Jarl weapons, armour and creator kits
Every Jarl weapon and armour set, how to find one, the forge, loot marks and the vault where new kits show up without a mod update.
The legendary armoury
Every legendary has its own model, five or more powers, a charge bar and growth with every life it takes. Every one of them stands in this hall, each turned in three dimensions from the model the game puts in your hands, and the newest carry the update that brings them.
Jarl weapons
Legendary weapons named for the people who back MidgardPlus. Every picture here is the model the game itself puts in your hands, lit in that weapon’s own colour.
A storm-wolf’s fang, carried by the old chieftain who ran with the wolves. Thunder follows every swing.
Two ravens took the storm in their beaks and would not let go, and Odin bent the dark wood between them into a bow. It asks for no arrows.
Odin cut a moon out of the night and hammered a blade through it. It changes shape in the hand, and what it cuts, it cuts twice.
Tera the Mead-giver keeps the horn filled month after month, so the hall never goes dry. This spear wears that horn at its throat and a leaf of amber and gold at its tip, and like a good guest it always comes home. Throw it, and it finds your hand again.
Sajakain backed MidgardPlus when it was only a fire and an empty hall. Ember was forged in that first hearth, Rime cooled in the winter that followed.
An eagle spread its wings across the storm, and Odin caught it on a board of grey oak ringed with iron and runes. It is the Talon’s other half: the bow strikes, the shield answers.
Two ravens sit on Odin’s shoulders. Thought flies out first and Memory keeps the road home, and Odin the Red set them both in black steel so the hand that holds them goes where the thought goes.
The old smiths named a hammer for what it does, and this one grinds the storm. Odin the Red beat it out of storm iron on a night the sky would not close and quenched it in the rain. It comes home to a hand that has earned it and lies dead in any other.
Odin hung nine nights on the windy tree and came down knowing the runes and the worth of a rope. He beat that knowing into two blades: the Fetter, that chains what it cuts, and the Wing, that takes the chained off their feet. Whatever these two hold is already Odin’s.
Ullr keeps his hall in Ýdalir, the Yew Dales, where the snow never goes and the hunt never ends. The oldest yew there froze through in the Fimbulwinter, and Zero cut this bow from its heart of ice, with a charred skull of the Ashlands grinning at either tip, red embers burning in its eyes, and the northern lights still running in the cracks. It asks for no arrows: every draw looses a shaft of winter light, and it never loses its prey.
Before the world there was Ginnungagap, the yawning gap, where the rime of Niflheim met the sparks of Muspelheim and the venom of Élivágar dripped into it until Ymir woke. Odin cut the first galdr into these gauntlets from what was left of that meeting, eitr set in steel and gold, so that a fist could speak a spell. They answer every punch with a bolt, pour the old rivers from open palms, and when enough blood has been spilled they gather the gap itself into a sphere and throw it.
Odin keeps two hundred names and never the same one twice. Glapsvidr is the swift one in deceit and Svipall is the changing one, and Odin the Red set both names in curved steel for the fighter who never stands still. One blade took its cold from Moder’s breath, the other the light that walks the winter sky. Neither one waits to be struck.
Fenrir lies on the island Lyngvi, held by the cord Gleipnir, which runs to the fetter Gelgja, driven through the rock Gjoll and weighted by the boulder Thviti. Odin cut this staff from the same setting, and in it the fetter runs slack. A sword props the wolf’s jaws apart and the river Van pours from them without end, so every cast throws his slaver. Hold the staff and the binding loosens for a while, and the wolf comes out. Tyr paid a hand for the first binding. You pay blood for every loosening, and it does not come back until the wolf does.
Under the Mistlands the Dvergr keep a hall of lanterns, and there they learned to shut a lantern crystal inside a tube of black iron with brass at the mouth. One crystal, one shot, and the shot is thunder. Odin the Red carried the Þrymlúðr out of that hall. It takes as long to wind as a man takes to think twice, and the winding is the whole of its craft.
Dvalinn and Durin were held against their own rock until they gave this blade up, and they put more into it than they meant to. It shines like a banked hearth, it never misses and it never rusts, and it will not go back in the sheath hungry. Odin the Red carries it anyway, and pays what it asks.
