I am Skyrim

I have fought dragons and emerged victorious, their souls filling me with knowledge and fury.

I have earned the respect of jarls and Nords, and been named a thane of their people.

I have forged weapons of skysteel and filled them with enchantments of fire and lightning, bringing forth the twin fangs Ember and Skywrath.

I have ascended the Seven Thousand Steps to the Throat of the World and communed with the ancient, mysterious Graybeards at High Hrothgar to learn the secrets of the Voice, and thus taken the first steps toward my destiny as Dovakhiin, which means Dragonborn in the ancient tongue.

I have plucked butterflies from the air and learned the alchemical secrets that can be teased from their diaphanous wings.

I have delivered traitors to justice and honor to my brethren, the Companions, who will fill their meadhall with songs of my glory, and add my name to their legendary rolls.

I have known fear and conquered it, drinking in the fearsome blood of the beast to become a werewolf, and thus strike fear into those who would hunt me and my packmates.

I have seen an ancient warrior heave a sigh filled with regret and longing, staring into the fires of his hall as he considers how he will be judged for the things he has done in this life.

I have seen a great dragon in flight, only to pause in wonder as the sky around it is filled with the shimmering curtains of the northern lights, and stood mute as the leather-winged beast swam amongst it like a salmon in a stream.

I have seen a giant tending his mammoth herd kick a starving bandit so hard the man flew into the side of a nearby mountain.

I have learned to stay away from the giants.