War is to man what maternity is to a woman. From a philosophical and doctrinal viewpoint, I do not believe in perpetual peace.
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All within the state, nothing outside the state, nothing against the state.
We become strong, I feel, when we have no friends upon whom to lean, or to look to for moral guidance.
Oofies
Well the Overhaul to the star wars server is finished, changed to Imperial, and there will be more things to do. Feel free do join.
Isn't your flag the flag of Fascist Romania?
Time marches on, Our Fallen Brothers marching with. We Follow their souls, as they guide us to our resting place in the arms of our lord.
We Stand among friends, among Brothers, as we march towards the Gates of Heaven, or Savior Guiding the Way through Hell, and Beyond.
The songs of our once great Romania free, sound sweet on Christmas eve, while death is calling our legionaries, for god awaits at the gates.
The marching boots of our legionaries hit the white riddled ground of a free nation, while our god and savior stands amongst us till death.
Our legions of green, with the flags of our leader Corneliu hang over our heads waving free, while our god steps among us through the masses
During the time of our saviors birth, our families and children gather throughout our homes, happy and peaceful while our legions keep free.
Merry Christmas everyone. From Iron Romania
Use unprofessional manners and attitude to one, and expect no respect to be given to one who seeks it. Formal manners are the key to Respect
Stop having so many characters, you're worst than the entire McCarthy family.
Green and black the colour's we wear; marching in columns long with our brothers, flags flying overhead black boots tapping in line Legionar
Our heavy black boots hit the ground like metal against cobble. Loud claps as our flags fly proudly over us. The green colour we wear proud.
The boots of our death legionaries march loud through the streets of our once great country, the guns of oppression fire; they still marchon
March mighty legionaries march and sing your songs loud, if you are shot by the oppressors keep marching, for we prove; we are death teams!
When the Legionary falls; a bullet struck to his head- his spirit marches along with the Legionaries, A fallen brother he walks with them. -
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