Loptr went down to the gate of death and cut this with runes, and Sinmara keeps it in a chest under nine locks, because it is the one thing that can bring down what nothing else can touch. It is a twig, not a sword. Its spirit bites almost nothing in Midgard, so it opens the hide first and lets everyone else through. Sinmara is going to notice it is gone.
Vegtamr ek heiti. Way-Tamer is the name Odin gave at the gate of Hel, when he rode down to wake the dead seeress and did not want his own name used. It is the staff of a man who has walked every road in the nine worlds and kept walking. It is weakest at your own hearth and strongest where nobody has been. Odin the Red carries it far from home.
Twelve men went into the mound with Hrólfr Kraki and twelve are still in the steel. Skeggi of Midfirth broke the barrow to take it out, and the rules came with it: the sun must not shine on the hilt, and what it cuts will not close without the stone that hangs from the pommel. In daylight it is only the sharpest sword in the north. Out of the sun the twelve wake. Odin the Red keeps it in the dark.
Sigurd’s ship was labouring under the cliffs in a gale when a man on the rocks hailed it and asked to be taken aboard. He gave his name as Hnikarr, the one who overthrows, and the moment he stepped over the side the wind dropped and the sea went flat. This is what he carried aboard: no ornament, one copper coil and one bolt at a time, wound slow. It is the shot that ends the argument. Odin the Red plants a foot in the stirrup and waits for it.
Regin killed nothing with this. Sigurd did the killing, and Regin knelt by the dragon afterwards, opened its chest with this knife, took the heart and wiped the blade on the grass. It was made for the work after the fight: it wants the fight already going and the thing in front of it already hurt. The blood on it never quite dries. Odin the Red carries it for that work.
Beowulf’s hand was too strong for any blade. He swung Nægling at the dragon’s head and it burst in his grip, and the poem is careful to say the sword did not fail him. He broke it. Odin the Red drove what was left through a block of iron and nailed it there. Ask too much of it and it still breaks, and it comes back together harder every time.
Everything in the nine worlds swore Frigg it would never harm Baldr, everything but one green sprig of mistletoe she thought too young to ask. Loki cut it, blind Hodr threw it, and Odin’s son was dead. Long after, Hromund Gripsson dragged a sword of the same name out of the barrow of the draugr Thrain, and it never dulled. The two grew into one staff, the living wood closed over the old blade. Odin calls it the only honest thing he owns. Nothing it touches keeps its oath.
Odin went out to the mounds at night and sat under hanged men until they spoke, and for that he was called Draugadróttinn, lord of the draugar. This staff is three thighbones bound end to end with black wire, and a horse skull set on top the way a níðstang is raised, looking down at the ground it curses. It makes nothing. Everything that answers it is something you already killed, standing up where it fell. Odin the Red carries it into the thick of a fight and lets the fight feed it.
Dáinn the dwarf cut this and left his name on it; the runes by the eye still read it. King Högni drew it at the Hjaðningavíg, and Snorri wrote down its rule: once drawn it must be the death of a man, it never fails in its stroke, and a wound it makes will never heal. The dead of that battle stand up again every night. Odin the Red keeps the ledger.
Thorstein Vikingsson carried this and his son Fridthjof after him, and the saga says the runes on it lay dim in peace and burned when war was coming. Odin the Red found it cold. It is a weather-glass for killing: the runes wake one by one as the blood runs, the fire in the steel comes with them, and the edge goes white before the end. Answer with it and the light pours out down the field, and you start again from the dark.
Odin keeps two hundred names, and one of them is for the board on his arm and not the spear in his hand. Biflindi, the painted one: ochre and oxide and bone white, ravens and wolves running round an eye that never shuts. Flametal ribs burn behind the planks, and every blow it takes goes back as fire. Plant it and it is a wall. Raise it and it is a roof. Stand behind it and you will see why.
Þrúðr is Thor’s daughter, and þrúðr is his strength, and these are the hands it was poured into. In Útgarða-Loki’s hall Thor’s runner Þjálfi raced Hugi three times and lost every race, because Hugi was thought, and nothing outruns thought. Thor never forgot it. He had these bound for the next one who would try: storm steel over the wraps, the hammer on the back of the arm, copper wound round the knuckles so the lightning has somewhere to go. Gird them and you arrive before your own thunder. Odin the Red wears them to be there first.
