Jag ser love
Synd och Sot ( Sin and Soot)
2020.11.24 11:41 dually_alive Synd och Sot ( Sin and Soot)
NON-ENGLISH POEM; TRANSLATION BELOW
Ditt sällsynta skratt är som de sorgligaste syrenerna
Sorlet av sommarens briser lugnar sig och låter Zephyros ta över
I parken, i skogen, i boken där brustna hjärtan är kunniga författare
Till och med molnen vet att vi bara möts i landet Aldrig-Alltid
Där förlustens sång flyter ut från en splittrad vit måne
Möts du och jag, jag och du, under denna hemska måne som ekar en så sorgsen sång
Så långt borta, bortom mig, når dina flammande ögon
Jag känner honom, han som var dig, du som är han
Kan du inte? lova att du älskar älskaren av syrenernas trädgård
Kvalstret och dammet som täcker de röda splittrorna i bröstet
Rösten, ekar den? inte i ditt huvud som en gudinnas trasiga fiol
I fjol såg jag universum, som härsknar från allt det onda och ruttna
Synd och sot enas i mina tankar, leder mig till denna djupa avgrund
I en fiol ser jag Utanför, utanför universum, livets fördärvelse
Djärva skapelser faller under det hemskt kalla hatfulla svarta
Övernatta i din famn vill jag så gärna, i stjärnan, mitt Törnrosas slott
Ett brott som lever, kväver min själ och ger min ande feber
Kan du inte kanske? se hur du tär, drar på kronbladen av en ros
Psykos, som laktos till en laktosintolerant, är helvete för en observant
Så sant! att du glömmer mig men ändå vill förstöra mig.
Your rare laugh is like the saddest lilacs
The murmur of the summer breezes quietens and lets Zephyros take the reins
In the park, in the forest, in the book where broken hearts are vexing and genius authors
Even the clouds know that we will only meet in the land of Never-Always
Where the song of loss flows out of a shattered white moon
Meets you and I, me and you, under this terrible moon that echoes such a sad song
So far away, beyond me, reaches your flaming eyes
I know him, he who was you, you who are he
Can't you? promise that you love the lover of the lilac garden
The mite and dust that cover these red splinters in the chest
The voice, does it not? echo in your head like a goddess's broken violin
Last year I saw the universe, which is ravaged by all that is evil and rotten
Sin and soot unite in my thoughts, leading me to this deep abyss
In a violin I see Outside, outside the universe, the corruption of life
Bold creations fall under the awfully cold hateful black
To spend the night in your embrace, I wish; in the star, my Sleeping Beauty's castle
A sentient crime that suffocates my soul and gives my spirit a fever
Can you maybe not? see how you're eating, tearing, pulling on the petals of a rose
Psychosis, like lactose to a lactose intolerant, is hell for an observer
So true! that you'd forget me but still would want to destroy me.
submitted by dually_alive
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2020.11.15 12:10 MarkdownShadowBot Removed comments/submissions for /u/dezom
, you're not shadowbanned
, but 124 of your most recent 152 comments/submissions were removed (either automatically or by human moderators).
on 11 Mar 20 (6pts):
Nu är det sju pers i kronoberg
on 16 Feb 20 (1pts):
Har endast vart med om att havet har frusit ordentligt en enda gång. Jag fick inte åka med, men minns att farsan och farfar drog ut med skridskor till öarna den gången. Har också hört berättelser om...
on 16 Feb 20 (3pts):
Den är faktiskt tagen denna vinter (mellandagarna om jag minns rätt) men ja, överlag har det vart riktigt dåligt väder.
on 08 Feb 20 (30pts):
Jag skulle vilja höra denna persons reaktion på typ black metal eller speedcore. Eller någon annan kul genre.
on 07 Feb 20 (3pts):
on 07 Feb 20 (10pts):
:D Anledningen varför det ser ut som det gör är för bilden är tagen genom en kikare.
on 10 Jul 19 (1pts):
on 10 Jul 19 (2pts):
Riktigt bra, kul att äntligen få se Ghost live också
on 09 Jul 19 (2pts):
Thank you Sadcat, very cool. Here is an old picture from 2+ years ago, of rankings of the nordic countries I made. https://imgur.com/a/SBpUdUs I actually had more pp than you back then wtf
on 21 Jun 19 (13pts):
Sure, why not.
on 16 Jun 19 (9pts):
Windwalker monks artifact ability :( I miss it
on 12 Jun 19 (1pts):
I'm european myself, betcha 10 bucks you're wrong on that last paragraph. !Remindme 10 years
on 03 Jun 19 (1pts):
Hey, I just thought I would let you know that the google docs application link seems to be broken.
Edit: Now it seems to work again!
on 11 May 19 (2pts):
I "only" traveled a bit over 1000km but it was so worth it. You got such a good seat! I was up on the balcony. Still, absolutely one of the best experiences of my life. So amazing. Hisaishi seemed...
on 06 May 19 (2pts):
I was there too! It was such an amazing experience, I'm glad I made the trip to Prague to see him, it was so worth it.
on 04 May 19 (1pts):
I need to delete reddit once and for all, same with youtube
on 03 May 19 (1pts):
I haven't been active on here for a while, but I remember just liking the fact that I had a single place for all things wow. Fanart, discussions, funny incidents, any news... It's just convenient, I...
on 24 Mar 19 (24pts):
Fantastiskt bra jobbat! Att se folk städa på hemmaplan är särskilt inspirerande, ska banne mig ta och göra samma sak på några stränder nära mig (vattnet får gärna bli lite varmare först...)
on 24 Mar 19 (1pts):
Hi, the following link is probably what you are looking for: https://www.kth.se/en/student/studentliv/accommodation/kth-accommodation-1.374952
there is also SSSB.se which is student housing in...
on 21 Mar 19 (1pts):
ohmygOD are u a cheater
on 12 Feb 19 (1pts):
The happiest sad song there ever was.
on 22 Jan 19 (4pts):
A youtube channel is not exactly a reliable source lmao
on 21 Jan 19 (1pts):
Haha även om det ser förfärligt ut skulle jag gärna smaka på denna! Sorry about all the angry swedes OP, they probably mean no harm! We're just very sensitive about cinnamon buns ;)
on 13 Jan 19 (13pts):
I love things like this. Absolutely mind blowing how large the British empire was. Also, seeing countries like Egypt, Iran, and Turkey with less than 20 million people is almost equally crazy, given...
on 06 Jan 19 (1pts):
I played the first week of BfA and I enjoyed it. Since then, I haven't logged in and I haven't paid for a subscription, and most notably, I haven't *wanted* to do any of those things. Only WoW...
on 05 Jan 19 (11pts):
Those skyscrapers look really nice! Hopefully they turn out as nice as the concept art makes them look. Very cool! I wish we had more skyscrapers in the nordics but I'll take what I can get!
on 16 Nov 18 (1pts):
Even of it was 1.7 mil that would probably just be for the one region, since servers in different regions aren't linked.
on 14 Nov 18 (11pts):
I can't wait to smash on TV. Been playing on 3ds since brawl and it's gonna be so amazing to play on a large screen in full HD.
