A lonesome figure stood among the smoldering ruins of a once mighty and proud city. It had fallen many years ago to monsters and bandits. The person entered the ruins and walked to where the heart of city once was and got down on one knee. They noticed something. It was glimmering underneath a layer of dirt and grime. The person carefully reached a hand out and plunged it into the soft earth, withdrawing a huge enchanted sword of some sort. The figure analyzed the sword and hefted it onto their back when suddenly, a roar rang out. "It can't be. The call of a dragon" the person thought to themself while withdrawing the new sword. The dragon flew down into full view, circling around the village a few times before landing in front of the person. The lone figure charged the dragon, their long black cloak flying as they lopped off a talon. Just as they were about to drive the sword into the dragon, it drove a talon into the person and shouted at them. The person flew back several feet before landing on their feet. They charged the dragon again, this time successfully driving the sword into the dragon's neck. It roared a final time then collapsed to the ground. Bits of dirt and other pieces of ground flew up. Suddenly, the dragon's skin began cackling and I peeled itself off the body turning into an assortment of orange and yellow light. It flew towards the figure and while the person absorbed the dragon soul, she reached a hand up to her head and pulled the hood down from her face allowing her dark raven-black hair to tumble down her shoulders. Her grey eyes pierced the sky and she said to herself "I am the Dovahkiin. The Dragonborn."