Altar of Ymir

The clangor of the swords had died away, the shouting of the slaughter was hushed; silence lay on the red-stained snow. The bleak pale sun that glittered so blindingly from the ice-fields and the snow-covered plains struck sheens of silver from rent corselet and broken blade, where the dead lay as they had fallen. The nerveless hand yet gripped the broken hilt; helmeted heads back-drawn in the death-throes, tilted red beards and golden beards grimly upward, as if in last invocation to Ymir the frost-giant, god of a warrior-race... - The Frost-Giant\'s Daughter It is said that the battlefield is truly Ymir\'s altar. The war god does not want murdered sacrifices so much as beautiful deaths during the din of glorious combat. Yet those most devoted to the Lord of Storm and War still find themselves constructing places where they can directly commune with their god through the medium of spilt blood. On the cold winds of deadly winter, one might hear the grinding whisper of the Father of Giants saying, \'You get what you give.\'