Land of ice, snow, springtime and short growing seasons, Ásgard remains one of the most interconnected of the Realms, due to its proximity to both the Axis Mundi and the Ginnungagap.

One of the few Realms to maintain a form of travel, which has nothing to do with Finnegan's doors, Ásgard remains connected to the Rainbow Roads and Bifrost. In its glory days, Ásgard was a Realm of deep fjords and fleets of longships. A place of the skaldic arts, open pugilism and drinking battles. Beautiful in its savage attempt to cling to a springtime and summer which felt as short as cropped wheat, it was a magnificent collection of pristine halls, Einherjar bustling about with their dogs, and the most ideal aspects of Scandinavian culture. 

"You keep saying 'was', but I know Ásgard is still there. What gives? Did Dad spill coffee on you during fika again?"

Karisma Calebdottir

Child, if you keep interrupting we shall remain in educational limbo long after the decades it will take you to grow past 13.
"But this is my family you're talking about and I'm already having to catch up from knowing zero percent of nothing for my whole life, and Ásgard is supposed to be wicked cool and full of roaming bands of Vikingr with drinking horns and wolf-dogs and shield maidens and..."

Karisma Calebdottir

Rye. Vikingr, drinking horns, dogs, shield maidens and rye fields as far as the landscape allows.
"Rye. Like... grains."

Karisma Calebdottir

Where else would the Aesir & Vanir obtain the necessary grains to bake their bread and brew their ales? Did you think their foodstuffs were imported? Cross-realm imports of 5kg bags of flour? By the stupefied expression on your face, I sense questions of an inane nature are perched atop your juvenile lips so let me take this precious second before you once again interrupt to spam your sponge-mind with facts.

Fauna & Flora

Copious cows, goats, sheep, dogs, horses, wolves and bears. Squirrels replicate in wild abandon, kept in check by the smaller predators. Yet, the Aesir love their livestock, and added to the herds of cattle and goats with chickens, ducks and pigs. Mystic creatures too, with rumours once in a while of the odd unicorn, wild boars, hinds, deer, salmon and sturgeon. 
"Salmon aren't mythical. They're sushi."

Karisma Calebdottir

Only since Norway started selling their salmon to Japan in the 1980's. 
"No fooling!?" Karisma Calebdottir
"No fooling, little bit. I put the kanelbullar in the oven for fika, come inside when you're finished with this one?"

Caleb Mauthisen

"Yes Sir, Daddy Sir! ... Ugh that sounded stupid. Why is it so hard to figure out all this family stuff? Oh! We should go visit! They have... hold on... rye fields to bake their bread and brew their ales... wonder how their ginger ale game is. You think it's as good as Kofi's and Mama Yaa's? We should try it!"

Karisma Calebdottir

"... come in for fika in a few minutes... Book? Move this lesson along."

Caleb Mauthisen

Yes Judge Mauthisen, Sir... yes Karisma that does sound rather odd to say... even for a book. 
"Right!? What's with him anyway? I asked to visit the family farm, not sky dive through The Spheres."

Karisma Calebdottir


The brothers Borson begat Ásgard out of the blood and skin and bone of Ymir. Violence permeated the place since, and while there are places in which the chaos of the utangardr diminishes, Ásgard is perpetually at war. Often with its central nature. Most are aware of the histories which begat the Norse myths, but worthy additions to that lofty canon include the origin of all woe: 

The death of Baldr. 

Yes, most know the tale. It was winter and the Aesir were bored, so what fun could they have by pitching all manner of deadly things at the invulnerable Aesir of beauty? Baldr was a good sport, parading through to keep his fellows and family from concentrating too hard on the wind and snow outside, on the calculations Frigg and other women made as to how much barley or salt pork they could pull from the storehouses. When Loki won the game and Baldr laid dead, it was Thor Odinson's adolescent child Magni Einridsen who caught Baldr's corpse. 

