This T-Rex is so awesome it barfs out Wolverines.

I have no idea what's happening here, but I like it.

looks like the first picture depicts someone killing a lion, the second appears to depict a invader, seeing as the civilians fear him.

its Darius the Great

The Persian Empire gets a bad rap. Despite the fact that these guys went out and forged one of the largest, wealthiest, and most ridiculously powerful land empires ever assembled, it seems like every time we read about them they're getting brained over the head by some random iteration of the Greek phalanx or kicked in the nuts by a large screaming European with an out-of-control beard and a six-pack of abs so cut it looks like it was chiseled from a solid chunk of the planet Krypton. Seriously, it seems like the only time you really hear any reference to the badassitude of the Persians is in the preface to a book about how Alexander the Great came in and conquered their asses without breaking a sweat.

This is total bullcrap. Back before the Macedonian conqueror was a twinkle in his psychotic mother's evil, pulsating eye, ultra turbo hardasses like Darius of Persia were out there using their insane powers of colon destruction to lay waste to the countryside and exert their utter and complete dominance over the Middle East in the most violent and awesome ways imaginable.

It all started with a crazy asskicking maniac named Cyrus the Great. Cyrus earned such a munificent moniker by unifying the lands of Near Asia in the 6th century before Jeebus, uniting the disorganized tribes by benevolently grinding his heel into the faces of their chieftains, smashing their armies in the junk with a sledge hammer, and exerting his will like crazy all over the place. It was in this manner that Cyrus crushed the Kingdom of the Babylonians, united the lands of Mesopotamia under one ruler, and crafted the Persian Empire out of the blood of his slain foes. When he wasn't kicking people in half with his sandals Cyrus also freed the Jews from the Babylonian captivity, let them re-locate back to their ancestral homelands, and helped re-build the Temple in Jerusalem – a feat which earned him mega-mad props in the Bible – so that's pretty dope as well. Cyrus was eventually killed by the barbarian Queen Tomyris, a moderately-nuts chick who cut off the Persian king's head and turned it into a macabre coffee mug, but that didn't really slow down the massive Persian war machine as much as you might think. Cyrus' son Cambyses took over, added the once-powerful lands of Egypt to the Persian repertoire, and then arbitrarily biffed it all of a sudden when he accidentally stabbed himself in the leg and died of gangrene.

Immediately after Cambyses kicked it, some jerk showed up claiming to be the late Emperor's long-lost brother Smerdis – the Prince of Persia and legitimate, honest-to-crap rightful heir to the throne. Unfortunately, the problem here is that Cambyses' brother Smerdis was actually dead, having been assassinated by jackasses several years prior to the death of Cambyses. One of the few men who knew this was a Persian military officer known as Darius – a rock-hard commander of the Immortals who had served on the front lines during the conquest of Egypt, and a larynx-smashing neckpuncher who was far too badass to and honorable to just sit around while some jacknut usurped the throne. Darius, being the humorless classical-age warrior that he was, instead decided to take action - he put together a group of pissed-off nobles, charged the palace, destroyed the usurper, and took the crown for himself. With his first acts in office, Darius restored land that had been confiscated by the government, rebuilt the temples that had been destroyed by the false emperor, and married the daughter of the real Smerdis to further legitimize his place as King. Of course, I should mention that nowadays there's actually some debate among historians as to whether this now-dead ex-Emperor was actually the real Smerdis or a pretender. While we may never know whether Darius was a righteous savior of his people liberating his subjects from the reign of a usurper king or an evil illegitimate who simply killed the Emperor, stole his throne, and married his daughter, I would argue that either interpretation of the guy is equally badass.

Once Cyrus and his line were officially regicided, the miscellaneous tribes of the Middle East foolishly thought they could just run off and do their own thing without having to worry about any kind of ultra-gory retribution. Immediately after Darius took office he was confronted with nine open revolts, and all of a sudden he found himself needing to almost completely re-conquer the Persian Empire. Well whereas it took Cyrus and entire lifetime to forge Persia into a mighty empire Darius required just eleven months to complete the seemingly-daunting task and bring the traitorous tribes back into the fold. This is pretty damn impressive, especially considering that even Alexander the Great needed nine years to conquer Persia, and he was pretty much just fighting one army, let alone nine.


