THE (unofficial) SAGA BOARD (Poems,stories,written words)


Sergeant Knight
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With this thread, I open the story thread of this mod. Here the community can write me their stories (per PM or comment) and they will be added to a list in this thread.  Because why not?

Leifr Ingilson Lægrmadr

Leifr was born in the winter period of the year 743 in a little poor village located in Skåne. Leifr was a big and strong boy throughout his childhood, just like his father. Leifr’s fathers name was Ingil and he was a master in the art of smithing, and so was Leifr - Leifr grew up to be a great smith.
In the early years of his childhood, his mother died of pneumonia. Eight years later his father was called out to pick up arms, to travel to new lands and conquer. 4 months later, Leifr received a message from the Hersir, that his father had died of an unknown disease on his way to the unknown lands. This was a life-changing moment for Leifr, he fell ill, and was not sure what he was doing with his life.
After many hard decisions in his life, he finally decided to go on an adventure, he wanted to see the unknown world, with his own eyes and not hear about it in some dumb old stories he’d heard as child.
He had heard rumors about these strong and brave mercenaries, and their name was Jómsborg. Fearsome as bears, strong as a thousand horses and immortal as Fenrir. These warriors sounded like what Leifr had in mind for so long. 3 years passed, he had crossed the seas, dock to dock, village to village, looking for the Jómsborg. And alas, in the fog, he sees it - The great Hall of the Jómsborg, shines on the hill. Leifr was not sure what he would encounter inside the walls, but he could feel a dense of intense excitement.
After that day Leifr signed up with Jómsborg, he was very much liked and famed for his skill in the smithing profession. The Jarl - Ragnar Haraldson had seemed to favor this young and brave man and made Leifr swear an Oath, an Oath only the minded with power could do. The Jómsborg had recently lost their Lægrmadr - and was in search of a new Lawman. They saw a glams of light in the heart of Leifr, and so it should be. Leifr - now the new Lægrmadr of the Jómsborg.

The Tale of Erling Erikson
The tale of Erling Erikson
Not too long ago in a little village in the land belonging to Denmark was born a boy - a boy who would grow up to shed blood and gain glory on the battlefield. I shall tell you his tale.

Skåne - Winter, 751. Erik Ivarson and his wife were blessed with the birth of a boy, the third son but not the last child as they received a young girl two winters later. His birth was eventless and he was born in a fine and healthy state. Not a lot is known about this man's earliest years, except that his father was a poor fisherman and that Erling didn't care to follow in his father's footsteps.

Upon reaching his 17'th winter the boy - now growing into adulthood found himself getting into a fist fight quite often, and bringing shame to his family. It was not normal for a boy to start trouble as often as him. He was reckless and without remorse for his kin. More than a few times he had been seen beating his younger sister and outright torturing his weaker older brothers. He was truely, a cold man.

Not long after his 18'th winter the village reached the breaking point. The men gathered at his home and demanded the boy to come out and face them. They waited for what seemed like hours. The boy did not come out. Enraged the people of the village broke into the house, beat his father, killed one of his brothers and did unspeakable things to his sister. The boy, finally showing some love for his kin had sent his mother and oldest brother out the back, and was on his way back to check on the rest. But he was too late, after helping his mother onto his horse and sending her and his brother off he could only see the flames engulfing his home in the distance. He fell to his knees and his head sunk in despair. He sat there for hours, watching all that he owned burn away.

Many winters passed and the boy slowly became a man, selling his rusty blade to local strongmen. His skin thick and his hands cold he fought and plundered without remose or any feelings. You would think it was vengence driving him but no, he was just bloodthirsty. Only love he had was guts, death and despair. But one day, in an unknown town the boy tilted his head up, staring at an older man. In full chainmail and with a master made sword in his hand, reaching his other hand out towards the boy. I'm not sure what the man told the boy, but not long after they had spoken. The boy picked up his things, paid for his drink and walked off.

Travellers say they saw him on the road with a few well armed men, maybe even sellswords.
If you haven't guessed by now, those men. Were the Jómsvikingar. They had recruited the boy, seeing as he had nothing else to live for than coin and mead. Perfect fit for the Jómsborg. But they were wrong, yes they were very wrong. He was not fit for the kind of work they offered him. He was far to mentally unstable. Not far from the Jómsborg itself the boy exploded in rage. Driving his blade into the leg of the tallest man and screaming from the top of his lungs before being hurled to the ground by two other men. Not seconds before having an axe put in his skull a horn was heard in the distance. The Jómsborg was calling for their men, there was work to be done. The men, figuring they needed a replacement for the man the boy had stabbed dragged the boy with them to the Jómsborg. The sellswords didn't take kindly to a man who would harm his own. They gave him looted gear and a broken spear and sent him off with the others. What happend after that is not known, just that he didn't die. He fought with what he had, he killed, he stabbed and bashed his way to the end. And after it all. The sellswords pat him on the back, he was one of them now. A warrior.

After a few years of hard work, blood, sweat and not a single tear. He was permitted to have his own sword crafted. For he had now become a Huskarl, famed for his ruthlessness in battle and in the Jómsborg. Men and even women who dared stand up to him was quickly cast aside as weak and unworthy of fighting at his side. He had yet to find someone he could trust, untill that day upon reaching the smith. A tall fair-haired man, sweating from the heat of the forge. Bashing his hammer on a piece of master made steel, stood before him. Raising an eyebrow at the Huskarl. Clearly the smith knew of him, but he was not impressed. For all of the Jómsborg are great warriors.

The man had crafted him a strong and trusty blade, along with a custom made helmet to protect his thick skull. It did not take long before they sat togheter in the mead hall, sharing drink and tales. The Jarl noticed the bond two of his loyal men was making and declared them to be Shieldbrothers, to watch eachothers backs in wartime and in the Jómsborg. Both men would shed blood for the other, kill for the other, even give up their own life - so that the other may live.

Not many who witness their power and fiercness in battle live to tell of it. But those who do, advise you to run - Far, far away. Cus when the Jómsvikingar comes knocking, nobody is gonna answer back.

(Wow! such tale, much emotional, very cry.)

Úlfr's Vikingr Story's  by Ulfr Jomsborg

Battle of Sulcoit

Part 1: The Begginig

Written by Úlfr (UlfrTheMighty)

It were an cold morning in Irland, me and the other jomvikings had just arrived to the viking city Limerick to Work for king Ivar. i woked up and started rowing almost all day, i were sweating alot.when we finally got to the land it were still some days with walking, and days went on as usual. at the final day before we would reach the town of Limerick i took a bath and looked for somethign to eat. we the Jomvikings were few now, after a deafet at The Norwegian sea the ones who were left choosed to still be Warrior's under the Command of Sigvaldi and work as Allied for Ivar. my father Ulfærr gave me hes sword when we took sail to Limerick, a buetiful sword ingraved: berjasþ vel eða ðeyja vel wich means Fight well or die well, and that were what i said to myself im going to do.

