Creatures of Norse Mythology You Need To Know | Norse Mythology Monsters

Far on the outskirts of reality, of Midgard, was the great sea that encircled the world. In the blackest abyss of the circling sea, a massive creature slithered across the bottom, knocking underwater mountains with its muscle spasms and churning them into dust under its As the creature writhed, the earth shook in response. This creature can be counted as one amongst the Aesir for its heritage. This creature is the world serpent, Jormungandr. As a child of Loki and a Jötunn, Ongoboda, the world serpent not only possessed great size and power but as well as venom that could fell the mightiest of Asgard's champions. In Ragnarok, the serpent would be the end of Thor. Jormungandr was not particularly a clever creature such as its siblings Hel and Fenrir, spending its days until the end of the world, circling the encircling sea and eating the great cetaceans and molluscs that dwelt in its great depths. From time to time, the serpent would prove itself a fisherman's folly if they dared to cast their lines in the farthest and coldest reaches of the sea or be caught itself by a worthy champion such as in the fishing tale of Thor and Hymir. Fenrir. Fenris. A beast that could walk on its back legs like a mockery of a man but preferred to run across the great woods of the nine realms, terrorizing villages, slaughtering livestock and ruining all that was good and proper. No spear could pierce the horrible creature's skin, nor could any trap hold him. Fenrir was one of Loki's monstrous offspring, a wild fiend that stalked the woods of the old world with a horrible stench emanating from its matted black fur while a terrible growl rumbled in its black throat behind two rows of razor-sharp evil teeth. Its terrible yellow eyes betrayed its presence in the dark woods, but those who were caught in its gaze would not live for long. This warg could speak and was as intelligent as a wolf, while twice as vicious as he was large. Such a menace, this great wolf posed upon the realms that he proved a terror even to the realm of Asgard. After making a meal of the Aesir god Tyr's arm, the beast found himself chained to a tree by an enchanted dwarf-make Linen, and there he remained until Ragnarok, where the vile wolf met its violent end by the strongest of the Aesir, Vidar, and his magic boots. The grave mounds of the ancient warriors and mighty kings contained riches to turn the lowliest pauper into a bona fide ruler with but a sacks full of treasures, that is, if they could make it out of the mound alive. To safeguard their treasures from petty thieves, the kings of the old days employed the services of wizards and possibly even the wielding vonir, whose powers could transcend life and death, whose spells and runes make the living world bend to their whim. One of the requests of these kings was an eternal vigil over their remains and possessions until the time of Ragnarok. And what could be better than an sustenance, pay, or sleep? The Draugr were exactly that eternal guardian, animated corpses given motion by magic and runes. Once awoken into their new existence, these walking dead would claim ownership of their surroundings and cull any who would dare intrude upon their hoard. Those of lesser bravery and more sense could smell the horror within the burial chamber and turn the other way once the rotting guardian ran groaning at the intruder with its rusty axe raised and hatred blazing in its dull eyes. The Draugr felt neither pain nor weakness, no remorse nor pity, able to rip a horse to pieces without effort and withstand blows that could kill a man. Inside every Draugr was an empty hole that yearned something. As creatures of the grave, the barrow-guarding wights felt nothing but sorrow and anger, the emotions of the cold tomb. The sight of the living wracked the horrors with envy and caused them to attack everything that has a pulse without provocation or second thought. The feeling of warm blood and flesh on the cracked dry lips of the Draugr could satiate its dark desires for a moment, but the gaping chasm within would never fill. To end a Draugr's rampage is as simple as chopping off its head, but as long as its magical soul remained, the body would writhe and stumble about, although without the head and eyes to see. The encircling sea may have its host of horrors, including Jörmungandr, but the cold reaches of the northern caps of Midgard bore a creature almost as terrible, if not equal, in the serpent's violence and appetite. The great Jötunn would fish in these icy waters, but never stray too far, lest the oily tendrils of the kraken bore them to the depths of a cold wet grave. The kraken resembled an octopus, but its tentacles could span the length of ten longboats each, which hung from its black bloated bulbous head. The great beast of the sea came from no father or mother, but was as old as the land and the seas. The kraken came from Ginnungagap and the giant Ymir, remembering the cold of nothingness and carried it, turning the waters icy and frigid. The dwarfs of Nidhe Waelir travelled the world with their pickaxes warily, for not all rocks and mountainsides were without feeling. A careless swing could have the dwarfs hide strewn across a troll's back as gruesome shawl lined with dwarven beard hair. Trolls come in many shapes, sizes, and mental capacities. The smallest of the lot, the troll folk, were almost