Although I'm going to miss Smash Run. By far my most played gamemode.
on 09 Nov 18 (6pts):
ok, that's reassuring to know. Thank you!
on 09 Nov 18 (4pts):
Not exactly what this thread is meant for but,
Is it considered "ok" to wear another band's t-shirt to a live show?
on 05 Nov 18 (2pts):
Det finns också Studenthälsan som du kan snacka med.
on 03 Nov 18 (17pts):
Hur mycket räcker för att få dödsstraff? Frågar åt en kompis.
on 31 Oct 18 (2pts):
I'm so glad that I got to experience this song in particular live. Masterpiece
on 29 Oct 18 (2pts):
Every single movie marked in red in this image https://imgur.com/gallery/ksKji#zyLVVPh is worth giving a shot. I've seen almost all and not a single one has disappointed me yet.
on 27 Oct 18 (5pts):
Ok this video just convinced me to give guild wars another shot. That looks so cool.
on 26 Oct 18 (1pts):
?? No. DT pp only became a thing in early 2017 not 2016.
on 24 Oct 18 (2pts):
Sorting this thread by controversial gave me a real y i k e s moment
on 23 Oct 18 (27pts):
Du blev nedröstad men det är sant. Och det är faktiskt ett problem, mycket skattepengar går åt till att utbilda folk som sen hoppar av lärarutbildningen för att dom inte klarar av den. Bara för att...
on 21 Oct 18 (2pts):
Är detta vid Tekniska Högskolans t-bana entré? Ser väldigt likt ut men sen så ser ju alla likadana ut. Hur som helst ska jag bekräfta detta ikväll...
on 16 Oct 18 (1pts):
https://youtu.be/LJS8kDELia4 and https://youtu.be/e0MqrS3RAFU are both absolute insanity
on 13 Oct 18 (1pts):
Something has messed up your character encoding it looks like. Reinstall the program and/or restart your PC. Also, have you changed your computers Locale lately?
on 11 Oct 18 (7pts):
There are so many aspects of Japanese lifestyle and such that terrify me but this takes the cake. Holy shit. Imagine waking up every day not knowing if it's gonna be your last.
on 11 Oct 18 (3pts):
Man his story sounds almost identical to a friend of mine's grandfather. He was also from what is now Bosnia and Hercegovina, the Germans came during ww2, he was just a child back then, they killed...
on 10 Oct 18 (3pts):
Reading this stresses me out.
on 01 Oct 18 (2pts):
There's a couple of really neato bar skins that work with etterna, if you're interested -> https://etternaonline.com/noteskins I recommend neuroBar ;). I also decided to follow your stream, so...
on 01 Oct 18 (3pts):
Nice! Keep it up, you'll keep improving for sure.
on 20 Sep 18 (1pts):
What genres do you make? :)
on 19 Sep 18 (1pts):
I would not recommend it as it's way harder to learn 7k after having played 4k for a while than vice versa. Start with 7k to give yourself a wider base so that you can expand your skills easier later.
on 16 Sep 18 (1pts):
Just have the protagonist from Rocket Slime, it would be so perfect.
on 15 Sep 18 (7pts):
Los Angeles, och södra kalifornien i allmänhet har katastrofalt dåliga pendlingsalternativ, att ens ha fungerande tåg/tunnelbanor här måste verka som en stor uppgradering.
on 15 Sep 18 (14pts):
Most Ghibli movies do this to me. Especially my first time watching them. I'm just filled up with a surreal, void, incredible feeling.
on 14 Sep 18 (2pts):
Only way to learn to code is to code. You should just do it more and more until you're comfortable with it.
on 13 Sep 18 (3pts):
i've never heard of this game but that short description sold me on it. sounds like something I'd enjoy just to destress and have a good time.
on 11 Sep 18 (1pts):
I really thought dry bowser would've done better.
on 11 Sep 18 (10pts):
I saw Nausicaä in theatre just this weekend and it was absolutely magical. Theatre was completely packed. When the movie ended not a single person moved or made a sound, everyone sat quietly and...
on 10 Sep 18 (31pts):
DO YOU LIKE, MY CAR (MY CAR)
on 09 Sep 18 (1pts):
There's a spot in the city I live in where you can see three separate 7-elevens, it's insane.
on 09 Sep 18 (22pts):
I don't want to live on this planet anymore
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2020.09.15 16:50 invisiblemargot The Exact Words of Alysanne Florent
this is part 2, which will be confusing without part 1: Endless Summerfields
“Father!” Only the freezing walls of Brightwater Keep heard Ravella’s anguished cries. She ran barefoot between corridors, over thick layers of ice that coated the smooth stone below. Brightwater Keep was not particularly large, but was labyrinthine. Ravella seldom left its walls through her life - believing to know every room, hall, tower, and wall of the castle - but somehow, she found herself confused within her home. She had turned rights then lefts, then lefts to rights, trying all combinations yet still combing endless halls. She pulled and twisted at iron knobs and rapped upon every door she came across, but none opened. The few windows and arrowslits she scrambled past would have been helpful on any other day - the outer curtain walls had wax paper covering its openings, the inner curtain walls had wooden shutters, and the keep and towers had glass - but there were no coverings of any kind on any window or slit she passed. Though the openings were small, the mysteriously absent coverings left the cavernous halls glazed in a constant whistle and brush of stinging winds.