Some days later we arrived at Limerick, Ivar were happy to see us and welcomed us in too hes City. we followed him to hes personal Longhouse, took some Meads and talked about our journeys. one week later some other Viking tribes had gather in Ivar's hall, he were gathering an army, but why ? non of us knew. it were night and i were guarding the wall of limerick. i were very tired cause the day before i had gone hunting with Hjalmarr and Jofursteinn, but i knew i had to keep my eyes open cause Ivar told me that soem of the scouts he sent out never came back and some found with small throwing spears stuck in they're body. it would be one of the longest nights for me.

Haltan Approached with 2 meads in he's hand's. There you go! he said, and he left. i got a bit dizzy after the mead. but then suddenly i heard a weird sound from to forest outside the walls of limerick, i looked closely it looked like a Irish Tribesman on a horse. he saw me and with once he and his horsed disappeared in to the forest. it got me thinking what he were sent for, cause he were obviously not sent for bringing a message sinc he had painted hes face black as the night itself. i runned too Ivar's longhouse and waked him up and told him what i saw, later that day he sent one of he's most trusted scouts out too try too track the Man down. The scout came back dead lying on his horse. evryone gather around hes dead body and looked at him, hes armour were taken and he had a couple of small throwing spears sticking out from his stomach. i looked at Ivar's face he was angry we all saw the fire in is eye's, and this werent the first time this had happned.

The day After that i dont remember alot how it all started, Sigvaldi woke me up and said to me, Get youre armour on. and that were what i did. all the vikings gathered around Ivar,Dressed in Mail Tunic's evryone equipped with axes, spears and swords, i wondered what were going on.
Listen Evryone! Ivar Shouted.
My Freinds! we cought one of these barbarians that says to be one of the Dál gCais. it were more of them we saw riding towards one of the hills! Lets go hunt some Dál gCais shall we ? all the vikings Shouted: Roahhhh!!
Evryone marched out of the Town and Towards the Dál gCais Scouts, little did we know what were about to happen.             

Battle of Sulcoit

Part 2: Before the Battle and before Ivarr's time

I dont remember much about the march too meat the Geal's.
evan tough none of the vikings know much about these Bararian's still one book found in limerick written by Ivar's Grandfather Yngvarr, the book is old and have gone in generations those piceases that are left says:
I remember when we came here, first it seemd like theyre were only hunters but it seemed like theyre were Manhunters. we have made a town in theyre territory and it dosnt seem lke they like it. my memory doesnt go so far that i remember my first meeting with them, but the second time i got wounded by one of the birins.
the way i become King in parts of irland were that for almost 20 years i held the Geals back from my city walls. these last words are  written by Yngvarr's bodyguard:
Yngvarr and had holded the geals for a long time but all of a sudden theyre raids ended, theyre manhunt's ended at least for some days.
Yngvarr step'd out of his throne and took on his helmet, he tought this were the perfect time too take down the Geals once and for all, little did he knew were about to happen.
He gathered his men outside the town,  they started marching into the forest of Sulcoit when suddenly they hear the sound of the Gealic Horn. the soilders were scared as hundred's of birins flyed trough the air penetrating shields and armour.
only a handfull were left by them Yngvarr's son Jatmundr and some of his bodyguards.
Jatmundr Died some Years before Ivarr were born, when ivarr found the old book hidden in his Great hall he were angry and wanted to avenge his Grandfather's death.

I dont remember much about the march too meat the Geal's.
one of theyre scouts had told us what they were doing, they were gathering an army of Geal's and Norman mercenary's wich would meet Ivar in battle or wipe him out of their territory. we sung songs of glory, honour and blood on our way. some brought instruments such as Flutes and horn's. the morale were high, the vikings were ready for what ever they had to face. some had taken with them mead, the Party before the march left some of us behind cause of too much drinking. i myself were carefull to not drink so mutch when marching too battle. 1 day into the march we started hearing some kind of drum sounds and horns, songs in a languge none of us could understand, i remember oen lonely viking  tought it were The gods that Spoke wich made most of us Evan more secure on our victory, if we had the gods on our side we couldnt loose some belived.

we made a camp the first night into the march into the depths of Sulcoit.
pepole were having fun, luaging and singing. and as always Haltan came over too me with a mead, i said no. the next day of our march we finnaly saw the end of Sulcoit forest, it were a large Plain and in a distance we saw some tents and fire. it were the Sulcoit hills.
Ivarr said too us: in my Father and Grandfather's name! i will guarantee that the only one lying dead here will be them, we started screaming at them so they could spot the fearsome vikings. later that night we made a small camp in the end of the forest, not much sleep for me and the other vikings. i sat up al night drinking mead with haltan and the other Jomvikingas too we felt asleep.

Ragnarr's runestone stories. (WARNING: You brain could begin to smelt by reading this.)

Chapter 1
(I was boried so I wrote a little Vikingr story of my character. Please,be gentle with my english skills.)

You found a Runestone and started to read the story.

"My name is Ragnarr,son of Haraldur and Jarl of the Jomsvikingár. Warriors loves to fight,loves to kill,loves to slaughter their enemies...but some warriors also loves the love. When you want to mary a woman,you bust pay their family. This runes shall tell you my story...with the love! It was a beautiful day in the summer,far away from the Jomsburg in Haithabu. My shieldbrothers had some fun in the meadhall,I went outside and looked to the moon. Then I heared some noices, so I went to the place where I heared them. There she was...I never saw something beautiful like her. Hair,black like the dark of the night. Eyes,wild like a wolf. Lips,like Freyja's are...she went around the road. But she wasn't alone, a strong man was on her side, armed with a sword,spear and shield. I stoped the man while the woman went her way. "Good evening,warrior. What is your name?" He looked in my eyes. "Who wants to know that?" "Ragnarr,Hersir of the Jomsborg." I answered. "I'm Swúlfr, warrior of the Erlinga." The Erlinga...I heared a lot of them. Great warriors from Denmark, Giantslayers, heros! "Tell me,who is this beautiful lady?"  The warrior made a serious face. "She is Jófríðr Járnskeggjadóttir, and given to a Man." Without words the warrior went away,back to the woman with the name Jófríðr. After this, I went to bed and could not sleep. The next morning I traveled outside of Haithabu to a forest. I went to a pond...I was surprised. There she was...the female thief of my heart. Naked,swimming in the water! But...then she saw me. And she wasn't happy to see me. She went infront of me,I said nothing. I could not....But then she did something what I didn't foresee! She kicked a special kind of place. I fell to the ground, tears in my eyes. She shouted at me: "Never watch me again,you dirty turd!"  I rose...but then a hard thing hitted my head from behind. On the next moment I waked up on the side of my shieldbrothers... "Are you fine?" "Yes..." I lied. My head hurted...and my heart. So let me tell you,sometimes love can more hurt then a hit from a bear!"

