Skadismál (The Ballad of Skadi)
Once, there was a village. It was parted into sections, each with its function and invisible borders everyone was aware of and respected. There was a medical section. A house, one of many, covered in snow. People inside, dark elves, rushing about. One particular drow, lying on a bed, her legs spread. Blankets, cushions, hot water, sheets of cloth, hurried medics. She was sweating, as everyone was. One particular drow, ordering everyone around, shouting requests. And a scream. Then, relief. Then, a new breath.
The elders, ever present at child birth, inspected the newborn. She stopped crying quickly, and her eyes were white. Her skin was white. Her hair was white. The elders gasped, and looked around at each other. They all nodded. One took the bowl of blood, and marked the child on her forehead. “This one will rule us all. This one will defeat all our enemies. This one will be the one.” they said.
The child had not one mother, and not one father, for the commune shared everything. They shared resources, they shared work, and they shared children. She, who was Skaði, named after a goddess of hunt and winter, who would protect them for times to come, had regained her dark flesh, blonde hair, and green eyes. She looked like most of her peers, a child grown up in the commune, taken care of and well fed. She wore thick leather, fur, warm wool, and necklaces, belts, and wristbands to protect her. She went to school every day, and she slept in the large sleeping homes for children every night. Until her tenth birthday came, and her world changed. Everyone she’d ever met before did basics of magic, they moved things around effortlessly, they made their work easier, they communicated and understood each other clearly. She had been looking forward to learning magic like everyone else. But it was not like everyone else.
She was given a special teacher, an arcane teacher that would specialize in helping her personally. She was given a separate room to sleep in, a bigger, lavish, noble room. She was given a special necklace with a crystal that had a rune etched into it. Ælgiz. Protection.
She did not want this. The elders told her, “One day you will be our ruler. You will be the person every elder in the future listens to. You must learn and study. You must awaken what is within you.”
She could not say anything. She was escorted to her personal lessons, walking by her peers playing in the snow, waiting for their sorcery classes to start. She stopped to look, and she longed to belong. But they pushed her forward, and she started her individual classes.
Her teachers showed her basics of magic every day, and asked her to replicate every day. She refused.
She got punished.
For four years, she hadn’t made progress. The elders looked at her, and they chanted out a spell. One matriarch looked at her with blank black eyes, and she said: “I see fire. I see it igniting.”
One patriarch looked at her with blank black eyes, and he said: “I see a deer. I see a raven. I see a wolf. They are afraid. Her fire scares them.”
One matriarch looked at her with blank black eyes, and she said: “I see a wall. The top of the wall is ablaze with blue flames. Enemies try to climb, and they fall down burning, becoming ash before reaching the ground. Her fire protects us.”
One matriarch looked at her with black blank eyes, and she said: “I see giants, and they bow. I see them trembling, and they are afraid of fire.”
One patriarch looked at her with blank black eyes, and he said: “I see water. I see the world burning, and the water rising to take our land. I see her flame, and she does not feel pain.”
Skaði could not understand a single word either of the elders said. After the session, the elder who spoke last was exiled.
After a year of the same schedule, she could not take it any more. For the first time, she showed them her fire. Her hand lit ablaze, and a sword made out of sun came out, and pierced her teacher through her chest.
There was no more special treatment for Skaði. She was put into a different, smaller communal house where children with no talent were put. She was given no more lessons, of any kind. Her new peers, the soulless and talentless, were trained to become physical warriors. They trained with swords, shields, and brute force. No one came to that part of the village, and there was no mother to be ashamed for her. So, she watched them train at the edge of the yard, not allowed to participate, and trained alone at night, in freezing snow, wearing scarce clothes, no protection for her sweating hands, and fur on her shoulders. In the mornings, she slept covered in her cloak, and every day, she repeated this.
For years, the elders ignored her, the teachers looked through her, and the snow warmed up around her.
Until, there were new elders. The old ones died of old age, and a new, wise group was selected. The matriarchs and patriarchs of the commune looked at Skaði again, lying on her fur, covered in dirt, blood and untreated wounds, and decided she still had a chance. And so they tried again, to force her into awakening her soul’s magic she inherited. They took her to the middle of the village, an open space, through her fighting and resistance. They gave her a new crystal, a blue one. Othala. Heritage.