She shouted for her father again, and again only received howling winds in response. When she did happen upon a narrow set of stairs, she was unsure if she could make her way down. The joints and muscles around her ankles were twinging in pain. She knew the pain would pass, but then glanced down at her glowing pink toes showing the early signs of frostbite - she knew that wouldn’t. On her slow descent, she pressed her body against the icicled wall for just a trace of traction, but a foot had slipped and Ravella went tumbling down, her limbs flailing and clipping each jagged step until she slide headfirst into a wall.
She was writhe in pain, squeezing her eyelids together as they pooled with blood from her gashed head before the little scarlet streams continued slithering down her face. Her mouth was sow with the iron flavor of blood, and upon sticking her frigid fingers around her bloody gums she felt the gaps where many teeth should have been. A steady crimson stream dripped from her face to the ground, raining over a set of teeth, along with four toes which had snapped off. She gasped in horror, but quickly shut her mouth to stop blood from pouring out. Her left foot was missing all toes but the big one - the four open holes too frozen to even bleed, just pearly bone ends and chunky red flaps of muscle dangling from the ripped skin.
“Gods!” Ravella screamed, nearly crying. She collected her teeth and toes from the sheet of blood pooling beneath her and hobbled to a source of sunlight down the hall, driving all the pressure of her ribboned foot onto her throbbing big toe. She pushed herself through a door that opened into the upper bailey. She swayed from the curtain wall, into a slow waltz of dense snowfall which reached halfway up her shins, and shouted to the keep across the bailey: “Father!” Only her own echo rustled back to her across the soulless bailey. The guardhouses did not have its usual clatter of laughter; the stables, pig yards, chicken coops, and kennels did not staccato its usual animal squealings; there was no incessant hammering from the smithy; and no one was whispering rumours at the wells. It was only a crying Ravella and her home, both enveloped in a blinding blanket of snow and a merciless note of wind.
The fresh snow bit into the dangling tendrils of Ravella’s severed foot with all the torture of a million glass shards, painting a trail of blood that mapped her path to the keep. She pushed against the old crude carving of a fox on the mighty oaken door of the keep, but was too weak to even nudge it. “Father!” she called between the slit as blood sprayed out through the gap in her teeth. The door wobbled open at a crawl, and it was colder inside the keep; not a flame could be seen or felt, and her eyes, still caked in fresh tears and dried blood, stung adjusting to the dark.
“Ravella, I always thought you too wise to head out in this deep cold.” The frail voice came from a small hooded figure releasing the iron doorchains to the ground in clangorous song. The figure turned to Ravella and pulled his hood back, presenting to her a warm and familiar smile that she had known her whole life.
“Maester Cedric!” Ravella couldn’t contain her relief at seeing the old man, stumbling into his thin arms and burrowing her bloodied head in his robes, letting the blood ooze from her mouth as she sobbed into him.
“Oh, sweet girl,” Cedric cooed, rubbing his skeletal hands across her back. “Why are you crying, dear? You’re home now.”
“Maester Cedric,” Ravella whimpered in a low and raspy voice through the clog of blood and tears in her thorat, opening a hand to him, “my teeth.” She opened her other hand, “my toes.”
“And?” Cedric spoke through his unmoved smile, as though seeing nothing at all. He pulled his hood down, exposing the tiny jagged nubs that remained of his ears. “It’s winter, Ravella - with winter comes loss.”
Ravella was aghast at her beloved Maester’s mutilated ears, but he continued in sunny disregard of their conditions: “Your father is in the sept, dear. He’s been praying for you.” He then gestured at the seven gleaming walls of a new sept.
“But ... this is the small hall ...” Ravella spoke softly in trembling delirium. The hall was the entryway and primary artery of the castle: behind it was the great hall and all around were connective corridors to the barracks, dungeon, armory, kitchens, pantries, and a scatter of unassuming stairwells that either led down to various cellars and storerooms or up to parlours and galleries leading to house and guest chambers. But now, looming in this typically bustling thoroughfare, was a shining sept.
“indeed,” Cedric murmured, “I too questioned whether it be unholy to place a sept inside the walls of a keep, sheathed from the eyes of the gods, but your lord father insisted.” Cedric wrapped an arm around Ravella and helped her forward toward the ornate marble structure. “I do believe he built it for you. Naturally, a father will want to remain close to his eldest daughter.” He released Ravella at the intricately chiseled door, its clouded pane of glass flickering in light.
Countless candles flanked her upon entering the sept. A figure on their knees, thicken in fur coat and cap was praying before the Stranger. “Father?” Ravella softly lisped through the widening gap in her teeth.
“Do you think me a fool, Robin?” The brazen baritone voice, with just a hint of a slur, was distinctly that of Damion Florent.
“Father ... wha-” She couldn’t bring herself to answer his question through the shock of her dismemberings. “Father, please,” Ravella wailed. “Father, I’ve broken my teeth - father - and my foot.”
The kneeling Damion stained in hues of gold and red from the burning candles sighed. “You seek my help in your time of trial, but have yet to answer my question: do you think me a fool, Ravella Florent - my dear sweet Robin, am I a fool to you?”
Ravella nudged herself forward, rolling her left leg on the ball of her foot. “Father, I don’t know what you mean,” sobbing, nearly chocking, “I’m hurt father...” Blood gushed out from her battered foot harder than before, splattering the fresh wooden planks of the newly-built sept. “Fath-”
“Are you wise enough to survive, Robin?” The lord brought himself up from the ground with some struggle, but still kept his eyes forward to the Stranger. “Your Brother Alyn is my heir, this castle is his, that’s job enough. Aelinor is prettier than you, she can gather for me a fine marriage union. Robert can grow to be a brave knight. But you, Robin, I seeded you to be smart for them, to be responsible for them all. Do you think you’re fulfilling your duty? Your duty to me? To your family? Are you being smart right now, my girl?”
Ravella sniffled, wiped blood from her forehead and eyes, and focused on the blood pulsating out of her toe stumps. “Father, I can be smart for our fami-”
“Then why are you bleeding on my sept!?” The roaring voice of Damion Florent interrupted.
