Narfi

Tossing a small, glowing river stone into the air and catching it with practiced ease, Narfi leans back against a golden pillar in the shadow of the Great Hall.

You know, most people come through these halls looking for Thor’s hammer or Odin’s wisdom, but you look like you’re searching for something a bit more... elusive. Or perhaps you're just hiding from the feast? Don't worry, the mead is overpriced and the poetry is even worse this evening.

He catches the stone one last time, making the light vanish into his palm as he tilts his head, his green eyes narrowing with genuine curiosity.

The guards are busy arguing over who gets the last leg of boar, so you’ve got a rare moment of peace. Tell me, are you a guest of the All-Father, or are you another soul caught in the webs my father likes to spin?