In the lay of Hymir the gods shook the twigs and read the lots before they feasted, and the Seeress says that when the world has burned Hœnir will choose the lot-wood again. Odin the Red did not wait for the world to end. He cut three lots, Steinn the stone, Egg the edge and Glóð the ember, and set them in iron over his knuckles. Every blow he throws is a lot cast, and he chooses which one falls.
The valkyrie Sigrdrífa taught Sigurd to cut runes on the back of his hand and to mark Nauð on the nail. Nauð is the need-rune: the bondmaid’s grief, the narrow lot, the fetter nobody slips. Odin the Red took her counsel further than she meant. He forged a silver bracer, set a ring on every finger, marked Nauð on each nail and chained the five together, so that need itself could be thrown. One chain binds. One heals as Eir heals. One swings like a völva’s plumb and finds the seam in any hide. One dulls every edge raised against him, the charm Odin boasts of in Hávamál. The last belongs to Forseti, who sits in silver-roofed Glitnir and settles every quarrel, and it weighs a foe before it judges it.
Under the root of the world tree, beside Urðr’s well, three women spin. Urðr spins what was, Verðandi what is, Skuld what shall be, and no god has ever talked them out of a single thread. Odin the Red cut their wheel from the ash itself and set it on a haft. Spin it and it becomes whatever the Norns decide: a scythe, a spear, a bow, now and then a ladle. You do not get to choose. You only get to use it.
Valgaldr is the corpse-song Odin sang at the gate of Hel to wake the dead seeress. LordIvanos found it carved into a black thorn staff crowned with a horned skull and a stone of red soul-fire. Every cast tears an angry soul loose and sends it hunting. Bind your foes and drink from them, spill your own blood to sing louder, and when the price is paid, a Morgen of the ash rises and walks at your side.
The Helm of Awe was carved to terrify the living and to shelter them. Animus had it burned into plates of green iron, bound in metal bands and rivets and a rim of black iron gone green with age, and the dead answered: the runes glow with their pale fire. Block and the spirits gather in the iron. Parry and they strike back in shards of ghost ice. Fill the bar and the ghost wolves of the hunt run at your side.
The old songs give Fenrir many names, and Hróðvitnir, the famed wolf, is the one the Æsir never spoke lightly. When he burst the fetters Leyding and Drómi, splinters of black ash fell where his blood ran into the snow. Trajan gathered them, bent them into a bow and strung it with sinew dyed red. It asks for no arrows: every draw looses a black shaft with a red wake behind it. Let it hunt and the pack gathers, until the black wolf himself rises out of the dark and breathes fire on your prey.
Æðrifr, the vein-tearer, was strung in a barrow under the swamp by a smith who could not die, and every bolt it loosed came home to him as blood. Boko pulled it out of the black water: a crossbow of night black wood with wings of bat hide, a fanged skull at its mouth and a blood gem at its heart that burns brighter with every wound it opens. Every bolt opens a vein, and the crossbow drinks a little of what runs out. Feed it and the bleeding burst, the leeches of the night hunt for it, and when the gem is full, the Red Feast begins.
The Wayfinder was never forged. It was grown in the dark beneath the roots of the world tree, grey metal that drank blood until it learned to move, with a shard of caught red lightning set into its haft to show it the way. Moumix carried it up into the light. In the hand it is a spear; ask it and it stretches into an atgeir. Go all in and it strikes like the storm, every few blows it drinks back some of the blood it spills, and when it has drunk enough, the Bloodstorm breaks.
The Allfather’s spear, cut from the white ash of Yggdrasil and fitted with a blade of dwarven gold. Huginn and Muninn ride its socket, and its runes were carved by the one who hung nine nights for them. Gungnir never misses: thrown with a full heart it finds the foe the ravens chose and comes home to the hand. It wakes small in a boss’s blood and grows brighter with every kill.