“It’s a simple question, girl. If you’re so fucking smart, then why are you bleeding on my sept?” The figure turned toward Ravella, but she still could not see her father’s face beneath the long fur hood as he made his way toward her.
“Father, I need your help.” Ravella cried out.
As he came within breath of Ravella, he raised his head and removed his heavy hood, and despite her father’s voice, Ravella found herself staring at her own face in the figure. She leaned away in horror. She heard droppings and glanced downward to see a stream of blood dripping to the ground from the figure’s stomach, then watched her second self extend a hand to her cheek, slowly asking again, “If you’re so smart, Robin, then why are you bleeding in my sept?” This time, it was her own voice reprimanding her. Her second self raked a finger across Ravella’s cheeks. It scorched her like burning iron, and Ravella cried out in pain as globs of her molten skin rolled down her cheekbones and plopped to the floor. “Do you still think you’re smart, Robin?” it asked. The hole in her cheek burning faster, and deeper, and eventually catching fire upon her face. Ravella couldn’t bring herself to answer the question, she was frozen still, in blinding pain, looking across at herself.
Ravella sat in the deep oversized dark green armchair that she affectionately referred to as her “big chair.” At eight, she spent moons whinging to her father about her lack of a proper chair to “fall into comfy” and read for days. So Lord Damion ordered a chair specially for her from a craftsman in Oldtown. It was made of triple-dyed leather and swan feather cushions, and her father spent years reminding young Ravella that it was as expensive as it was comfortable. She perched it behind the massive window of stained square panels of red and green that spanned a whole wall of her bedchamber and overlooked the entire bailey. Before her father’s cousin, Robert - who insisted he be called ‘uncle Robert’ - took over stewardship of the castle three years prior, the tower holding her bedchamber and solar belonged to her father’s previous steward. When the former steward fell from his horse to his death, Ravella was quick to mourn, and quicker to move her belongings into what had previously been an untitled tower above the barracks, typically reserved for the steward of Brightwater Keep. The first thing she had Theo carry into the room was her big chair, and for three years it remained unmoved behind the colored window. Over her years in the tower, she spent many nights looking out into the bailey, wondering if an arrow from a besieging soldier could break through her window - thankfully, she always concluded, Brightwater Keep was not important enough for anyone to place under siege.
She rocked herself around the cushions of her big chair, rubbing her fingers across her teeth to feel that they were still there. “Just a nightmare,” she chanted to herself. She tried to steer her mind elsewhere and pondered why the bailey was so busy at sun down, leading her to wonder what errors her sister Aelinor had made in the single day she was away. “No worry,” she thought, something she could surely deal with in the morning. With her sleep schedule in disarray, Ravella took solace knowing she could have a quiet night to herself. She could soak in a bathe, then soak under moonlight and read along the babbling wavelets of the Honeywine River - she could even take a trip to an empty sept to pray.
As she rose from her big chair, her nightgown clung to her clammy skin. She ran her hand along her moist nightgown, then her drenched bed - her nightsweats had gotten the better of her again. Furthermore, despite the rest, she awoke with pain that ached increasingly as she lumbered down the spiral staircase in the corner of the room which connected directly to her solar below, and to Ravella’s surprise, when she looked toward her desk, she saw Aelinor sitting in her chair, reading.
“Good! You’re finally up!” contrasted a bubbly Aelinor to her groggy sibling who could only sigh. Aelinor held up a small collection of parchment, “This lord, or knight or something - I’m not sure - he needs food.
“It’s winter. It’s blight. Everyone needs food.” Ravella muttered as she rubbed her face.
“Yes, but he seems really important, and he needs a lot of food. Wine?” Ravella waved the offer off, and Aelinor poured only a single glass for herself. “Anyway, here’s what he’s asking,” Aelinor said, leaning over to hand Ravella the parchment.
Ravella’s heavy eyes lazed down the sheet. “When did he arrive?”
“maybe an hour after you left He’s in the middle gallery now.”
“Seven hells, Aelinor,” Ravella moaned, slamming the papers on her desk. “So he’ll eat our food, and take what’s left with him out the door?!” Ravella stood from the chair and began pacing the solar - in anger, but so to to circulate blood across her body. “Aelinor, I left you in charge precisely to avoid this. Why didn’t you tell him to leave and come back, or that I’d head to him? What were you thinking feeding this man for two days?!”
Aelinor paused, squinting quizzically at her sister, before slowly asking a separate question. “What do you mean ‘two days?”
“He arrived just after I left yesterday in early morning. I arrived back this morning, and he’s been here all day, and it’s sun down: two days.”
Aelinor smirked at Ravella, gently placing her hands on the table before continuing, “he did arrive just after you left, two days ago, and he was here when you came back, yesterday morning, and he’s in the middle gallery right now probably finishing his morning meal. It’s sun up.”
Ravella was shook, she rushed to the window of her solar to look down again at the bailey bustling under a vaguely gradient sky, and realized her error. “You mean I slept-”
“From one morning to the next, a full day and night.” Aelinor answered in glee.
“You should have woken me.”
“When? At nightfall? You never asked me to, and your journey was long - Why would I do that?”
Looking out at the yard, it had all suddenly become so obvious to Ravella. The guard had just changed, the line for daily rations was forming at the outer gate, a group of servants was pulling the day’s water from wells, and pigs were feeding in their sty. She snapped back at Aelinor. “And you offered me wine?” She took the cup from her sister’s hand and poured its contents back into the pitcher. “You’re five and ten, Aeli, you will not be drinking in the morning like a fool.”
“It’s stressful running this place!” Aelinor shouted in defense.
“It’s more stressful from the bottom of a cup!” Ravella raised her finger to add effect to the point she wanted to impress upon her younger sister. “There’s a habit of drinking across this castle, and I don’t like it. It’s winter, and there’s blight, it’s no time to get sloppy.” Ravella returned to the chair and took a frustrated breath, “now, what else is there today?”
“Well,” Aelinor began again, “I’ve arranged the meal for today, but you’ll need to choose the next few days. There was some quarrel down in the village, don’t know what about. There’s a septon around here looking for father,”
“From Oltown? The Faith sent a Septon to serve us?”
“No, no. He’s a wanderer. I think he just wants some food for his travels.”