The secret to Darius' success was one part brilliant leadership, one part straight-up military assbeatery on the part of his infamous Immortals, and one part Mafia-style coercion. After destroying a rebel army, Darius had their so-called "liar-king" brought before him, stripped of his war gear and bound in chains. Darius would cut off the guy's nose, ears, and tongue, poke out an eye, stuff him in a small cage, and leave him outside the gates of the palace to rot for a while and think about what he'd done. After being sufficiently subjected to the ridicule of random passers-by and appropriately humiliated, the deposed king was crucified outside the city gates. Once he was dead his skin was cut off, stuffed with straw, and the creepy messed-up scarecrow was hung outside the liar-king's former castle as a testament to what it meant to screw with Darius.

After conquering an empire the size of the continental United States in roughly the amount of time it takes most kids to apply to medical school, Darius then went around and killed all the Persian tribal chieftains who didn't help him put down the rebellion, replacing them with G's he knew would have his back when he needed it. He also re-stabilized the Empire, built roads, trade routes, and bridges, established postal and judicial systems, standardized the currency, and sent a very clear message that anyone who effed with him was going to die screaming.


After cementing his reputation as the most bitchin' Emperor in the Fertile Crescent, Darius went about further expanding the already-ginormous Persian Empire. His first opponents were the Saka Scythians in Central Asia – badass warrior tribesmen known for their powers of face-stabbing. Despite being significantly outnumbered, Darius defeated them with an ingenious tactic; he built a massive fleet of ships in the Caspian Sea, sailed around behind the enemy lines, unloaded his troops, attacked them from the rear, and, according to Darius' own account, "smote the Scythians exceedingly". Afterwards he marched on India, captured the Indus Valley, and began mining donkey-loads of gold from the wealthy region. He even conquered the long-standing Greek settlements in Asia Minor and Thrace, marched across the Hellespont on a bridge made out of 600 wooden ships tied together, and campaigned against his enemies in Macedonia, Bulgaria, and the present-day Ukraine.

A few years later the Asia Minor Greeks, many of whom didn't realize how awesome Darius was, decided to go nuts and stage a huge ridiculous revolution. Our boy Darius wasn't about to stand for this crap, obviously, so he marched his troops around the Mediterranean coast burning and destroying everything he came across in a giant fiery death-orgy. He regained control over Asia Minor and Thrace, invaded and conquered several Aegean Islands, and even attempted to torch the mighty Greek city-state of Athens. The Athenians turned Darius' armies back at the Battle of Marathon in 490 BCE, but the Persian King had already made his point. He retained control over the rebellious Greek city-states, and oh yeah still occupied the entire Middle East and most of Central Asia. He died four years later, one of the richest and most powerful emperors on Earth.

Under Darius, the Persian Empire reached the pinnacle of its power and the fullest extent of its size. His domain consisted of over 40 different ethnic tribes, stretched from India to the Balkans, and covered almost three million square miles – almost twice the size of Caesar's Rome, and the largest empire of Antiquity. In his 36-year reign, Darius re-built this mighty Empire into one of the world's foremost powers, married six different women, and was pretty much righteously awesome in all possible respects. He kicked asses, took names, ruthlessly destroyed anyone who pissed him off, and fought all of his duels "to the pain."

Attila the Hun


Long before dudes like Genghis Khan and Tamerlane made it routine for a rampaging horde of steppe nomads to ride into Europe on an army of man-eating horses, crushing their enemies before them, hacking off more limbs than a malfunctioning piece of Industrial Revolution machinery and reducing over-populated metropolises to steaming piles of charred ash and carrion, there was Attila the Hun - the Original Gangsta of Central Asian barbarian warlords and one of the toughest motherfuckers to ever tie on a fur cloak, slap an old lady in the face and trample some unsuspecting dumbass villagers with his horse. A man so renowned for his bloodlust, ruthless determination, and merciless, unstoppable asskicking powers that his enemies in Western Europe simply referred to him with one incredibly badass nickname: The Scourge of God.

Attila and his brother inherited the Hun Empire in 433 after their father died for some reason nobody gives a shizzle about. Not much is known about the Empire at the time of Attila's ascension to the throne, but it is believed to have stretched from the Russian steppe to the Danube River in Eastern Europe. Or something. Attila's first move as the kind, benevolent ruler of his people was to walk up to the Emperor of the Eastern Roman Empire, metaphorically female dog-slap him in the fucking face with his johnson, and demand that the Byzantines pay the Huns a tribute of 600 pounds of gold every year as sort of a "please God don't let the bad men hurt us" tax. Well 600 pounds of gold is pretty much a fucking shitload of gold, and after a couple years of this the Byzantine Emperor suddenly got sick of Attila's bullshit and decided to grow a pair. Emperor Dumbass used his newly-discovered power of testosterone generation to tell Attila him to go hump himself with a rusty coat hanger. Attila responded by cracking his knuckles, mobilizing his army, and marching a screaming horde of pissed-off motherfuckers across the Danube River in 440 CE for the sole purpose of causing enough chaos and destruction to make the L.A. riots look like Family Day at Fantasy Land.

