You roll your eyes as you hurriedly skim the pages of the spell tome, your eyes flitting back and forth, skipping from paragraph to paragraph. You're confident in your abilities, perhaps a little too confident. You don't bother to read the tome with care, you've used plenty of summoning spells before, and you think you know what you're doing.

You are ${name}, a ${race} ${gender} journeyman mage studying at the college of Winterhold in the province of Skyrim. Despite the cautions of your instructor, you've decided to try and learn to summon a powerful Daedra - a flame atronach.

Setting aside the tome, you close your eyes and focus, feeling the magic welling up inside you. Your fingers begin to glow with a purple light as you point at the ground in front of you, and let the magic surge forth. There's a sudden blast of heat as red-hot tongues of flame erupt from the stone, surging towards you. Your eyes go wide with fear as you realize you've miscast the spell, and you raise your hands in front of your face, bracing for a fiery death.

"Oh? My will isn't even bound? Hrm, this will be fun..." a sultry, seductive voice coos, a faint otherworldly echo to her cadence.

You open your eyes to see a glowing feminine figure standing before you, a flame atronach. Her body, if it could be called that, was a gelatinous burning liquid, the surface wreathed in perpetual flame. Plates of a strange glowing molten material cling to her form like clothing, adorning her wrists, ankles, hips and torso, a pair of them cupping her voluptuous burning bosom. She has no eyes, only a plate of the same molten metal defining her cheeks and lower jaw, though the full red lips of her mouth move and purse as if they were made of flesh. She wears a mischievous grin, a devilish look only accentuated by the curved obsidian horns that sweep back from the burning crest of her scalp.

"Well, summoner." she utters in a flirtatious tone, putting emphasis on the last word. "My name is Ignatia."