“Of course he does,” Ravella griped
“Oh, and right after you left, Rob was playing with that cat and fell down some stairs, his arms are scratched but that’s all, Maester Erwin said he’ll be fine. Oh, and Maester Erwin wants to speak with you. And uncle Robert also said he wants to spea-...” Aelinor’s voice faded out. At the mention of her brother Robert’s fall, Ravella’s thoughts tumbled down into the terror she was just beginning to believe she could forget. Even in her dim solar, her eyes spasmed recalling the fresh snows of the barren Brightwater Keep of her nightmare, and of herself, bloodied at the bottom of an icy stairwell, chunks of her body strewn before her. She cringed and her fingers began to tremble- unsure of whether she was trembling at the the cold, the pain, the horror, or a combination of all three. “...-Hello! Robin!” Aelinor shouted, snapping her fingers and bringing Ravella back into the warm solar.
“Yes, yes,” Ravella huffed, “Rob fell, uncle Robert wants to see me, the new maester, and, um-”
“And, um,” Aelinor teased, “the fishers showed up not long ago, they need to talk to you about boots or something, they’re waiting in the small hall.” A small paused sprouted between them, Ravella waited nervously for Aelinor to continue, but after a moment it was clear to her that Aelinor too was waiting. Ravella had told Aelinor that she and Theo had gone north to check on the fishing camps, and worried that she had just been caught in her lie. “You should go see the fishers before you see that lord because he requested I bring a box or some sort of crate to him before you talk.”
Relief washed over Ravella; thankful that Aelinor wasn’t curious enough to inquire details from the fisherman. Quickly changing the subject, she asked what the man needed in his box.
“Well, nothing. He asked me to fetch him an empty box so he can sit at your height - he’s a ... smaller man.”
“A box?!” Ravella cried out incredulously, “Why should he get a box to sit on? I’m not particularly tall either, and now I have to sit across from a man on a box demanding food of me?”
“Well, you’re not alone, his sons won’t be sitting on boxes.”
“He came with his sons?! More than one son? How many sons?”
“We’ve been feeding ten men for nearly three days!?” Ravella buried her head in her hands and groaned until reaching a soft muffled scream.
“Well then,” Aelinor said awkwardly, “I’ll leave you to it,” rising from her elder sister’s chair and walking around the desk. “Oh, sister,” she said with distaste, patting Ravella on the back, “You need to bathe first. Your smell is thick. You had your sweats again?”
“I don’t have time to bathe,” Ravella replied, through her cupped palms.
“But,” Aelinor sniffed at the air around her sister, “Oh it’s bad, Robin. Well, do you at least have any scents here?”
Ravella sprang from the chair in a huff, too concerned with the amount of food used throughout her absence to care for her sister’s petty worries, “yes, yes, I have some lemonwater and lavender oils somewhere here.” She rushed around her large cluttered pine desk to take seat at her proper chair.
“I suppose a Dornish bath is better than nothing,” Aelinor shrugged, “Oh by the way,” she added, pointing to a worn brown book on the corner of Ravella’s desk, “That’s a Seven-Pointed Star. Theo said you needed it. What are you going to do with it?”
“Read it,” Ravella answered in a flummox.
“What do you mean, ‘why?’ For the same reason everyone else reads it. To gain a sense of peace and perspective, so its prayers and hymns can guide me in hard moments - because I’m a pious woman”
Aelinor scrunched her face and askewed her head, “But ... are you sure?”
“Am I sure about the faith that beats in my heart? Yes, I’m sure.”
Aelinor’s eyes remained suspiciously squinted at her sister. “This is new.”
“It’s not. You just never noticed.”
“I don’t think so, I’m pretty good with details.”
“As a matter of fact, Aeli,” Ravella snapped, “you’re extraordinarily bad with details, which is why we’ve been feeding ten men for three days with thinning food stores.”
Aelinor shrugged in indifferent retreat and began making her way out of the solar, “fair enough, I’ll see you at mealtime. Remember: perfume! Maybe a nice gown too, since we have company; the green one, perhaps? Oh, one last thing, Septa Ravella -” Aelinor stopped at the door of the solar and turned around with a stern gaze for her sister. “One detail I did happen to notice is that it’s odd the fishers would make the trip here this morning when you saw them just a day ago, so I asked how your visit went - and isn’t it funny - they say you haven’t been to their camp in nearly two moons.”
Ravella froze, she had underestimated her sister, and now found herself stumped.
“You lied,” Aelinor continued.
“I didn’t mean to lie, Aeli, I just didn’t have time to tell you the truth.”
“Are you aware of how stupid that sounds? You did mean to lie. You told me something you knew wasn’t true: that’s meaning to lie, it has nothing to do with schedule. So where did you and Theo go? Oldtown? To see Aunt Leonette?”
“I shouldn’t have lied to you. Let’s talk later, let me just finish this morning business and I promise I’ll tell you the truth. I’m sorry.”
“I’m happy you’re in charge; you’re older and better at it than me. But we’re still supposed to work together, at least until father recovers. Lying spoils trust, I’d expect such a pious woman to know that.” Aelinor paused for her words to truly sink within her sister before continuing, “put on your oils and go about your day, I hope we do have that talk later.”
Ravella remained motionless at her desk as Aelinor’s footsteps faded through the various halls and stairs between Ravella’s Tower and wherever she was headed. “When father recovers,” she said aloud, stuck on her sister’s words. “Just as Aelinor seemed to mature,” Ravella thought, “she goes and says something as naive as that.”
“My brave seamen!” Ravella exclaimed hurrying down the stairs from the balcony that wrapped around the smallhall. Four ragged men with lengthy beards shot up from the bench they were sitting on.
“Lady Ravella!” The oldest and grayest man replied, bowing to Ravella and taking her hand to kiss, his three companions following suit. “Thank you for meeting us so soon. We hope you weren’t awoken on our accord.”
“Not at all, Humfrey, I’ve been up for some time. Did you ride through night all this way to deliver an especially bountiful catch directly?” Ravella gave the man a coy smile, hoping he would catch on to her facetiousness.
“Ha. Unfortunately not, my lady- but our catches have been going well. Rather, we’re here seeking manners of wear.”
“Manners of wear?”
