I'm Really Not the Dragonborn.

Karliah's steady gaze under the Nightingale mask gave him the confidence he needed. Ibnor drank from the Ebonmere. A surge of energy, both strange and exhilarating, coursed through his veins, a fleeting euphoria that connected him to something vast and ancient.

The feeling was intense, almost overwhelming, but quickly subsided, replaced by a sensation of being immersed in cool, flowing water, as if he were being cleansed and renewed. A sense of peace settled over him, a deep connection to the shadows and the night. 

Gone were the rage that seemed to gnaw on his soul, threatening to consume him along with his agitation over small inconsequential details. He decided to open his panel.

******************

Ibnor

Status

Normal

Stats 

Strength

36.6

Agility

38.4

Mental

35.8

Physique

38.8

Sub-Stat

Charm

15.7

Active Effect

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

Skills

Passive

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

Active

[Archery (53.3)], [Blacksmithing (26.1)], [One Handed (59.6)], [Two Handed (28.2)], [Block (35.5)], [Alchemy (9.4)], [Sneak (58.4)], [Lockpicking (49.8)], [Pickpocket (48.2)], 

Spells

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

Shout

[Shout (Unrelenting Force) - FUS], [Shout (Disarm) - ZUN]

Abilities

[Agent of Stealth], [Agent of Subterfuge], [Agent of Strife]

Notification

*The Passion Dancer has taken interest in you.

*The Mistress of Night and Darkness likes you.

*The Father of Manbeasts finds you amusing.

*Master of Insidious Wishes are aware of you.

******************

To his surprise, he was bestowed all three abilities instead of having to choose one. 

"Hmm, they said there's no such thing as a free lunch… I wonder what they have in store for me…" he mused.

Bidding farewell to Karliah, once again he headed to Helgen after asking her to relay the news to the Guild of their success in returning the key and restoring the Ebonmere. He may be acting under the Jarl's authority, but Siddgeir's 'support' amounted to little more than a title and a pat on the back. 

As he approached the ruined gate, the familiar sight of Jenassa, the Dunmer mercenary, and Rayya, his housecarl, greeted him. They stood guard amidst the rubble, their presence a reassuring sign that all had remained relatively quiet in his absence.

"Thane! You've returned," Rayya said, her voice warm with genuine relief.

"By Azura, took you long enough," Jenassa quipped, a hint of playful sarcasm in her tone.

"It took a bit more than I expected, but… I'm back. How are things?" Ibnor replied, a tired smile gracing his lips.

"Manageable. Jenassa and Marcurio have been a great help," Rayya explained, nodding towards the dark elf.

"Just doing what I'm paid for," Jenassa muttered, though a flicker of something akin to respect crossed her features.

"Where's Marcurio? Illia?" Ibnor asked, scanning the remnants of the village. The skeletal frames of burned buildings clawed at the sky, a stark reminder of Helgen's destruction.

"Marcurio's out hunting. Even the beasts give him a wide berth these days," Rayya chuckled lightly. "Illia's in the tent, buried in her scrolls."

"Alright. I'll go see her," Ibnor said, turning towards the patched-up tent that served as their current base of operations.

He entered the tent quietly, approaching Illia from behind. She was hunched over a stack of scrolls, her brow furrowed in concentration. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the tent walls.

"You don't need to do those… We haven't really started anything yet," he said softly.

"By the Divines! You startled me!" Illia exclaimed, startled but pleased. A faint blush rose on her cheeks. "It's… it's alright. Keeps my mind occupied. Besides," she gestured to the scrolls, "proper planning prevents poor performance. And a mage must document her findings, wouldn't you agree?"

Ibnor understood. The events involving her mother at the Darklight Tower still weighed heavily on her. He only hoped that with time, the wounds would heal. The memory of the twisted hagraven and the chilling revelation of Illia's parentage was a shadow that lingered in the air between them.

"Alright… We'll smooth out the details later," he conceded, offering her a reassuring smile.

They shared a simple lunch of roasted meat that Marcurio had brought back from his hunt. The meal was a welcome respite, a brief moment of normalcy amidst the ruins. After they had finished eating, Ibnor gathered everyone. The time had come to lay out his plans.

