#muspellheim

(Decided to do this since I didn't really like the King's Realm and God's Realm, and decided to make some alterations to others to make them all fully match the Nine Realms)

Grassland Realm – Midgard

The Grassland Realm is the most “normal” and terrestrial of the nine, echoing Midgard’s status as the human world and cosmological baseline. Broad rolling hills dominate the landscape, broken by winding rivers, small lakes, and stretches of forest that shift from temperate woodlands to coastal groves along sandy beaches, creating a sense of familiar variety rather than extremity.​

The false sky here feels open and wide, with regular day–night cycles from the adapting fungi, predictable weather from a mix of geothermal vents and and subterranean water sources and magnetic fields, making it the realm where migratory dragons might rest, nest, or raise young in relative safety. Village‑like dragon communities form around river valleys and sheltered bays, with burrows or cliffside nests overlooking the water, and prey species such as fish, small mammals, and flocking birds providing a rich, renewable food web.​

The tone of this realm is balance and perspective: it is where dragons are closest to the “surface world,” and where human visitors would feel most at home, making it ideal as a narrative starting point, a diplomatic meeting place, or a neutral ground between more extreme realms.​

Fire Realm – Muspellheim

The Fire Realm channels Muspellheim’s core identity as a world of heat, flame, and creation‑through‑destruction. Rivers of slow‑moving lava cut through black volcanic plains, cooling into knife‑sharp basalt ridges and glassy obsidian fields that reflect the orange glow of fissures beneath the crust.​

Air here occasionally shimmers with heat distortion, and ash at times falls like dark snow, sometimes forming drifts in sheltered hollows where fire‑resistant plants or crystalized mineral “flowers” cling to existence. Lightning from dry volcanic storms may arc between ash clouds and the tallest lava chimneys, creating a constant risk of ignited gas plumes and explosive eruptions.​

Fire‑aligned dragons in this realm would be heavily heat‑adapted: thick, scale‑plated hides, glowing vents along their throats or flanks, or wings built to ride thermal updrafts rising from magma lakes rather than conventional air currents. Social behavior may revolve around territorial control of the safest ledges and crater rims, and conflicts here feel apocalyptic and raw, reflecting the mythic Muspellheim’s association with the forces that can both forge and end worlds.​

Ice Realm – Jotunheim

The Ice Realm draws on Jotunheim as a land of frost giants and unforgiving cold, and it expresses that through towering, inhuman scale ice formations and constantly shifting hazards. Glaciers grind slowly through deep canyons, creating echoing crevasses and ice caves tinted blue and violet where refracted light filters through meters of frozen water.​

Blizzards are frequent and blinding, transforming open plains into white voids where only jagged ice spires, cliff edges, and sparse snowy forests give any sense of direction, and the temperature plunges rapidly whenever winds accelerate across open ice. Beneath the surface, subglacial streams and trapped geothermal vents create pockets of mist and thin ice, making navigation a matter of experience and instinct rather than raw strength.​

Dragons here are built for endurance and stealth: thick insulating fur or layered scales, frost‑dulling coloration, or broad wings for soaring over thermal differences between sea ice and inland glaciers. Their behavior likely skews toward patient ambush hunting and long, silent migrations following seasonal cracks in the ice, embodying the ancient, slow, and relentless side of Jotunheim’s mythology.​

Giant Realm – Nidavellir

Casting Nidavellir as the Giant Realm turns the idea of a place of master craftsmen into a realm where the environment itself is the craftsman, shaping beings by sheer scale. Here, cliffs rise like the sides of skyscrapers, root systems are as thick as towers, and boulders are the size of small islands, making most dragons feel relatively small, even when fully grown.​

The terrain consists of colossal stone arches, canyon‑deep ravines, fields of two-story-tall grass, and colossal hollowed‑out trunks that function as natural tunnels or caverns, with waterfalls dropping hundreds of meters into mist‑shrouded basins. The light from distant ceiling fungi often appears low and occluded, filtered through layers of stone, vegetation, or overhangs, adding a sense of subterranean twilight even in open spaces.​

Dragons that thrive here may possess immense strength in proportionally compact bodies, with powerful claws for climbing and gripping vertical surfaces, and wings that emphasize maneuverability in tight spaces between giant roots and stone pillars, while others may be built to fit their bug-like size in comparison to the massive world around them. This realm feels awe‑inspiring and humbling, echoing Nidavellir’s mythic association with beings who build wonders beyond mortal scale, now expressed as a world where the landscape itself is the overwhelming artisan.​

