Alfheim

If a berk won't raise his blade, he doesn't deserve a warriors death.

- Zwingli the mad skald

Character

A brilliant, sunlit region populated primarily by the spirits of elves who worshiped Frey and Freya. Alfheim seems infused with so much light and joy that the entire realm sometimes feels suspended in midair, ready to be carried away by a puff of breeze. Makes a basher go all mushy, it does. But it's a fair land, right enough, and a joy to visit — though not for everyone. Elven hospitality is only extended to a few.   Dwarves and gnomes aren't welcome in Alfheim, though they are regarded neutrally by Frey and the other Vanir. The elves who live here do everything possible to make dwarves and gnomes feel uncomfortable and unwelcome.

Power

Frey. Frey is one of the Vanir, but he and his followers live apart, in a realm of their own choosing. Frey is the patron god of neutral-leaning elves who want little to do with the Seldarine of Aryandor. His sister Freya visits Alfheim occasionally, but usually only during the brief times that Frey is in Asgard or Vanaheim.

Description

Alfheim's lands are wild and beautiful, untouched by civilization. Its deer, reindeer, and caribou are plentiful, and its streams, inlets, and sunny hills are likewise bountiful. Some say that Alfheim was once a part of Arvandor, and gradually slid over into Ysgard as its people grew more concerned with honor and survival. The elves are friendly cutters, but like the Sensates, they care little for anything but play and the enjoyment of nature. All summer long, the Alfheim elves welcome visitors, heaping them with gifts (elven chain mail and elven cloaks and boots are common gifts for those who do the elves a great favor) and extracting every tale a cutter is willing to share (and a few that require prying). The festivals finish with the great Leaffall Fest, and with the first snows, the land goes dead.   Winter's hard in Alfheim. A Sensate poet named Hugi Spearbearer once said that all of Alfheim hibernates in the winter, and it's almost true. The elves retreat to their clans and their underhill homes for the winter. These glittering caverns are magically sealed against intruders, so skiing through Alfheim in winter seems much like visiting a house when its owners are away. A basher might do it if she was playing the cross-trade, but otherwise there's little point.

Principal Towns

The elven petitioners live outdoors and have no regular dwellings. Their encampments vary from treetop to brightly lit meadows and even temporary feast halls that mimic the halls of the gods of the Aesir, though the halls of Alfheim are much smaller.   Frey and Freya themselves are not honored with halls like those of the Aesir, and though they're the high-ups of the realm they make their beds in the fields at night as the petitioners do. A few bashers can tell a tale of coming across a sleeping power in a meadow by night, and simply standing there, unable to break the fascination until dawn. Most of these berks are just telling tales so that they can drink on for nothing, but there might be a whisper of truth in them somewhere. And it never hurts to buy friendship with a few drinks.   Xeno's Tower is the dwelling place of Alfheim's High King and Queen, and only elves know the dark of it, though the legends say it was built by a philosopher from Olympus. The tower looks solid enough, a gray marble construction decorated with leering gargoyles, proud carved eagles, and silent owls. Elven cutters say that the High King and Queen of the elves keep an artifact, their treasury, or their heirs in the tower. The whole is surrounded by a moat and can be reached by a drawbridge. Anyone other than elves who attempt to cross the drawbridge can only reach it by halves. Each time they walk forward they cover half the remaining distance: first the sods are halfway there, then 3/4, then 7/8, then 15/16, then 31/32, but they never get to the door. Berks who stare at the tower constantly are tricked in the moments when they blink, when the tower suddenly comes closer. Whatever the way of it, the elves get there in about ten steps. Some of the Clueless spend days trying to reach it, or even try magic to make themselves look like elves. It don't work that way, berk; unless a body's got the spirit of an elf, it ain't going in.   Two great fairs are the principal gatherings in Alfheim, and both occur at the High Grove, one at the spring and the other at the autumn equinox. Freya's Fest is a celebration of the return of the land's fertility, marked by dancing and wild revelry, with the participants leaving two by two until dawn, when the field is empty again. Frey's Fest, the harvest festival in the autumn, is a huge gluttonous feast, a chance to show off riches, a time for wasteful display by the richest cutters, and a chance to see old friends and make new ones before winter sets in and the days grow short.

