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The war drums pound, 'cross dry and arid plain
With it an armies march, which carries fire and pain
Your sins be judged and punished, an end come to your reign
The beast has been awoken, you poor cub which we now slay.
You attempt to sway it's members, but Loyalty does last
Till success or death does do us part, we carry D.M.'s mast
Now tell us, Cub, your favorite sight, from all your days of past
For your future holds naught but Death March, and Death March will be your last.
It seems Dawn of the Tupperware has taken a keen eye to the disrespect of my members. This is an offence I do not stand for. D.M. has continued to defy odds, and rise to be one of the best, despite it's position and it's challenges, we maintain not just a tribe, but a family, a family that will not stand for DOTT's methods of recruiting top members and eating the rest. A family that loves a challenge, and will fight the odds, even if it means we may lose. DOTT has done nothing but skirmish, and has yet to face a real fight. We intend to be that fight. And for better or worse, they will remember our names as the misfits who destroyed them, or the players who gave them the ride of their lives.
Do not forget the small tribe that took comand of the east. We are the fire that drives the Tribal Wars machine, and leaves the hugging to the weak, and we are the the players whom come together by choice, to a tribe they call home, not a team that comes together out of necessity. So, DOTT, welcome to the game.
A Special Message from Diamond.Blade: