DoC Faction Wars (Read First Post)

[ales_]

Egyptians 2
Nordic 6
Tibet 3
Italian 6[/B]
Dutch 6
Prussian 7

 

[Sissyphos]

Egyptians 2
Nordic 6
Tibet 3
Italian 6
Dutch 3
Prussian 8

 

[Jusos2108]

Egyptians 2
Nordic 7
Tibet 3
Italian 3
Dutch 3
Prussian 8

 

[Royal Tenenbaum]

Egyptians 0
Nordic 7
Tibet 3
Italian 4
Dutch 3
Prussian 7

 

[mrrandomplayer]

Nordic 6
Tibet 4
Italian 9
Dutch 6
Prussian 4

 

[merijn_v1]

Nordic 7
Tibet 4
Italian 6
Dutch 4
Prussian 5

There has been a little mess up in the post above. I think I've fixed them. Can someone please check this?

 

[Sissyphos]

Nordic 7
Tibet 4
Italian 6
Dutch 1
Prussian 6

 

[SheaferDaDawg]

Nordic 8
Tibet 4
Italian 6
Dutch DEAD
Prussian 4

 

[Jusos2108]

Nordic 9
Tibet 4
Italian 3
Prussian 4

 

[FirstThunder]

Nordic 6
Tibet 4
Italian 4
Prussian 4

 

[AdrienIer]

Nordic 3
Tibet 4
Italian 5
Prussian 4

 

[Sissyphos]

Nordic 3
Tibet 4
Italian 2
Prussian 5

 

[Jusos2108]

Nordic 4
Tibet 3
Italian 0
Prussian 5

 

[ales_]

Nordic 5
Tibet 3
Prussian 2

 

[AdrienIer]

Nordic 2
Tibet 3
Prussian 3

 

[FirstThunder]

Nordic 2
Tibet 4
Prussian 0

 

[Jusos2108]

Nordic 3
Tibet 1

 

[merijn_v1]

Nordic 4
Tibet Death

The Vikings win!!!

 

[pole475]

All Hail Vikings!!!!

 

[Royal Tenenbaum]

We struck with our swords!
Why should a warrior cower
before the ranks, when braving
the blizzard of spearpoints?
He who mourns his demise has
never fed meat often
to eagles in the edge-game.
It’s hard to urge on weaklings;
no coward takes courage
from his craven heart.

We struck with our swords!
I say it’s right for a lad
to dare to dash at foemen
as they draw swords together.
Let thane not shrink from thane—
that long was the warriors’ way;
maids’ darlings should be dauntless
in the din of swords, always.

We struck with our swords!
It seems to me an ordeal
that our fates we must follow;
few escape the Norns’ craft.
I didn’t imagine Aelle
as the end of my life,
when I fed blood-falcons
and forced keels through the water;
we gave wolves worthy payment
widely, in Scotland’s bays.

We struck with our swords!
My soul is glad, for I know
that Balder’s father’s benches
for a banquet are made ready.
We’ll toss back toasts of ale
from bent trees of the skulls;
no warrior bewails his death
in the wondrous house of Fjolnir.
Not one word of weakness
will I speak in Vidrir’s hall.

We struck with our swords!
The sons of Aslaug all would
rouse the wrath of Hild here
with their ruthless sword-blades,
if they fathomed fully
how far I have traveled,
how so many serpents
stab me with their poison.
My sons’ hearts will help them:
they have their mother’s lineage.

We struck with our swords!
Soon my life will have passed;
Goinn scars me sorely,
settles in my heart’s hall;
I wish the wand of Vidrir
would wound Aelle, one day.
My sons must feel great fury
that their father is put to death;
my daring swains won’t suffer
in silence when they hear this.

We struck with our swords!
I have stood in the ranks
at fifty-one folk-battles,
foremost of the lance-meet.
Never did I dream that
a different king could ever
be found, braver than me—
I bloodied spears when young.
Aesir will ask us to feast;
no anguish for my death.

I desire my death now.
The disir call me home,
whom Herjan hastens onward
from his hall, to take me.
On the high bench, boldly,
I’ll drink beer with the Aesir;
hope of life is lost now,
laughing shall I die!


Link to video.

Link to video.