(Thanks for reading. :smile: And nobody should be harm of this story it is just a fairy tale! )
Chapter 2
Near the first runestone you found,about the story of Ragnarr and Jof you finding another one.

"I never forgot Jofridr. I still thought about her,while me and my shieldbrothers sailed from Haithabu to the west-south coast of Sweden. But the sea is big and full with dangers... And so it just must happened...a storm bringed us a lot of problems...I just can remember how a big wave did come infront of our ship. And then I waked up on the coast...the ship did become a shipwrecked. I saw nobody of my shieldbrothers,perhaps they survived... I tooke a look on myself...just some scrachtes,no seriously wounds. I looked around the beatch,took a spear and axe and some food. Then I traveled upwards by a river. 2 days, I survived,hunted some animals for food and cooked them by a campfire. Then my destiny changed. I hunted a deer, of course the deer was faster then me! But after it jumped over a bush,it laid down with an arrow in his buddy. I looked around,a little group of 3 hunters did come infront of me. "Greetings,wanderer. Why are you alone here?" I told them my story,how we crushed and how I waked up on the beach. "Well then,Ragnarr. Follow us to our village." The leader of the group said.  We walked some hours along,and we talked. I found out, I was in norway. And in the territory of the Fenrisbarn. When we came into the village I stoped to take a look. The hunters went away...but a group of warriors went down the road. One of them, a real strong man with a beard looked to me. "What you want here,stranger?" he said unfriendly. But I didn't take notice and just looked to some oxs. "He ignors you." another one said. Then the first one punched me on my head, I fell in mud and become a little bit angry. "Enough,Ubba!" The third of the warriors said. The group went away. The first of them,who punched me, spluttered on. "Weak scum!"  Then one of the hunters abrogated me from the road.  "Who are they?" "The Fenrisbarn, don't mess with them. They are strong warriors with no mercy!" He bringed me inside of his house. I thought back on my love,Jofridr. I miss her..."

(To be continuend)
Chapter 3
"The sky was blue, as we sailed over the atlantic ocean. Our boat was filled with loot, Food, Metal, Tools, Gold... everything that is usefull. We just came from the battlefield of was a great day! The Jomsvikingar fought well on this battle, we killed a lot enemies and some of us went into Berserkergang when their blades tasted their blood. Side by side with the Menn af Hlymreki and the Haeringar, we took the victory and glory.  Hundreds of Goidils died...but also the Vikings lost some brave warriors...  We burned their houses, pillaged their land! One of us died, it was Baltradr. (Not a real member)  He was a young guy... we shouldn't took them with us. He died horribly... I still ask myself how someone can fall over his shield! And then with the face into the blade of a sword... it was stucked in his skull.

"LAAAND!!!"  shouted Hrafn. The coast of Denmark! We lowered the sail and rowed to the port of Haithabu. (Wow, a viking story with Haithabu. That idea is new and innovativ)  Arrived on the docks, we carried the part of our loot, that we wanted to sell, out of our longboat.

I don't know why, but for some reason the plank skidded and I fell into the water! I swam to the shore , the others laughed as I rose from the water, covered in wetness. "Nice jump,Ragnarr!" said  Stara, one of the Jomsvikingar. "**** OFF!" I shouted.

And then we splitted up, everyone went to somewhere else in Haithabu. Some of us to the market, others to the meadhall. I sat near the fireplace by the docks as Björn yelled at me. "Ragnarr! Hurry up, you have to come!" I woke up from my revery of Jofridr. I followed Björn, he ran over the market to the meadhall. The Jomsvikingar made sad faces. "Why are you looking like the mead is gone?"  I asked. "Because it is gone..."  Skaldnir said. "And because Saeko,Byrnjolf,Loki and Asbjörn are leaving us..."  "WHAT!?" I looked to Saeko,Byrnjolf,Loki and Asbjörn. They stood infront of me.  "It is true,Ragnar..." Byrnjolf said. "We leave the Brotherhood..."  I looked, filled with sadness, in their faces. "You will have your reasons. But we will miss guys will be always remembered as our heroes."

On the next morning we went back to our longboat. We sat the sails to the Jomsborg's shores. Asbjörn,Saeko,Byrnjolf and Loki stoot on the docks and waved at us. We rose our swords to their honor... the rest of our journey was silent."

End of the 3th chapter. I hope you enjoyed the story. :smile:

My last words...  our members  Byrnjolf,Asbjörn,Loki and Saeko left us for real, after the Battle of Sulcoit.

I wish you the best, my four brave friends. You shall know this, I miss you. You were some of our best warriors. You were our shieldbrothers.
We will remember you as our heroes, we will remember you guys in honor. The gates of the Jomsborg are always open for you! :smile:

The Skald's corner (by kimbo)
The arrow, a hawk
My heart, his prey
Oh why does my shield sleep?
The bird will have his fill today

The javelin seeks a home
My chest his promised land
Burrowed deep, warm and safe
I could not pull it out with my hand

The read-headed fiend
Hard like stone
If you see her in the distance
Pray you do not stand alone

His armour fine chainmail
His sword filled me with dread
But his blood proved not to be blue
When my axe took his head

Thema: The Adventures of William (Story) (by Visquens Willelme d'Iveri)
Adventure Story 1:Honourable Death
With Special Guests:Ascwine Fyrninga, Ganjaman, Styrborn, Eirikr, Rathos, Aethelgar Fyrninga

A hush breeze blew that morning as the sun was glinting above the horizon. Birds were singing, trees were swaying in the breeze. Across a big gorge was a stone bridge, that had stood there for hundereds of years. It was a magnificent piece of architecture. But there right in front of it was a massive castle, that had been there since the medieval times. But there was no peacefulness of this medieval castle. Inside were soldiers, men who had been trained to fight and die for the cause they believed in. Amongst all these soldiers were two cousins: Guthmund and William. They had been fighting amongst side each other for years, but there had never been so much tension between these two. The fact of the matter was that they were trapped. There was no escape. Outside of the castle was a horde of Cossacks waiting to be given the order to charge in and kill the poor Swedish defenders. Guthmund stared around the castle and found two brothers of his. Ascwine and Aethelgar shook hands with their fellow brother before meeting William, and they too shook hands. All of them knew that only teamwork would make them survive. A horn was sounded far from the bridge. The enemy was advancing, with waves of musketeers coming. The Swedish were ordered outside of the castle, to man the cannon and dig trenches. Unfortunately, some men got too overconfident. One of these men was a man named Ganja. He was friends with the Fyrningas and their cousin and they too had fought alongside them. But that was ages past. Ganja wanted some kills and so set off with a body of other men to meet the enemy. Guthmund shook his head. "This isn't going to go well if all of these men die. That is 2/3 rd of our entire forces." William calmed Guthmund down, pointing to the cannon that was unmanned. Guthmund smiled back at the young soldier, then both of them rushed to the cannon.

