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Another runestone sketch for the Poetic Edda - Odin suspended on the world tree and pierced with a spear, perceiving the runes below at the center of the nine realms.

#odin

dvktheartist

"The cold wind howls, but I stand unshaken. My sword is sharpened, my heart steady. The battle before me does not frighten me—I was born for this."

See closeup - I zoom here: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/Zxw0H6WLbX8

#sheildmaiden

illustratus

The Binding of Fenrir by Mabel Dorothy Hardy

#fenrir

madcat-world

Jormungand - Elena Skitalets

#jormundgandr

jonquilclegane

Sigyn by the amazing Sylvia Strijk

At the Comic con in Brussels earlier this year, I got to meet the great and lovely @strijkdesign. Her illustrations and talent blew me away and I had to ask her for a portrait of Sigyn. I think this might be one of my favourites, in all honesty! Simply amazing, I have no words. Thanks again for this masterpiece!! <3

#sigyn

ghilliedubh

Loki in Hiding

-upg-

I often see Loki in his 'outcast' or hermitic aspect. Here he hides in the wilderness, returning to perhaps an older form. I view him in a cave, lit by a modest fire. He sits cloaked and hooded. Before him is a low, rounded working surface on which he weaves a spiraling net that resembles a spider's web.

I believe that one of Loki's oldest forms is as the weaver of nets, setter of traps. He embodies the way humans have survived in the wild through outsmarting and tricking potential prey as well as predators. To the hunter-gatherer, stealth and trickery is a vital skill. I wonder to myself if his name could have the same roots as words like the Finnish loukku (trap) and Russian ло́вкий ('lóvkij' - skillfull, cunning).

As outcast, to me Loki does not seem uncomfortable or desperate, he returns to his natural state. Here he is not "Slanderer of the Gods" or "Forger of Evil", he is just Loki.

#loki

skalldor

The old prophecy, in trembling breath, foretold A savage wolf whose jaws devour the light. We sneered at runes, dismissing warnings cold; Now shadows spread to blanket all in night.

Dark voices gather, like a prayer to absent gods, In dread, we witness the slow dying of the light. No mortal blade can break these ancient cosmic odds; As Sköll prowls, devouring day to darkest night.

Yet precious hours should not be drenched in fear; Embrace each breath before the final flame. Too soon the sun is lost—the end is near— And none may claim they never heard its name.

-- 3D Render + digital painting

#skoll