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Versus · 03-18-2011, 07:12 PM

Individually, the men of Gondor have a statistically better chance. But as a whole, such an occurrence is impossible. You see, a branch of the U.S. Army is the only living descents of real vikings: The Cavalry. While not technically a branch unto itself anymore (it was re-flagged as armor sometime in the 50's), the Cavalry's rich traditions and culture, alongside our undeniable manliness and proven combat prowess are the modern equivalent to fictional people.

Consider this:

A) Viking afterlife

In Scandinavian mythology, Valhalla (anglicized from Old Norse Walhǫllr "hall of the slain"[1]) is a majestic, enormous hall located in Asgard, ruled over by the god Odin. Chosen by Odin, half of those that die in combat travel to Valhalla upon death, led by valkyries, while the other half go to the goddess Freyja's field Fólkvangr.

In Valhalla, the dead join the masses of those who have died in combat known as Einherjar, as well as various legendary Germanic heroes and kings, as they prepare to aid Odin during the events of Ragnarök. Before the hall stands the golden tree Glasir, and the hall's ceiling is thatched with golden shields. Various creatures live around Valhalla, such as the stag Eikþyrnir and the goat Heiðrún, both described as standing atop Valhalla and consuming the foliage of the tree Læraðr.

B) Cavalry afterlife

Halfway down the trail to Hell,
In a shady meadow green
Are the Souls of all dead troopers camped,
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddlers' Green.

Marching past, straight through to Hell
The Infantry are seen.
Accompanied by the Engineers,
Artillery and Marines,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen
Dismount at Fiddlers' Green.

Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene.
No trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he's emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddlers' Green.

And so when man and horse go down
Beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee
You stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head
And go to Fiddlers' Green.

03-18-2011, 07:12 PM	#29
Versus Join Date: Oct 2010 Posts: 3,812	Individually, the men of Gondor have a statistically better chance. But as a whole, such an occurrence is impossible. You see, a branch of the U.S. Army is the only living descents of real vikings: The Cavalry. While not technically a branch unto itself anymore (it was re-flagged as armor sometime in the 50's), the Cavalry's rich traditions and culture, alongside our undeniable manliness and proven combat prowess are the modern equivalent to fictional people. Consider this: A) Viking afterlife In Scandinavian mythology, Valhalla (anglicized from Old Norse Walhǫllr "hall of the slain"[1]) is a majestic, enormous hall located in Asgard, ruled over by the god Odin. Chosen by Odin, half of those that die in combat travel to Valhalla upon death, led by valkyries, while the other half go to the goddess Freyja's field Fólkvangr. In Valhalla, the dead join the masses of those who have died in combat known as Einherjar, as well as various legendary Germanic heroes and kings, as they prepare to aid Odin during the events of Ragnarök. Before the hall stands the golden tree Glasir, and the hall's ceiling is thatched with golden shields. Various creatures live around Valhalla, such as the stag Eikþyrnir and the goat Heiðrún, both described as standing atop Valhalla and consuming the foliage of the tree Læraðr. B) Cavalry afterlife Halfway down the trail to Hell, In a shady meadow green Are the Souls of all dead troopers camped, Near a good old-time canteen. And this eternal resting place Is known as Fiddlers' Green. Marching past, straight through to Hell The Infantry are seen. Accompanied by the Engineers, Artillery and Marines, For none but the shades of Cavalrymen Dismount at Fiddlers' Green. Though some go curving down the trail To seek a warmer scene. No trooper ever gets to Hell Ere he's emptied his canteen. And so rides back to drink again With friends at Fiddlers' Green. And so when man and horse go down Beneath a saber keen, Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee You stop a bullet clean, And the hostiles come to get your scalp, Just empty your canteen, And put your pistol to your head And go to Fiddlers' Green. __________________ Woke up with fifty enemies plottin' my death All fifty seein' visions of me shot in the chest Couldn't rest, nah nigga I was stressed Had me creepin' 'round corners, homie sleepin' in my vest. -Breathin, Tupac.