Away from the bridge, Ganja was in a fire by rank formation as the Cossacks came closer towards them. "Wait till they get really close," shouted the order of the Swedish officer, with his sword high in the air, ready to strike down to give the order to fire. The Cossacks fired first because of their long ranged rifles compared to the Swedish short range muskets. The officer then gave the command to fire, and the first row fired their volley, then crouched to reload to allow the second row of muskteers, Ganja inculded, to shot over their heads. The command was given and Ganja, an expert in muskets, got a headshot but realised that the enemy was coming. He made a brave decision. He ran back to the castle, without the orders from the officer. Ganja ran for his life and he was thankful his clothes were only linen or cloth not like the armour of the Raitar (Knight).

"Cannon is loaded, cousin!" William and Guthmund had manned the cannon and decided to work as a team to make sure the best was put into this powerful weapon. They had decided that Guthmund should be responisble for firing the cannon while William would load the cannon with the only shot avaible to them which was grape shot. William stared into the very much focusing Guthmund. Then, he too looked at his cousin. They both smiled. "If they still come, even after all your efforts, I want you to run to the castle. I will meet up with you, cousin, in this life or the next." Guthmund nodded in a reply before both of them looked at the bridge. But a surprising figure came along; Ascwine. He had been known through the 17th Century Eastern Europe of having the worst looking hair, in the world! He also had, as Guthmund sometimes put it, a peadophile nose. They both nodded to the man who also appeared to have a rubbish dress sense. Although Ascwine didn't seem to mind wearing clothes like that. In fact, he rather liked it! Eirikr also came along, with his typical beard that Ascwine always hated, but he was able to cope with the looks of his beard.

The enemy came closer but they didn't come organised, they came like a disorganised horde of barbarians. Some of them even looked like barbarians given the fact that they were half naked. It is probably where Ascwine got his dress sense from but Guthmund, William and Aethelgar were not too sure if that piece of information was correct. It might have been all lies! The Swedish had two cannons. The left one was operated by Guthmund and William, while the other cannon was manned by one guy alone. The Cossacks came in range of the Swedish cannon and both fired at the same time. The grape shot had a devasting effect on the Cossacks, many falling dead or lying injured, unable to stand or even move. They were out of the fight. William reloaded the cannon while Guthmund looked at the other Swedish cannon, realising it would take longer for him to load his cannon because there was no teamwork, while Guthmund and William were able to fire two more rounds of grapeshot before eventually, the Cossacks overwhelemed the Swedish defences at the bridge. William nodded at Guthmund. "Now is your time, Guthmund. Get inside quickly!" Guthmund tried to obey the order, but he could not. He and William were trapped by Cossacks soldiers. They faced back to back. They nodded before they attacked and were killed. They had lived and died. They fought as friends and died as friends, together. As a true warrior, on the battlefield. Ascwine and Aethelgar carried on to fight but they too were overwhelmed by the Cossacks forces. There was now only two more soldiers of the Swedes alive, Rathos and his trusty friend. The Cossacks hunted them down through the castle, looking in every corridor and room. They went to the last room, at the very top of the castle. Suddenly, musket fire from either side came killing a great deal of Cossacks. Rathos and his friend had killed a great deal already, but some were still hunting them while a few were outside. Rathos loaded his musket and prepared himself to fight for glory.

Autumn (by Hjálmarr Ukkometso)
"Autumn! Ah, how beautiful it is, leafs have many colors, red, gold yellow, brown...
When air is cold and fresh, when rain rains to colorful ground, i feel myself so calm and peaceful...
When world decide change it's season, mortal man can't do anything but just sit down and wonder beauty of the nature..."

No title (by Hjálmarr Ukkometso)
Life was good, no worries near, no battles near, no sorrow near...
Small but living and happy village, it was near of green forest where bear liv'd, king of forest...
Villagers didn't have worries, life was good, no worries near...
My wife, beautifull as she is, was happy and so was i.

Today when i walked around of village, i went to warchief house.
He said to me: "There isin't enemies or hostiles near by, There is peace."

I stepped out of warchief's house, i went to village center, there was village elder sitting on old bench.
He said to me: "Harvestig season was successful, there is plenty of food and drink for villagers for entire year! There is happiness."

I left elder speak to youth about stories when he was young and good warrior. I went to my tavern, there was my wife,
Her eyes were like cloudless blue sky, her smile were like rising sunshine and her laugh were like calm music.
She kissed my cheek and said to me: "Today when i walked at the roads, birds in the trees and sky sang beautifully
and flowers in ground were beautiful and colorful. My dear, There is love."

Week after this, when i slept at the very dark night, i saw strange dream. I stood middle of chaotic battlefield where bodys and broken helmets and shields laid at ground and
warriors fought each other with shields and axes,
I had armor on, sword in right hand and wooden shield left hand. Man, his face covered by helmet, body weared by heavy armor with bear furs and large and sharpe axe in his both hands,
stood opposite of me. He raised his axe to sky and yelled loud words what i didn't understand. He attacked to me, he was suprising fast with heavy armor,
i raised my shield and it stopped axe. It almost hit through my shield, i saw edge of axe and it went stuck to my shield, it was lucky that it didn't cut my hand. Man tried tear up my entire shield to apart
but i was quickly then he. I moved my left hand little bit to right and i hit swords head to man's stomach, it went deep, it went through of him. Man shouted something and even still tried
take his axe away from my shield, he came close to me, our faces were close each other and i smelled his stinking breath and saw his dirty brown bear but then he dropped axe and he fell down.
I took deep bearth and looked around, village was destroyed, cottages and houses were on fire, all defenders killed or taken to slavery. everthing was burning,
i shouted my wife name in middle of former battleground and then i awaked up...
My wife slept calm next to me. I got up of bed, then i went to outside of tavern. Village was sleeping it's calm dream in deep moments of night.
I sitted to bench and i wondered what purpose of this dream had, i don't know... but it was just a dream."

