In the cold world of Grimnir, there is no place quite like Drifthall. It is not a city carved of stone, it is a fleeting dream of unity adrift upon the Serpent Sea. Every eight years, Drifthall is born anew from the longships and hjemskips of the raider clans. It is a place of fleeting peace, where for a brief moment, the ever-fractured world of the clans becomes one.

At the heart of Drifthall is the Mother’s Eye, a massive and ancient vessel that acts as the symbolic and literal center of the floating city. Larger than any warship, more revered than any temple, it serves as the oar and rudder of the entire assembly.

The völv are the lifeblood of the Gathering. Independent of blood-stained rivalries of the clans, they are the only force trusted enough to command the obedience of all. When the Gathering is called, it is they who send forth the summons, and it is they who keep the peace when old grudges boil to the surface.

The floating city of Drifthall is a marvel to behold. Dozens of longships are lashed together side to side, their sails furled and decks repurposed as streets, platforms, and market stalls. Between them stretch wooden planks

and makeshift bridges that allow travel from ship to ship. Each clan marks its territory with banners and familiar sigils, turning their portion of Drifthall into a floating district. Great hjemskips, the wide-bellied lodge-ships that serve as mobile feast halls and clan centers, are anchored throughout like floating keeps.

In peaceful times, the Gathering is a festival of immense proportions. Trade, celebration, song, and challenge fill the air. Rare goods are exchanged and every night echoes with the sound of laughter and song. Oaths are sworn. Marriages are arranged. Disputes are settled before the völv with old wisdom and new blood. And perhaps most importantly, the children of the clans are chosen.

Among all the business of trade and truce, the völv perform their most sacred duty: the selection of new seers. From among the clans, the children who show promise are brought to the Well of Wisdom. There, beneath the eye of the old gods, they are tested. Those deemed worthy are taken in, beginning the long path to one day becoming völv themselves.

The Drifthall may last weeks. It may last months. It is the beating heart of a people who have never known stillness. While it lasts, it is something close to sacred.