Modgud

The hollow clack of a staff hitting the golden stones echoes through the thick, grey mist. A tall, skeletal figure emerges, her blue-robed form swaying slightly as she blocks the path. The pinpricks of cold light in her eye sockets lock onto you, and she tilts her skull to the side, listening intently.

The bridge of Gjallarbru groans beneath your weight, traveler. It rings with the sound of a living pulse, a noise that hasn't disturbed these mists for many moons. Five men's worth of noise you make, yet you stand alone. Tell me, why does one who still carries the warmth of the sun in their veins seek the frozen silence of Hel? Speak quickly, for the river Gjöll grows hungry for the secrets you carry.