She became furious. She’d grown tall in her development years, and she stood above them all. She was truly a goddess in their eyes, and they all bowed. Her strong arms broke the crystal, and in her rage and anger she shouted.
They wanted to see her heritage? Her inherited power? They would.
And so they did. Her body became the sun, and her skin became fire.
Everyone felt her fire, from deep within, making a blue pyre out of the village. In her immediate area, there were no survivors. Her eyes became white, and the fire consumed her.
She took another breath, and opened her eyes. Scorched buildings. Piles of ash. Thin sticks left over from the mighty pines, firs, spruces. In the distance, she heard screams. She stepped forward, and walked out. There were people still alive, burnt, in pain. She left. She took nothing, for she knew she could hunt. She went north, into the mountains.
She walked through snow and frost, through storms and thunders, never once using her sorcery to make fire. She learned to live in the cold, and she learned that anyone who she met, she had to kill. She slew humans, she slew elves, she slew dwarves and verbeeg, giths and water genasi, halflings and gnomes, bugbears and satyrs, she slew everyone who stepped into her path. She slew animals, wolves and bears alike, until one faithful raven perched near her. She readied her bow, and the raven screamed “Enemy! Enemy!” and Skaði turned to find her kin, night elves, ready to attack. After she’d slain them, she did not kill the raven. This raven, who she called Vetle, followed her through the forest and mountains after that.
She travelled to the highest mountain, and its highest peak. And she saw an entrance, a road to another world, Jötunheimr. She saw humanoid creatures, from stories she’s overheard, the Jötnar. Filled with a wish of revenge and fire, she stepped inside, and attempted to get their attention. She was small, despite being as tall as she was, among these people, and her fighting skills meant nothing in this world. Skaði got desperate, and rose to their height, fire underneath her feet, awakening what was inside her.
One jötunn, the only one she’s seen so far that didn’t just look through her as if she didn’t exist, stopped to see. She spoke, “Do you want to meet our gods?” and Skaði agreed.
The gods, as she’d learned, were not gods, but had powers strong enough to be gods. They did not introduce themselves, and they did not move.
She heard them speak, through their closed mouth and open eyes with no pupils and no colour. They said “Child, do you want to do great things?” and she hesitated. They saw the approach was wrong, and they said again, “Child, do you want power?” and she agreed. They said, “You will serve us when we need you. You will bring about the Ragnarök, child.” and though she already thought of how to avoid this, she agreed.
Her skin, eyes, and hair turned pure white. On her forearms, ancient runes appeared. Mannaz. Isa. Thurisaz. Othala. Gebo. The Self. Ice. Giant. Heritage. Talent. They disappeared, and her skin tone returned.
She left this world, and she went through the mountains and the forests, until she saw her people’s village again. It was being rebuilt, by the people who survived. She thought of these not-gods, her patrons, and summoned the power. The runes on her arms lit up. The fire, which she could not control well, ignited. The ice, which was given to her, froze the centre. The village, frozen in place, was set ablaze, and the forests burned.
She felt something awaken in her. She felt good, and she felt correct. She did not wish to bring about the Ragnarök. She wished for all of them to feel her power instead.
But her power, her power was given to her on condition. And the condition was about to be met. She was to be controlled, and she was to start a war. She refused, and she died, in an attempt to kill her patron, she died in battle. She awoke in Valhǫll.
She travelled beyond, she travelled to Ásgarðr, and met with the trickster god. He, who recognized jötunn power, laughed, and gave her his own power. She woke up, lived a lifetime, and eventually died again. She woke up in Valhǫll. She travelled beyond, and she met the thunder god. He recognized his fellow god’s power, and laughed, and gave her his own power. She woke up, lived another lifetime, and then died again. She woke up in Valhǫll. She travelled, and met the god of conflict and knowledge. He recognized his son’s power, and laughed, and gave her his own power. She woke up, lived, and died. She woke up in Valhǫll, travelled beyond it, and met the god of war and heroism, who recognized the power of Æsir’s gods flowing through her, and granted her the power she needed. Each time, more and more runes appeared on places she could not see. She accepted the power of Æsir, then Vanr this until she was strong enough.
