The village of Toivoton, where we set the stage for this sad affair.
The buildings of Toivoton are, for a few blessed moments, bathed in light. A false dawn approaches and the dwellers in the dark disappear.
In death there is life and in memory there is revelation. They gather confused to celebrate dagmál, to strengthen themselves before the gods, to have the will to walk on. They cannot know what awaits .
Iku-Turso, the breaker, stands guard over his fallen lord. The light will soon turn red. The eye of the world is searching for prey.
Silently the sky hill descends upon Toivoton. The villagers hide in fear but the draugr do not remember enough to fear the wytch of the morning sky.
Madness from the time of the gods, fear the knowledge of the past.
The howling of the dogs of Ragnar gives the oathbound the strive to flee. Hirdmen stay to wet their blades.
Kratti Skulle Man tears into Ragnar Hårfagre, rusted blade and draugr’s hate meet zealous madness in a bitter clash as the sky hill warps reality.
Borkka Birgersson clashes with the primitive Iku-Turso, both behemoths are bloodied but in the end the savage fury triumphs
Wytches, the ancient doom of man. Wild laughter is heard as the searchlights focus on the mad melee beneath the temple.
The bloodfeast of the hird buys time for the servitors to flee with their precious cargo, Tuonela awaits.
Nearly overwhelmed the wytch jaegers realize just how badly they prepared for their prey.
Reality is bent and the wytch of the sky plucks Kratti from his foe. His dead eyes do not register the change. smashing into the primeval horror.
The gate is left open and through it more warriors are dragged up into the heavens. As the funeral process continues the berserk warriors tear at the wytch.