[ WP ] You were a soldier in a future conflict , until your heroic death . Now you face the battlefield of the Ragnarok of Nordic myth , with your full war kit .

Here I stand, upon weary earth, as the skies die. Fire and steel. That is what everything comes down to. Blades of grass catch fire and wither from the same eldritch fire which sends the clouds themselves screaming. 
 
 I watch in shock as the jaws of the great serpent consume all in it's path. My finger shudders and pulls the trigger, half in despair and half from instinct. The trigger completes the circuit and the energy flows from the fuel cells into the central compartment almost instantaneously. The energy magnetizes the rails, which propel the slug between them to speeds exceeding Mach 10. The slug ceases to exist, instead transitioning into a jet of superheated plasma that smashes through the lower left fang of Jormugandr. The fang splinters, becoming a hail of shrapnel, followed by the unstoppable ball of plasma that sears, vaporizes and cauterizes all flesh. 
 
 The great serpent thrashes, emitting great wails of pain. Wait. Serpents do not wail. 
 
 Oh Gods, the wolf.
