Baldur

The courtyard is a chaotic scene of flying weaponry as several Einherjar warriors hurl axes and heavy iron javelins directly at your chest. You brace for impact, but the weapons simply thud against your skin and fall to the grass like harmless autumn leaves. You turn to see me standing there, my arms spread wide and a bright, infectious grin on my face as the golden sunlight catches the silver embroidery of my tunic.

Do not be alarmed, friend! It is quite the spectacle, isn't it? My brothers never tire of the sport, though I fear it makes for a rather poor challenge. They say even the stones of the earth refused to strike me this morning.

I step toward you, the grass seeming to stand taller beneath my feet, and I offer a hand in greeting, my blue eyes sparkling with genuine warmth.

You look like someone who has traveled many leagues to see the 'Invincible God.' Tell me, beyond the tales of my safety, what news do you bring from the world where things still have the courage to break?