The Huns pillaged villages and towns all across Eastern Europe in a mad rampage of destruction and relentless assbeatings. Many cities, including Belgrade, were obliterated; Their populations were either sold into slavery or stabbed in the balls and left for dead, the empty buildings were looted and then burned to the ground, and the ashes were urinated on by drunk homeless people. For two years, Attila's men ravaged the countryside like an army of pissed-off repressed middle-class soccer moms assaulting a 90%-off clearance rack at Macy's. Once they'd killed everyone they could find and stolen anything that wasn't bolted to the floor by six-inch nails, steel rivets and two tons of sold concrete, they turned their attention East towards the Byzantine capital of Constantinople. The city was surrounded, the Eastern Roman Army was shattered, and the Byzantines were pretty much royally fucked. The Huns didn't really have the technology or the manpower to capture the heavily fortified city, so instead Atilla went up and down the countryside searching for any Byzantine Army units that hadn't already been annihilated by his badass wildmen. Eventually, the Emperor in Constantinople surrendered, paid The Scourge of God 6,000 pounds of gold in small, unmarked, non-consecutive bills and agreed to triple the Don't Kick My derrière Tax. For Attila, this was all he needed to hear. He wasn't interested in owning huge expanses of territory, governing citizens, passing laws or doing any of that other City Hall bureaucracy bullshit paperwork - as long as his enemies were willing to pay him a shitload of gold not to kick their fucking asses, he was more than happy with the knowledge that he had made them all his bitches.

Attila returned home, and within a few years his brother died of mysterious causes. I'll give you two guesses who may have been behind it. This "unfortunate incident" put power and rule over the Empire firmly in the ever-clenched, face-smashing iron fist of Attila. He chilled out in Hungary for a while, drinking Hennessey on top of gigantic piles of gold coins and half-naked European babes until the year 447, when once again the Byzantine Empire thought it would be really fucking hilarious to stop paying tribute to the Huns. Attila didn't even think about it - he just got his men together and stomped nuts across the Eastern Roman Empire, sacking cities throughout the Balkan provinces and shoving his foot up the derrière of anybody not currently on his payroll. After another two years of getting their faces pummeled in and having their population wiped out quicker than an onset of the Bubonic Plague, the Byzantines once again surrendered and agreed to pay even more tribute.


The secret to the Huns asskicking skills lie in the fact that they were completely balls-out all of the time. The entire army was mounted on horseback, allowing them to travel and maneuver at speeds far greater than their enemies could hope to achieve. On top of that, they used composite bows - powerful, long-range weapons that were pretty much the Cruise Missiles of Antiquity - and they could fire those bastards with deadly accuracy while charging at a full gallop. Their strategy was first to fly in, launch a couple of volleys of arrows, then fade away before the other guys even knew what the fudge was going on. While the enemy was still in disarray, the Huns would circle around, fire another volley, and then charge full-speed while yelling blood-curdling insane battle cries that made most of their opponent piss themselves with pure liquid terror. In hand-to-hand combat, their style was just to go balls-out all the motherfucking time - savagely hacking and wildly shooting anything that moved. They exercised little regard for their own personal safety, created vast amounts of chaos in the enemy ranks, and then used the disorder to their advantage. They also used nets and lassos to bind their enemies before hacking them up with swords or stabbing them in the eye with their spears, which is pretty sweet.

Anyways, in 450 a chick named Honoria (who was actually the sister of Western Roman Emperor Valentinian III) sent a brave little R2 utility droid to our boy Attila with a special message - "Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope." Basically, Valentinian had forced Honoria into an arranged marriage against her will with some jackass motherfucker she couldn't stand, and she needed the Scourge of God to swoop in and rescue her from the clutches of some perverted douchebag asshole. This cry for help was like the Bat Signal for Attila, except instead of rappelling in on a zip line and punching bank robbers in the face while giant word bubbles exclaimed things like, "BIFF!", Attila started putting his sword through peoples' heads and shooting Europeans in the face with giant flaming arrows. He rode his army in to Western Europe, claimed Honoria as his wife, and then demanded half of the Western Roman Empire as a dowry. When Valentinian said something along the lines of, "there's no way in fucking Hell I'm going to give you half of my Empire", Attila basically said, "female dog, I wasn't asking for your fucking permission." Now that's badass.

