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~mjollnir
war*hammer
	They had come together at the ford of the Trident while the
	battle crashed around them, Robert with his warhammer and his
	great antlered helm, the Targaryen prince armored all in
	black.  On his breastplate was the three-headed dragon of his
	House, wrought all in rubies that flashed like fire in the
	sunlight.  The waters of the Trident ran red around the
	hooves of their destriers as they circled and clashed, again
	and again, until at last a crushing blow from Robert's hammer
	stove in the dragon and the chest behind it.  When Ned had
	finally come on the scene, Rhaegar lay dead in the stream,
	while men of both armies scrambled in the swirling waters for
	rubies knocked free of his armor.
		[ A Game of Thrones, by George R.R. Martin ]