A round of weathered granite in a bronze rim, bound with roots and crowned with jade, with the world tree raised on its face and a ring of green runes around it. Catch a blow at the last moment and the stone answers: roots grab the one who swung and the ground bursts around you. It wakes small and grows with every blow it turns.
Tera’s name means earth. The shaft is ash from the world tree with its roots still wound around it, the drum on the haft is granite with Yggdrasil cut into it, and the head is a leaf of jade. Every thrust plants a seed. Throw it and it sinks into the ground and comes back to the hand through the roots. Feed it long enough and the world tree itself comes up to help. It wakes small in a boss’s blood and grows with every kill.
Níðhöggr lies under the world gnawing at the roots of Yggdrasil, and jackdispade went down far enough to hear him chewing. He came back up with a sword of black iron grown over with dragon scales, and the wyrm came with it. It sleeps in the steel and breathes slow, the seams of its scales going red and dark with every breath. The eyes on the hilt never close. Feed it and it wakes: it breathes fire, it bites, and when it is hungry enough it climbs out of the blade to fight beside you.
A unicorn’s horn on a pearl shaft, wrapped in rainbow cord with a pink sash at the head. Thrown, it turns into a bolt of rainbow light that goes through everything in its line and flies home. Hold the name key and SUPERDESTRUCTO lights up the sky, because subtle was never the plan. It wakes small in a boss’s blood and grows brighter with every kill.
Himindreki means sky dragon. In the hand it’s an atgeir, white ash with gold bands and a narrow ice blue blade. Turn it and the dragon wakes at the top of the shaft and opens its wing into a scythe. Every few swings the atgeir’s spirit flies out and comes back to you, the spin throws a gale, a leap from a run brings you down out of the sky, every fourth blow calls the storm, and with the bar full the sky wyrm dives and then circles over you. It wakes small in a boss’s blood and grows with every kill.
Sópvöndr, the sweeping wand. A war broom bound in iron with a spike on the end, and the form key turns it into a mop that hits like a hammer. Spring cleaning, Viking style.
Hel’s smith forged it from Yggdrasil’s root iron and a shard of Garmr’s fury, made for Snugglz. It grows hungrier with every life it takes.
Two plain daggers nobody looks at twice until they’re drawn, made for Snugglz. Fate is the strike that was always going to land, Fury the curse that stays in the wound.
Turn on Jarl weapons in the launcher, the F9 panel or midgardplus.cfg. They turn up where the game hides its own best finds, and an admin can call one with midgardplus legend.
Jarl armour
The first Jarl armour set. Four pieces in black iron and wolf fur under a bright red cape, made for Trajan84 to run with his bow Hróðvitnir.
Every piece wakes small and grows with every kill, like the Jarl weapons: longer sight, harder hide, more fire and a faster fury.
Jarl armour
The author’s own armour. White enamel plate with gold trim and red cloth, and a gold winged raven on the helm with one red eye. Made to stand beside Gungnir, and each piece drops in a land of its own.
Every piece wakes small and grows with every kill, like the Jarl weapons: more ravens, a stronger ward, brighter light.
Jarl armour
The twin wolves’ armour. Four pieces of near black iron with blood red runes, Sköll in ember and Hati in rime, made for Sajakain to stand with his twin axes Ember and Rime. Each piece drops in a land of its own.
Every piece wakes small and grows with every kill, like the Jarl weapons: a colder gaze, a hotter heart, longer tracks and a thicker pelt.
Jarl armour
Four Jarl kits came built in with 1.56.0, next to the two sets from 1.55.0, and the server admin has a set of their own. Every Jarl piece wakes small and grows with every kill.
New in 1.56.0 A Jarl's armour, made for BlackDragonDeath in white, gold and sky blue to wear beside Himindreki.
New in 1.56.0 A creator kit made for TheBarracksRat, twitch.tv/TheBarracksRat, in off white and near black.
New in 1.56.0 A Jarl's kit made for Snugglz, Hel's Forgotten Champion: The Blood of the Wolf Moon.
New in 1.56.0 A Jarl's armour, made for jackdispade to wear beside Jacksníðhöggr in black scales and molten red.
A Jarl’s armour, made for Tera to stand beside the Hornbearer in moss green and bronze.
