Jul 2020
Etréstles says: Put the bars with their proper seals, Goodbye sentinels. Believe in my truth that I wake up, that even in the next death, we are still in transit to the same death.
The infantry cross the lances, pretending to be bars, they go through the pavilions of the combat, to put their proper belongings to put the points of their swords, at the point and as of their passive compasses to the rhythm of the trumpets that ceased to thunder. The relatives who were already falling down the legs of the infants, were already accounts of Commander Etréstles, as they went intertwined to house nests of empty hopes. Going to the attempt of agore visions, the Kingdom of War was visibly admonished, no longer supporting any arm more than interweaving within its warlike network. On the surrounding infants, who had the shields as a roof, to quench the thirst of the arrows, which were raided in ******* and lust, succumbed to the Kingdom of defense, ambushed the hipaspistas (specialized body that covered the gaps of the inflexible phalanx) and the light infantry, Thracians, Agrians (these last javelin throwers who destroyed the chariots in this battle) and Greek hoplites who intervened to cover the rear of the phalanx.
Wails on wails, they cut off the first rows, when someone flew their wails together, someone also helped him with gregarious wails that bit them. Faced with this dilemma, Aphrodite's shells, with a certain degree of ineptitude, shook the trumpets with a vibrating LA of a new Earth, which configured a new roar in all the contiguous soldiers, causing in some the anxiety of kneeling down to preach the Koran or some Sufi saying. The trumpet reactions follow, so that no one leaves the bed where, awaiting further instructions, they fall on the thick saddles of rancid odors of overexcited horse manure.
Vernarth says: Brothers with a famished feat, we surround their wills with poverty, we imprison the dominions that came from their light on our darkness stuck in theirs today. The Hebraic sign of Satan burns its own lamps in a continuous flickering. The divine configuration of the hurricane sky makes a new god to be born today. The ****** lightness makes me take the slow mob of success that dissipates over me the flag that I must break to surround myself with the escape of the enemy and his consort.
The infantry cross the lances, pretending to be bars, they go through the pavilions of the combat, to put their proper belongings to put the points of their swords, at the point and as of their passive compasses to the rhythm of the trumpets that ceased to thunder. The relatives who were already falling down the legs of the infants, were already accounts of Commander Etréstles, as they went intertwined to house nests of empty hopes. Going to the attempt of agore visions, the Kingdom of War was visibly admonished, no longer supporting any arm more than interweaving within its warlike network. On the surrounding infants, who had the shields as a roof, to quench the thirst of the arrows, which were raided in ******* and lust, succumbed to the Kingdom of defense, ambushed the hipaspistas (specialized body that covered the gaps of the inflexible phalanx) and the light infantry, Thracians, Agrians (these last javelin throwers who destroyed the chariots in this battle) and Greek hoplites who intervened to cover the rear of the phalanx.
Wails on wails, they cut off the first rows, when someone flew their wails together, someone also helped him with gregarious wails that bit them. Faced with this dilemma, Aphrodite's shells, with a certain degree of ineptitude, shook the trumpets with a vibrating LA of a new Earth, which configured a new roar in all the contiguous soldiers, causing in some the anxiety of kneeling down to preach the Koran or some Sufi saying. The trumpet reactions follow, so that no one leaves the bed where, awaiting further instructions, they fall on the thick saddles of rancid odors of overexcited horse manure.
Vernarth says: Brothers with a famished feat, we surround their wills with poverty, we imprison the dominions that came from their light on our darkness stuck in theirs today. The Hebraic sign of Satan burns its own lamps in a continuous flickering. The divine configuration of the hurricane sky makes a new god to be born today. The ****** lightness makes me take the slow mob of success that dissipates over me the flag that I must break to surround myself with the escape of the enemy and his consort.
Second Endig Frangmnet