And it was Sif who went into labour with a new Aesir born of the situation's purpose. What would Thor's next child bring? Strength like Magni? Might like Thrud? The child was small and screamed and raged in his swaddling cloth.  To the Aesir the night of Baldr's death was born Wroth. 

Mimir, tasked by the Alfather to find a solution to their grief had but one damning and repetitious phrase. 

"Out. Send the brothers out."

Amidst Thor's grief-riddled and desperate rage, held back by Tyr and Freyr, amidst Sif's shrieks as she struggled against Frigga, Idunn and Gna, Odin Borson bundled up his grandsons, placed them in a longship and pushed it out to sea. 

Thor and Sif never saw their sons again, and Ásgard lost Beauty, Strength and Wroth that long, desperate day. 

The sun in Søl's chariot began to wane, the moon in Mani's chariot paled as wide as hungry eyes. Winter stretched into a bitter desolation, but still Mimir's head spoke: "Out. Keep the brothers out." 

Thus, Ásgard faded, until the brothers Thorson inadvertently started a war. The Mystic War spanned centuries of Midgard and consumed the Aesir in their glorious desire for relevancy and battle. 

Yet again, Mimir whispered the war's end, as a child was born to the outcast son of Thor and Sif. 

Raynar named him Caleb, and wrapped him in swaddling cloths to place the infant on the Altar of the Axis Mundi. And thus, although Raynar never knew a single day or night in Ásgard, he twice changed the course of its history. 

Now do you understand, child? 

"Frick on a stick. I think I'd better check on Dad... do Books eat kanelbullar?"

Karisma Calebdottir

No, we don't consume anything but knowledge.
"I'll write down the recipe for you, then. I... I won't ask any more questions today. Promise."

Karisma Calebdottir

Magical Realm
Location under
Additional Rulers/Owners
Ruling/Owning Rank
Related Ethnicities
Characters in Location

Natural Resources

Salt from the sea, rich hunting, herbs from tended gardens... Ásgard is a wealth of lumber, livestock and literature. The Aesir and Vanir still know how to put on one heck of a party, if one is lucky enough to be invited, and hearty enough not to end up in a healer's care come morning.

Localized Phenomena

The sun and moon chased through the sky by hungry giant wolves. Poor Sol & Mani, I imagine (if I, a sentient book, could imagine anything) their experience is much like being eternally stuck in traffic.


Jagged mountains carved by glacial run-off, rivers alive with crisp water and fish, wide seas upon which to sail, Ásgard is a Realm built from the body of Ymir by three brothers who got tired of chaotic neighbours. The mountains are all but impassable unless one knows the way, and most folk traverse via longship or the more sensible circuits of the bifrost and rainbow roads which band across the sky. 

The mead halls of the Aesir and Vanir dot the highest peaks, and most of the arable land has been converted to farmer's fields. Vast fields of barley, rye and wheat pair with gardens sweeping up the mountainsides. When Ásgard began to dim in its splendour, the Aesir and Vanir decided to do the sensible thing: roll up their sleeves, build a plough or two, and take up farming. 

Between Iduun's cider apple orchards and the wildflower meadows, which feed Thor's bees, the entire place is fairly quaint. Several mead halls were converted into barns over the centuries, a few falling to disrepair completely. Attrition, like entropy, is nobody's joyful companion. 


Here, there be thunder gods and rowdy bunches not as interested in farming as in war and the preparation of it. Perhaps an indication of the often frosty reception to anyone new coming into their space to cause trouble, the Asgardian weather trends toward the chilly, the wintery blusters and the rare spring flowers poking through grasses newly freed from the white blanket of regular snow. 

In its glory days, Ásgard was more genteel of weather, with longer summers and blessed spring. I wonder how much Thor Odinson has left in him, after... well. Never you mind, young one.

Appears In

The Judge of Mystics Saga is a series of contemporary magic realism novels by Sapha Burnell, published by Vraeyda Literary.
Green energy surrounding a man chained to brown rocks


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