A Jarl’s armour, made for the streamer Superdestructo to stand beside his Sassbreaker in pearl, pink and rainbow.
Admin only The server admin’s gear. Only an admin can wear it.
Jarl gear comes with Jarl weapons in loot on, and the newest drops in the Ashlands and the deep north. Admins get any of it with midgardplus legend. The regalia answers only an admin, and the server writes down every use.
From the Forge
Jarl weapons still on the anvil. They are coming in a future update and may still change before they reach your world.
Nothing is on the anvil right now. Everything that was here went out with 1.58.0, so you’ll find it in What’s new and in the armoury. The next piece shows up here first.
Loot rarity and enchanting
With Loot rarity on, gear that drops from creatures or waits in a chest you find can come out marked. The enchanting table rerolls, raises and fixes it for runestones. Both start off.
Each step is rarer than the last and carries one more mark. The colour in the tooltip tells you the step. With Loot rarity glow on, runes along the blade show it too: faint silver, more silver, silver with gold that shimmers, and bright gold that pulses.
A mark changes a number the game already keeps. The marks live on the item, so they go with it into a chest, onto the ground and into a friend’s hands. These are the first set:
Loot rarity more marks opens the whole set, like life steal, more health, stamina and eitr, faster swings, thorns and a last stand. Loot rarity damage type marks lets a weapon deal an element it never had, and Spell marks put a staff spell on Epic and Legendary pieces.
Set Loot rarity curse chance above 0 and some marked pieces come out cursed. One curse makes a piece 25 to 40 percent heavier, the other cuts its durability in half. Both show in red in the tooltip, with what it costs to lift them. It starts at 0, so nothing is ever cursed.
Build the table from the crafting tab of the hammer. It carves runestones, and creatures drop them too, 5 in 100 unless your host changes it. Put a piece from your bag in the slot, see every mark and what each choice costs, and look at the result before you pay.
Enchant makes a plain piece Magic, and Raise a step lifts it one rarity higher, drawing new marks. Reroll draws its marks again. Inscribe a mark adds the mark you pick. Strengthen a mark raises one mark a step. Remove a mark takes one off and frees its place. Lift the curse takes curses off and leaves the marks.
Everything is paid in runestones from your bag, and the price sits under each action. Inscribing also takes one material that matches the rarity, and every mark you keep in a raise or reroll adds to the price. When an action is greyed out, the line under it says why.
Elder runes need sockets, and sockets come with rarity: Rare has 1, Epic has 2, Legendary has 3. Lower pieces have none, so raise a piece before you set runes.
Focus runes are used up to give a Epic or better piece a spell. Elder runes, like Fehu or Tiwaz, drop from creatures and bosses and go into sockets. You can take them out again for a few runestones, and the right runes together speak a rune word.
Named legendaries take no marks, runes or rerolls at the table. They grow by awakening and kills instead: hold it while a boss you fought dies to wake it, then every kill makes it stronger and opens its next power.
Shortcuts at the table: hold R and click a piece in your bag to reroll it, Left Shift and R to raise it, C to lift a curse.
The table needs Loot rarity switched on as well. Nothing carries marks without it, so there is nothing to enchant.
These are server settings, all off until your host turns them on:
Loot rarity Loot rarity chance Enchanting Loot rarity glow Loot rarity curse chance Loot rarity more marks Loot rarity damage type marks Spell marks Rune sockets Loot rarity names Enchanting breaks down gear Boss sets with Epic Loot
While Epic Loot is installed, MidgardPlus steps aside and turns Loot rarity and Enchanting off. Back up your world first, take Epic Loot out of the server and every player’s mods, then turn on Loot rarity and Enchanting. Keeping Epic Loot instead? Turn on Boss sets with Epic Loot and bosses still leave their set pieces and their Epic and Legendary gear.
The Legendary Vault
The supporter legendaries after the first five, and the vault armour and shields, come in a signed pack from this site. Your game checks for a newer pack when it starts, keeps it in BepInEx/config/midgardplus-vault and refuses anything Odin didn’t sign. A server sends its own pack to everyone who joins, so everyone there plays with the same numbers.
