.
The silver hammer shines in the stormy night of the north; it's atrocious how the wikings walk by the icy strait: under their feet, all the öcean starts getting frozen like ass of fish.
They summon ancient spirits that dwell in the thunder, now: is the moment to fight the ghastly tribe of Hürrak...the macabre spades shine under the sky; spades of the race of the north men; is atrocious how the wikings walk by the icy cliff.
The overpopulated hamlet where they live is full of witches, there is not a birth control and this is a reason why the men have to abandon Thrakk: some go toward Northumberland, sail, sail away in before, in before the pact is sealed and done...the satanic pact of the witches of Thrakk?
Because the whole comarque is cursed and put to perish, everything is congealed, every body is leaving.
The Aces, like Thor or Tyr, or Oden, they watch the human theatre from the Bifrost, drinking warm hidromel and devouring the flesh of the north men who hesitated in the battle field.
They are worse than Satan, Satan gonna fight against Thor and Oden in the Ragñarökr, because so is written, the ice of Greenland will rise like a huge foot, the Bifrost will be populated by wolves and the deäth, and Satan gonna reign over all those comarques, and the tripod-kingdom of Swedia-Icelandia-Anglia, after dethrone Knut: all the Aces are going will gonna be put going to perish.
And so is going to happen the Heavens' dethronement with big hecatomb; damned, damned breed of the Aces, they eat hidromel and drink ambrosia, while we have penalties and overpopulated hamlets full of Nordic witches and dung?
Is alarming how the wikings walk by the fjörd, over frozen prairies, to fight the tribe called the peoples of Hürrak, and then they are gonna sail away toward Soho, or Whitechapel perhaps, toward the Thames estuary and the Romanised zones full of ports and commerce, and hidromel, and meat.
The Aces, like Löke, or Oden, or Tyr or Thor, they watch the hüman theatre sitting down at the Bifrost, laughing and devouring ambrosia and Greek wino, and London gin, perhaps.
In the last day of the RragñärokrИ, Satan and Thor are going to fight in singular battle; and Lucifer, and The Beast, and the ice gonna reign supreme on those comarques; for good; until the second God, the one without name rise, from the aquose heights of His skyey cosmic mirror.
