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I hear the Dragongirl Gladiator breathe her words of fire ....  the gauntlet thrown at my feet ...  My back up Knights behind me, semi raise their swords and lances in warning  as I bend and pick it up.  I raise & smile, looking directly into her eyes ..  respectful at the fighting spirit within ...

I nod at such a worthy  opponent  and smile wider ...... " I accept your challenge Gladiator Dragon .... with ... Relish....   "  swishing my tail    "  Prepare well for our battle ... the English Knights are hungry for more....  FLUTES ... "    

We stare and size each other up before turning at the same time to return to our camps.....  This will be a  tremendous battle indeed.

I look  over at the  Fierce Huns, brutal warriors  on the field that show no mercy...  wondering ...  if they too ... will pick up the gauntlet of the Spartans......

Hiya's...

   Okay... I'll just sit on the fence and munch a cheeseburger.  I got your hat, and a Summer Ale.

               

Thanks for letting me share,
Pafe

Prodding my sword in the reminants of the orange lion's camp, smoke still emitted from hurriedly left campfires, tents half torn down, the sight of an army defeated. broken shields and lost dreams clutter the site. Poking in the rubble next to the officer's tent, the shimmer of red, white and blue, armed with an orange banner, the flag of the once proud dutch army appears.

As I pull out the damaged cloth, smeared with mud and blood, the fabric torn, the wind catches the flag and pulls it into a tight sheet of pride. The ends flap in the strong breeze as the orange banner unfolds and proudly crowns the flag. Slowly I straighten my shoulders, shrug them and brush off the sense of shameful defeat. As I look around, the ashes that cover the campfires is blown away by the brisk breeze, embers starting to glow, the first flames of a resurrecting fire licking the remnants of the logs in the circles of stone. Like a phoenix rises from it's ashes, so will the spirit and strength of the orange lion.

I walk up to the fire, kick the cinders together and add a few lost logs, the wind blowing hard on the embers until a roaring fire flares up to the darkening skies. I look around, the sounds of the surroundings camps disturbing the crackling of the rekindled fire. I turn my back to the fire, facing the hidden camps and spread my legs, finding a sturdy stand. With sparkling eyes, i tilt my head back, my eyes staring in the depths of the deep blue sky, and roar a cry of power. With my arms spread out wide, the volume of my warcry echoes off the surrounding hills, filling the sultry summer sky and penetrates the opposing powers' camps..

We... Willl.. Be... Back...

Today
Czech Republic - Portugal

I'm away for this weekend, coming back on Sunday in the evening... so I don't add the points next three days but will do when I'm home again...
Hope to be back in time to watch the battle of England - Italy.
If Germany wins tomorrow the winner wil be our next antagonist... looking forward to this semi final

sharpens his spear... such presumptions of victory... has lead to the demise of many hopes in the expansion of their empires.
.....

The northern barbarians looked all too human against the Danes... a hungry Greek team might feast  on your presumptions.
Santos... will certainly have his lads have the phalaxes set for your attack.

Barbarians......no rules and no honor in their fight.....my demon blood burning in my veins, when i fight against them! it's exciting and i tend to lost my reason.....can't wait to meet them!

But now i have to focus my mind on the English Knights.....brave warriors, ready for the ultimate sacrifice to save their Queen! Honor and glory are their proud and their three lion shields are strong and hard to bring down.
We are enemy on the battlefield, but i admire their strength and loyalty.....at least i envy that little Bee cause she have good mates who gonna help her! a respectful bow to your armies, my english enemy!

Nodding at Pafe in the battered hat, munching her burger, respecting the accord she gifted to the Snoring Mutt,... and take a moment to ponder mmm, if the Greek Gods shone down on the Spartans come Friday and the Knights were to defeat them in their next battle - an interesting banner indeed could be invoked ... of a Slave, to the Bee, and wearing a muzzle and collar ... ... interesting thought ...    My eye then catches her fabulous boudoir shoes  and the moment lost .... mmm ... when this is over, I must go shopping and spend my winnings ... 