"The reason I called you all here is to give you a picture of my plan," Ibnor began, his voice clear and steady. "We need to restore Helgen. Here's what I have in mind. We need people. So I intend to offer those war refugees a place to stay in exchange for their service. I'll also bring along a few more key members to ensure smoother operations."

"Will Falkreath be sending aid, then?" Illia asked, her brow furrowed in concern.

"There won't be any," Ibnor stated flatly.

"What in Oblivion?" Illia was taken aback. Jenassa raised a skeptical eyebrow, and Marcurio tilted his head in a gesture of silent inquiry.

"We're on our own. There won't be any help from Falkreath," Ibnor repeated, his voice firm.

"But… how will we support so many?" Illia asked, her voice laced with worry.

"I have my own channels. It won't be an issue for long," Ibnor assured her, though he kept the specifics of those channels to himself. They involved his other identity, the one best kept hidden for now.

"So, what's the next order?" Jenassa asked, cutting to the chase.

"I need your help with proper documentation. Everything we do here – expenses, new arrivals, supplies, events – needs to be written down, categorized, and kept secure," Ibnor explained, gesturing towards the scattered scrolls on Illia's makeshift desk.

"As you command," Illia agreed, nodding solemnly.

"Rayya, you'll be head of security for now, until someone can take over. Illia, my spokesperson, the… manager. Jenassa, Marcurio, you're free to do as you please, but these two are priorities. Keep them safe," Ibnor instructed, his gaze sweeping across the group.

"If you say so," Jenassa replied with a shrug.

"Consider it done," Marcurio echoed, a subtle hint of amusement in his voice.

"Alright. I have a few plans here for what we can work on: walls, a garden, a watchtower, housing. It's all here," Ibnor said, unfurling several scrolls of parchment. They depicted rough sketches of potential structures, organized layouts for the village, and lists of necessary materials. "As people arrive, inquire about their skills, how they can contribute, and assign them accordingly. It'll be rough at first, but we'll manage."

"What of the Jarl?" Illia asked, her voice laced with apprehension.

"What of him?" Ibnor countered, his tone deliberately nonchalant.

"If he sends observers, what then?"

"We show them what we're capable of. We rebuild this town, and we make sure he sees it," Ibnor replied, a glint of determination in his eyes.

"And that's… good?" Illia questioned, sensing a deeper layer to his plan.

"It is. Someone as grasping and shortsighted as Siddgeir will want to claim the credit," Ibnor explained, his voice hardening slightly.

"And you'll simply let him?" Illia asked, her voice laced with disbelief.

"Yes. That's why we need a strong core. You all. If the Jarl's greed gets the better of him, we leave. And we take our people with us," Ibnor said, his gaze meeting each of theirs in turn.

"And Helgen falls to ruin again," Illia pointed out, her voice filled with concern.

"Most likely," Ibnor admitted, his expression grim.

"That's… dreadful!" Illia exclaimed, her voice laced with distress.

"Then what other choice do we have? All of Falkreath bends to his will," Ibnor countered, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

"You won't just… do nothing?" Illia pressed, her eyes searching his.

"No, I won't," Ibnor affirmed, his voice firm and resolute. 

A plan was forming in his mind, a long-term strategy that extended beyond the immediate task of rebuilding Helgen. He wouldn't allow Siddgeir's greed to ruin their efforts, but he also wouldn't engage in a direct confrontation that he was sure to lose. Instead, he would build something stronger, something that could withstand the Jarl's interference. 

The next few days were a flurry of activity. Ibnor sent word to the nearby refugee camps, offering shelter and work in exchange for their assistance in rebuilding Helgen. The response was initially hesitant, but the promise of food, safety, and a chance to rebuild their lives proved to be a powerful incentive. Slowly but surely, people began to trickle into the ruined village.

The first order of business was establishing order amidst the chaos. Rayya, with her military background, proved invaluable in organizing the newcomers into work crews. She assessed their physical capabilities and any prior skills they possessed, assigning tasks accordingly. Those with experience in carpentry were put to work salvaging usable wood from the burned structures. Others were tasked with clearing rubble, hauling stones, and preparing the ground for new foundations.