indistinguishable from mortal men, but those of keen sight could tell the difference. Trolls lived solitary lives and never with more than another troll. These troll folk dwelled in simple huts or holes in the ground with dirt for bedding and a small campfire for warmth. What betrayed the nature of these particular trolls were their long and bulbous noses, ragged scraps of fabric or reeds for clothing, and their long knotted hair. Mountain trolls stood far taller than their cousins, so tall and large that trees could root and grow off their backs were they to sit still for long enough. Because of their awesome size, the mental power of mountain trolls was little to non-existent, and much of it, if any, went to the control of their massive limbs. Possibly for this reason, mountain trolls would sit for ages staring off towards nothing, while moss grew bushy and long under their massive noses, until something or someone happened to annoy the stoic creature by chance. All trolls, regardless of stature, were selfish at best and vicious at worst. The reason these creatures lived solitary or in twos reflected on how trusting they were of each other and those around. Two trolls together simply meant that neither was stronger or more cunning to get rid of the other. Be it their nasty disposition or rocky nature, trolls could not stand sunlight and would find refuge in their caves and shelters for the day, lest they turn into stone at dawn's first light. A rot wormed its way through one of Yggdrasil's roots, turning the bark black and sickly with blight. This root, one of the three main roots of the Great Ash, reached the baleful depths of Helheim, the realm of the dead. The end of this tendril wormed through the barren cold ground and into the darkest depths. In these wailing caverns dwelled the souls of the dishonorable dead. Shades, who in their lives took that which was not theirs, broke oaths, slew their foe when their backs were turned, and robbed the innocents from those of virgin virtue. A horrible gnawing wracked the ears of these evil dead, and the horrible stench of the dying root choked their lungs, while the foul dead sap stung their skin even in death. At the heart of the rot sat a legless drake that crawled with its arms or flew with its golden wings. This was Nidhoggru, the lord of Norstrand. This creature, fatherless and as old as time, enjoyed the taste of evil flesh whenever it could wrench its jaws off the sweet juices of the world tree. Ragnarok will begin when Nidhoggru leaves its realm forever to bring ruin upon Midgard. And as the world ends, so shall Nidhoggru. There are those who say a new drake shall crawl from the skin of the old one, and this creature shall either repeat what he had done, or usher in a better world than the one before. Even though the depths of Helheim and Asgard would rather have nothing to do with each other, all knew that Ragnarok would come one day, and it would pay well to have the upper hand and be in the know of what the enemy was thinking. One would imagine that the lords of the nine realms would have ways and means to spy and gather information on their foes. But every lord of each realm equally had ways and means to prevent trespass, especially the kind that was resourceful and powerful enough to cross from realm to realm. But what if the messenger was too small to be seen? Ratatostra was exactly that. A squirrel, quick enough to avoid any danger, but clever enough to relay the news for pay. Every day, this interesting rodent traveled from the caves of Nidhoggru to the great eagle perched on top of Yggdrasil to relay what he had heard in the underworld and gather rumors and gossip of the high realms. Most of what Ratatostra said to either side could never be confirmed nor trusted. As this squirrel was very small, every tiniest bit of news seemed extreme and immense to him, and since he was so fast, he didn't bother to fully listen to what he was hearing. Once upon a time, Ratatostra came to the eagle at the top of Yggdrasil and said a gang of mountain trolls were riled up and had plans to topple Valhalla by slinging a mountain towards Asgard. However, the truth of the matter was that it was a few woodsmen in the night who were drunk and one kicked the side of a hill in anger, swearing to punt it all the way up to the sky, to Odin's Hall. Wags were mighty dire wolves of the darkest forests. These beasts stood far taller than the ancestors of dogs on their forelegs and when standing on their hind legs could easily dwarf the tallest human. These horrors had teeth as sharp as daggers and hides so thick Odin's spear would have trouble getting through. As beings beyond flesh and blood, Wags were capable of feats such as launching themselves across the realms or eating everything from Aesir to heavenly bodies such as the moon and the sun. The true Wags of the old days were used as mounts by the wicked and the fierce such as the Jötunn or Trolls, a suitable steed to mirror the dark spirit of its owner. That is, of course, if the wild beyond wild beast could be tamed at first and then if the rider could withstand the evil stench of the creature. The greatest of the Wags were Fenrir, son of Loki, and then Hati and Skoll, the twin pursuers of the moon and sun. From the powerful Aesir to the minute spirits, all would see the realm of dreams when they slept. Where this realm fitted along the nine worlds, no one knows. A breed of creatures