I stood, today, at a high point in my life. On my way to across the mountains, and stopping by the shrine of set amongst the jagged cliffs, I paused to take in the view. After scanning the valleys to the west and south of me, my gaze fell upon a set of peaks, resting on the horizon of the distant frozen north.

Skyrim. I shuddered at the thought of, one day soon, crossing that barrier and opening up a new and wonderful world to explore. Beyond those peaks, beyond that frozen wasteland, lies a world of dreams. It lies there, in wait for me, glistening as the mid-day sun glimmers across the fresh fallen snow. A brisk wind descends the slopes. From it's chill, kings shudder.

I shudder in anticipation. Only with great effort can I tear my eyes from that far-reaching horizon. They cling to it as a mother might her firstborn son. My mind captures that image and holds it, but the anticipation is overwhelming. The truth? That image captures my mind. November, I beckon thee.

Oh Skyrim.

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