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.

"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.

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....

Many the biased lives, many the desolate lands and many their names under which the deadly and deadly lady with the scythe is camouflaged. Whether they are the 4 horsemen of the Apocalypse, the black plagues or the fearsome pandemics that devastated humanity. It all starts with the dire omens that announce his coming, the sinister squawk of the crows and the dark songs of the owl, then the sepulchral darkness plunges us into a deep sleep from which we will not awaken. The Exodus tells us of the arrival of 10 plagues (מכות מצרים) that fell on Egypt, in the form of blood first staining its rivers; invaded by frogs, lice, flies and lobsters; like pests and diseases on humans and livestock, until plunging into blackness with the death of the firstborn. Will we be saved from the abyss?

"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 »

Horns? Who needs those horns if not to drink beer, mead or whatever you want. If you want to imitate daring Vikings, please stop embellishing and sharpen your axe because your helmet does not have horns. Today this is already evident, but when German Romanticism - well, more precisely, in the illustrated re-edition of the "Saga of Frithiof" - and in Wagner's "Twilight of the Gods") and, later, Vicky the Viking was given to put two antlers on the helmet, we all ate it with potatoes. The damn truth is that in the tombs found there were some horns positioned near their hooves so that they could drink their favourite concoctions on their way to their bloody feast in Valhalla, hence the legendary confusion. Yes, the giants of the North wore helmets, shields, axes and swords, were butchered and worshipped gods such as Thor, Tyr, Freja and Odin, and none of them wore any kind of bony, pointed projection on their heads.

Not everyone who wanders is lost... It could symbolize a compass or the Vegvísir of the giants of the North, but the truth is that it is the adaptation of Da Vinci's Vitruvian man to bring us closer to the Viking anatomy. Clichés aside, were they muscular, tall, blond and blue-eyed, tattooed, with a beard and a big hair that you shit on? Well, yes, with nuances. As for the Scandinavian touch, it must be said that there was also ethnic diversity due to the migrations and abductions around Europe, their strength was that of the multi-faceted farmers who so soon fought, fished or farmed. They were fearful because of their height, the axes, the looting and those "little details" that we have been told about. It must be said that they were no more terrifying and violent than other people or civilizations of the time.

Not everyone who wanders is lost... It could symbolize a compass or the Vegvísir of the giants of the North, but the truth is that it is the adaptation of Da Vinci's Vitruvian man to bring us closer to the Viking anatomy. Clichés aside, were they muscular, tall, blond and blue-eyed, tattooed, with a beard and a big hair that you shit on? Well, yes, with nuances. As for the Scandinavian touch, it must be said that there was also ethnic diversity due to the migrations and abductions around Europe, their strength was that of the multi-faceted farmers who so soon fought, fished or farmed. They were fearful because of their height, the axes, the looting and those "little details" that we have been told about. It must be said that they were no more terrifying and violent than other people or civilizations of the time.

Enter the secret garden of the moons, a sacred place, full of hope, abundance and desire...a reunion with nature, the rebirth of life. Its immense mystery and radiance will light your way to the ends of the magical night...

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...

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...

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...

La Estantigua (in Castilian tradition), Güestia or Bona Xente (in Asturian mythology), Corteju de Genti de Muerti (in Extremadura), Estadea (in Zamora), Hueste de Ánimas (in León), Vision, La Huespeda… different names to refer to the Santa Compaña, that group of wandering hooded ghosts, a dark army of souls in pain that wandered in the gloomy night through the towns, forests and crossroads as an omen of death. To know its origin, we must go back to Germanic paganism (Wild Hunt — whose evolution under the medieval Christian veil would give the gloomy spectral procession Mesnie Hellequin—) and Celtic (the Sluagh or the Fairy Host) related to omens of wars, plagues, diseases future and acts of gathering souls.