When Yggdrassil stood whole, the Æsir and Vanir walked freely among mortals. They blessed heroes, feasted in halls, and made war in the skies. But when the World-Tree was shattered, the gods fell with it. Some were slain in the breaking, their blood seeding monsters and curses across the land. Others were cast into hiding, wounded or diminished, no longer able to stride openly through Vethrmyr.
Now, the gods are fragments of their former glory:
Some still whisper in dreams, offering power to those who swear oaths in their name.
Some appear as wandering figures, cloaked in mortal guise, testing the hearts of heroes.
Some grant blessings through relics or places of power, like the Shattered Roots or ancient temples.
And some are simply silent, their halls cold, their followers left clinging to faith without answer.
The Fallen – Gods like Baldr or Tyr are said to have perished in the breaking. Yet their deaths seeded the world: where Baldr fell, eternal summer blooms in Sólheim; where Tyr’s hand was lost, monsters gained freedom.
The Hidden – Odin is whispered to wander Midvethr as a cloaked one-eyed wanderer, gathering knowledge. Loki’s shadow flickers in Brennvind’s fire, stirring chaos. Njord’s voice still rides the Tides of Aegir.
The Silent – Freyr and Freyja rarely answer prayers, though their sacred groves still hold power. Heimdall’s horn has not been heard since the roots shattered.
The Darkened – Some gods may have twisted, their essence corrupting. Rumors tell of Hel herself, stronger than ever, walking freely through Hrafnvangr’s haunted plains.
Though diminished, the gods’ power bleeds into the world:
Clerics, druids, and mystics may still receive fragments of divine might — but these blessings are fickle, and often come with strange costs.
Runes, relics, and oaths act as conduits; a warrior may find Odin’s wisdom in a raven’s feather, or a seer may draw on Freyja’s magic by binding her fate to a sacred root.
Visions and omens serve as the gods’ main voice, cryptic and symbolic, never clear.
In Vethrmyr, worship is not a matter of comfort but survival. To honor the gods is to cling to hope in a broken world; to spurn them is to risk their wrath or their rivals’ blessing. Heroes often walk a path between — respected by priests, hunted by cults, and ever watched by eyes older than men.
And always the question lingers:
Are the gods fading away, or are they waiting for mortals to prove worthy of their return?