I suddenly hear a reborn roar of defiance, I turn and see ,.... from the Orange Armies - warriors rising up- tall, proud, battered swords and tattered flags rising, unfurling banners , the orange colours  standing out against the chared & tattered remains of battle ...  A proud , understanding intimate moment of fallen soldiers finding their steel, finding their soul, their resolve and  ironclad will... to once more be counted ... when the time comes ...  I raise my arms, outstretched, fists clenched towards the skies and face them head on ... recognising  & understanding as only true warriors can , their moment of rebirth . I smile with joy that their Lion will once again roar and succeed in their quest for future battles in another time.  Turning my jousting stick sideways, my fingers clenched around its middle, I  punch the air in a one armed salute  " Hail Holland ... to future battles my friends .. "

I glance over to the Gladiators ..  and see the DragonGirl looking over & then bow to the Mighty Knights  in respect to  worthy combatants. I stop in my tracks and turn to face her.  I nod in acknowledgement, stand to respectful attention and bow in return. We may be adversaries,  Gladiators , but only fools and jesters would  under estimate you on the battlefield .

" But", I mutter under my breath as I return to my camp " Victory is ours .. I smell it ..."          " Knights, tonight we dance & sing ...  DO THE PACHACUTI "   Drink your ale, be merry .... come Sunday, we are fighting for our lives ....  Let the war dances and chants begin...  ENGLAND.

CZECH REPUBLIC  0  PORTUGAL 1           

Listens to the bolsterous laughter from the English camp... and catches sight of their firey leaders smug appraisal of him.

Give the wench credit for her grace towards the fallen... and the spriit she leads her camp. A brief thought crosses my mine, but I dismiss it. Too much lies ahead to count any prospect of victory. Tonight alone the focus is on the proud barbarians of the north and their fierce attack.

For the Greeks the task is at hand... the gauntlet now upon them. Win or lose,... there is no other result.

I ease myself away... wander down an unnamed path to the stillness  of a small lake. One knows not the true fate of the oncoming battle... but be damned if I greet Charon as an unkept beggar. I set a small fire... strip,.. oil myself and scrap clean the filth of the feastivites.  A breif dip into the the cool of the lake under the moonless night,... I rise from the waters refreshed.... take a moment to oil the battle scarred body before I redress... and sit quietly polishing my armor.

Eyes galnce to the heavens... and in the darkness the multiude of stars shine... eternity embraces me this night...and I feel the comfort of Nyx slide close... her voice sings to me... calls forth those of the heavens to heed an ancient call.

An owl hoots,... a dog barks in the distance and I smile knowing the ancient gods gather too. Know too that this night they will whisper words of encouragement,...hope,... and determination to those that enter the field of battle. Come the morrow,...  that they shall not back down from the iron fortitude of the Germanic tribes.

Hopes lies, that this shall ba a clash which verbrates across the land... a mighty effort rise and that the blue and white stand, ....victorous.

and that all Greece may sing them their praise.

And if not... they fight with a determination that honor is gained to return them home on their shields.

All the camp are so noisy today.....chant, dance and laugh come from them! every armies are preparing for their battle: some warriors pray their God to grant them victory and others pray to survive the battle and see their love and family again. even if any armies is different, their wish is the same: rise to the sky the cup of the champion and gain glory for their nation! but at least, only one army will win and at every fight one fall down, eating the dust of the looser and have to wait four years to have the chance to proudly rise up their colours!

I leave the camp and climb on the top of the hill behind it......i can see all the camp and the battlefield: the grass turn red, covered by the blood of the fallen warriors and the sunligth make their armour shine in a sinister light, like if the souls of the warriors are asking for revenge! blood leaking from the cracks in the armor is their tears......tears of regret for not having brought glory to their nation!

This is the sad side of wars......so many life left on the battlefield, most young, at the begin of their life! sposes and fiances are crying their beloved lovers, praying their God to accept the fallen souls in his glory.

