If you have seen women running through the streets from one place to another being chased by some half naked guys in wolf skins who whipped and whipped them with bloody strips of ram, do not be alarmed! they are just remembering an old pagan festival, something lewd that yes, but it was a sacred rite of purification and fecundity celebrated in Ancient Rome every February 15 called the lupercales or Lupercalia.

The word comes from lupus, that is, wolf and its Roman god of fertility and male sexuality Fauno Luperco (Greek mythological deity Pan, the one who protected the wolf), a strange, hairy being, with legs and horns of a goat and large, pointed ears with a voracious and infinite sexual appetite.

One of the legends tells that in the ancient city of Alba Longa, the evil Amulio after deposing his brother Numitor from the throne, ordered to kill all his first-born, turning his daughter Rea Silvia into a virgin so that she would not have successors, but The god of war Mars was enraptured by the girl and they procreated the brothers Romulus and Remus, who managed to escape from the clutches of their uncle Amulio, managing to survive in the forests thanks to the woodpecker and the she-wolf Luperca who nursed and raised them. Years later they would return to their homeland to take revenge and kill him.

Due to the shortage of fertility and women in Rome, the oracle of the goddess Juno announced that the mothers of Lazio would be fertilized by a male goat. For this purpose, a ritual was held every February 15 in the Lupercal cave - there where Romulus and Remus were suckled by the she-wolf - where the most virile young men were selected - those ephebos who, on their initiation path, had lived in the forests as human wolves—, called loberos or luperci (friends of the wolf), and their faces were marked with the blood of a dog and a sacrificed male goat.

To make the rite more fun and interesting, virile members were created in the form of strips with the skin of the goat ... The libido to the surface, the lustful participants launched themselves in the carnal search for women eager to be impregnated, who agreed in a Shameless sexual play, whipping and spanking included, in a depurifying act that increased fertility.

Christianity erased with a stroke of the pen this fun bacchanal, so beneficial to health and to the women of Ancient Rome, moving it to February 14, Valentine's Day.

Naked, in front of oneself, next to the oak, the sun awaits us, it plays night vigil.

Let the log burn, let us burn the old,

and with its ashes we purify our soul,

their fertile sowing give us an abundance of heart and wisdom.

May the ancestors join us in the great banquet until dawn.

The life that sleeps under the earth will be reborn after darkness.

Yule.

The last Iberian was a human comet that crossed this world until it was lost in the Iditarot, that distant place of which the natives of Alaska spoke. Its splendor left us with a blast of light that, like the ancient shamans of the tribe, deeply connected us with the forgotten memory of the true meaning of life and its mystery, its cosmic meaning. An invitation to reconnect with that ancestral past in which we beat in harmony with Mother Earth, which desperately urged us to strengthen ties with nature as keys to living in the future, to embrace and save Gaia - who reacts when we mistreat her. , and not be carried away by the drift of modernity that tries to dominate it to maximize material growth.

He wanted to be a wolf to live in unpolluted lands. It was that lupus that was part of mythology - where Palaeolithic man, fully integrated into nature, merged with the wolf in a rite of passage - turned into a warrior to face aggression ... Our archetype was a A rebellious, indomitable, visionary, free and wild hero who did not allow himself to be tamed and who fought tirelessly for life, forests and threatened fauna. The spell of his word, his energy, his enthusiasm, his vitality, his strength, his message and his codes captivated and transformed with his light a lineage, that of the line of the free, that like cranes stretched by the lash of the winter know, if not to return, at least feel, perceive and look out to that lost paradise that you dreamed of, so that in the Iberian nights the beautiful howls of the wolf will not stop being heard.

[Text and Design inspired by Felix Rodríguez de la Fuente and the masterful Cuarto Milenio program: “Felix, the last hero” by Iker Jiménez]

You can't breathe
You can't run
You can't get away
The bell will not save you... 

A custom-made pine suit
Grand Duke without pulse asleep,
The box and the crypt are closed
You can't escape with your keys
And with fogged glass
Who will see you? 

Gelineau Syndrome
Excess Narcolepsy
In a deep sleep you will fall
Flowers on your grave
No spider nails, you scream and bang
To a coffin they won't listen to

Pests, epidemics and cholera
taphephobia does not help you
Two metres below ground
Tight burial
Sealed stone slab
In a matter of hours your choking

Premature funeral
Fear of the dark
Sepulchral silence...
Buried alive you are

The Old Skull present in our logo, symbolizes the echoes from the past: the bones, the gravestones and the wounded land that speak to us and tell us ancient stories, some of them stunning and beautiful but others forged with iron & blood. Used also in the old traditions of satirical and ridiculous poems making social criticism and protest. And the second mark of our brand identity, the New Moon, the mysterious female powers of the great goddess mother during the harvest, that means —in old Celtics beliefs— a opportunity to start over, a new beginning after death —after the full moon—.

The Old Skull present in our logo, symbolizes the echoes from the past: the bones, the gravestones and the wounded land that speak to us and tell us ancient stories, some of them stunning and beautiful but others forged with iron & blood. Used also in the old traditions of satirical and ridiculous poems making social criticism and protest. And the second mark of our brand identity, the New Moon, the mysterious female powers of the great goddess mother during the harvest, that means —in old Celtics beliefs— a opportunity to start over, a new beginning after death —after the full moon—.

You can't breathe
You can't run
You can't get away
The bell will not save you... 

A custom-made pine suit
Grand Duke without pulse asleep,
The box and the crypt are closed
You can't escape with your keys
And with fogged glass
Who will see you? 

