The Middle-World,
consumed by strife,
and ice.
Brothers defile sisters,
fathers murder sons,
the Great Winter,
spares no one.

Bonds burst,
and hatred,
poisons his mind.
The Sly One,
slips free from his,
sorrowful bonds.
Revenge he will seek.
Blood he will spill.

The Wolf runs free,
the Nine Worlds sundered.
The Great-Devourer,
born from Deceit and Anger,
shall consume existe...

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The Crusher bereft,
Asgard in peril.
They will soon march,
on the bridge of flames,
to sow their mischief,
misery and destruction.

Njord's daughter
was the prize,
the thurses lord desired.
No wights may hold,
Vingthor's hammer,
unless she was brought,
as a bride for Thrym.

There then he,
the White god,
suggested to bring the Thunderer,
to the thurses lord,
under the guise of F...

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In the distance I see him there,
smile spreading cross face,
hate and fire filled eyes,
he will be my demise.

With a mighty roar,
he advances.
Earth shaking as he sprints,
My fate is sealed.

I spur my steed,
Steel my nerves,
Focus my eye on the Wolf,
Knowing I will die,
I am calm.
My aim is true,
I throw the Swaying One,
and the Wolf yelps in fury.

Blinded is he,
by spear an...

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I know myself hanging there,
on that windy tree,
whose roots are unknown,
a sacrifice of myself to myself,
Wounded by my spear Gungnir,
for nine long nights and days I hung,
No food nor drink was brought to me,
Sinking into death they appeared,
Reaching out with a scream,
I grasped the runes,
and sunk from the tree,
with a sigh.

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For Loki;


Oh Lopt, the slandered god, I judge you not.
Your actions seem unjust or selfish,
but they are not.
They are quite the opposite.
You, the Wily Giftbringer,
what would the mighty gods be,
if you hadn't cut off the Lady's hair?
Hotheaded and sly,
you made the gods stronger,
through your mischief.

What of the walls of Asgard?
Without you, oh Loke,
they would be vulnerable...

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The knife protrudes from his chest.
His heart pierced by cold steel.
The man falls to his knees.
Takes a final breath,
and falls over.

Blood covers my sweaty hands.
Adrenaline courses through my veins.
I do not feel guilt,
nor shame.
Instead I am awash in relief.
The deed is done and I feel anew.

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Banished for an act not committed,

I am cursed by my fate,

A prophecy they said,

foretold by the Norns,

of me devouring Allfather.

Cursed I am,

by my blood.

Son of Chaos,

Mischief was expected,

I am not one for tricks,

Despite my wily father.

Cursed I am,

by my strength

and pride.

They used this against me,

told me it was a test of strength.

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Hail the Almighty Thunderer!

Giants flee when he is near,

For Mjolnir splits their skulls,

Breaks their bones!

You will fear Thor when he is near!

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Fools you are,
Following the words of the Deceitful One,
How can you kneel to a God that demands servitude?
An angry, jealous God that will make you kneel by force?
Are those the words and actions of a God of Love?
Of Kindness?
No.
Those are the words of a Liar.
A marauder!
A scoundrel!


Fools you are,
Kneeling before an Unjust God!
A God of Deceit!
A God of Unjustly anger!
A God ...

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 I awoke in a cold sweat,
On that frigid, unholy night,
For He has spoken to me
     The Sound of Night,
Though He did not use words,
    I understood His might
Bellowed from a place without light.

   Echoes of Darkness pulsated,
Surged within my head,
Screams from the Void,
   The sound of the Dead!
His message of dread was clear:
  "Grip your foes with fear,
Show them their end is...

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