In 451, the Hun hordes blitzed through German and Austria, crushing all opposition, pillaging countless villages and crossing the Rhine into Gaul, where Attila sacked every town he came across and whipped the derrière of any Visigoth warriors standing in his way. The skies above France were clouded with the black smoke of dozens of smoldering villages as the entire countryside pretty much became one giant raging inferno of suck.


Even though the Visigoths and the Romans hated each other worse than the Red Sox and the Yankees, they eventually realized that they needed to join forces or they were all going to get personally sacked by a swift boot to the groin from Attila the Asskicker and his legion of bloodthirsty psychos. A gigantic combined army comprised of the best warriors the Visigoths and Romans had to offer was assembled to chase Attila across Gaul. They eventually caught up to him while he was in the middle of razing the city of Orleans, and the surprise attack forced the Hun invaders to withdraw. Atilla met the European army in a full-scale holy shizzle battle outside the town of Chalons to determine the fate of the West, but in a brutal battle resulting in the deaths of hundreds of thousands of warriors on both sides, including the Visigoth King, Attila's army was narrowly defeated by the Allies. It would be the warlord's only documented defeat on the field of battle in his twenty-year career as a professional face-smashing conqueror.

Attila withdrew from Gaul, crossing back over the Rhine and making everybody think he was headed back to Hungary to chill out in his sweet crib and drink wine all night. Then, right at the last second he sent a text message to the Western Roman Emperor saying, "PSYCH LOL YA RITE LOSERS I'M ONLY HUNGARY FOR SOME MORE derrière-KICKING!!!!111ONEONEONE" Instead of heading home, he veered over into Italy and launched a surprise attack aimed at destroying Rome herself. The Huns looted Aquileia, Padua, and Milan before pressing on towards Ravenna and Rome, ball-knocking the Italian cities while Rome's armies were off celebrating their triumphant victory back in Gaul and getting backrubs and massages from loose Visigothic women. The only thing that kept Attila from conquering all of Italy was a delegation led by Pope Leo the Great, who came out at the head of a massive Roman Embassy that basically pleaded and begged Attila for mercy. The Hunnic King finally was like, "fine, fudge it whatever, assholes. I don't have time for this. I'm fucking out of here", and headed back home. He died in 453, shortly after returning to his palace. He had just gotten married to some other random chick, and drank so much at the after-party that he choked to death on his own blood like some kind of awesome 1970s rock star. He was buried in a massive sarcophagus along with all of his worldy treasures, and then the tomb-builders were executed so that the secret location of his grave would never be discovered. To this day, it remains a secret to everybody.

Attila the Hun is generally remembered in the West as a terrible, bloodthirsty killing machine and one of the most badassed, toughest motherfuckers to ever live. He wasn't to dicked around with, he punched the most powerful Empires in the face in the world so hard that they got serious concussions and forgot how to tie their own shoelaces, and he didn't half-derrière it when it came to eradicating anything that stood in his way through sheer violence and a couple of blowtorches. In the East, he is known as a wise and powerful ruler who commanded the respect of his subjects for twenty years, launched many successful military campaigns, and whipped a group of disorganized nomads into the world's most ferocious army. He is also commended by contemporary sources for his humility and self-discipline - one of the men on the Roman Embassy that went to plead for their miserable lives noted that while Attila's guests were offered lavish, exotic foods served on solid-gold serving plates, Attila himself just ate a huge slab of meat off of a wooden plate, drank from a wood goblet, and carried a beat-up, nondescript sword on his belt. As a true badass, Attila the Hun didn't need to flex nuts to prove how fucking awesome he was - the world already knew.

Stop with the long posts bro.

SUMMARIZE.

What I saw

yall niggas hatin

Very funny Preid.

children

LMAO I thought sayf wrote an essay on darius for a min there .__.

