I woke up to a blindingly bright room in contrast to the starkness of shadow that was the night I had been in, and thus accustomed to. Before we go any further, allow me to explain a little bit more about what all this is about. My name is James, and I was at a friend's house, walking the short way home quickly to get something, when I tripped over a running dog, and my hand had just happened to come across the path of a mean little arachnid who didn't tolerate my presence very well, and bit said hand with what felt like the force of a sledgehammer being brought down on it. So here I was, passed out in my friend's driveway like a common drunk who couldn't stand upright anymore. I realized pretty quickly about my surroundings that this was not my hometown at all, but likely a dream of mine about some mystical faraway land. This one, I recognized, was Riften from Skyrim. Either that or I'd died and gone to heaven. "Why am I here?" I mused aloud. I nearly leapt from my skin when there had come a reply, a lilting voice that flowed gentler than a breeze that wafted gently from the south. "You have journeyed far, young one, with a grave injury. You have rested long, and been tended to many a time." That was the voice of Laila Law-Giver, Jarl of Riften. Yep, definitely Skyrim. "Why am I dreaming about this?" I wondered, again aloud. "As I said, it is your destiny." Just as he said that, flames erupted all around, the world around went dark, and I felt like I was falling.