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]

"He was not the most honest or the most pious man, but he was a brave man" P. Reverte.

If you lived dangerously and your life was hanging by a thread, if you defied authority, defending your reason and rights with the proud point of your sword, if you sacrificed yourself and were generous and human, if you were fearless, reckless, arrogant, brave, adventurous, seductive, rogue, loyal, if you were capable of the most heroic but also the meanest actions, if you were guided by your code of honour, if you sought glory on the margins of society and the law, if you lost your innocence in the face of the harsh reality of mud and blood, and if, disenchanted, everyone abandoned you. .. then you were probably an Old Thirdsman, a tired hero in rusty armour, a forgotten anti-hero like a cursed Alatriste.

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.

"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.

"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 »

"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 »

"He was not the most honest or the most pious man, but he was a brave man" P. Reverte.

If you lived dangerously and your life was hanging by a thread, if you defied authority, defending your reason and rights with the proud point of your sword, if you sacrificed yourself and were generous and human, if you were fearless, reckless, arrogant, brave, adventurous, seductive, rogue, loyal, if you were capable of the most heroic but also the meanest actions, if you were guided by your code of honour, if you sought glory on the margins of society and the law, if you lost your innocence in the face of the harsh reality of mud and blood, and if, disenchanted, everyone abandoned you. .. then you were probably an Old Thirdsman, a tired hero in rusty armour, a forgotten anti-hero like a cursed Alatriste.

"He was not the most honest or the most pious man, but he was a brave man" P. Reverte.

If you lived dangerously and your life was hanging by a thread, if you defied authority, defending your reason and rights with the proud point of your sword, if you sacrificed yourself and were generous and human, if you were fearless, reckless, arrogant, brave, adventurous, seductive, rogue, loyal, if you were capable of the most heroic but also the meanest actions, if you were guided by your code of honour, if you sought glory on the margins of society and the law, if you lost your innocence in the face of the harsh reality of mud and blood, and if, disenchanted, everyone abandoned you. .. then you were probably an Old Thirdsman, a tired hero in rusty armour, a forgotten anti-hero like a cursed Alatriste.

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.

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...

Old rites, the religion of the peasants, the "men without God", with the arrival of the stone and bronze age, the cult to Vanir, the goddess mother of the shamanic, cults to the fertility, to the gods of the hunt, the adoration to the sun, megalithic monuments are raised, with the Celts the cults are fused, the adoration of divinized heroes with the Nordic civilizations...., ancient gods, magical deities, elves, goblins, nymphs, fairies ... and Rome arrives with post-Greek epic gods and the decline of the empire, Christianity imposes itself, "the revealed truth" adopts ancient beliefs in their dogmas, displaced ancient pagan rites and replaced, the christianized "barbarians", a cult for the damned of the Earth... What about the resurgence of the "sacred breath"? That world full of gods?

Adventurers, warriors, survivors, barbarians, nomads and plunderers, the epic Goths crossed half the world, living mythical episodes. Related with the Nordic universe, they worshiped the kingdom of Asgard, their eagles and crows that whispered to Odin the thought and memory of the mortals, guide them from the legendary corners of Scandinavia, crossing the Balkans towards the West. They saw the fall of the Roman Empire and the rise of the Muslim, and built a new powerful hispanic state where they coexisted with the three cultures.

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.

"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 »

Quién eres? De dónde vienes?

No importa, de muy lejos. Venía a conquistar tu tierra, pero ya no puedo…

Inténtalo si te atreves!!, ¿acaso crees que no domino el arte de la naginata?

No voy a luchar contigo… ¿Y eso? ¿el aroma a sakura ha nublado tu ardor guerrero?

Quizá, pero ahora sé que no he surcado con mis naves hasta los confines del universo solo para someteros

¿Someternos? Jamás os vi ni oí hablar de vosotros, pero tu odio jamás nos detendrá…

¿Es que no lo entiendes? No son tu sol, tu espada y tus crisantemos blancos por lo que descansa mi furia

Quédate entonces y verás florecer los cerezos…

This is our tribute to the fearsome and honorable lady samurai of Japan, Onna-Bugeisha.

Warriors like the courageous Empress Jingū who defied the social norms of her time, or the menacing and loyal Tomoe Gozen, who according to the 13th century poem the Song of Heike, was a reckless horsewoman to whom neither the bravest horse nor the most rugged land could intimidate, capable of, with her skillful handling of the sword and the arch, face a thousand fierce warriors; or the intrepid Nakato Takeko who instructed in the martial arts of the naginata, directed the famous independent female unit Joshitai and before being captured by her enemies, asked her sister to cut off her head, following the Seppuku ritual.

The image of the shirt is an adaptation of Tomoe Gozen portrayed by Kikuchi Yōsai.