Gelineau Syndrome
Excess Narcolepsy
In a deep sleep you will fall
Flowers on your grave
No spider nails, you scream and bang
To a coffin they won't listen to

Pests, epidemics and cholera
taphephobia does not help you
Two metres below ground
Tight burial
Sealed stone slab
In a matter of hours your choking

Premature funeral
Fear of the dark
Sepulchral silence...
Buried alive you are

The irreverent and revolutionary Old skull, the spirit of fun. Skulls were used in the old traditions of satirical and ridiculous poems making social criticism and protest, dates 500 years ago. Also had been used in different plays like the ”Dance of Death” in the 14th century. People needed satire to help deal with the grim world (plagues and diseases) around them. But the symbol emerged in Mexico as a means of expression especially used with roguish and ironic tones against the nobles and powerful of the viceroy times. It is also used during the celebration of the day of the death.

Breath Souls. Breath of life. Last Breath... The old skulls, bones, stones and the earth whisper to us ancient amazing stories, but also too many forged with iron, blood and death....

Life is an adventure and we must not let it escape, do not you want to discover everything that this world offers you? Do not wait for the deathbed to look back and regret what you have not done all this time. Now is your opportunity, it is your moment, throw yourself on the horizon, take flight and cross borders, navigate to the beyond with the decision and courage of an eagle. Fortune favors the andes and daring, rest assured that the gods will reward you.

We are the horsemen who ride with beasts of pipes and steel based on black fuel, in this hostile land, the roads are nightmares, the cities are deserts and humanity feeds on men... the leaders cannot stop this avalanche, the storm from fear…

Driven by this confusion full of frustrated dreams, we unscrupulously take revenge on the burdens, we will annihilate with our sword, with hunger, with death and with the beasts...

The great earthquake dyes the sun black and the blood moon, the stars fall from the sky...

The great day has come... in the midst of this chaos hope will resurface...

Don't you want to ride like a horseman from the Apocalypse to hell itself carrying this iron cross? Discover new horizons and new worlds, cross the wild nature flying free to the ends of the Universe. Be bold, break barriers, the rules if necessary, help your people and do not forget that the trophy you carry is a symbol of loyalty, companionship, courage, rebellion and freedom.

We are the horsemen who ride with beasts of pipes and steel based on black fuel, in this hostile land, the roads are nightmares, the cities are deserts and humanity feeds on men... the leaders cannot stop this avalanche, the storm from fear…

Driven by this confusion full of frustrated dreams, we unscrupulously take revenge on the burdens, we will annihilate with our sword, with hunger, with death and with the beasts...

The great earthquake dyes the sun black and the blood moon, the stars fall from the sky...

The great day has come... in the midst of this chaos hope will resurface...

I am lying down, piled up with mine, it is summer, and it's time to finally enjoy the deserved rest. Beside me my companions with an immobile smile and a jaw set in permanent happiness. This time the women and children did not come, they stayed at home. The youngest who is with me is 50 bodies away, he has a sentence of 16. He came because he always wanted to travel the world and now, on his mobile phone from the waist up and down, he spends his days looking towards the sea through the small hole opened between the amasijos, the parapets and the stacked redoubts of those bastions turned into sandcastles, which together with contorted meat, brains and eyes out of their basins with the sun form a unique theme park. They say it was a bombardment. I do not remember. Now I just need to rest...

"That is not dead which can eternal lie, And with strange aeons even dead may die" 

H. P. Lovecraft, poet, essayist, author, an appreciated and misunderstood genius of the cosmic horror novel. Pagan and creator of blasphemous stories of the wonderful and the ridiculous, his oniric dreams have drawn the worst of our nightmares and inspired in the form of worship the curious and daring who have come to read his chilling and delicious work full of outer beings, ancient gods and ancestral monsters ... Cthulhu, Shub-Niggurath, Nyarathotep, Azathoth, Yog-Sothoth .... As our friend said so well ... The oldest and strongest emotion of humankind is fear, and the most oldest and strongest kind of fears is fear of the unknown »

"Only dead fish follow the stream of the river".

Swimming against the current is an odyssey in an open world where paradoxically there is more access to information but at the same time we are more controlled. Reflections of those dystopian universes — riddled with environmental disasters and cataclysms — from science fiction novels have come true. But there is still hope. There are spaces of freedom to ambush, where dissidents and freethinkers can react and rebel against the flashes of tyranny, censorship and dehumanization present in society. In some remote and lost place the Lineage of the free will always resist.

You were a humble peasant who barely knew how to read & write. In your native Domremí countryside you heard voices & embarked on an uncertain destiny to liberate France from the English. Together with your faithful soldiers, you raised your banner & launched yourself in suicidal acts until liberating the siege of Orleans & crowning your dolphin. That was your glorious rise that preceded your terrible end. They betrayed you & accused you of heresy. A scorching fire ended your life.

Were you perhaps God's chosen one or a madwoman driven by schizophrenia & hallucinations? Be that as it may, you were the maiden acclaimed by your people, the fervent heroine that you faced against all the powers of the earth until you almost won the Hundred Years War. Today Joan, your name is already a legend.

"Only dead fish follow the stream of the river".

Swimming against the current is an odyssey in an open world where paradoxically there is more access to information but at the same time we are more controlled. Reflections of those dystopian universes — riddled with environmental disasters and cataclysms — from science fiction novels have come true. But there is still hope. There are spaces of freedom to ambush, where dissidents and freethinkers can react and rebel against the flashes of tyranny, censorship and dehumanization present in society. In some remote and lost place the Lineage of the free will always resist.