Voices from the spirit world can be heard through the dark   winternights, the heartbeats of the spirit. It is the holy twelve   days of Yule. Dark shapes can be seen in the sky; riders of   death. They suddenly charge down from the clouds in wonderful   wilderness; kings and chieftains, thieves and murderers - all in   the same phalanx, drifting mysteriously through the air on spirit   horses, arriving when least expected. Black shields, furs from   bear and wolf, shining blades, open wounds and ropes still tied   around their necks; they are Wuotan's pack of warges, the undead   and the dead - the immortal warriors of Ansuzgarda! The   werewolves haunt the sacred twelve days of Yule in packs, looking   after the living; hail the sacred traditions, hail the spirits of   the dead, hail the holy ritual of Wuotan, or face the wrath of   the Ansuz and the hooves of Sleipnir. Face the Ansuzgardaraiwo!