Crystal Realm – Asgard

The Crystal Realm serves as your Asgard: elevated, luminous, and visibly “above” the other realms in both symbolism and design. Vast crystal outcrops rise like citadels from floating or semi‑suspended landmasses, with a colossal, glowing central crystal in the largest room acting as a throne or nexus, radiating colors from the crystals and fungi on every wall.​

The terrain is dominated by faceted structures: crystal bridges, translucent spires, and mirrored planes that refract and scatter light into radiant halos, making the entire realm seem perpetually dawn‑lit even without a direct sun. Ambient energy hums through the ground and in the air, seen as drifting motes of luminescent particles or thin auroral ribbons that coil between crystals like living currents.​

Dragons of this realm might exhibit bioluminescent markings, reflective scales, or even partial crystalline growths that resonate with the crystals around them, while others might be made to blend with the sparse areas of darkness that persist between the myriad colors. Socially, this realm feels ceremonial and hierarchical, suitable for guardian‑type or “royal” dragons, high councils, and ancient pacts, mirroring Asgard’s role as the home of gods and keepers of cosmic order.​

Nature Realm – Vanaheim

The Nature Realm channels Vanaheim’s association with fertility, prosperity, and deep ties to the natural world. This environment is lush to an almost overwhelming degree: towering trees form multi‑layered canopies, with rows of long, thick vines hanging like curtains and bioluminescent flowers blooming in shaded undergrowth.​

Rivers split into countless tributaries and wetlands, forming marshes, lagoons, and crystal‑clear pools where brightly colored fish and amphibious creatures thrive, and where dragon hatchlings can safely learn to swim or hunt. The air is thick with pollen, spores, and insects, and the sounds of birds, small reptiles, and plant‑rustling creatures create a constant, living soundscape.​

Dragons of Vanaheim are closely integrated with their ecosystem: some may camouflage perfectly against bark and foliage, others may pollinate colossal flowers, or engage in symbiotic relationships with plant life that offers protective cover in return for seed dispersal. This realm feels peaceful but not passive—life here is in constant growth and flux, embodying the Vanir’s domain over abundance, cycles, and the deep magic of living systems.​

Desert Realm – Alfheim

The Desert Realm reinterprets Alfheim, the realm of light, through heat and glare instead of ethereal forests. Endless dunes of pale or golden sand roll under a merciless "sun", with minimal cover and an almost oppressive brightness that can wash out color and flatten shadows at midday.​

Mirages ripple across the horizon, turning distant rock outcrops or scarce oases into shimmering illusions that test the senses of travelers and predators alike. At dawn and dusk, the low sun explodes into bands of orange, red, and violet that give the desert an otherworldly beauty, and during the short nights, the sky becomes a crystalline vault of stars, reinforcing the realm’s connection to light in all its forms.​

Dragons adapted to this realm would likely have pale or heat‑reflective scales, membrane‑thin wings designed for soaring on hot updrafts, or the ability to see through harsh glare or detect heat signatures through shimmering air. Their behaviour might revolve around carefully guarded watering holes, shade‑giving rock formations, and deep desert caverns, emphasizing the tension between harsh survival conditions and the striking purity of light that defines Alfheim.​

Dark Realm – Svartalfheim

The Dark Realm aligns cleanly with Svartalfheim, realm of dark elves and subterranean mystery. Much of this realm is underground or cloaked in perpetual twilight, with labyrinthine cave systems, narrow tunnels, and cavernous chambers lit only by faint phosphorescent (and sometimes toxic) fungi, mineral veins, or the dim glow of dragon eyes.​

The air is cool and still, carrying echoes over long distances; small movements can sound amplified in the quiet, making stealth both difficult and essential. Pools of perfectly still black water reflect ceiling formations and the faintest light sources, creating a disorienting sense of depth and inverted space.​

Dragons here often favor stealth and precision: muted coloration, slender bodies for slipping through tight spaces, echolocation or sensitive whisker‑like frills for navigating in near‑total darkness, or even deadly poisons and venoms. This realm is perfect for secretive conclaves, hidden forges, or forbidden knowledge, echoing Svartalfheim’s mythic role as the workshop of enigmatic, subterranean beings who craft objects of great power in their shadowed halls.​

