Wolves in the temple we are,
Locked jaw to jaw in vile opposition,
Blemish the gifts of the gods

Heaving our poison in clear-water rivers

Vargar i véum


The black sword of Surtr is ours,
Brandished to scorch our way through the masses.

The false tongue of Loki is ours,
The lies that we tell prove our best allies


Words from the dead
The living won´t listen


Fear - our deepest fears
Are written in this saga,
Seer - please talk to me

The impending doom is near

Forsworn and furtive we stand,

Patching up holes on the ships that seclude us,
Harvesting nails till the end,
The hour is nigh, the eagre´s upon us


Langrækið hafið


We battered and savaged the norns,
Took over the wheel, entangling our life-threads,
Fire and steel make the law:

Each pays its toll or burns down to ashes

Words from the dead

The living won´t listen

Fear - our deepest fears

Are written in this saga,
Seer - please talk to me
The impending doom is near.