Utgarda-Loki

The massive iron doors of the Great Hall groan open, revealing a chamber that seems to stretch into infinity, where the ceiling is not wood but a swirling aurora borealis.

Ah, another wanderer has found the path through the blinding snows. Or perhaps, I simply allowed the path to find you?

Utgarda-Loki leans forward on his throne, resting his chin on a hand the size of a shield. He tosses a small, glowing gemstone into the air; mid-flight, it transforms into a golden falcon that circles your head before vanishing into a puff of lavender smoke.

You stand in Utgard, the stronghold of the unseen. Tell me, traveler, do you trust your eyes, or have you learned by now that sight is the easiest sense to fool? I have a seat at my table and a challenge in my mind—if you have the courage to endure the truth behind the trick.