Their populations were either sold into slavery or stabbed in the balls and left for dead, the empty buildings were looted and then burned to the ground, and the ashes were urinated on by drunk homeless people.

rofl

my n!gga Hayerrdeen

Hayreddin Barbarossa




The Battle of Preveza in 1538 was a major turning point in the history of naval power in the Mediterranean. Taking place on the same body of water where Caesar Augustus claimed final power during the Battle of Actium in 31 BCE, this climactic battle of the ongoing Turkish-European war would be an epic conflict that would definitively determine jurisdiction over the Greek coast, ultimate dominion over the planet's most coveted and lucrative naval trade routes, and near-infinite bragging rights around the beer coolers at the next annual Turkish-Venetian Super Bowl Barbeque Bash.



On one side was the great Italian Admiral and perpetually-shirtless egomaniac Andrea Doria. Widely believed to be the most brilliant seaman Christianity had to offer, this dauntless, self-aggrandizing gut-buster had been whomping Turkish asses up and down the coast of Southern Greece for years, crushing Ottoman warships into sawdust and whacking babies in the face with his pimp-cane, and he now sought to finally exert his power over his hated rivals once and for all by incinerating all that remained of the Turkish Fleet. At his command was a seemingly-endless Death Armada of crusading vessels from the European nations that comprised the powerful Holy League; 300 badass warships from Papacy-Approved locales like Spain, Venice, Genoa, and Malta. Hell, when the Pope heard about the assbeating that was about to go down, he decided to get in on the action himself, sending over a dozen of his own battleships to fight the heathen Turks, and prove once and for all that the Christian God indeed was an Awesome God.



This of course was back in the day when the Pope had his own army and navy. Can you imagine what the world would be like today if Benedict XVI could send a strafing run of A-10s every time somebody pissed him off?



Well this masturbatory Grand Showcase of naval might was great and all, but as Harvey Keitel would say, "let's not start sucking each other's dicks quite yet, gentlemen." You see, across the Gulf of Arta stood the most badass Muslim warlord to ever sail the high seas - a man known to his countrymen simply as Kheir-ed-Din – The Defender of the Faith. Outnumbered and heavily outgunned, on this day the Grand Admiral of the Turkish Navy remained unimpressed by his enemies' vulgar display of power. This brilliant tactician and naval asskicker was determined to smite the fudge out of the infidel crusaders to the fullest extent of his impressive abilities. His beleaguered fleet of 122 battle-hardened warships stood at the ready, eagerly waiting his command. It wouldn't be long before they'd have an opportunity to show the European Nations what it was like to be on the receiving end of a Turkish shoe to the fucking face.





The boy who would become the Defender of the Faith was born on the Isle of Lesbos in the Aegean Sea at the end of the 15th century. Coming from lower-class parents on a tiny, isolated island more well-known for its etymological association with the word "lesbianism" than for it's penchant for producing epic skull-crushing hardasses, young Hizir Reis was more or less received as just one in a long line of male children produced by a nondescript family of little to no importance. His rise to prominence as Grand Admiral started from very humble beginnings - with minimal opportunity for fiscal advancement through legitimate means, the young Reis boys initially opted to turn to adventure, glory, fame, and money by buying a boat, recruiting a crew of cutthroats, and turning to a life of badass piracy on the high seas of the Mediterranean.



Operating of the Tunisian coast in the early 1500s, Hizir Reis and his band of bloodthirsty buccaneer brothers got busy bashing peoples' faces in with their scimitars on a daily basis. Over time, these enterprising asskickers built up a pretty sweet pirate empire, preying on European shipping, kicking the heads off of the Knights Hospitaller, and plundering with relative impunity all over the place like crazy whoah. As news of their success spread, they gained the support of local Moorish seafaring warriors, fought against Spanish expansion into North Africa, and pummeled a bunch of Christian knights unconscious with their own crucifixes.




Hizir eventually took over control of the ever-expanding criminal enterprise after the death of his older brother, and decided to ally himself with the Ottoman Turkish Empire. You see, back in the 16th century, the Turks really had their shizzle together. The Sultan basically went around to the most badass Muslim pirates in the Middle East and told them, "Hey dude if you promise only to fudge up the Christians and leave Turkish shipping alone, I'll give you a bunch of troops, cannons, supplies, and money in return." This government-sanctioned piracy worked out pretty well for everybody - the Turks gained a powerful ally, and corsairs like Hizir Reis pretty much had free reign to wreak havoc on anybody and everybody who was pissing them off. It was as a badass Turkish privateer that this ferocious corsair made a name for himself as a serious face-melting assbeater, crushing the enemies of the Ottoman Empire like empty soda cans and basically crotchpunching the European powers up and down the coastlines of the Mediterranean.



