have seen it!" The guards didn't let him finish his sentence.

"Nope. Bears, wolves and even Sabre Cats I did, but no dog. No, sir." Ibnor said, still looking at the guard with eyes full of judgement. The guard's ears went red and as it was no longer bearable to him, he spoke.

"The blacksmith is offering a reward for a dog he saw on the road. I was hoping you'd seen it. I guess I'll stay on the lookout. Keep your nose clean while you're here, outsider." the guard said as if wanted to explain himself while keeping his pride. He then left Ibnor and walked away.

Ibnor was just about to continue making his way to the inn but a last rites ceremony at the nearby graveyard took his attention. Approaching the mourning family, he offered his condolences. 

"A sad time." the man uttered.

"Who is that, if I may ask?"

"Our daughter. Our little girl. She hadn't seen her tenth winter."

"My condolences. How did she come to pass?"

"She was… He ripped her apart. Like a Sabre Cat tears a deer. We barely found enough of her to bury." The man stammered, his eyes welling up with tears. 

"Did you find the perpetrator?" 

"It was Sinding. He came through as a labourer. Seemed like a decent man. He's stewing in the pit while we figure out what to do with him, if you've got the stomach to look at him. What could drive a man to do something like this?"

"I'm sorry for your loss." Ibnor said, patting the man's shoulder. 

"Hmm… Hircine eh? No good will come out of getting involved." Ibnor thought. "But isn't there an enchanted katana somewhere around here? Best I get to it before the hunt starts." 

He started to explore the area before finally finding the entrance of the cave he was looking for. Without hesitation, he went inside. The cool, damp air of Bloated Man's Grotto enveloped him as he explored the cavern. The paths are illuminated by the soft glow of torches, all the way through a lush, subterranean garden. The air was filled with the gentle hum of insects and the soft trickle of water.

As he delved further, the path opened up into a serene grotto, a hidden oasis of tranquility. The walls and the floor were filled with a soft, green moss. A small waterfall cascaded gracefully into a crystal-clear pool. A variety of flora and fauna inhabited this hidden paradise. Rabbits nibbled on tender shoots, butterflies flitted from flower to flower dancing with the luna moths and the torchbugs illuminated the darkness.

The damp air of Bloated Man's Grotto hung heavy as Ibnor ventured deeper into its labyrinthine depths. The flickering torch light cast shadows on the walls, illuminating ancient carvings and strange symbols. Continuing the path, the grotto opened into a grand chamber, its walls adorned with the remnants of a forgotten civilization.

In the heart of the chamber, a stone altar stood, its surface etched with intricate symbols. Atop the altar, a shrine to Talos, the Hero-God of mankind, held a few pieces of soul gems and potions. But it was the artifact behind the statue of Talos that truly captivated Ibnor's attention. There, nestled in a pool of moonlight, lay Bolar's Oathblade, an ancient katana imbued with ancient power. Its blade, forged in the fires of a forgotten era, gleaming in the dark.

"Found it!" He excitedly screamed in his mind.

Next to the blade was a folded piece of paper. Picking up the letter, he unfold it and read the content. 

[To he who finds this, know that I, Acilius Bolar, last of the Blades to survive the attack on Cloud Ruler Temple, took refuge here, in this ancient sanctuary. The Thalmor have come for me, but they shall not desecrate this place. I go forth to meet my death with honor. If you are worthy, take up my blade and do the same.]

A surge of excitement coursed through Ibnor as he reached for the katana. As his fingers brushed against the hilt, a surge of energy pulsed through the weapon, and a vision flashed before his eyes. He saw a warrior, a hero of old, wielding the blade with deadly precision.

With the blade in hand, Ibnor felt a surge of power. Its weight seemed to disappear, replaced by a sense of lightness and agility. He tested the blade and swung it, slashing randomly.

"Hmm.. even though it is called a katana, it's actually closer to a wakizashi." His inner nerdy self chose that moment to surface. 

Satisfied with his gain, he sheathed the blade and fastened it to his hip. Just as he was about to leave, the air changed. The grotto undergoes a dramatic transformation, plunging into darkness as a colossal, blood-red moon dominates the sky.

"Fuck! Why did it start so early?" Ibnor cursed.