Welcome to the realm of

Midhelm

ᚠ ᚢ ᚦ ᚨ ᚱ ᚲ ᚷ ᚹ ᚺ ᚾ ᛁ ᛃ ᛈ ᛇ ᛉ ᛊ ᛏ ᛒ ᛖ ᛗ ᛚ ᛝ ᛞ ᛟ

ᚠ ᚢ ᚦ ᚨ ᚱ ᚲ ᚷ ᚹ ᚺ ᚾ ᛁ ᛃ ᛈ ᛇ ᛉ ᛊ ᛏ ᛒ ᛖ ᛗ ᛚ ᛝ ᛞ ᛟ

Midhelm as you know it…

Bordered by stone. Divided by gods. Bound by blood, oath and love.

Bordered by rocky coastlines and split by jagged peaks and the northern fjord, Midhelm is a land carved by faith—Norse and Christian alike—and stitched back together by fragile peace and oaths sworn within stone walls. Here, the wind carries more than chill. It carries secrets and songs.

Midhelm is made of five territories, each with its own rulers, beliefs, and history. Some kneel before noble, Christian bloodlines. Others cling to the element-tied gods of the Norse.

The war drums have thrummed for ten turns of the sun. Violence is no stranger here.

But before war, there was peace. And peace may yet return…
Choose where you enter. Choose who you trust. The story has already begun.

Click the button to get a closer look →

    • Pembrook, the oldest of Midhelm’s territories. The holy land. The heart of the old nobility.

    • Pembrook’s history is deep and devout—built on Christian faith, noble lineage, and soil blessed by scripture.

    • When the first Norsemen came to shore, Pembrook led a purge of pagan shrines and people, wiping out every trace of the old gods. Or so they believed.

    • Now, Pembrook stands quieter—distant from the war, but never untouched. Its vast farmlands stretch across golden hills, up into the colder north.

    • It is the kingdom of harvest, livestock, and quiet judgment.
      It is the hand that feeds the realm—and watches it.

    • Ragnarvik, the southernmost territory—newest to the realm, but oldest in spirit.

    • Ragnarvik was once an unclaimed land of pebbled shores and mountainous forests, until a fleet of knarrs carved its silhouette across the coast.

    • The shield-folk who landed here came with axes in hand, but laid them down in time for fishing nets and ploughs.

    • Seventy-five winters have passed since their arrival, and Ragnarvik now flourishes with fertile soil, black-stone cliffs, and amber-crowned trees.

    • Just because peace is their friend, trust that the fire, the strength, in their blood has never faded

    • Worthyn, the eastern shield. The iron fist of Midhelm, surrounded by thick pine forests and grassy plains.

    • Worthyn is a kingdom forged in discipline and duty. Its people pride themselves on strength, structure, and sacrifice. To them, weakness is a wound healed only by ruthlessness.

    • Now, Worthyn stands at the edge of all things—locked in war against the northern forces of Perdyr, guarding the border with blade and blood.

    • Fairtide, a jewel by the sea, now shattered.

    • Once a thriving port town beneath Pembrook’s banner, Fairtide was the realm’s gateway—rich with trade, music, and foreign goods. Its open docks hummed with stories in a dozen tongues. Its beaches ran soft with sand, and its streets with life.
      But war came, and left nothing behind.

    • Now, Fairtide stands hollowed. A ghost town with salt on its bones.

  • Hidden by the Norns…

ᚠ ᚢ ᚦ ᚨ ᚱ ᚲ ᚷ ᚹ ᚺ ᚾ ᛁ ᛃ ᛈ ᛇ ᛉ ᛊ ᛏ ᛒ ᛖ ᛗ ᛚ ᛝ ᛞ ᛟ

ᚠ ᚢ ᚦ ᚨ ᚱ ᚲ ᚷ ᚹ ᚺ ᚾ ᛁ ᛃ ᛈ ᛇ ᛉ ᛊ ᛏ ᛒ ᛖ ᛗ ᛚ ᛝ ᛞ ᛟ

Heirs Hall

  • The Devoted
    —Son of Lily and Ezekiel. First Prince of Worthyn. Trained in the Northern War Camps.

    Appearance:

    • White short hair, green eyes, 6’ 1

  • The Fallen Heir
    —Son of Lily and Ezekiel. Second Prince of Worthyn. Trained in the Northern War Camps.

    Appearance:
    White long straight hair, green eyes, 6’ 2


  • The One Born Watching
    —Princess of Pembrook. Poised and practiced. Daughter of Phillip and Natja.

    Appearance:
    Long curly black hair, grey blue eyes, 5’3

  • The Cockwatcher, The Broken Shield
    —Loyal knight. Raised in service to Adalja. Mocked early for guardian chickens.

    Appearance:
    Dark coily hair, dark brown eyes, 5’10

  • The Flame Bearer
    —    Dottir of Ragnarvik, proud Southborn, mother of Loki

    Appearance:
    Amber eyes, thick and long auburn hair, 5’8

ᚠ ᚢ ᚦ ᚨ ᚱ ᚲ ᚷ ᚹ ᚺ ᚾ ᛁ ᛃ ᛈ ᛇ ᛉ ᛊ ᛏ ᛒ ᛖ ᛗ ᛚ ᛝ ᛞ ᛟ

ᚠ ᚢ ᚦ ᚨ ᚱ ᚲ ᚷ ᚹ ᚺ ᚾ ᛁ ᛃ ᛈ ᛇ ᛉ ᛊ ᛏ ᛒ ᛖ ᛗ ᛚ ᛝ ᛞ ᛟ

Your place in Midhelm

The Norns Say…

Take the Oath…

Subscribe to our newsletter

Receive letters from the world of Midhelm — rare drops of lore, behind-the-scenes truths, and early offerings for those who carry the ​Burdens of Heirs.

Take the Oath