In the cold, harsh winters of Scandinavia, the Vikings ruled with an iron fist. But there was a certain sect of Vikings who were feared even by their own kind. They were known as the Skull Heads, a group of warriors who wore the skulls of their enemies as helmets, a constant reminder of their brutality. They were the deadliest fighters in all the land, feared and revered by all who crossed their path. One dark night, the Skull Heads set out on a raiding mission, their longboats cutting through the icy waters of the fjords. But as they approached their target, they could sense something was off. The air was thick with the stench of death and decay, and the mist seemed to swirl with a life of its own. Suddenly, ghouls appeared from the shadows, their eyes glowing with an eerie light. The Skull Heads drew their weapons, ready for battle, but the ghouls were unlike any enemy they had faced before. They were fast and elusive, able to dart in and out of the darkness with lightning speed. The Skull Heads fought bravely, but their weapons seemed to have no effect on the ghouls, who seemed to be impervious to their attacks. As dawn broke and the Skull Heads retreated, they knew they had encountered something beyond their understanding, something that even their fearsome reputation could not protect them from.