“Yes, my lady.” Humfrey handed Ravella a rolled piece of parchment from within his coat. As Ravella scanned over the lengthy list of needed items, a serving girl dropped a tray of cups and bowls, filling the small hall with clatters and clunks. Ravella was the only person in the hall unmoved by the calamity, keeping her eyes on the list between her fingers. The fishermen noticed her concentration. “I know it may seem a lot to ask, my lady, but the salt, it eats into what we have so fast. And out on the sea all day, the cold bite cuts into our skin so fast. Just yesterday, an ear on one of my men started going black. I fear tomorrow we’ll have to shave it. Even Willem here lost a small finger.” Humfrey turned to the man beside him, “Show her.” The man raised four fingers and button of a pinkie to Ravella. She felt a chill. Her mind returned to the bottom of the stairs. She felt the slick icy walls against her palms, the taste of blood flooding her mouth, crystalline toes and jagged teeth strewn about the ground before her like sinister pearls ripped from a knot. “My lady?”
Ravella returned to reality with a nubbed pinkie finger just a breath away from her face. “Yes, no.” still pushing away her dream to focus on the men. She wrapped her hands around the man’s mutilated one, “your loss is not unnoticed, and we are all thankful to you,” she said earnestly into the man’s eyes. “It’s not an issue of want, Humfrey,” turning to the elder fisherman, “these numbers just seem higher than the men you have.”
“Aye, my lady, you’re right to think so. We’ve taken more men. They find us every few days; men from failed farms, merchants who can no longer travel, even beggar boys with no one left to beg from. They’re even happy to go out in the hour of wolf, owl, they don’t care. They catch thrice what they eat, and we’re out catching constantly now.” He cleared his throat in a sudden rush of nerves before speaking again, “I hope this doesn’t give you bother, Lady Ravella, I perhaps should have asked first, but it seemed to me the wise course.”
“And I’m glad you took that course.” Ravella added, beaming at the man, “I put you in charge for that very reason. If more men means more catch, more men it is. Now come, let’s gather warmth for your crew.” Ravella took lead into a small doorway just a few steps away from where they had been speaking, just under the stairs she had descended from. The doorway led to a hallway, dark and thin, and after a couple turns and a few steps, a new, longer, narrower, hallway presented itself. As Ravella and the men were forced to march single-file, Theo Rivers had turned from the opposite corner at the far end of the passage.
“Good! You’re up!” Theo shouted. Ravella rolled her eyes, annoyed that Theo and Aelinor greeted her with nearly the same words, as though neither had expected her to leave her chambers for another day. “Who’s all this?”
“Ser Theo,” Ravella shouted, “you’ve met Humfrey, the man commanding our fishermen.”
“Ah, yes!” Theo exclaimed as he began to pass the group, towering over Ravella and the fishermen, and having no choice but to closely hug the wall. Humfrey nodded, and Theo added, “good men, good men!” while giving pats on the back to Humfrey and his company as he passed them. Once cleared, he called back to Ravella, “hey! Do you have a moment?”
“Umm, no,” Ravella said, motioning her eyes to the men, “not right now.”
“Well, you gotta find one, we need to discuss something.”
“Just go wait in the little solar, I’ll meet you there when I’m done,” Ravella answered, nearly shouting as the two walked further away from each other.
“Aye, hurry up though,” Theo was just barely able to yelp out before he and Ravella’s party turned their respected corners at the ends of the hall.
“I must admit, Lady Ravella, I too forgot the man,” Humfrey said, following Ravella up a full set of stairs.
“Ser Theo is the captain of my house guard.”
“Not afraid to speak his mind, I see,” Humfrey said through a small chuckle.
“Yes, it’s by far his worst quality.”
The stone archway leading into the main barracks was composed of the same porous stone as the rest of the castle; blackened with soot, grime, and mildew from years of winter. In absence of windows, the room’s only light came from torches and a single pane of glass on a door at the far end that opened to an outer stairwell. Near the door sat three young men at a weathered table. The thinnest man sprang up when he saw Ravella entering. “Lady Ravella, a well and proper morn’ to you,” he blurted out hurriedly as the others rose.
“And to you all,” Ravella spoke, “Medwick,” she said to the thin man, “you have the key to the armory, yes?”
“No, my lady, it’s Melwyn.”
“Who’s Melwyn? And why does he have it? You’re the watch commander. The watch commander should always have the armory key.”
“I’m Melwyn, my lady, not Medwick,” the man stuttered out while fumbling through his pockets for the key.
“Right, that’s what I meant to say; and you both are off duty?” Ravella added, turning to the other men nodding affirmatively. “Good, come along, we’ll need more hands.” The larger party rustled through the door and down a flight of stone steps onto a creaky wooden platform over the bailey that wrapped around the side of the keep. “Here, Melwyn,” Ravella spoke in stride, handing over the list. “Can we fulfill the requests for boots and gloves?”
“I believe we have the boots, no gloves though,” the man said, turning the key as the timid sun became blotted out by threads of dull, gray winter clouds draping over the group.
“No gloves?” Ravella asked, as the the man pushed open the door to a dark dewy room awash in glinting metals.
“Ran out moons ago, my lady.”
“Why didn’t I hear of this? Did you at least tell Ser Theo?”
“I sought you, but you were out, as was Ser Theo - I presume with you. I did tell your uncle, however.”
Ravella sighed. “You breath was wasted. He forgot moments later. Next time slip a note under my solar.”
“Of course, my lady. My apologies,” the watch commander remissed as he and Ravella crossed the room to stand over a massive hatch door on the floor between them. “Hey!” Melwyn called out to his fellow guard. Ravella stepped back and held the intricately laced sleeve of the green gown her sister suggested wearing to her nose while the three man raised the hatch open. The fishermen were admiring the swords and shields racked around, but upon the hatch opening, their faces scrunched at the putrid scent of burnt hide and stale urine wafting out from the opening.
“Come now,” muffled Ravella through her sleeve as she headed down the stairs of the opening into the dusty darkness, “I would have thought you seamen had smelled much worse.”
“Just unexpected,” Humfrey responded as he and his three mariners followed Ravella. The guards remained above striking flint over a torch. “Your tanner works in a cellar?”
