Mjagnir, Jötunn

The Jötnar of Jötunheimr are rarely seen in Midgard, for the mountains and the forests of that bleak land of giants and trolls provide all that they want to live their long lives, or so they claim. Yet some Jötnar eyes are drawn to the inhabitants of Manheimr, that strange land to the west where menn swarm like bees and live such short lives despite being so full of their own importance; as was Mjagnir drawn, drawn to a land where blood-thirst can be slaked and the animus can be inflated, for despite his notoriety as perhaps the most brutish Jötunn ever to descend upon Midgard there are many who revere him as a living god, a personification of the furious will that lives in all of them, and beg him to join them upon their raids to the west, raids where plunder and booty are matched only by the battle-joy that engulfs them all. In truth Mjagnir cares little for the squeaking insects beneath him and their pathetic baubles, but allows them to believe he is with them for the joys they offer are unmatched in Jötunheimr, where only other Jötnar roam - joys of battle against beasts tall and strong, huge and ferocious, creatures that he can unleash all of his fury upon and test the strength and the anger he was born with without fear: for even the Jötnar, Mjagnir among them, fear the gods.