Storm Realm – Niflheim

The Storm Realm reimagines Niflheim—traditionally a world of cold mist and death—as a violent, oceanic maelstrom of fog, thunder, and treacherous seas. Here, rough seas of frigid waters stretch nearly endlessly, broken by jagged rock spires that jut abruptly from the depths, some needle‑thin and others broad enough to host precarious nesting ledges.​

The sky is almost never clear; low, dark clouds churn overhead, birthing constant thunderstorms that hurl rain, sleet, and lightning into the churning ocean below. Sheets of fog roll across the surface, reducing visibility to a few meters and turning even nearby rocks into looming, ghostlike silhouettes; the combination of fog, rain, and spray creates a perpetual sense of disorientation and danger.​

Dragons that inhabit this realm are powerful flyers and swimmers: strong wings to fight hurricane‑force gusts, water‑resistant scales, and acute senses tuned to sound and pressure and electrical changes rather than sight. Their nests cling to sheltered crevices on tall spires, and their lives are a constant negotiation with the elements, embodying Niflheim’s mythic qualities of cold, obscurity, and proximity to death—but expressed through an ever‑moving, storm‑lashed ocean instead of static ice.​

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Sirius is running. He can't even remember how long he's been running for, only that he has to keep going. He was supposed to meet James a while back ago. But then his parents had pledged their allegiance to the wolf and now he was here, tearing through a dark forest. Not knowing where he was going, only that anywhere as far away from where he'd come from was good. The air around him was becoming hot and a faint scent of sulfur permeated the air. The ground was littered with fire-orange blossoms that withered beneath his feet as he ran past. Myrkviðr. The forbidden forest. A convergence point for many of the nine realms and the physical home of the tree of life, Yggdrasil. Sirius figured that he must be near the Muspelheim border. It would explain the increase in temperature and the scenery that was rapidly changing from lush greens to burnt oranges. The air has become thicker now and Sirius has to stop. The orange blossoms are everywhere now. Hanging from trees, curling around vines, and springing up from the ground. Their bright petals are both inviting and terrifying. The cloying scent of them making Sirius' head spin. He sits down, leaning against a tree for support. Barely even noticing how hot the bark feels against his skin. The way it slowly burns through the back of his shirt and scorches his bare skin. He can't remember how long he's been sitting down. Minutes? Hours? Days? All he can feel is heat-- and the way the scent of the flowers mixes with the faint smell of smoke. Leaving Sirius wondering if the dark sky is really the sky or just a blanket of smoke. Anything's better than being back home… ----- The rough feel of wood against his back greets him as he wakes up. Head spinning, Sirius digs his fingers into the bark, tracing the length of the grooves. His eyes feel heavy behind his eyelids, and forcing them open is struggle in and of itself. The second they focus Sirius realizes something. He's not in the forest. With a soft groan he pushes up into a seated position. Using his elbow to prop himself up as he surveys his surroundings. He's definitely not in the forest anymore, although there is still a significant amount of wood. Upon further inspection he discovers that he's in a room. A moment later leads him to believe that he's in a kitchen. A sink is pressed into the wall to the left of him along with a stove and on the right is a large cabinet that hosts dishes. A fireplace sits in front of him, providing one of the only sources of light and bouncing ominous shadows off is the walls. A vaulted ceiling leads to high windows that filter in moonlight, gently combating the red colored flames from the fire. It's an oddly comforting room-- or at least it would be if he knew where the hells he was. With another pained groan Sirius swings his legs off the side of the table-- which he just realizes that he's on. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," comes a soft voice. In the corner of the room stands a boy of about his age. From his position in the shadowy doorway Sirius was sure he never would have seen him if he hadn't spoken. It unnerves him a bit to think about how long this newcomer has been standing there. Silently observing him as he observed everything else. "You're still hurt and moving won't heal you any faster," the boy explains, stepping into the light of the room. Sirius blinks at him. Injured? As if on cue, a bolt of fire crawls his way across his spine, forcing him back onto the table, teeth clenched through a grumble of pain. "Told you," he says simply, pulling a chair to the side of the table. He places it backwards, legs straddling either side as he sits, arms folded across the back of the chair. "Where am I?" Sirius manages to ask around a headache.

Spent the morning creating the latest page for my grimoire! This is my personal interpretations from my research, and anyone is welcome to use it provided you give me credit! Also please forgive my awful handwriting!

