the table was set for Raven wolves followed us to the feast while Tyr’s hand rests within Fenrir’s throat there is no farewell to arms words said; oaths made only the Norns would decide if this was our death day howl you Beserkers! pick up your axes and swords run upon the deer-roads the runes are cast wolfbane drips from arrow tips Odin’s feast awaits us today we go to war! our blood the price for Loki’s gold