The night was grim, the sky was black. The tears of odin's fallen poured from the sky. In the nightsky they seemed to come from. Axes and swords they drove into their enemies bodies.
The southern bastards wanted revenge. To the northern lands they rode. One man didn't flee. He chose to fight. In a trance of rage and adrenaline he fought in the name of odin's berserkers.
He slaughtered as many as he could. Death soon caught up with him. Right in the chest a sword was driven in him. As he fell down the village started to burn. Tears will wash the blood from his sword. To Asgard he will go and to the hall of Valhalla he'll forever be.