lurks in its shadowy depths and can bring misfortune and even death to this very day. This breed is called the Mare. The Mares are creatures that dwell in the dream realm and prey upon the spirits of dreamers. These creatures straddle their prey and ride them until their strength is drained away. The Mares can also just sit on the chest of the sleeping body, keeping them in a state of dream and unconsciousness. They have no true form or size as they are made from the stuff of dreams. Most of the time, they will weave their appearance to fit the worst parts of their victim's imagination. Sorcerers usually summon them to haunt the nights of their enemies. The tale of the pale horse of Odin can sound perplexing, especially when one hears that the mighty steed's mother was none other than the trickster and bane of Asgard, Loki, who found a way to have relations with a stallion called Svadilfari. Fortunately, the encounter was not described with detailed words, leaving the matter to imagination. Regardless of his questionable pedigree, Slippner was a noble horse and half Aesir who galloped across the sky, carrying Odin from realm to realm with ease. When the wild hunts swept across the winter forests in the darkest nights, the first omen was the soft clatter of many hooves. This sound belonged to Slippner's eight legs as Odin rode out before the Einheir in the rampage of the honored dead. The rivers of Alfheim sputtered and flowed with a sound more akin to music, a sweet melody that rose and fell and emerged into a glorious crescendo before sinking into a quiet sonnet. This was no ordinary sound of a river, for in the currents of rushing water swam the Phosogrim, water spirits, who sang and played the song of water. These Phosogrim might be described as something similar to elves or trolls in the sense that it is a solitary creature, but far more fair and lovely than the curmudgeons that lived in the dark damp caves and sang in grunts and farts. Another telling feature was their webbed feet that allowed them to swim faster than even the elves, making them incredibly elusive. Were one to stray too close to a Phosogrim, the creature would shoot away, leaving the creek with sudden silence. The instrument of the river spirits was the harp. The Phosogrim could be bribed with offerings of flesh and honey to teach the craft of music. That is, if the aspiring musician could even find the bewitching song of a river spirit in the woods and not scare the creature away with his clumsy footsteps. Odin with Slipna and Ratatoskru with his small stature and quick feet could steal their way to Helheim and even make it out alive. For the rest, who came so far beyond the sun and moon, they could only enter the cold realm of the dead through Nippohela, the gate to Helheim. The threshold to Helvegru, the path to Hel, began inside a massive cavern. Inside, those who came to Hel's domain would hear the clattering of chains and a horrible growl. A massive dog named Garma barked and bayed at trespassers and pounced on those who come to the The wargs of the realms might have been fierce beasts, but none could be trusted with such a task as guarding the gate to the underworld as Garma. This beast of black mane and a jaw like a bear trap held loyalty to none besides its mistress, Hel. When Ragnarok comes, Garma shall break its bonds and join the fray against the Aesir. The beast shall slay Tyr, the one-handed, denying him revenge against Fenrir Wolf. But it shall also meet its own end by the sword of the one-handed warrior. The seas beyond Midgard were wrought with perils such as Jormungandr, the Kraken, and all manner of sea horrors. But even waters close to and around Midgard were not void of dangers. Hafgufa was a fish so massive that its scales were as thick as stones, and her passing too close to the shore could easily cause every fjord to break its banks and flood every village on its shores. This massive fish fed on large fish, whales, sharks, and ships in a similar way a humpback whale eats plankton, but with one exception. Hafgufa would first expel its stomach in the waters and then wait. The titanic mass of Chum would attract the entire sea along with a few curious sailors. When the waters near the mighty fish teemed with enough movement, she would open her massive maw, causing a whirlpool the size and power of a hurricane to swallow her next meal. Rivers would dry, and the waters on the seashore would recede far away from their banks. People in villages and cities would hear a great clamor and rumble towards the horizon, but saw no black clouds, no swirling cones, and felt no strong winds indicating a coming storm. Those who lived under the terror of the fish have tried to slay the creature, but when Hafgufa was submerged, all there was to see was the ocean, and when she breached, her back was no different from an island with an archipelago. Once upon a time, after Midgard had been constructed from the parts of Ymir, it lingered, unmoving and cold, under a black sky without stars, wind, or even clouds. As the world was plunged in unyielding darkness, nothing moved or roamed, not even a speck of dust. The Aesir opened the furnace to Muspelheim, releasing a ball of the primeval fire, which gave light to the land. This became the sun, and the tiny speck of flame sat above Midgard, torching a significant portion into an arid, inhospitable desert by burning away anything green or alive. The new