Resource management became a crucial daily concern. Marcurio's hunting provided a steady, if somewhat erratic, supply of meat, but it wasn't enough to sustain everyone. Ibnor, drawing on his less-than-legal contacts, managed to secure a shipment of basic supplies – flour, dried beans, salt, and tools – from a merchant operating on the fringes of Falkreath Hold. The transaction was conducted under the cover of darkness, a necessary precaution to avoid unwanted attention from the Jarl's guards.

Illia, ever meticulous, kept detailed records of every resource acquired and distributed. Her makeshift ledger, a collection of hastily scribbled notes and carefully drawn diagrams, became the lifeblood of the fledgling settlement. She tracked food stores, tool inventories, and the number of workers assigned to each project, ensuring that nothing was wasted and that everyone had what they needed to contribute.

Defense was another pressing concern. With bandits and wild animals still roaming the countryside, Helgen was vulnerable. Rayya established a rotating watch, training the able-bodied men and women in basic combat techniques. They practiced with salvaged weapons – rusty swords, dented shields, and makeshift bows – learning to form a defensive line and protect themselves.

The watchtower, though still under construction, became a focal point for their defensive efforts. Teams of workers labored tirelessly to raise the wooden structure, reinforcing its base with stones salvaged from the ruined walls. Once completed, it would provide a commanding view of the surrounding area, allowing them to spot approaching threats well in advance.

While the larger projects progressed, smaller, but equally important, tasks were also undertaken. A communal garden was established near the river, providing a source of fresh vegetables. Makeshift shelters were erected using salvaged materials, offering some protection from the elements. A simple forge was built, allowing them to repair tools and create new ones.

The work was grueling, the conditions harsh, but a sense of community began to emerge amidst the ruins. People who had lost everything found solace in shared labor, in the common goal of rebuilding their lives. Laughter and conversation could be heard echoing through the valley once more, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.

One evening, as the setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, Ibnor stood atop a partially rebuilt section of the outer wall, surveying the progress they had made. The sight before him was a far cry from the bustling town Helgen had once been, but it was also a far cry from the desolate wasteland he had first encountered.

Small fires flickered throughout the camp, casting a warm glow on the faces of the workers as they prepared their evening meal. The sound of hammering had given way to the murmur of conversations and the occasional burst of laughter. The air, once thick with the stench of smoke and decay, now carried the scent of woodsmoke and cooking food.

He saw Rayya drilling a group of recruits in basic swordplay, her voice sharp but encouraging. He saw Illia poring over her ledgers by the light of a lantern, her brow furrowed in concentration. He even saw Jenassa and Marcurio engaged in a friendly sparring match, their movements fluid and precise.

A sense of quiet satisfaction washed over him. They had accomplished much in a short time, but he knew that this was only the beginning. There were still many challenges ahead – the coming winter, the threat of bandits, and the ever-present shadow of Jarl Siddgeir. But for now, they had built something tangible, something real. They had built hope. And that, he thought, was a foundation strong enough to build anything upon

While the rebuilding of Helgen consumed much of his time, Ibnor didn't forget about his identity as a member of the Thieves Guild and the benefit it gives. It was a vital source of information, resources, and, when necessary, muscle. So, under the guise of scouting for supplies and potential recruits, he began making regular trips to Riften.

The journey itself was arduous, a long trek through the forests and mountain passes of southern Skyrim. But the familiar sights of Riften – the bustling marketplace, the grimy canals, and the imposing walls of Mistveil Keep – unknowingly brought a sense of grim comfort. It was a place of shadows and secrets, a place where Ibnor started his mark on this world.

He always made his way to the Ragged Flagon first, the dimly lit tavern nestled beneath Riften's marketplace. The air was thick with the smell of stale ale, sweat, and unwashed bodies, but it was home in its own peculiar way. The familiar faces of the Guild members, the low murmur of conversations, and the clinking of tankards created a comforting backdrop.

Delvin Mallory, the Guild's numbers man, always greeted Ibnor with a sly grin and a stack of potential jobs. 

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," Delvin would say, his voice raspy. "Thought you'd gone soft on us, Thane. Spending all your time playing builder."