Cavalry (by Frithumundr_Fer_Araig)
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
if you chase cavalry:
screw you.

Poems by Fintan Fer Araig

Warriors song

Oh brothers, look at that beautiful village
It would be real shame somebody to loot it and pillage
I see how you stand valiantly in our boats
So ready your wills, chainmails, helmets and shouts

Odin has sent his blessing and look how fly the ravens
We will bring glory and honor to his name, Oh pity the cravens
We will embrace gladly the thrill of battle and gore
Ready we shall be for the battle-maidens who we so adore
Our foes shall be send to their forgotten ancestors
And we shall drink, dine and feast wiht our creators

This is the song of our beloved, dear battles
so you wretched maids; get back to your kettles
This is the tale of the battled, full grown men,
greybeards and beardless boys in the warriors den

Departure to the sea
In a grim late-summer morning
The boats are filled with husbands
With sons, leaving the women mourning
Beside the sea, which holds them with caring hands

Their lives are poor, pitiful and short
Men must find the honor in the foreign land
So they ready the ships to leave the port
Glory they shall find in bloodied salty sand

Their dreams shall be fed to carrion birds
Only ancestors and unborn sons shall remember those
When Death guides them like earthly herds
Through the fiery plains where smoke burns the nose

Songs will be made about their deeds to glorify
To justify their deaths so living can sleep in peace
Not dreaming about the past where the lie
Became the truth, the singing bird the autumn leaves

The gods see the bravery of mortal men
And the grim destiny they brought upon themselves
And still the gods play against the Amen
Moving their pieces, until they become fictional like elves

And the men die to honor dying gods
But the new world will remember them as legends
Greeting the past ghosts with modest nods
And still they bow their heads to reach the heavens

At the eve of the battle-nights
They sang the chant to the heights
Of the gods and northern lights

And so they called the help to come
But the answer was just to carry on
And fight till the deed was done

And the bodies were filled with holes
And so left the freed valiant souls
Without coming back to their waiting homes

And so weave the Norns
At their well in the valley of thorns
Till the bulls lose their horns

And mighty dead shall rise
And with their own eyes
They see; it was nothing but lies

Song of the past times

I used to ride with my friend Willie
Until the weather got so chilly
That his ponys hooves got frozen
And he was not chosen
To be leader the next round
Instead we got some wild hound
To lead us to victory and glory
And he surely wasn't riding a pony

Epic of a man
I once met a certain grizzled officer
And I didn't need to address him as her
His name was Mr. Hotpants
And he had very soft hands
When he picked the manly flower
And put it to his blond hair

He had travelled far and wide
And he never had to hide
As he was so f*cking manly
That he once beat some Stanley

I once heard that Chuck Norris
Has a poster of a man, BoB that is
It was just of his beard
And that's only when I heard
How frikkin' epic Hotpants is
I felt that I should be called ms.

One part of him
Makes me real sick
It can get very thick
It really needs a lick
It can't sustain a kick
It's the dream of every chick
We shouldn't refer it as a "stick"
And some people call it as *ick

So that was just a epic tale
Of a man who hugs Saxton Hale
And who shoot fire
Out of his chesthair


In the summer morning
I said to my darling
To look at the she-hare
To look at it's fiery hair

It's the sign that somewhere near
There's something we can't quite hear
It's the danger we all should fear

It's the killer of all fun
The grim hunter of joy
It's the cloak of the sun
Master of every ploy
Alone shall it be
In it's eternal misery

And so shall the pale mare ride
And there's no place to hide
So darling, let's wait it to come
And all sorrow shall be gone

He's the friend we all know
And who we wish never to meet
He's no mans sole foe
As long as the heart has a beat

Let's greet him with glee
So we all shall to see
The pale eternal grin
Which knows all of our sin

End of bloodshed
Oh hear me brothers
Why are we fighting eachother?
What's the point in this slaughter

Gold has no meaning
What's wrong with your hearing?
Let's live to honor some other thing

Let's dethrone these false kings
Till the whole world sings
For the glory of coming springs

So lay down your arm
So there will be no more harm
And we can return to our family farm

I see you don't understand
In the way you cut your kins hand
And there's no mind for me to command

The blood shall be shed
We all shall lose the head
Till there's no more death


And so shall the brave man weep
When the wound is cut deep

How are we supposed to keep
From falling to eternal sleep

The climb is so steep
It's only one tiny leap
From light to darkness deep

Poems / stories without titles

by Dragomir FenrisBarn

A warrior stood ground
With a friend he trusted.
Only sorrow he found
When the friend has thrusted.

What are you doing?!
He spew bloody vomit
But his friend was foolish
Busy chasing a pony.

Don't chase the horse!
Mighty hero cried.
The birin of remorse
Has pierced through his eye.

What is the moral of this little story?
If your teammates are idiots,
You're going to be sorry.

Okay guys, add me your stories! :grin:


Sergeant Knight
Best answers
And here some more. (Because the first page is kinda full)

"Norse Poetry" by (unknown)
Drink, for the wind blows cold and
Drink for The Wolf runs free.
Drink to the ships with the sails like wings and
Drink to the storm-tossed seas.

Drink to the lasting nights
and those who warm our beds.
Drink to the mead that warms our hearts
and the cold that clears our head.

Drink to the Allfather's Eye
for Odin's sons are we.
Drink to the World-Tree where he hung
and the Runes of Mystery.

Drink to the truth of steel
and blood that falls like rain.
Drink to Valhalla's golden walls
and to our kinsmen, slain.

Drink to the Glory-field
where a man embraces death, and
thank the gods that we live at all
with our joyous dying breath!

Drink for the wind blows cold and
Drink for the Wolf runs free
Drink to the ships with the sails like wings
for Odin's sons are we!

by Odhrán_Fer_Áraig
The froth of a blood thirsty enemy
Of which there is nothing but plenty,
The arrows whither through the air
As they penetrate skin which lies bare.

The carpet of red spreads by the minute
As the continuing bloodshed is infinite,
There is a bash and thump of a shield
Before the weaker of our enemy yield.

I watch as the savages prey
Moving forward through the fray,
A warm blade strikes through my flesh
As I breathe my final breath.

by Odhrán_Fer_Áraig
The froth of a blood thirsty enemy
Of which there is nothing but plenty,
The arrows whither through the air
As they penetrate skin which lies bare.

The carpet of red spreads by the minute
As the continuing bloodshed is infinite,
There is a bash and thump of a shield
Before the weaker of our enemy yield.

I watch as the savages prey
Moving forward through the fray,
A warm blade strikes through my flesh
As I breathe my final breath.

