Wednesday grinned approvingly as Destruction wrecked havoc on the angels wings. Snow white angels wings, he thought to himself and laughed. Wednesday turned to look at the Marquis. "The Hill. Prime stretegic point. He who sits at the top will be the King! We must make our way there to ensure victory!"
Wednesday paused for a minute. King of the Hill. A child's game. He was slightly disturbed at his thoughts. It wasn't right for him to be enjoying this as much as he was, it was... ungodly. It made him think...
Until a tightly packed snowball hit him squarely in the back of the head, causing his glass eye to soar onto a nearby snow bank. High pitched angelic laughter echoed in his ears.
Needless to say it knocked him out of his reverie, and again his blood boiled. He looked to the Marquis. "Come, friend. To the Hill!"
On top of a snow drift, a grey eye stared unblinking into a white English Vestri Strönd! ... Eða hæð... hvað sem, hver sem er, hver sá..."*

*"To the Western Shore... Or hill... whatever..."