Ibnor would simply shrug, sometimes joining in the banter and take the offered list, scanning the various tasks: burglary, shakedowns, framing rivals, and the occasional bit of information gathering. He preferred the jobs that required discretion and finesse, the ones that allowed him to move unseen and unheard.

Vex, the Guild's master of infiltration, also had work for him. Her assignments were usually more delicate, involving infiltration, retrieval of sensitive items, and occasional acts of sabotage. 

"Don't get caught," she'd warn, her voice sharp and to the point. "I don't have time to bail you out of the Riften jail."

Ibnor walked a tightrope, balancing his commitments to Helgen against his obligations to the Guild. One required the steady hand of a builder, the other the subtle touch of a thief. He became adept at shifting between these roles, ensuring neither suffered from neglect.

Under the cover of darkness, he moved through the opulent estates of Skyrim's elite like a phantom. Rain-slicked walls became climbing routes, intricate locks yielded to his practiced touch, and silent corridors offered no obstacle. His targets varied: a jeweled dagger vanished from a noblewoman's boudoir, a priceless painting disappeared from a collector's gallery, ancient artifacts were reclaimed from the hands of unscrupulous collectors. He retrieved them all, leaving only the lingering absence of the stolen objects as evidence of his presence. Sometimes, his task wasn't retrieval, but insertion: a forged letter whispering treason into the ears of a rival, a bloodied knife staged to implicate an enemy—small, carefully placed details that could unravel entire webs of power. He became a master of misdirection, a whisper in the wind, sowing doubt and suspicion in his wake.

Beyond simple thievery, Ibnor undertook more dangerous assignments: infiltrating rival gangs. He'd craft a new persona, a tapestry of half-truths and carefully constructed lies, to earn their trust. In smoky taverns, he'd listen to their boasts and whispered plans, gathering intelligence on their operations: planned heists, smuggling routes, hidden caches of stolen goods. Once he'd gleaned enough information, he'd act, disrupting their schemes with surgical precision. A timely tip to the city guard, a sabotaged shipment, a carefully orchestrated betrayal—he dismantled their operations from within, leaving them confused, fractured, and demoralized.

His most delicate work, however, involved intercepting missives intended for Jarl Siddgeir. These missions demanded the utmost discretion and finesse. He bribed messengers with promises of coin or threats of exposure, exploited weaknesses in the Jarl's security protocols, and, when necessary, resorted to outright theft. The intercepted letters offered invaluable glimpses into the Jarl's political machinations: his shifting alliances, simmering rivalries, and carefully guarded ambitions. This intelligence, relayed back to the Guild, allowed them to anticipate Siddgeir's moves and position themselves accordingly, further cementing their influence within Falkreath Hold.

These trips to Riften served more than one purpose. They maintained his vital connection to the Thieves Guild, allowing him to nurture his network of informants and gather crucial intelligence. But they also evolved into recruiting missions, a deliberate effort to strengthen Helgen with capable hands. His travels, driven by Guild contracts, took him across the breadth of Skyrim, each job leading him to individuals whose skills and circumstances made them ideal additions to Helgen.

All the jobs he took came with other benefits, where they provided a much-needed enhancement, the balls of attributes, each in their own color. Scattered everytime they dropped from his target, they formed a collection of multi-colored balls. His skills are rising fast, especially those related to his jobs.

His first recruit came during a simple retrieval job near Windhelm. A Khajiit caravan had been robbed, and the Guild tasked Ibnor with recovering a stolen necklace. He tracked the bandits to a nearby cave and retrieved the heirloom, a beautifully crafted silver piece. The Khajiit, Kharjo, was deeply grateful. Learning of Ibnor's efforts in Helgen, and seeking a place to belong, Kharjo, a skilled warrior, pledged his sword to the cause. More than just a capable fighter, Kharjo possessed a sharp mind for business and a natural aptitude for managing finances. This proved invaluable to Helgen, as Kharjo readily took on the role of treasurer, establishing a stable economic foundation. His Khajiit ingenuity also proved useful in finding creative solutions to resource shortages and logistical challenges.