The vault holds up to 100 legendaries and twenty slots each for helmets, chests, legs, capes and shields, with sets and set bonuses. Since 1.55.1 vault armour can carry its own powers too.
Vault gear crafting lets you make the vault armour and shields at the stations the pack names. It starts off, and admins can always spawn them. Legendary vault offline is your own setting: on, your game never asks this site and uses the pack it has or the one the server sends.
Finding legendaries
More than eighty weapons, shields and armour pieces named for the Jarls who back MidgardPlus on Ko-fi, each with its own powers, element and model. They come only from the hardest places in the world, and every world hides each one somewhere of its own.
Named gear such as Úlfrinn’s Fang, SweatyT’s Talon or the Úlfheðnar set. Powers, finishers, an element no table can change, and they grow with kills. This guide is about these.
The top step of Loot rarity: Magic, Rare, Epic, Legendary. It is an ordinary item with four marks on it. By default a quarter of found gear is marked and 3 in 100 marked pieces reach Legendary. The Gravejarl leaves one 45 times in 100, Ulfarr and Hrævengr 55, the Red One every time. A Jarl legendary never takes rarity marks.
All of these are server settings and all start off. The first one is the switch: without it nothing drops. The rumours tell you where to look, the map setting draws the search circle, and the caches change how they are found (below).
Jarl weapons in loot Legendary rumours Legendary rumours on the map Legendary drops outside their place Legendary caches
Charred fortresses and ash ruins, Dvergr halls, watchtowers and diggings, the frozen villages and halls of the Deep North. Never earlier than their own tier, never in the Meadows or the Black Forest.
Fenrings and their cultists, Dvergr mages, seeker soldiers, fuling berserkers and shamans, morgens, fallen valkyries, charred warriors, marksmen, twitchers and warlocks, bonemaw serpents, and the Dvergr and fulings of the north. Some only from starred ones, and one star is always enough.
Most are 0.5 to 1 in 100 for each kill or chest that can carry them. A kill or a chest gives at most one, to the player who made the kill. One you already have keeps only a quarter of its chance.
Every world gives each legendary a home out of its seed: a stretch about 1400 m across around a real place where it drops. Inside it the chance is four times higher. Outside it keeps 10 percent, set by Legendary drops outside their place.
Inside its stretch, after 40 kills or chests that could have given it and did not, it drops for sure. That count is per player, and only while caches are off.
Stand a few moments in a land where one sleeps and the raven comes. He names the land, the quarter of the world, how far out and the kind of place, never the spot. He waits for the boss before that land: Ashlands and Deep North ones after the Queen, Mistlands ones after Yagluth. The Rumours tab in your book keeps every one, and the saga stones carry them too.
With Legendary caches on, each legendary lies in a guarded chest near the middle of its stretch instead. The map circle starts at a 120 m radius and closes in as you come near and as more saga stones speak of it. Within 150 m a beam in the colour of its element stands over the cache. Two to five creatures of that land rise to guard it, led by a stronger one. Every player who opens it takes their own copy, once. The cache moves every 5 in game days, but never while someone who has not taken theirs is there. While caches are on, ordinary creatures never drop one; bosses keep theirs.
A boss or mini boss keeps the same chance wherever you fight it, with no home and no stretch. Chances are per kill, in 100.
With Legendaries start dormant on, as it starts, a new legendary is a plain strong weapon with its powers asleep. Hit a boss with it, or wear it if it is armour, and be close when the boss dies: it wakes. Then it grows with kills, a point for each level of the creature and 60 for a boss, to full at 750 on most. Its powers wake at 0, 25, 50, 75 and 100 percent. Legendary balance starts on Progression, so a legendary hits like the game’s own weapons of your world: 25 percent before any boss, full only after the Fader. With Legendaries keep growing past full on, a full one keeps counting up to 1200 kills and slowly gets a bit stronger again.
Admins can hand one out with midgardplus legend and a name, midgardplus legend all, or spawn MP_Legend_UlfrinnsFang. midgardplus legend awaken wakes the one in your hand, and midgardplus legend where and a name shows every source, its chance and its home in your world. New legendaries arrive in the signed Legendary Vault pack, without a mod update.