Fire and Frost giants have been at odds for eons. Constant conflict permeates their cosmic struggle, with only brief periods of resolution. To put an end to this perpetual unrest, Odin sends one of his lesser known, frostier sons to arbitrate their dispute. Thor and Baldur are known to many, but so few have heard tales of the great and wintry Snodin.
It is a great disgrace that so much of snow culture has been lost. Eddas and temples have been erased and razed, to make room for much more popular, MARVELous gods. With flashy hammers and shapeshifting tricksters, who has time for the icy tales of winter’s champion?
The sagas of snodin are rare but not forgotten. Some still hear them sung in wintry mountain passes, in love’s first kiss, in the down feathers of an eagle, and in the waning moon’s rise. Even in the murmurs of the frozen section in the grocery store.
Snodin the reasonable, he was called. A wise, just, and fair leader. For too long he has gone unnamed, unsung, unknown. Now we must remedy this, allowing a new generation of acsnowlytes to find dispute resolution at Snodin’s throne.
Perhaps the greatest myth of this frigid god is how he ended the conflict between the giants of frost and flame. In the end, Snodin was a champion of the people, a defender of the realms of men. He understood that if either race of giants in the cosmic struggle were to win, then the climate of Meadgard would destroy those that worshipped his glacial highness. He also understood that the humans had many conflicts, many disputes, many rivalries, all without resolution in sight. Snodin, in his infinite and rimy wisdom, envisioned a way to appease both giants and men.
Rather than the ruthless sacrifices of yesteryear, why not let the humans fight each other while gods and giants kick back and chill? So, Snodin called for a warrior caucus. One human warrior representative from each special interest group will battle for their transient, mortal causes. While they clashed to decide the fate of their people, the giants would watch from high atop the Great World Tree, distracted from their unceasing struggles.
And thus, the Viking Democracy was born. So it is written, so snote it be.
Bjorn is the fiercest food-eating champion in the Nordlands. Ham, bacon, and chitlins all fall before his mighty hunger. While travelling to a competition, he was forced to stay the night at Meadgard, an inn, since no one is allowed to travel through the forest. After a few dozen flagons, he began to ask the locals about the forest up ahead. It turns out that the village was beset upon by a greedy and barbarous tax collector, who is so enthusiastic about his position that he has earned the nickname “The Hog.” He and his guards prowl the forest at night, looking to exact their tolls. All Bjorn, who is really feeling it by now, hears is that there is a large and vicious pig in the woods, waiting to be eaten. Against the warnings of the people, Bjorn stumbles into the forest, and into the Hog. All we know that a scuffle ensued, the villagers suddenly found themselves with a hefty tax break, and Bjorn has a new recipe for bacon. Bjorn has made it his mission to free all peoples of the Nordlands from tight-fisted, and tasty, tax collectors.
Hilde serves as an advisor to a political aspirant, Snoki. He’s a trickster and manipulator, but nobody knows it. Snoki’s goal was to win the holy and frosty throne of the village for himself. Scheming and plotting against his rival, Snoki conspired with Hilde to steal the chiefdom in the next election. Luckily for the snowfollowers of the time, Hilde convinces this would-be Viking chief to run on a pro-kraken platform, as she tells him that the people in the village worship the kraken for all the good weather he brings.
The political hopeful Snoki goes public with this campaign, launching it one day from the beach. He is astonished to find that the people revile him, as they do not worship the tentacle beast, but curse him for the destruction he brings to brave Viking sailors and fishers. More surprising than this, however, is the sight of Hilde standing with his opponent in full, ceremonial snow-warrioress dress. As it turns out, she was a plant, a ploy, a trick all this time. Snoki was frozen by this betrayal, and did not struggle as the villagers tied him to a ship and launched him into the sea as an appeasement to the kraken. Tricking the trickster, this Viking’s dreams of chiefdom are dashed, while Hilde has moved one step up the political ladder.
As a child, Gunnr’s father never returned from raiding the candy shores across the sea. His mother could not cope with this loss, and soon wasted away to nothing. Gunnr, with a heavy heart, ran into the craggy passes of Mt. Snoding. He would have perished, were it not for a kindly mother moose who brought him in, and treated him as her own calf. She raised him there, in a forgotten temple she had made her home.
However, Gunnr’s days of snowball fights and moose milk would soon come to an end. On a cold and blustery night, he, having learned moose-speak long ago, heard his mother calling for help. He rushed to her aid, finding strange men of snow-flesh attacking her with branchy arms. He ran to her rescue, reducing the snow people into flakes. Gunnr brought his moose mother back to their temple deep within the mountains.
Nursing the noble beast back to health, Gunnr made a hard decision. He knew that the men of snow must be defeated. In that abandoned temple to Thor, he trained his body, and his mind, to become one with the moose. He donned the antlers of the moose, to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies. Fear the dark, snowmen. For the moose comes.
It happened one night, when strange lights danced in the sky. Leif stood, transfixed by their glow, until he was enveloped by a shining beam of light. He closed his eyes, and came to inside a strange longship. Grey men with large heads stood around him. They had shaved his head, and when they touched him, he felt every emotion in its purest form. Was this Valhalla? Asgard? Or somewhere else in the many realms of the Great Tree?
Leif did not have time to find out. He opened his eyes and found himself back under the stars, as one particularly bright light blossomed, then vanished. The Viking warrior tried to convince his thanes that what he saw was true, and not a mushroom-induced fantasy, or that he had invented a story to explain his bad haircut. Now, Leif has vowed to gain pledges of gold from the other Viking chieftains, to fund the construction of a special longship, which can search the stars for the Grey Ones…