A Fyrning's Tale by Herrgeir
I am Heregár Fyrninga, Hereríces sunu. My battle-brothers call me Heregár the Clever for I can read, I can do calculations and I am well-versed in battlefield tactics. I am my father's second son. My brother, who carried the name of our father, was set to inherit our father's lands and the title of þegn. I was given to the Church when I was still a boy, to learn the ways of the monks and to keep me away from my brother's inheritance. Truthfully, I have never aspired to any such position. The ruling of men is best left to someone with interest as well as capability.

The monks never did see eye-to-eye with me, especially not in those early years, although the abbot, Father Osric, always had a wise word for me. I rarely washed and oft dreamt about the green fields where I grew up, longing to travel across them on horseback. In those days, I rode a bay gelding whom I simply called Hors. I was barely walking when my father gifted him to me, hence the name, and he was only a colt. Traveling on horseback soon became as natural as walking.

There were not many boys in the abbey and all of them were there by choice. I was not and I loathed it. While I hold the Lord in high regard and cherish Him, I feel thankful that He did not intend for me to take the vows as my fellow lay brothers later would. No, I enjoy fine, dark ale and a good hump with a feisty serving wench as much as the next man, and I did so even back then. The first woman I laid with was one. I did not know it then, but her name was Friðugýþ and she provided ale and services for the men in the local village.

She was only one of many such women, but even now after all these years I still remember her clearly. She was not pretty in the usual sense. She was taller than me, which was to be expected as not only is my height nothing I can boast about, but I was not yet fully a man whereas she was a grown woman. The foremost way to describe her features is to say that she was sharp. She had no womanly shapes.  Her nose was long and narrow as was the rest of her face. Her cheekbones could at times seem so angular that one would assume he would cut himself if he ever slapped her, but that was not true, as many men had proven over the years.

Friðugýþ had witnessed nineteen summers and yet she was unwed. The stories went that her foster-father had returned with a young girl after a raid on the Welsh and, though the villagers were not happy about it, they would not complain for he was a respected man and a skilled warrior. When the cattle started dying and the crops suddenly went bad, rumours started to spread of how this was the Lord's punishment for bringing filthy Welsh into their midst.

Her foster-father's insistence that she had nothing to do with the bad luck that had befallen the village eventually led to a drunken brawl where he died with a knife in his throat. Friðugýþ was taken in by the tavern keeper, whose name I cannot remember after all this time, so she could serve as cheap labour and I am certain that he had planned for her to warm his bed in the coming years.

Because of her Welsh heritage, Friðugýþ was never treated as an equal by the villagers. On a good day, she served their ale. On a bad day, they would beat her or rape her in the stables. They made always certain to never hurt her so that she could not perform her duties, for she was of some use to them. It was known that any man could have his way with her if he wished to.

I sometimes saw her when I visited the village together with one of the senior brothers, though our business more often carried us to the market dealer and not the tavern, for it was a house of sin. When I had the opportunity, I would sneak away from my watcher and enter that forbidden place, but my actions were always severely punished and many a night has been spent alone in the cold darkness of my cell, or worse.

One night, when I was at the brink of manhood, maybe fourteen or fifteen summers old, I deemed myself worthy to taste the fruits of men. I crept out into the autumn night and, still dressed in my robes, came into the village where I asked the tavern keeper for a mug of ale, paying for it with one of the few coins I had managed to hide from my senior brothers on the rare occasions that they would let me handle money. I did not enjoy the taste, but I had paid for it and so I decided to conquer the taste by drinking it quickly, which, in hindsight, was a very bad mistake on my part.

The tavern keeper, who likely had seen the same reaction from many young men over the years, shoved me out back into the stables, where I emptied my stomach entirely and collapsed on the ground. I stayed there for what seemed like an eternity, waiting for the sickness to disappear. As I laid there, a large, drunk man entered with Friðugýþ in tow. My eyes had gotten used to the darkness of the stable so I could see them clearly, but neither of the pair spotted me in the corner.

They passed me and I could see on Friðugýþ's features a tortured grimace as she resigned herself to her fate. If I could, I would have fled the scene, but my world was still a spinning haze and I could not even summon up the strength to rise to my knees and crawl out like a hound. Just as Friðugýþ was forced to suffer at the hands of the drunkard, I was forced to listen to his grunts as well as her muted and often pained whimpers.

I do not know how long I laid there and it is even possible I fainted, for suddenly I no longer heard the grunts and whimpers. They had been replaced with the screaming and begging of a woman fearing for her life. In that moment, I was no longer Heregár, son of Hereríc. I was Gármund Grambana or Gúðláf the Woodsman or maybe even mighty Fyrna himself as I threw myself at the man without a care for my own safety. Despite my small size, we crashed to the ground. I was faster to recover and as bloodlust filled me, I straddled him.

I smashed his head against the dirt several times. My fists hammered his face and my elbow bashed his nose in. His attempts to push me off were futile. I was a wild dog, not giving him as much as an inch. As with most combat, it felt as though we wrestled there for hours, but truthfully it cannot have lasted very long. At last he stopped fighting back, for I had crushed his windpipe. I remember the feeling of having triumphed in battle, having not only bested another man in combat but having taken a life. It was as though power coursed through my veins, but it only lasted mere moments, for it suddenly dawned upon me what I had done.

I had taken the life of another man. I had committed murder, a crime not only punishable by death but also a great sin in the eyes of God. I have since killed many a man, but you always feel your first kill. It gets into your head. Especially when it is not done with the intent to kill. The second kill is considerably easier and after that, the only thing you feel is the weight of your weapon as it tears into your foe and steals his life.

Overwhelmed, I sunk down on the ground. It was when I sat there that I heard Friðugýþ speak for the first time.

"Thank you," was all she said. She wrapped her hands around me and pulled me close, resting my head on her small, naked busom and I wept. I wept for the man I had slain, for his wife whose bed would be empty and cold, for his children who would grow up without a father and for myself, for I believed my soul to be doomed to walk by the fires of hell for eternity. I wept until I could not weep any longer and then sleep claimed me.

I do not know whether I woke because of the rising sun casting its rays into the stable or if it was the stench of death that forced my eyes open, but Friðugýþ was no longer with me and it would be unwise to linger and be branded a murderer. I had done wrong, but the emotions of the night had developed into somberness. I did not feel guilty before the laws of the land. Only God could punish me, and thus I left the stable with hurried steps.

In the abbey, I confessed to Father Osric. I did not cry. I told him everything and that was it.

"Do you regret taking his life?" he asked, and I nodded, though I did not speak.

"You have broken one of His commandments, but you broke them acting against a man whose actions would have doomed him to the eternal fire, and such a man is only a beast," Father Osric continued. "And the holy book does not forbid us to kill deers or bears. Another beast is no different."

