Bonjour à tous !

Le sujet ne l'indique peut-être pas hyper clairement, mais ce topic a pour but de vous proposer une partie un peu différente dans les semaines qui viennent.

Comme vous le savez peut-être, plusieurs parties dans la langue de Shakespeare ont déjà été proposées. La dernière remonte à janvier 2011 - such a shame!

Je vous propose donc, si vous êtes motivés, de mener une partie en anglais, pour 10 à 12 joueurs, a priori sur la seconde moitié du mois d'août. Il s'agirait d'une partie hors-série. Quant au thème... J'hésite encore entre deux, mais de toute façon ce sera bien !

Are you in?

Maléfique a écrit:

I'm in but I'm not bilingual.

YOU ARE LYING you live in a schyzo contry ! You are bilingual but perahps y ou are not a shakespearian speaker !

I love you!
French kiss!
You f*** my wife?

Brian is in the kitchen. Where is my umbrella?

We are the world!

God save the queen.

troll, feed, dive, creep, heal, dungeon, blade, twist...

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps...

I really like talking and reading in english but writing... not so much.

It's not about writing 10-mile-long messages...
If you wanna know what these games are like, you can have a look at the 2 previous ones:
- http://www.les-loups-garous.com/f110-partie-hors-serie-4
- http://www.les-loups-garous.com/f138-partie-hors-serie-5

And this one: http://www.les-loups-garous.com/f57-partie-hors-serie

I'm totally in !

Maybe I'll get my second victory during this game ? The previous one was so sweet.... Wasn't it, Arthur ?

I will kill you first.

I would be so sure about that.

It's a promise I make to you.

Well, I'm not having doubts about my dying first. It's more about the fact that YOU will be the one killing me. You know, there are lots of people hoping to kill me out there. 8)

But fair enough. You'd better keep that promise. Don't disappoint me !

Peace, love and empathy.

I'm sexy and I know it!

A game with my beloved moghedounette-au-sucre-d'orge as leader?! Hell yeah!
I just hope I'll still be "not so stressed out" (as I am now)... Wait and see

Unfortunately i 'm not really chatty with english

You can count me in. I just hope I'm not gonna miss the applications, I've been waiting for that kind of game for a long time now

Wait and bleed?

I would like to participate to this party even if my english is dramatic.
But after 21 years, I hope still to progress ^^"



I think that the kind of game is a good practice.

Thank you Djoach... I should've expected you to say something like this T__T
Thanks for all your answers, it's good to see you're motivated! I'll work on it during my holidays

What are holidays? I don't remember exactly since I was a trainee.

Of course it is!
Well... I've not been working as I should have, but I'll do my best so that the game may take place in September or early October.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old,
We must away, ere break of day,
To seek our pale enchanted gold.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells,
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

For ancient king and elvish lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught,
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.

On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, on twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold,
To dungeons deep and caverns old,
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.

Goblets they carved there for themselves,
And harps of gold, where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by men or elves.

The pines were roaring on the heights,
The wind was moaning in the night,
The fire was red, it flaming spread,
The trees like torches blazed with light.

The bells were ringing in the dale,
And men looked up with faces pale.
The dragon's ire, more fierce than fire,
Laid low their towers and houses frail.

The mountain smoked beneath the moon.
The dwarves, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled the hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.

Far over the Misty Mountains grim,
To dungeons deep and caverns dim,
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!

The wind was on the withered heath,
But in the forest stirred no leaf:
There shadows lay be night or day,
And dark things silent crept beneath.

The wind came down from mountains cold,
And like a tide it roared and rolled.
The branches groaned, the forest moaned,
And leaves were laid upon the mould.

The wind went on from West to East;
All movement in the forest ceased.
But shrill and harsh across the marsh,
Its whistling voices were released.

The grasses hissed, their tassels bent,
The reeds were rattling—on it went.
O'er shaken pool under heavens cool,
Where racing clouds were torn and rent.

It passed the Lonely Mountain bare,
And swept above the dragon's lair:
There black and dark lay boulders stark,
And flying smoke was in the air.

It left the world and took its flight
Over the wide seas of the night.
The moon set sale upon the gale,
And stars were fanned to leaping light.

Under the Mountain dark and tall,
The King has come unto his hall!
His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread,
And ever so his foes shall fall!

The sword is sharp, the spear is long,
The arrow swift, the Gate is strong.
The heart is bold that looks on gold;
The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong.

The dwarves of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like ringing bells
In places deep, where dark things sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.

On silver necklaces they strung
The light of stars, on crowns they hung
The dragon-fire, from twisted wire
The melody of harps they wrung.

The mountain throne once more is freed!
O! Wandering folk, the summons heed!
Come haste! Come haste! Across the waste!
The king of friend and kin has need.

Now call we over the mountains cold,
'Come back unto the caverns old!'
Here at the gates the king awaits,
His hands are rich with gems and gold.

The king has come unto his hall
Under the Mountain dark and tall.
The Worm of Dread is slain and dead,
And ever so our foes shall fall!

Farewell we call to hearth and hall!
Though wind may blow and rain may fall,
We must away, ere break of day
Far over the wood and mountain tall.

To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwell
In glades beneath the misty fell.
Through moor and waste we ride in haste,
And whither then we cannot tell.

With foes ahead, behind us dread,
Beneath the sky shall be our bed,
Until at last our toil be passed,
Our journey done, our errand sped.

We must away! We must away!
We ride before the break of day!