“Our tanner has been dead for some time now,” Ravella replied from somewhere in the darkness as guards descended the stairs with fresh torches. “Robbed and killed by bandits on way to Oldtown - all too common this winter. We moved everything here until we find a new one.” With the guards and their torches nearing Ravella and the fisherman, she pushed open a splintered door thickened with moisture.
“You men know what you need?” They nodded. “Good. Humfrey, let’s head to the yard and talk to the spinner.” She reached to grab the list from her watch captain’s hand. “Help these men carry their boots up to the yard and arrange a cart for them. Come Humfrey.” Ravella turned back into the darkened hallway of the cellar maze without waiting for a response, turning the opposite direction from which they came and heading into pitch black.
“Lady Ravella,” Humfrey called out from a few paces behind, struggling with the darkness, “are the stairs not behind us? Oomfph!” he cried out as he bumped into the Ravella, nearly knocking her over. She let out a small laugh and took the old man by the wrist.
“This passage leads to the yard; it’s faster,” she said, tugging him into the void. “Don’t worry, I’ve walked this castle since I was a small girl, and I’ve yet to run into a ghost.” He chuckled uneasily as the discomforting smell of half-finished leathergoods dissipated into a frosty mildew and she led him through subterranean turns and stairs, probing ancient shafts and tunnels, occasionally alerting him to shifted stone in the ground. “About the gloves,” she began again, “I’m headed to Oldtown in a few days time. When I acquire them, I’ll send them straight to your camp.”
“Might I suggest you send your guard captain instead? I hear there’s still rioting in Oldtown.”
“Still? Well, worry not, I’ll be with my guards. Now,” she said at a halt, “we’re at the base of a very long set of stairs which will take us to the yard. It’s very narrow, and there are many twists; no step is like another. We’ll go slow, please hold to me and the wall as we go up.” The two made their way up as sluggishly as she suggested, Humfrey was in a panting spell by the time they reached the landing. Ravella unbarred a wooden plank from the door and pushed out into the curtain wall
The inner bailey was a churn of mud and melting remnants of snowfall. Servants gathered water at the wells with chattering. A set of men carried large bundles of sawed branches for firewood, while another set carried stacks of sawdust into the icehouse. Guards, despondent at the gatehouse, spent their early morning pleading with local villagers to be patient until the rations were ready to distribute. As they passed the pig yard, a couple of especially excited swine rolled about vigorously, spraying mud at Humfrey and Ravella. Although he made an effort to shield Ravella, his aged reflexes were far to slow and a splatter from the pig sprayed across Ravella’s lovely green gown. “Worry not,” she assured him, “I hate this gown.”
“Lady Ravella! A joy to see you back!” the old spinner exclaimed, bowing as Ravella and Humfrey ducked into her cramped shack, then gasping in horror at the specks of mud on Ravella’s gown. “Oh Seven! Lady Ravella, your favorite green gown!”
“It’s no concern, Tanda,” Ravella spoke gently, trying to bring calm to the woman, “it was moments ago, and I’ll have it washed right away. But it is always an honor to be missed by you,” embracing the woman’s cold hands in her own before unfurling the list. “This is Humfrey, he leads our brave fishers,” she continued, handing the list to the woman, “and the men need warmth. The boots and gloves are taken care of, but what can you add to the remainder of their needs; the surcoats, caps, trousers, cloaks?”
The woman hummed while she pondered the list. “Off my head, I believe we can fill at least half these items. For the rest, I’ll need perhaps a moon or two, more material, and a second hand to help me weave.” She looked up from the parchment to meet Ravella’s eyes, “but of course I’ll need to check what we have stored inside to be sure.
“Wonderful! I’ll leave you both to it. Tanda, write down what we lack and I’ll make sure you get your materials. Humfrey, I must ask you excuse me. Tanda will help you find as much as we have here .” She placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, “I’ll come back to see your men out in a short while.”
Ravella rushed across the yard. Passing the stables, she yelled to her stablemaster without breaking stride - “not yet! I’ll come by soon!” The man knew better than to think she would stop to hear anything he would say and simply nodded.
A serving girl ran from the well to Ravella, “Lady Ravella!” she panted, grabbing at her gown to better observe the stains, “Your dress! I can escort you to your chambers and take it to wash right away!”
Ravella took grasp of the girl’s hands, “you’re sweet, but I simply haven’t the time,” adding a smirk and wink at the girl before turning to a guard at the doors of the keep, “Tanda, our spinner,” she said, pointing to the shack across the bailey, to make sure he knew, “she’s with a man, in a moment they’ll come in and head to our north cellars to dig through our wear store, go with them and help them carry what they need.” The guard affirmed the command and Ravella went through the threshold, into the small hall of Brightwater Keep, where once again a serving girl dropped a tray, and for the second time that morning, tin clacked and water scattered across the floor of the hall.
“Damn girl! So I have two girls with buttery fingers now?!” A short elderly woman shouted before spotting Ravella crossing the hall. “Oh! Lady Ravella! Have you a moment?”
“Not currently!” Ravella shouted in her rushed stride, “I’ll be back!” she exclaimed just before entering the great hall.
(continued below :)
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2020.09.09 14:31 LChris24 List of Blackfyre Supporters in each Rebellion (Spoilers Extended)
One of my favorite quotes about fAegon/the Golden Company and their return to Westeros is:
Laswell Peake rapped his knuckles on the table. "Even after a century, some of us still have friends in the Reach. The power of Highgarden may not be what Mace Tyrell imagines." -ADWD, The Lost Lord I thought it would be interesting to go look over the support the Blackfyres have had in the past and see which houses could be inclined to offer support. It should be noted that some of these could have individually supported the Blackfyres and not had the backing of their house. It is also probable that there were other houses/individuals involved in each of these rebellions that the reader does not know about yet.
I also didn't feel the need to listen out Bittersteel/Members of House Blackfyre/the Golden Company as my goal here is primarily to see what support in Westeros they could have.
