Ice, snow, frost. Blood, war, honor. These are the minerals from which Northmen are forged. We are men made of stone. Should the fiercest foe stand before us…it matters not.



Our frostbitten axes and iron hammers will conquer any enemy. We have proven ourselves. Gjalpinulva. A dragon. What a beauty she was. Some may remember those times as dark and filled with death. No – Midgard was never more alive. The mead-halls were filled with Warriors! Skalds sang of her frozen glare! Warrior after Warrior marched into Malmohus, ready to be welcomed by the gates of Valhalla! But Gjalpinulva had a death sentence. Midgard made sure of that.



It may be odd, this tale coming from me. I was not one of those men. But I am now. It is in times like these when all of Midgard must band together. Here, you are a Northman if you’ve proven yourself in battle. Even if you were foes the night before. Battle? A simple task for those of my kind. But for what is coming – we cannot afford to stand apart.



In the depths of Midgard, ancient relics yet lie dormant. I have seen them. They are here. And their power is fearsome. The race to hold that power will begin soon. The realm will be tested, and not only against itself, but by a foe whose power approaches Odin's. Were these weapons ever meant to be held by our hands? No – but we will need them. All of them.



I write this from the deepest depths of Midgard. That some might read this gives faint hope. We must act decisively – and soon. The dragons, the Catacombs, the Drakulv, the relics, the Glashtin – Midgard. We are all intertwined. We are all the North. And when this darkness comes, our bonds will be tested like never before.