[Quitti]

"This is an outrage!" The shout of Skratti boomed through the hall. "What do you mean, you did not attack the lands of the false faith!? No matter if they control swamps or whatever! They do not know of the Lord of The Hunt, one who brings us the Illwinter! They must be cleansed, purged, scoured from this world with niefel flames!"

The Gode flinched. He had only been sent to take the mountains, but happened to encounter some little men in black steel on the way, having to kill them in the process due their innate aggressiveness. Now the little men had set up a citadel in the bordering mountains between the land of Ulm and Jotunheim.

"Hrmm..." the Gygja in the hall muttered. "They do pose us a great threat. We will send capable Jarls to their neighbors to see if they are with us, or against us. There's hot winds coming from across the mountains, the Ulm do not probably dwell there. Another nation must recide there, they might prove to be a valuable ally, if they listen to us."

So it happened, that a few Jarls were sent across the mountain range. Rest of the Jotun society started to prepare for warfare. Guardians of temples agreed to help the local Jarls and Godes in their efforts, providing the great power of Lord of the Hunt to the war party. Axes were sharpened, mead drank, flesh of mountain boars roasted. Plans were laid, dismissed, accepted. The mountain castle must fall first. The mountains belong to the giants, not little men clad in black iron.

Then it happened. The great power from the mountains descended. An'Karak had awoken in time to bless their campaign into the swamps and beyond. An'Karak himself leading the army, no one could possibly stand between the main force of Jotunheim and their target. The cool wind from the east blowing on their backs they set to march.

The nation of Jotunheim had gone to war.