Another job, this time involving a necromancer defiling ancient Nord burial grounds near Hillgrund's Tomb, led him to Golldir. The young Nord was distraught, unable to face the horrors desecrating his ancestors' resting place. Ibnor dealt with the necromancer, Vals Veran, cleansing the tomb of its unholy taint. Golldir, indebted and inspired by Ibnor's actions, offered his services to Helgen. Beyond his surprising skill with a bow, Golldir proved to be a gifted alchemist. His extensive knowledge of local flora and fauna, coupled with his alchemical expertise, provided Helgen with much-needed remedies, healing potions, and even specialized concoctions for hunting and defense. His knowledge of plants also allowed him to cultivate a thriving medicinal garden, further bolstering Helgen's self-sufficiency.

In Solitude, a different kind of opportunity presented itself. A Redguard warrior named Ahtar, the city's executioner and warden of Castle Dour Dungeon, had recently been dismissed after a prisoner escaped on his watch. Desperate for redemption, Ahtar took on a contract to hunt down the escapee, only to find himself outmatched. Ibnor, on a separate Guild assignment, crossed paths with Ahtar and, seeing his predicament, offered his assistance. After the escapee was dealt with, Ahtar, now without a position and impressed by Ibnor's skill, swore fealty to him. His rigorous training and experience as a warden made him a natural fit for maintaining order and establishing a robust security system within Helgen, ensuring the safety and well-being of its inhabitants.

A job involving a lost shipment near Darkwater Crossing brought him into contact with Annekke Crag-Jumper. A Nord ranger and former adventurer, she was now struggling to adjust to a settled life. During the job, they faced a band of trolls together, and the thrill of the fight rekindled her adventurous spirit. She decided to join Ibnor in Helgen, eager to find purpose in rebuilding the town. An unexpected benefit was Annekke's talent in financial matters. Her sharp mind for numbers and meticulous record-keeping complemented Kharjo's more intuitive approach to finance, creating a highly effective financial team for Helgen.

While in Darkwater Crossing, Ibnor heard rumors of an Argonian miner trapped in Darkwater Pass. Investigating, he found Derkeethus held captive by Falmer. Ibnor fought his way through the subterranean tunnels, rescuing the grateful Argonian. Derkeethus, a skilled ranger and miner, readily joined the growing community at Helgen. His expertise in mining quickly became essential for gathering resources like stone, ore, and other valuable minerals, significantly aiding in the settlement's reconstruction and future expansion. He also began teaching others the finer points of mining, ensuring a sustainable supply of resources for the future. 

Two more recruits came from less dramatic, but equally effective, means. In a Riften tavern, Ibnor overheard two Nord warriors, Uthgerd the Unbroken and Benor from Morthal, arguing over who was the better fighter. He proposed a wager: a fistfight, with the loser becoming the winner's follower until they could win a rematch. Ibnor, a surprisingly capable brawler despite his more subtle skills, bested both of them in turn. True to their word, Uthgerd and Benor joined the growing ranks at Helgen, grumbling good-naturedly about their loss. Uthgerd's ferocity in combat and her sharp hunting instincts made her a valuable asset in protecting the settlement and providing a reliable source of fresh meat. Benor, while equally skilled in combat, possessed a strong sense of duty and a knack for rescuing those in need, making him a vital part of Helgen's defense and a key figure in any potential rescue operations or emergency situations. He also took on the responsibility of training new recruits in basic combat skills, further strengthening Helgen's defenses.

These new arrivals brought a diverse and invaluable range of talents to Helgen. 

One evening, after completing a particularly delicate retrieval job for Vex – stealing a ledger detailing a corrupt merchant's dealings with the Black-Briar family – Ibnor found himself sitting at a quiet corner table in the Ragged Flagon, nursing a tankard of ale. He overheard a hushed conversation between two Guild members.

"Heard the Jarl's been sniffing around Helgen again," one of them whispered. "Sent some of his guards to 'inspect' the progress."

"Probably just looking for a way to claim it for himself," the other replied with a snort. "Siddgeir's always been greedy."

Ibnor's ears perked up. This confirmed his suspicions. The Jarl's interest in Helgen was growing, and it wouldn't be long before he made his move. He finished his ale, tossed a few coins on the table, and slipped out into the night.