The notorious Muslim pirate, known to the Europeans as Barbarossa ("Red Beard", because he had, well, red hair. And a beard), became an overnight celebrity when he put together a massive pirate army and captured the heavily-fortified North African city of Algiers in 1517. The Sultan was so mega pumped-up about that awesome shizzle that he appointed Barbarossa Governor of Algiers and commander of the entire fucking Western Ottoman Fleet, and sent him out to do what he did best – smash European ships until they were no longer capable of flotation. The Empire’s newest admiral got his Darth Vader on pretty much immediately, conquering basically all of North Africa by 1529. The Hapsburg King-Emperor Charles V tried to retake the areas that had fallen to the Turks, but ended up getting kicked in the balls repeatedly by the unstoppable Peasant-turned-Pirate-turned-Admiral.




A sweet-looking Ottoman gunship.



It was around this time that our buddy Andrea Doria arrived on the scene. At this point in time, Doria’s name wasn’t yet synonymous with sinking ships, but that situation that would soon be remedied by Admiral Barbarossa and his cannon-laden, shizzle-wrecking warships.



Doria decided he was going to liberate Greece from the Turkish yoke, sailing into the port city of Coron in 1532 and capturing it with relative ease. After hearing about this defeat, the Turkish Sultan was like, "that’s fucking it." He slammed his fist down on a table, swore loudly in basically every language he could think of, and immediately promoted Barbarossa to the position of Grand Mega Super Inane Admiral of the Entire Goddamned Turkish Navy.



Barbarossa didn’t fudge around. He built a huge fleet, relentlessly trained his men, and set out for action. In 1535 he re-captured Coron, conquered Tunis, blew up Sicily, and plundered the shizzle out of the Italian coast. His raids and assbeatery pissed off the Europeans so badly that they sent Andrea Doria to dish out some much-needed retaliation. Doria assembled a massive Christian Fleet, sailed out to the afore-mentioned harbor of Preveza, and prepared to teach the Muslims a lesson in getting their faces kicked in with a chainmailed boot.



Well Andrea Doria needed to recognize that stepping to Barbarossa is a good way to get one's eye swole up. Off the coast of Preveza in 1538, the Allied galleys of the Holy League were face-smashed into driftwood by the gigantic nutbag of Hayreddin Barbarossa and his Ottoman Fleet. Outnumbered more than three-to-one (six-to-one according to some accounts), Barbarossa not only demolished the invasion force – he made the combined naval might of five mighty Christian nations look like that adorable fleet of rubber duckies that menaced the shores of New England a couple years ago. The Allies were crushed in a humiliating manner, their ships were sunk and/or captured, its galleys were plundered – shizzle, the Republic of Venice was fucked up so hard it was forced to pay war reparations to the Turks and publicly apologize for wasting Barbarossa’s time with such a pitiful, insignificant military effort.




For his success, Barbarossa was given the top honors of the Ottoman Empire. He was even awarded the right to sit on the Imperial Council and help run the higher-workings of the government. His victory also established the might of the Turkish Navy in the Mediterranean - from that point on, Ottoman ships dominated the Adriatic and Aegean Seas, and the Sultan held sole power over some of the world's most profitable trade routes. Barbarossa continued his adventures for a couple years, sacking Sicilian cities, meddling in petty European succession wars, and plundering Spanish galley squadrons. He eventually retired to a life of luxury, and died in 1546 at the age of 68, the greatest and most successful naval commander in the history of Islam.

Ameer 2 wrote:LMAO I thought sayf wrote an essay on darius for a min there .__.

Their populations were either sold into slavery or stabbed in the balls and left for dead, the empty buildings were looted and then burned to the ground, and the ashes were urinated on by drunk homeless people.

rofl

Attila withdrew from Gaul, crossing back over the Rhine and making everybody think he was headed back to Hungary to chill out in his sweet crib and drink wine all night. Then, right at the last second he sent a text message to the Western Roman Emperor saying, "PSYCH LOL YA RITE LOSERS I'M ONLY HUNGARY FOR SOME MORE derrière-KICKING!!!!111ONEONEONE" Instead of heading home, he veered over into Italy and launched a surprise attack aimed at destroying Rome herself. The Huns looted Aquileia, Padua, and Milan before pressing on towards Ravenna and Rome, ball-knocking the Italian cities while Rome's armies were off celebrating their triumphant victory back in Gaul and getting backrubs and massages from loose Visigothic women.

I hope you know that no one is going to read your super long posts.