Laegjarn has been dropped and is now available!

There she was.... Morgan and... the lead crab. Morgan had her Levin Sword out, crackling with lightning. Her eyes stern and focused on the leader. And there was the leader, with a steak knife, and an army behind them. Both paused, just for the moment. Each side analyzing one another as they waited for the other to act.

They were just crabs, she could take them all out with a well placed thoron. But something stopped her from doing so. She didn’t know what it was until... a moment. She looked into the eyes of the leader, and an imaged flashed in her mind. For a moment, Morgan could have sword she saw the familiar butterfly mask covering the eyes of the crab. This crab.... was certainly the Lucina of crabs. Willing to lead them to freedom and safety against impossible odds. And in it’s hand it heal the Steak Knife version of Falchion. Morgan could no longer harm them. 

Rather, Morgan would aid in their revolution! Morgan stopped channeling lightning through her sword and pointed it at the crab, and the crab slapped their knife against the sword knowingly. She smiled, the crab did whatever a crab does to express a minor form of gratitude. 

Morgan began leading the crabs from the counter! The cooks protested but now with their new ally, the crabs were able to escape!

“I will still eat the delicious flesh of these beings in the future, but these crabs have earned their freedom!” Morgan called out to the dining hall. Her Levin Sword SPARKED WITH FREEDOM! FREEDOM FOR THE CRABS WHO HAVE EARNED IT! WHO HAVE EARNED RESPECT! 

With a swarm of crabs at her back she led the charge, ready to storm towards the doors of the mess hall.

starter for: @muspellheim

Mission Task Board: The monastery is a flurry of activity as faculty hustle to finish cleaning and preparing for the flood of new students. Students who have arrived early, however, have been roped in to help and you’ve found yourself scrubbing walls and chopping wood while a professor watches. What’s more, there’s a rumor floating about that some deviants are spreading muck across newly cleaned surfaces… [ Axe +1 ] 

Not gonna lie, the power was overwhelming.

It started off as a joke, with him relieving one of the professors from their duties so they can take a hour long break, while he takes their place. It was plain silly in his head, boss around some kids, play professor, and boss some kids around some more.

The power was consuming him. 

It’s the defiance in their eyes, their voice, and their body language that amuses him. When he tells the ones gossiping to pick up the pace and scrub the walls a second time around or they missed a spot, they grunted, quietly gossiped about him, but followed him anyway. Right after, just as the first half finished, he asked them to get him some iced tea. They can’t say no, and a few minutes later, he received a questionable glass of iced tea, but hey! He got it!

“Just another half hour, huh? Who can I bug...” The gossips already went away and successfully escaped after the errand, but there were other students to pester. One in particular had the oddest hair he’s ever since. A faded out green for the most part, and right at the center, an even fainter yellow. It looked just like... 

Fruity Headcanon Prompts | accepting

The answer to this one is a bit complicated. Hubert is a loner and always has been, yet he has an intense need to be connected deeply to someone. Edelgard fills that role, but if he were to lose her, he’d need someone else that he could attach himself to. He’s unaccustomed to doing things or making decisions purely for himself, so he needs someone else to give him guidance. He’s lived his entire life basing all of his actions around the interests and ideals of someone else that not having that would throw his life into turmoil.

While it’s not necessary, physical togetherness is a plus. Hubert is perfectly capable of working independently/alone (as long as he fully understands what his Important Person wants from him), but he harbors a desire to spend every hour of his day with someone else. Being able to be with Edelgard all day long, even while working on separate projects, is a secret wish of his - a touch of what they had when they were children - but he recognizes that they’re usually more efficient doing things on their own. And he’ll always value efficiency over his own arbitrary wants.

Hubert has never had very many friends. In fact, he has the most “friends” now than he’s ever had in his life. He tells himself that Edelgard is the only person he needs, but he admits in their C support that he actually enjoys studying with his classmates. He tends to shoot himself in the foot constantly though, both by calling himself boring/depressing (a self-fulfilling prophecy) and comparing anyone who manages more than one conversation with him to Edelgard, so very few people make it past “acquaintances” with him. As his entire life revolves around Edelgard though, making friends is not a goal of his, but a thing that occurs passively in his service to his liege. he makes it known that he would drop his “friends” like hot potatoes if Edelgard wished for it though