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just as I predicted,
THE END IS NIGH!
we'll all end up playing fallout for real.
we'll all turn into tribals,worshiping idols.
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Ten leagues ride on lathered steed,
Gold in hand to a sword-for-hire,
A blood-eagle carved by Saxon steel,
And two score slain earns royal ire.
Gwynned lies two days westwards,
Still further south, the weregeld calls.
Mayhap with All-Father Woden's favour,
My deeds may yet inspire the skalds.
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