All this gonna end soon.......the main battle is near, then we can go back to our home, enbrace our family and laugh togheter drinking english Ale or a fresh beer, like we were all friends! and we are......friends in every days life, but the battlefield......every four years it bring down friendship, no metter how strong it will be....only one can win! and this time the Victory Goddess is smiling upon us.......the Itlalian army!

As I check my chariot, the St George emblem embossed and emboldened on its sides, I kiss it for luck as I polish off the dirt and dust of battle, preparing mentally and physically for the fierce fight looming. Red & White filling my mind and fighting blood in my veins..  ENGLAND MY ENGLAND... Calliing on our proud past to embellish and empower our camp ... Boudicia would be proud of such resolve in the Warrior Queens and Knights and St George I know, relish, yet another Dragon to slay...... Hear my prayers, my Gods, my heroes... and take us through ...... TO VICTORY ...

Standing a moment, eyes shut .. I feel the determination invade my body and relish the moment ... they answer, and are at one with the living - Forward in Unity,  United we stand , Standing and prepared for battle ....  ENGLAND.

I see the DragonGirl silhouetted on the hill, knowing she too is preparing her mind for the battle ahead and thinking of the fallen nations... heroes  everyone, -  in the quest for the coveted cup. I look to the direction she is faced, and know well of the view she is seeing.. tears of lost dreams and hopes and disappointments ....  but the human spirit can be strong and will recover... and live to fight another day ... afterall, it has to be ...  the flip side of the coin is the sweet success and the glory of being Victorious.... and that my Italian Gladiator ...  belongs to ENGLAND ...

I smile, A gentle reminder my friend, you dont have to wait 4 years.. ..  the Womens European Football championships is next summer, the qualifying battles already in progress ... no longer is this just a male dominated sport .. and ENGLAND is well on her way to qualifying    

I look round, the Portugese celebrations in full throw having conquored their foe to reach the next round... Congratulations, you will fight the winner of the SPAIN V FRANCE battle on Saturday. ( SPN = Dennis & Solarway )

Tonight will be the battle of the Barbarians and Spartans ...  GERMANY  V  GREECE.   ( Lover, Dee    V    Bear )
The winner of this will meet the the victor of  ENGLAND V ITALY  being played on Sunday..( Brandybee, Stone, Jayc, JamesDean, The man4it4, Rabbie and SweetNBad   V    Hentai , Medjai & Chasxxx )

The excitement and patriotism hangs heavy in the air ... mighty battles to be fought indeed and private bets adding to the mix of the Banner agreements.

My attention is suddenly caught by the fine specimen raising from the water ... in the light ... transparent Poseidon, Ares, Zeus surrounding him as the water cascades from his shoulders .. but in a blink of the eye, they are gone... did I see them.. the Greek Gods rising with him in comfort & support ?   I look to the Barbarian camp..   be careful my friends ... the cruel Furies may just walk your camp if you show too much disrespect to this underdog.  He may just be strong enough to take you on....
I look back, well ... the need to weigh up his strength for England's attack  if need be... makes good battle sense .... and has nothing to do with the feminine appreciation of the wet contours of his nakedness, those bulging and toned muscles ...  yes, this needs more study ..  I settle on my seat, eating crumpets as I watch his oiling ritual .... mmmm .... there's nothing like a bit of delicious crumpet .....   

Each round as we progress, our confidence grows. Not many thought England would win- nothing discourages us.

I hear nothing from our Scottish friends -I hope they are enjoying this tournament!!!

We wait patiently for the next round -wondering if the italians have oiled all their reverse gears.

My thoughts turn to the final and victory. There will be celebrations, toasting and laughter. One thought though -do we get to ravage the losers? (In my case the women of course)

The tallest English Knight

He rises slow as the dawn breaks over the moutains... dons the heavy bronze armour... polished bright thru the night and moves to his place in the line....

