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Loremasters hear tales of heroes who claim to have traveled to Sovngarde and back, but their truth is uncertain. The greatest warriors stride the road to Sovngarde upon their deaths, but if the living can walk there and return, it has not yet been shown.
Yet loremasters know this: Sovngarde exists. So our gods promise, so we believe. Sovngarde lies in the heart of Aetherius, awaiting the souls of departed warriors. Nords who prove themselves in battle awaken in the realm after death. Pain and illness vanish within the Hall of Valor. Revelry is never-ending, mead flows freely, and the greatest Nords of all time compete in tests of strength and prowess.
Spirits trapped in this world know torment, emptiness, and endless suffering, obsessing over lost battles, fallen kingdoms, and unresolved lives. Not so in Sovngarde! Even the tedium of immortality is unknown, for spectral foes wait in the surrounding shadows, waiting to do battle with those who would test their mettle.
Shor created the realm of Sovngarde with his clever magic long ago, but the trickster god has faded from our world. Others have attempted to part the veil of his deceit, practicing forsaken arts and seeking hidden paths into the afterlife. All such attempts end in tragedy. None can out-trick the trickster. For all we know, Shor retreated to that realm and laughs at all who would outwit him. He may even rule the realm, choosing heroes to honor according to his whims.
All this is speculation. Only those who are worthy know the truth, and they speak no more to the living. Through all the suffering and adversity in this world, true Nord warriors endure, for Sovngarde awaits.