Rumbling thunder cracks the sky. And rain starts pouring down. Lightning strikes a cold bright light. Upon the bloodrenched ground.

The sword play is hard. And many falls. Steel bites sharp in flesh.

And upon a mountain. Towering tall. Stands the messengers of death.

Five horsemen in Armour bright. Waiting in the flashing light. Looking down upon the field. Where Vikings fight with axe and shield.

On stallions black as night. With eyes burning red. They ride with thunder to the fight. Deliverance of certain death.

A warcry loud as Heimdall's horne. Echoes across the land. Enemies who hear it freeze to the bone. Friends of doom proudly stands.

They ride faster than the wind. With lighting speed they strike. Black ravens follow where they've been. To feed from those died.

With power they vield their swords. As they ride down fleeing men. Sending them to Hel's dark court. To never come back again.

The warriors ride once more. To the mountain from which they came. Once sent by the gods to war. And they never return in shame.