The standards unfurles... tension mounts and he eyes that horde from the north,...., I raise my my spear in salute before taking my place in the shield wall.

Yes,.. this is right... the adrlaline rushes familiar again...my heart races again... rejoicing in anticpation... that first moment... when armies finally clash and the earth trembles beneath the colison of wills.... the tangle of bodies... the sweat... the aches... yes.... my soul burns bright with the memories of youth...

The heroes of the Germanic tribes are many... their fierce attack a song worth singing in itself .... Ozil,... Schweinsteiger,...Khedira these are the Germanic heroes to fear this day.

Hold the line I cry... stand in unity... the strength of the shield wall exists only if we stand as one... let their attacks break like waves on our shields...wait... wait... in unity we survive this... let their frustration build...until they make a mistake.... and we counter....

Achilles had his heel... we must allow the Germans will show theirs in time...

My only regret... Lover not here to tease... and plant a small seed of doubt in him ... a potential that in it's end he might find a worn dusty Spartan sandal across his throat...

HONOR AND GLORY!
FOR GREECE!

Spartan......rise up in the sky your flag, make it stand till the end of the fight and you will win!

I know how strong are the barbarians hordes, but i know how fierce are the spartan, whit their bronze shields where every enemy clash to try to open a breach! if your shields stay united you can win.... couse your strenght is your bond, the stronghest i had ever seen!

I will watch your battle, my friend......and maybe we can meet on the battlefield soon!

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ta1KfRX06kA)

Blue and white, black, red and yellow banners pass, soldiers marching to the battle grounds. Fierce, proud, strong.. One goal only, all eyes aimed the same direction, their march in sync, each step towards glory or doom in unity.

Leaning against a tall oak tree, a dust cloud apperars in the distance, the armies passed and claiming the fields of war, not a late comer, someone else. A black crow dives in and finds a place above my head, polishing his beak on his black feathers, before screaching a single, ominous cry. Coarse, harsh his voice of danger echoes off the hills surrounding the flats that are the decor for this clash of Titans.

The cloud of dust nears, the earth slightly trembling with the full out gallop of a horse. I arch my hand above my eyes, the setting sun blinding me, the figure in the distance unclear. Just a tail of sandy blonde hair wavers with the blistering speed the horse is driven to. Nothing will disturb the battle tonight! The cling of my sword sounds its familiar metallic song as it is drawn from its simple leather sheath. Feet planted apart, one arm extended, palm open towards the the rider that thunders towards me.

"Halt!"

With skidding hooves, the horse is brough to a halt, only a foot away from my posture blocking the road, foam flung in my face. Mounted on the horse a woman, dressed in the colors of a herald, her face wet with sweat, covered from dust the hooves of her trusted steed threw in her face in his will-driven sprint. Her stern eyes looking at me, her mouth remains closed as I ask her business. her answer consists of a quick flick of her wrist, a knife landing in the bark of the tree, an inch away from my ear.

Without hesitating I duck, grab the ankle of the herald and throw her out of the saddle, dive down on her and pin her down to the dirt of the road as she struggles fiercely beneath me. Then her body relaxes and I get a chance to sit up, keeping my guard up for a surprise attack. I grab her wrists in one hand and let the other go through her clothes, finding what i am looking for in a small pouch tucked in between her breasts. She screams with frustration, bucks underneath me once more and lays her head down in the dirt, defeated. I open the pouch and unfold the scroll.

As the fragile parchment is unfolded and the creases carefully pushed out with my hand,letters are revealed, small but clear to read:

The final tournament will be held in Sweden from 10 to 28 July 2013 with 12 teams competing at seven venues.
Do not let the gender fool you, these battles are brutal, viscious, mean. These warrior women are the toughest of their kind, like a buldog never letting go. Sharpen your spears and swords, meand your shileds, buff your helmets to make them shine with pride and honor and go to war!

"You bring ill tidings in tense times.."

"I am but the messenger, my lord.."

...

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