I have so many Wow Moments during the course of my first play through that they all each need a separate post or thread but the one that sticks out the most for me and the one that remains the most satisfying is killing my first dragon. It may not be something worth bragging about since afterall, killing dragons in Skyrim is like facing the Drauger in a tomb, it's expected. However, what makes my first time unique for me is what I
was when I fought the dragon. For my first time playing through Skyrim, I was a vampire. Now, most would say that's suicide, facing a dragon as a creature who has such a aversion to fire and sunlight. I heard so many negative things about being a Skyrim vampire and how it runes the game play plus the over all experience. HA! What a lie that was.
What being a vampire creates is an awesome and challenging dragon battle! My first dragon battle wasn't during the main quest, but just a random ordeal that came out of nowhere. The funny thing was the sun had just came up. I was running toward Whiterun to feed when I heard the Roar followed by this blast of fire. My screen turned orange and through the amber haze, my health bar took a monumental drop. Red to transparent. I was completely taken off guard. I wasn't prepared for a day battle with a fire dragon. I had no fire resistant armor or potions. No followers to help. Not even the occasional wander who will engage any wild beast who crosses their path. I was alone. All I had was the surrounding rocky ledges that could possibly shield me from the fire and my wits.
I jumped, ran and rolled my way out of as much danger as I possibly could. When I shot arrows, he fired back with fiery breath. I slashed my sword, he tagged me with a kick to the face. It was back and forth, with the dragon gaining the upper-hand. I took a TON of damage, but so did he, albeit slowly. I didn't time the actually battle, but it lasted all day- Skyrim time. I was on my last 3 magic potions and a few minor healing ones when the sun went down. Talk about a moral boaster! I hid for a while, wedged in-between some rocks, recharging my vitals. I periodically fired arrows at the dragon until I was 100%. Once I healed, once I was well enough, I charged that beast like a bat out of hell, my Nordic Battle Cry sounding off like a trumpet (more for symbolism than actual effectiveness). With my own fangs barred, Bow in hand, I proceeded to slay. I used my Lesser Ward to block his fiery breath. I managed to ground him again, which would become the turning point of the battle. There, I tore his flesh, hacking and slashing. I unleashed Vampiric hell.
I walked into Whiterun with and extra pep in my step, sank my fangs into some random villager's neck and left like the reverent I am. Oh, the dragon gave his soul that day... as did the rest who opposed me later on.
Sorry it's so long, but it was just pouring out. That was my all time favorite moment of the game.