Skyrim is Undead

This is my latest Skyrim character, Usagi. Yeah, I'm still playing Skyrim, even though the modern gaming world is talking about Bethesda's new game Starfield. Call me a dog with a bone. Actually, a whole lot of bones, thanks to the "Ordinator Perks of Skyrim" mod. This completely revamps the Skyrim skill perks. Every skill has all kinds of interesting new abilities that add a lot of life to the game.

The Restoration skills, which used to all be healing or Turn Undead related, now have bona fide offensive spells sectioned in one branch. With these, you can make a true Necromancer character, especially when combined with skills in Conjuration related to reanimating the dead. The Bone Collector branch of perks enables you to build a small gang of skeleton warriors and mages on special altars located in various places.

A higher level perk allows you to summon an altar anywhere. The game still feels pretty balanced, too, because, since I concentrated so much on Conjuration and Restoration, my character is taken down pretty easily if someone manages to get past her bodyguards. But that's pretty rare. And I did allocate some perk points to Heavy Armour and One Handed. This mod has a skill for One Handed called "Rogue's Parry" that guarantees a critical if you attack an opponent while they're in the middle of an attack. I imagined this character as a sort of an ominous edifice, wielding a sword one handed like Darth Vader, surrounded by aggressive corpses.

I make a lot of characters I don't play through with but this one's almost to level forty. And I still haven't started the main quest. I joined the Imperial Legion and crushed the Stormcloaks, though. Many of those passionate Sons of Skyrim have been forced to serve the Empire in a grotesque afterlife at my bidding. Skyrim belongs to the dead! Huahahaha! I'm looking forward to Halloween this year, by the way.

X Sonnet #1737

Wherever chips were sold to fish she waits.
Where spiral drinks were plunked beneath the nose.
The people knew the donkey's eyes were baits.
But only tigers know where Jasmine grows.
Abscond with scones absorbing paste for blood.
Amorphous beans could never sprout a page.
But coffee ships were burning bricks of mud.
A fragile weight has tipped the lens to rage.
The insect brothers three would play for shit.
A marble game sufficed to break their thumbs.
Some rotting dogs would chew the bony bit.
But mem'ry fails the slack and toothless gums.
Reworking grins have lengthened teeth to spears.
Deserted castles rot beyond our years.