I was given penance and then I was absolved, although I suspect the penance had more to do with sneaking out than the murder, for in Father Osric's mind, I had done nothing wrong, for I had acted to save another's life and that was the noblest thing one could do.

The dead man was discovered, but only three people, Father Osric, Friðugyþ and myself knew that it was my work, and no one would suspect a lay brother for such a heinous deed. Instead, blame was cast upon a traveller from the north who had stayed in the village over the night, but he was long gone by the time he had been named as the murderer.

In the week that followed, Father Osric himself went into the village, taking me with him. He was not very old, only slightly older than middle age, but as a result of sickness in his youth, his left leg would not bear him properly. Therefore, he was forced to walk with a stick, but he was always accompanied by one of the other monks. I did not know at the time why he brought me, but in hindsight I believe he had realised that the life of a monk was not for me, for we entered the tavern, where he ordered wine for himself and a mug of ale for me.

As he was discussing with the tavern keeper, Friðugyþ snuck up behind me and whispered in my ear:
"Meet me in the stables after the sun has come down."

I knew well enough what she wanted, and it was enough to stir the loins of a young man.

As night fell, I yet again left the abbey, as silent as a sceadugenga of the old legends. I crept into the village and, certain I had not been seen, came into the dark stable.

"Friðugyþ," I hissed, not knowing whether she was there or not, for my eyes had not yet become accustomed to the dark.

She did not respond with words, but through a kiss. She pressed her thin lips against mine, wrapped her long, slender arms around me and began to massage my back through my robes. I was inexperienced back then and did not know what to do, so I simply followed her lead, my hands awkwardly moving across the small of her already naked back.

This went on for a while and, while I cannot claim responsibility for it, I found it quite pleasant. Soon, however, she took a step back and began removing my robes. When we were both standing naked, she pulled me into the hay, where she took me. I say that she took me, for I did not really know what to do. We fell asleep in each others arms and that was it. No horn broke the silence of the night, no lightning split the sky. Only our intertwined bodies, protected from the autumn cold by my thick wool robes.

When Father Osric learned of this - because Father Osric learned everything sooner or later - he did not scold me. He did not give me penance. He simply smiled knowingly.

"You do not belong here, my son. Your father did not wish for you to aspire to your brother's inheritance, so he placed you in the care of the Lord. There is another way to keep you away, because I do not wish to force you to take the vows when the Lord so clearly has another purpose for you. Éadríc, son of Éadréd Eorl, is despite his youth a famed warrior and leader of men. He would with certainty accept you in his band of warriors." Father Osric said. "You will become a great warrior one day, but you would be a lousy priest."

With those words, it was decided. I was given food to survive the trip to the hall of Éadréd Eorl and a small silver ring which I was to give to his son, Éadríc, as a token for accepting me in his band.

Winter had almost come by the time I left the abbey. Before I began my journey, I stopped in the village to bid farewell to Friðugyþ. I promised her that one day, I would come back for her, but she shook her head. I had feelings for her and wished to make her my wife, but she had none for me. She told me that the night we spent together was only meant to be that one night, nothing more.

With watering eyes, I climbed up on top of Hors and set off.

I have fought by Éadríc Eorl's side many times since we first met. Together we have battled everything from Gaels and Normanz to Norsemen and even the Rus. Fighting by his side or the side of any other Fyrninga, is an honour, but it pales in comparison to that of living in their time. Those, however, are tales for another time.

Heregár Fyrninga, Hereríces sunu

Word list
Heregár Fyrninga, Hereríces sunu - Heregár of the Fyrnings, son of Hereríc
Þegn - Thegn; a "servant, attendant, retainer", is commonly used to describe either an aristocratic retainer of a king or nobleman in Anglo-Saxon England
Hors - Horse
Sceadugenga - Shadow-goer; Fantastical beasts which are neither living nor dead, and which can shape-shift. They purportedly dwell in the forests of England

Leifr's Speech (in english and danish)
Well slap my thighs and call me for dinner! I see a foe worth the killing, and lads beside me who are up to the mark, I can also feel an inspiring speech coming on! So listen to me:
Our Saxon foes hold us in scant regard lads. This is a mistake they often make, being arrogant and being smelly-sodden in equal measure.
Odin’s wounds! I see that our foes are amply supplied with heavily armed troops. Would that we had some men who carry longbows. We may feel their lack.
And now, say your last prayers. Put your trust in your fellows - and in good Scandinavian steel too - then let us march to whatever Odin wills!

Jamen klap mig på lårene og kald mig til aftensmad! Jeg kan se at vore fjende er værd for en kamp, og følgere står der blandt mig up til nakken, jeg kan føle en stærk tale komme! Så lyt til mig:
Vores Sakse fjender holder os to tæt høj. Dette er en fejltagelse de tit laver, at være arrogant, dumdristig og lugtende på forskellige niveauer.
Odins blod! Jeg kan se at vore fjende har god rystning, men det stopper os ikke i at nedlægge vores fjende. De må føle sig høje, men for at være høj, skal man også være lav.
Og nu, bed jeres sidste bønder. Skub jeres stolthed og ære frem, skub jeres ed til grunde, skub jeres drømme i jeres guttermænd, skub jeres mod til fremme. Det handler ikke om størrelsen, men gørelsen! Så lad os gå til hvad end Odin vil have!

The Life of Áed by Áed
Born, cut heads off some men of the Fyrningas, took a jav in the face from Ingbrand, died. Fin.

Blue Tunic by Imar Fer Araig
Oh! Words are wise and needed in battle!
When we need milk, we buy the cattle!
When elders need piece of cake
We give 'em bottle of lake
We got no time and time is fast
Who is running to goal place of last
Oh! Why I can't see the blue cloth?
When tunic is so stylish and we need both
Donkeys, banners or sweetrolls
Take care! This is not ode for trolls!
Up and forth of earth we go
Rise up and see and lo!
We need and want blue tunic!
This is not song for men of punic
I shall end my awkward song
Last words I say and not take long
We need more stylish hats!
And please make not 'em skin of cats!
Oh! Why I can't see the blue cloth?
This is madness and sun will blot!
Blue tunic we need!
Blue tunic we need!
Total and delicious biscuit was this song's creed!

Tale of Fairy by Imar Fer Araig
What I think, is stylish shoes
How I think, is matter of fashion
Pack of roses always make me smile
Fabulous was the time
I keep dreaming of tasty cake
And I know, cake is not a lie
Today I will take
Umbrella for rainbows of rain
When I feel pretty
It is tale of fairy

Ragnarr's runestone stories chapter 4
The wind blew us in our hair and in our smelling beards. Our ship broke the waves, fast like a storm. A storm with a smelling beard and hair which sparkles in the wind.  Leifr stood on the bow of  the ship. He looked around until he shouted: „Land! There it is, the lands of the saxons!“  The Jomsvikingar yelled and took their shields and weapons. Björn was sitting on the steer, his grey beard that smells like old piss, covered his smile.

