Skyrim’s fornaldarsagas (Norse myths) are wet fantasy watercolors.
Dragons circle the icy fortress of Himinbjorg, raining fiery breath on the svelte Nordic swimsuit models below, but the old flying lizards tremble at the liberal brush, extinguishing red hot flames with electric blues. Forgotten, boring Beowulfs fall beneath the merciless (or merciful) swathes of azure and grey. A virtual Ragnarok of thievery, kind deeds, travelling exploits, and serial murder penetrate the landscape from the tip of sable bristles, fusing the existing scene to the painter’s reimagining. Skyrim watches, helpless and intent.