Immersion
	The year is 1401, and a new era of Skyrim has arrived. A global transformation of culture, accelerated by a growing rebel faction, lies just beneath the nose of the empire. Dragons are being reborn for the first time in centuries. Trade is coming to a sudden halt in the major cities. On the verge of collapse after two hundred years of unity, the citizens of the empire are living in a state of constant fear from these extremely dangerous ice-breathing lizards, and its guards are no different.

A small recon team reported in to the boss, “Sir, dragon spotted 2 miles to the east of Markarth! We don’t think it’s going to fly into the city, but there’s no telling what it might do if it got inside…….”

“We’re not prepared for a situation like this! Man the towers, blockade the city gates, defend the walls, and make sure to tell everyone to stay inside immediately. It doesn’t look like we’re going home early today.” the boss commanded the guards.

 Aragorn, a freelance adventurer who was just starting out his career, overheard the guards’ dilemma and was obviously nervous too: he grew up merely reading about legends and dragon lores, and never thought he would be face-to-face against an actual dragon. On the other hand, this could be his first chance to make himself renown throughout Skyrim- and he had a plan.

“Men, I’ve fought many Draugr and decrepit zombies in this realm, but I come to you today with a way to defeat this scourge.” Aragorn resounded to the guards, hiding all of his previous fears and inhibitions about the dragons, “We’re going to fight this dragon head on, with all the archers this city owns. On my mark, they will fire a volley of arrows into the sky while I cast a huge lightning bolt into the sky to grasp its attention.”

“Who does this kid think he is? He probably isn’t even old enough to be a man yet.” One guard retorted.  The dragon was looming over a nearby dungeon, and caught a glimpse of the guards before darting towards Markharth at what looked to be nearing mach speed.

“Fire!! This dragon shall be ours!” Our hero screamed to the nine divines, hoping the Nordic god Talos would instill his fighting spirit into this mortal. His inner strength came forth when casting a fire spell on the dragon- it was almost as though he was spewing napalm and was immediately catching fire as it had left his hands.

The dragon altered its course directly towards Aragorn, who was a split second away from bolting towards the hills before remembering the people he was fighting for, and how all of them had families and kids of their own. Keeping this close to his heart, he collected his own spirits and was well on his way to being a new hero.

“We’ve hit it on its right wing, sire! The dragon’s flight path seems to be staggering, and it looks far angrier than before.” Exclaimed one of the dozen of no-name guards.

In a fit of rage, the dragon flew directly at that anonymous guard, and unleashed its chilling ice breath, freezing him and several others at the exact spot in which they were standing. Awestricken by its sheer power, the guards scattered like a flock of sheep dispersing from a predator.

“It’s going to freeze us, we’re doomed!” For a couple of town guards, these guys showed very little confidence the minute trouble arose.

 “Cowards! A merciless dragon is threatening the outreaches of your city, and all you have to say for your spineless selves is running away in the face of danger for the very town you were sworn to protect??” In what can only be described as a moment of comradery, the remaining guards looked at each other, and in silent agreement, nodded towards one another in defending Markarth from a more serious invasion on the inside.

On its next pass, the dragon came back more fierce than ever, and immobilized more guards along the towers. With nearly all of the archers frozen in place, Aragorn was left in a very vulnerable position to a close attack from the dragon. Seeing a perfect opportunity, the dragon swooped down from the air and landed on the ground, displaying its incredulous wingspan to Aragorn and his companions. As soon as the dragon landed, the guards were like “Whoa, too much, can’t handle this!” and looked to seek shelter inside of the city walls.

Alone, Aragorn was faced with the difficult task of facing an ice dragon- completely unprepared and inexperienced. Scrambling every ounce of oxygen he could muster, Aragorn screamed “Fus Ro Dah!!!” with every fiber of his human being, allowing for the power of his ancestors to be concentrated into a single magnificent spell. This staggered the dragon, leaving its defenses open to be captured by the town guards, who had crafted a ginormous makeshift net out of straw.

“He’s stunned!” One guard shouted. “Man the catapults, and let’s capture this one alive!” This was a gutsy move, especially because it had never been attempted by mortal souls before. Mounting their positions, the few remaining guards loaded the net onto a catapult, and were able to wrestle it into submission.

Aragorn, the hero of Markarth, was ready to make the killing blow: he raised sword up in the air. At that exact moment in time, something that could never have been imagined in the entire province of Skyrim happened:

“Alex, you’ve been playing that darned game since midnight, it’s time for school!”