Our eyes stared at the shores. the shores of England. Home of mighty kings. Home of heroes and farmers. Home of loot, ready to be taken. When we docked on the beach,we jumped out of our ship. Holding our shields ready for an ambush, but nothing happened. We walked up a hill,then through a forest. We hold on for a break in the middle of the forest,near a road. Hrafn, a berserkr of us tried to nose the lovely odours of the forest. But the only thing he could nose were our smelling clothes.

Suddenly, we heard the steps of horses. We took our shields and weapons and jumped from the bushes to the road. We holt the 2 messengers on their horses. One of them upraised his hand. „Greetings warriors. Why did you halt us?“  „Where are we here?“  The rider looked to his fellower with a confused face,then he looked back to us. „You are in the terretory of the Fyrningas!“

(Here a image of the scene,made by  Æþelfriþ Fyrninga

We looked to eachother, some of us were disquiet because we have allready heard of the Fyrningas. Warriors without fear,brave and strong. We know the names of their most famour warriors. Æþelfriþ  the Fearless, Fródwine the Mighty, Wæðulf the Dragonslayer, Hróðgár the Bone-smaher, Ingbrand the Brave and Éadríc the Mouse-face and a lot of other names.

„Pay us tribute, and we will leave your lands. If you don't, you better flee.“ Some of my warriors laughed. The riders made angry faces and rode back from the way they came.  „And what now,my Jarl?“ Valbjörn asked.  „Now we wait and rest. Steinn and Drengr, you will watch the road!“ The two warriors nodded and stood tall near the road behind some trees. The rest of us went a bit deeper in the forest,back to our camp.

(Meanwhile,somewhere else.)

The two riders went into the inn of a big house. A few warriors were sitting on some banquettes around a fire. But one of them was sitting on a single chair. „Why are you allready here?“ „We got in trouble. There is a big group of warriors in the forest!“ the rider said. The man on the single place looked at him directly. In his eyes wasn't even a piece of fear. „Who are they?“ he asked. „I don't know, the most of them wear chain mails and helmets. They have shields with a red snake and they smelled like a bunch of pigs. They are some kind of barbarians!“ answered the rider.  „ Those warriors are Vikings...“  The man stood up, also the other people in the inn.

„They did a mistake to come in our lands...“

Jan Arie

Sergeant at Arms
Best answers
Leifr's speech, sounds much like the English general pre-battle speeches from Medieval II: Total War.  :lol:

Personally I would have said something else to our Saxon foes:
"They say the Saxons are better lovers than fighters. This is true. Ask any pig, cow, or other barnyard animal!"[/i]
And this at our Gaelic foes:
These Goidel are like Saxons! They come from a nasty little island, enjoy the company of sheep, and need trimming with a broadsword!

Dansk viking

Master Knight
Best answers
What an effort then, maybe it isn't google but rather a very faulty translation. The last lines translated from Danish:

"And now, ask your last peasants (prayers;bønner). Push your pride and honour forward, push your oath to the abyss, push your dreams into your mates(!), push your bravery ahead. It's not about the size, but how it's done (Danish version of: Size doesn't matter)! So let's walk to whatever Odin wants!

Hugh Higgins

Best answers
The Life of Áed.

Born, cut heads off some men of the Fyrningas, took a jav in the face from Ingbrand, died. Fin.


Best answers
Oi! Why not my fancy poems ain't there?

Oh! Words are wise and needed in battle!
When we need milk, we buy the cattle!
When elders need piece of cake
We give 'em bottle of lake
We got no time and time is fast
Who is running to goal place of last
Oh! Why I can't see the blue cloth?
When tunic is so stylish and we need both
Donkeys, banners or sweetrolls
Take care! This is not ode for trolls!
Up and forth of earth we go
Rise up and see and lo!
We need and want blue tunic!
This is not song for men of punic
I shall end my awkward song
Last words I say and not take long
We need more stylish hats!
And please make not 'em skin of cats!
Oh! Why I can't see the blue cloth?
This is madness and sun will blot!
Blue tunic we need!
Blue tunic we need!
Total and delicious biscuit was this song's creed!

What I think, is stylish shoes
How I think, is matter of fashion
Pack of roses always make me smile
Fabulous was the time
I keep dreaming of tasty cake
And I know, cake is not a lie
Today I will take
Umbrella for rainbows of rain
When I feel pretty
It is tale of fairy



Best answers
Dansk viking said:
Nice google translation though...
Are you trying to insult me? Well actually I didn't want the speeches to be the EXACT same, but I wanted them to have the same meaning, I didn't try try translate it exactly after the original, it's very offensive for me to be corrected by something I've done my way, but you are welcome to translate it your way my friend. But screw it, all I wanted to say to you was that I just wanted it to be a little different, there are some words that I do not know in english either danish, and I'm a dane, haha. But cheers and thansk for your reply on my pitty translation, I just thought it would be a little more exciting to read a little ''different'' speech, but thanks that you noticed it, and I am happy you got your opinion between my legs up my eggs, but it was meant to be different from the beginning when I started doing the danish version. Cheers now! Drink for happiness and glory! Have a nice day my fellow friend.

- Leifr Lægrmadr Jómsborg<3


Best answers
As requested:

Minor grammar mistakes included.


The snow falls on the land
Coldness spreads through the sand
Ice has taken the seas
When mortal sees
Hope weeping far away
It is known nowdays
Death follow when war rises
Sorrow leads to deeds
A broken sword what bleeds
At the end, what is left?
False thought of truth
Which will boldly heft
A teethless wolf or clawless bear
To overcome truthness and sadness that are near
In the deepest dream
Fiery and unforgiving gleam
I can see beautiful eyes
Which I saw past of time
When I was last on a line
Marching to war

You my king

You my king, once said that kings do not weep
But now lo, blood flows, skies cries
Around of thou, the burning keep
Yes, thou won the battle, bound in the lies
But I ask for thee:
Do thou hear now, how madness spreads?
Do thou feel now, the cold steel when breathing?
Do thou see now, the dagger's edge of a secret plan?
Yes, thou understand now
And now my king, I will ask:
Do you weep?

(If somebody got which king poem is referencing to, you sir, are amazing)



Knight at Arms
Best answers
Roses are red, violets are blue, horned helmets are cool, and spears should block.

How did I do?