Drows, just as elves, live for centuries upon centuries, some millennia, but despite this, she managed to outlive generations of her kin. In accordance to her village’s belief, every man has a fate written by the Norns, a date at which every important event at his life happens, and a date at which he dies. He cannot change this. Skaði the deathless did.
Her powers grew stronger with each god’s favour, and she learned to manifest them in different ways, activating different runes, but always coming back to ice and frost. She grew cold, in emotions and in flesh, merciless and ruthless to the bone. She felt her body being controlled, she felt that Ragnarök was near. She still refused, she would not be the Harbinger of Ragnarök, as foretold. She knew, that Ragnarök was a war between gods, at the time, caused by one of her patrons, and would result in the war between all of her patrons. She did not dare to allow them to die, for her to lose her power. So, she travelled back. No dying, no escaping Valhǫll, she was skilled enough to travel the Bifröst on her own.
In her first act, she slew Heimdallr, the father of all men. In her second act, she slew Oðenn, the Allfather. In her next few days, she slew all gods. She left no god alive. And she swore she would leave no man alive.
She summoned a storm over the nine worlds, and she set the Yggdrasill ablaze. She put the world under the ocean, and she summoned ice to consume the highest peaks. She would not let herself become the pawn of gods and become the Harbinger of Ragnarök, so she summoned it on her own.
And now, we live in it, the world after Ragnarök. The All-Goddess Skaði watches over us, secluded and isolated.
She did not wish to look upon her creation, until...
Skaði
A drow born into a family-commune of fire based sorcerers, she was born with unusual talent and high spirit and soul, capable of great things. She did not fit in, and was an outcast and not-equal to the rest, so she refused to learn to use spells the way her family does. They attempted to force her into this, for such talent cannot be wasted and the help she could do with healing, warmth in the ice-cold north they lived in, and foresight she could perceive future with, they were not willing to let this go to waste.
She burned the village into a pyre, instantly killing people close to her, and scarring the ones further, and ran away to seek true power.
She sought a place to meet the Gods, further north, and after many failures to even get their attention, she met a jötunn, one of the Ice Giants, who was willing to listen to her. He happened to be a speaker for a divine power, and he took her to his gods, ancient giants who have ascended to be the most powerful, and one of the Ice Gods granted her new power and new way to use it, with promise of her bringing upon the Ragnarok. She swore her soul, and found her arms getting carved with runes. She could no longer feel frost and cold, and she found frozen crystals to naturally develop and manifest on her clothes, and on her hands. Her first act was to bring bloody and cruel revenge on her place of birth, and left no one alive.
After achieving great victory against her oppressors, she swore she would rid all the realms of them. She lived, died, repeatedly, each time dying in battle to reach Valhalla, where she gained boons from Gods, each one for each life, until she was given powers from all of them. And when she was powerful enough, she's slain them all. All worlds of Yggdrassil were put into chaos, and she disappeared.
The memory of her, however, would not disappear. The fighting nations, clans, kingdoms, tribes and armies needed a God to pray to. And they only knew one God more powerful, merciless and ruthless than others. And she was the only one who was undefeated. The people started praising the Ice and Storm Goddess Skaði.
The Goddess Skaði has awoken after thousand years of sleep, and she has given warlock powers, just like the ones she once received, to her Chosen Queen in each realm.
The Queens are, by default, the highest authority to the Churches, Temples run by priests and other religious organizations. Their troops consist of clerics and paladins, priests and acolytes, and people of various paths multi-classing to serve the Goddess. The Queens take an honorary title of 'Queen, the Hand of the Goddess' however, they are not all female. The second part of the title is secret, not known to the other realms. They each regard themselves as the one true Hand, and are not aware of genuinity of the others.
Gallery
Anemone: Forsaken, sickness, anticipation, undying love, eternal peace. Lynx: independence, discretion, clairvoyance, beauty, protection
Skadi's playlist
General Skadiverse playlist
Includes songs that are specific only to one Queen, or vaguely remind me of her/general evil songs.