light had to be moved as to not overexpose the new world to its blazing glory. Two grand horses were tethered to the fire of Muspelheim, Arvak, the early, and Alsvid, the quick. As the two steeds dragged the sun, their tails caught fire, and in panic, they snapped their harnesses and let their hot cargo shoot across the sky. In the first days, the sun circled the sky in a few seconds, leaving no time to get any of the work of creation done. The lords of Asgard, in their wisdom, decided to re-tether the horses to the sun, but this time, blow chill air on their bodies to keep them cool and from bolting. The days were erratic, as the horses knew not where to go, and how long or fast they should run. So, while this was an improvement, the work was not finished. Thus, the Aesir set out to find a rider, but none of the new beings of Midgard desired to drag a hot flaming ball of gas, pulled by two insane horses, while the lords of the realm blew cold air at their feet. Once more, in their infinite wisdom and skill of craft, the Aesir kidnapped a man named Sol and tethered him to a chariot, instructing him to guide the horses. Sol still rides the sky up to this day, dragging the sun behind his chariot by the two horses, Arvak and Úlsvid, while being pursued by the enemies of the sun, the two wargs Hatti and Skoll. Before Odin's throne, sat two great and noble wargs, named Geri and Freki. Unlike the wargs that served as the mounts to the Jötunn and other vile creatures, these specimens had beautiful grey fur and eyes as clear and brilliant as emeralds, instead of the black and yellow of their lesser brothers. When the Allfather feasted with the rest of the Aesir, he only drank his wine, which served as both food and drink for him. Odin didn't need food, but as either the cook of Asgard was not aware, or perhaps it was rude not to serve food to the lord of the house, Odin received a feast of meat and fresh vegetables every day. As he did not require such things, he gave his food to his loyal companions, the two wargs that are ever beside him. Geri ate as if he had never been fed before, tearing every piece into shreds as he dug in, while Freki ate more than his stomach could handle, making sure there was nothing left to waste. Thus, Odin named his two wolves after their virtues of eating like wild beasts. Geri, the ravenous one, and Freki, the greedy one. Although inaccurate and highly exaggerating, Ratatoskra was the most reliable source of news in the realms, unfortunately, until Odin decided he needed a more precise and accurate source. The Allfather had had enough of Ratatosk's wild and erroneous stories of things that would better fit the sagas of madmen, so he set out to create a better system for news of the realms. The Allfather took his own mind that knew all things from the wisdom of Mimir's well and his infinite memory, giving them life, giving them form. Thus, Huginn and Muninn came to be. Two coal-black ravens who could talk like men and fly like birds. Odin would set these ravens to gather news and keep him up to date. The birds depart every morning at dawn to fly around the realms and return in the evening to their perches on Odin's shoulders and tell him all they have seen. But as Huginn and Muninn were just a little more than ravens of feathers, flesh, and blood, they could easily be slain by anything during their flight. The death of Muninn, the memory, concerned Odin the least, for he could always gain more memories. But the death of Huginn, the mind, was another matter. It had more severe consequences. Every time Huginn died, it is said, the Allfather lost a bit of his mind. As the sun and moon went across the sky, two wolves chased them eternally on their flight. These were the two wags, Hatti and Skoll. The former, named after its unbound and untamed infinite hatred towards everything, and the latter, for its treacherous nature. Neither wag would accept a rider or the company of the other wags, so they chose to exert their efforts towards chasing the two annoyances that took away their cover of night. Despite the Aesir knowing that during Ragnarok, the two wolves would devour the sun and moon, the High Lords allowed them to give chase to the heavenly bodies, as they would prove less of a nuisance to the rest of the worlds. After all, Fenrir Wolf was already at large, and two further greater wags would be more than a crowd. Whether it shall be Hatti or Skoll that would eat the sun or the moon during Ragnarok remains a question. For as the deed is done, the world shall be plunged into darkness, hiding the culprits from the sights of the doomed beneath the sky. Most Jötunn would not appear any different from mortal men or women. But one Jötunn stood out and was charged with far more than his wild kin. This Jötunn was called Hrelsfelgr. Hrelsfelgr stood far taller than other Jötunn and had white frosty wings for hands and the head of a storm eagle on top the torso of a man. When he took flight, the lands below felt his movement as far as the edge of reality. Those who happened to be below Hrelsfelgr felt the full brunt of his power and were torn to shreds in the gales of a hurricane or lost at sea under the waves of a typhoon. After the storm had passed, the Jötunn took the remains of his victims and carried them to his domain at the edge of the sky and the beginning of Ginnungagap. There, he feasted on the dead flesh of men. Thus, he was called the Corpse Eater.