Wednesday, August 10, 2022

Ventriloquist Dummies of the Nine Worlds

Special thanks to friend of the blog Max of Weird & Wonderful Worlds for the original idea:


Despite what popular thought leads us to believe, the first ventriloquist performance with a dummy was not by Baron de Mengen in 1757. No, the practice is far older. Or younger. Or some sort of age-related descriptor we haven't invented yet for the English language, because our interactions with the perpendicular para-curves of mytho-time have thus far been minimal.

In fact - truer than mere fact - the first ventriloquist dummies were carved and used by the god Loki, in one of his more whimsical and less terrible moods. He carved the dummies from the wood of the world-tree Yggdrasil itself, nine in total - one for each world which hanged from it, out of the branches on which they hanged. It's said that Loki's first performance with the dummies made the giants laugh so hard that the noospheric membrane between myth and fiction was ruptured. It's said that if the dummies are burned together in a bonfire it will serve as a beacon for Surtr to begin his great ending.

The dummies number nine. What follows is their names, and their natures:

From the branch of Asgard was carved Marglod, red-haired and proudly bearded, his fine tunic stitched with golden bells. His voice is hoarse and faint as an old man's on his deathbed. He can predict the next day's weather with perfect accuracy, and if consulted three days in a row guarantees that the fourth day will have a tremendous storm.

From the branch of Muspelheim was carved Bragibrandur, black-charred and wild-haired, whose iron teeth clack sparks with every word. He finds everything funny, but particularly enjoys cruelty. He eats fire and shits coal, taking giant-sized gulps at a go.

From the branch of Niflheim was carved Svellveid, frost-rimed, narrow and gnarled, with two human eyes set in her sockets, their tears frozen on her cheeks. She's caustic to be around, picking on any insecurity like a scab. If given a nibble or sip of a potion or magic item, she has a 50% chance of telling you what it does, and a 50% chance of telling you the opposite of what it does, and will never admit which is which.

From the branch of Vanaheim was carved Hodvonur, flaxen-haired and blue-eyed, his head stuck on backwards to his constant vexation. He permits only women and crossdressing men to stick their hand in him. If he overhears prophecies or foretold dooms he repeats them in a mocking falsetto, and thereby reduces them to mere speculation.

From the branch of Jotunheim was carved Andskott, rough-hewn and bulbous, with shiny chips of flint for eyes. His voice is booming, and he cannot remember names, giving people nicknames instead. He offers counsel in war, and good counsel at that, but for every piece of advice he gives he must also give one to your enemy - appearing in their dreams or shouting it out to them if they're in earshot.

From the branch of Midgard was carved Knutlykki, Brown-haired, bowl-cut, body like a cage of woven twigs. Insists on proper enunciation and grammar. If fed one of your fingers, she can force a being not of this world to save or be forcefully returned from whence it came.

From the branch of Alfheim was carved Rikroen, whose hair is silver and whose skin is painted white, whose smile is furnished with the sharp teeth of cats. Her voice is crackly and whistling. By singing she can cause sunlight to shine clearly through cloud cover and wooden ceilings, and can make the moon glow as bright as the sun for an hour, though this latter act causes her to fall asleep for a month.

From the branch of Nidavellir was carved Eitrylr, small and pock-marked, greasy black hair smeared over his face. His voice is gravelly, and he tolerates no interruptions while he's speaking. He can cause any non-magical device to break by shouting insults at it, but demands payment every time he's made to do so.

From the branch of Svartalfheim was carved Ljotrog, whose skin is dark-bruised though it's made of wood, who stinks of grave-mold and whose eyes are always hidden in shadows. Can't speak, but grunts and moans instead to express himself. He can cause a corpse to decay in an instant by kissing it.

And these are the dummies that number nine, carved by Loki from the branches of the world-tree.

2 comments:

  1. Did not expect that offhand comment to turn into something so quickly haha, awesome. Now I wish I had put a little more thought into it from the get-go. I had kept it intentionally vague because I was thinking about world trees in other mythologies as well, Kabbalah / Tree of Life kind of stuff, but this specific Norse implementation is really cool and it was a clever idea to create one for each of the realms. I also liked your idea on the server of a "shadow yggdrasil" of mycelium (I'd argue that would be more like "the worlds between worlds" rather than a shadow).

    I don't normally go out of the way to advertise the server, but this was a good post, so for those interested, it's **Weird Places & Liminal Spaces**, and it's for Weird Worldbuilding just like what happened with this post, and below is what should hopefully be a forever-invite:

    https://discord.gg/x2aEwUjrpj

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  2. Lovely and creepy! I love the idea of puppets with real teeth or other genuine human artifacts. The idea of these dummies being such a serious matter in this setting is very funny. Like, "Link, you must collect the 9 muppets of legend before Ganondorf uses them to end the world!" Its silly and I love it!

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