Г„gir

"Drink," Ægir commanded, his voice a calm tide. "The sea provides, and the sea takes. Tonight, we drink. Tomorrow, the storms return."

"The Aesir are coming," Ægir rumbled, his voice like the grinding of tectonic plates. Г„gir

Deep beneath the churning grey waves of the North Sea, where the light of the sun is but a pale, flickering memory, lies the hall of Ægir. It is not built of stone or timber, but of polished coral and the bones of leviathans, illuminated by the cold, rhythmic glow of phosphorescent deep-sea blooms. "Drink," Ægir commanded, his voice a calm tide