Special Conditions

The elves of Alfheim glow as if a light spell constantly surrounds them, and they cannot be blinded by any light source.   The greatest secret and the greatest danger of Alfheim is that visitors often disappear. It ain't that they hide under the cover of invisibility. The vanished visitors are poor berks charmed into service by the faerie creatures, the dryads, nymphs, asrai, and other sylvan relatives of the elves who dwell in the deep forests. They never put shackles on the slaves they take, but they might as well — instead they bind their prey with shackles around their hearts, blinding them with the beauty of the realm.   The best way out is to trick the creatures into squabbling over who'll take a particular catch, and slip away in the confusion. Petitioners and other clueless berks who try to hack their way out of trouble usually find themselves fighting their comrades, their animals, and their familiar, as the charms of the faerie-folk take hold.   If a berk's prone to making threats, he's wise to threaten their looks with knives or fire, for the elves of Alfheim are very vain. No scarred or lame elf is suffered to live among his fellows; the poor sod is cast into exile. The Allheim elves don't expect the same perfect features from visitors (except visiting elves), so they do their best to hide their disgust when an ugly, wart-ridden, or injured visitor comes calling. Beards have much the same effect.

Principal Non-Player Characters

The lusty king and haughty queen of this realm are Helmvald the Belly-Shaker (Planar/male elf/Wizard/Sensates) and Arnora the Fosterer (Planar/female elf/Rogue 14/Fated), though they hold largely symbolic power. The positions of High King and Queen are chosen by their fellows each year by popular acclaim; when their term is done the king and queen are granted titles as baron and baroness. The real rulers are the hundreds of barons, each the leader of a small clan. The barons are the clan chiefs of Alfheim, and they are bound by tradition and by the advice of the clan elders. Most of the chiefs are very young, able to take action, hunt, and lead raids.   Alfheim's greatest warrior, Abernal the Quick, often takes on hopeless or impoverished causes (Planar/male half-elf/Rogue 18/Ring-Givers). His followers include Brightwing (a giant eagle), and a motley troupe of seven elves and half-elves. The company calls itself the Wandering Guardians.   A strange hermit also keeps her kip among the elves. At the top of an enormous beech tree the hermit lives in a small, drafty hut, surrounded by a cloud of bees in summer and birds in winter. The birds and animals of the forest bring her food, mostly berries, insects, bits of honey, fruit, and nuts. Here's the chant: Skogul is a banished valkyrie who saw so many battle-fields that she became sick of the sight of ravens feasting on the bodies of the slain (Proxy/valkyrie/Wizard 20). She rebelled and spoke against the slaughter, and then refused to carry home the spirits of true warriors. Odin couldn't strike down one of his valkyries, since they're like his daughters. Instead, he ordered her out of his realm, never to return to his side until she had found Anigrim, the serpent-slaying axe forged by the dwarves. Skogul has since repented her rashness and cowardice, but the blade eludes her. She's a powerful warrior, but she acts like a spy for a factol, spending her days asking travelers questions about a giantess named Burga who last carried Arngrim. Some claim that Arngrim is the only blade that can slay some of the progeny of Loki. Though she's acting on her own, she's still a valkyrie, and retains a portion of Odin's divine might.

Services

Most items of elven manufacture are a mite sharper, a trifle stronger, and somehow prettier than the same thing gotten elsewhere. For this, the elves demand a price double that of the same item elsewhere. Many of their weapons are of such quality that they provide a +1 bonus, though they're non-magical.   Alfheim is justly famous for its dry, light, wines that somehow manage to be simultaneously tan and smooth. Bottles of Kervakkis red, glacial blue (really a bluish-white wine), and Firestone brandy can fetch up to 200 gp. The elves rarely sell these to visitors, and they claim only elves appreciate the full impact. Glacial blue is said to induce visions and prophecies in any-one who can drain an entire cup at once, though few have tested it.