First Blackfyre Rebellion
"Daemon, though . . . Daemon was no more pious than a king need be, and all the great knights of the realm gathered to him. It would suit Lord Bloodraven if their names were all forgotten, so he has forbidden us to sing of them, but I remember. Robb Reyne, Gareth the Grey, Ser Aubrey Ambrose, Lord Gormon Peake, Black Byren Flowers, Redtusk, Fireball . . . Bittersteel! I ask you, has there ever been such a noble company, such a roll of heroes? -The Sworn Sword
- House Reyne
- House Ambrose
- House Peake
- House Ball
- House Crakehall (possibly - Redtusk could be an allusion to the sigil of House Crakehall)
Ser Eustace cradled his wine cup in both hands. "If Daemon had ridden over Gwayne Corbray . . . if Fireball had not been slain on the eve of battle . . . if Hightower and Tarbeck and Oakheart and Butterwell had lent us their full strength instead of trying to keep one foot in each camp . . . if Manfred Lothston had proved true instead of treacherous . . . if storms had not delayed Lord Bracken's sailing with the Myrish crossbowmen . . . if Quickfinger had not been caught with the stolen dragon's eggs . . . so many if s, ser . . . had any one come out differently, it could all have turned t'other way. Then we would called be the loyalists, and the red dragons would be remembered as men who fought to keep the usurper Daeron the Falseborn upon his stolen throne, and failed." -The Sworn Sword
- House Lothston (initial support but betrayal)
- House Bracken
- House Hightower (some)
- House Oakheart (some)
- House Tarbeck (some)
- House Butterwell (some)
"They were for the Black Dragon. Well, Lord Shawney was, and Lord Costayne's father. Aemon and I used to fight the battle on Maester Melaquin's green table with painted soldiers and little banners. Costayne's arms quarter a silver chalice on black with a black rose on gold. That banner was on the left of Daemon's host. Shawney was with Bittersteel on the right, and almost died of his wounds. -The Mystery Knight
- House Shawney
- House Costayne
"Ser Eustace chose the black dragon over the red, in the hope that a Blackfyre king might restore the lands and castles that the Osgreys had lost under the Targaryens," Lady Rohanne said. "Chiefly he wanted Coldmoat. His sons paid for his treason with their life's blood. When he brought their bones home and delivered his daughter to the king's men for a hostage, his wife threw herself from the top of Standfast tower. Did Ser Eustace tell you that?" Her smile was sad. "No, I did not think so."
It is a mark of weakness. You sound like an old woman. The Stricklands had been part of the Golden Company since its founding, Harry's great-grandsire having lost his lands when he rose with the Black Dragon during the first Blackfyre Rebellion. "Gold for four generations," Harry would boast, as if four generations of exile and defeat were something to take pride in. -ADWD, The Lost Lord
Egg's nose was deep in the book. "Lord Sunderland fought for the Black Dragon, ser." - The Mystery Knight
"No," she said. "I would believe it of any of the other free companies, yes. Most of them would change sides for half a groat. The Golden Company is different. A brotherhood of exiles and the sons of exiles, united by the dream of Bittersteel. It's home they want, as much as gold. Lord Yronwood knows that as well as I do. His forebears rode with Bittersteel during three of the Blackfyre Rebellions." She took Ser Arys by the hand, and wove her fingers through his own. "Have you ever seen the arms of House Toland of Ghost Hill?" We also have the characters Quickfinger, Gareth the Grey and Black Byren Flowers who could have association/allegiances with a house(s).
Second Blackfyre Rebellion
This is a little different as the rebellion never got actually started, but it should be known:
" Some words are wind." The boy was nothing if not stubborn. "Some words are treason. This is a traitor's tourney, ser." -The Mystery Knight So while it can be argued that some of these were just their for the wedding, the houses should at least be noted:
The bride's father followed close behind her, hand in hand with his young son. Lord Frey of the Crossing was a lean man elegant in blue and grey, his heir a chinless boy of four whose nose was dripping snot. Lords Costayne and Risley came next, with their lady wives, daughters of Lord Butterwell by his first wife. Frey's daughters followed with their own husbands. Then came Lord Gormon Peake; Lords Smallwood, and Shawney; various lesser lords and landed knights. Amongst them Dunk glimpsed John the Fiddler and Alyn Cockshaw. Lord Alyn looked to be in his cups, though the feast had not yet properly begun.
- House Butterwell
- House Frey
- House Peake
- House Cockshaw
- House Costayne
- House Risley
- House Shawney
- House Smallwood
- various lesser lords and landed knights
A group of men were leaving the great hall, pausing long enough to pull up their hoods before venturing out into the rain. The Old Ox was amongst them, and weedy Lord Caswell, once more in his cups. Both gave Dunk a wide berth. Ser Mortimer Boggs favored him with a curious stare, but thought better of speaking to him. Uthor Underleaf was not so shy. "You come late to the feast, ser," he said as he was pulling on his gloves. "And I see you wear a sword again."
- House Caswell
- House Boggs
- House Bulwer
"No." Daemon's voice was dangerously quiet. "I want the truth of this. Sunderland, Vyrwel, Smallwood, take your men and go find Ser Glendon in the dungeons. Bring him up forthwith, and see that no harm comes to him. If any man should try to hinder you, tell him you are about the king's business."
- House Vyrwel
- House Sunderland
The herald mounted his platform once again. "Ser Tommard Heddle, a knight of Whitewalls, in service to Lord Butterwell!" he shouted as thunder rumbled in the distance. "Ser Uthor Unclerleaf. Come forth and prove your valor."
The pavilions of Houses Cuy and Hasty are seen at the tourney as well:
- House Heddle (seems to be basically smallfolk by time of main story)
Butterwell's stewards had found rooms in the keep for the lords and ladies, and beds in the barracks for their retinues. The rest of the guests had their choice between a straw pallet in the cellar, or a spot of ground beneath the western walls to raise their pavilions. The modest sailcloth tent Dunk had acquired in Stoney Sept was no pavilion, but it kept the rain and sun off. Some of his neighbors were still awake, the silken walls of their pavilions glowing like colored lanterns in the night. Laughter came from inside a blue pavilion covered with sunflowers, and the sounds of love from one striped in white and purple. Egg had set up their own tent a bit apart from the others. Maester and the two horses were hobbled nearby, and Dunk's arms and armor had been neatly stacked against the castle walls. When he crept into the tent, he found his squire sitting cross-legged by a candle, his head shining as he peered over a book. It should be noted that like Bittersteel, several previous Blackfyre supporters chose not to attend:
"I had heard the Brute of Bracken might be coming," said another man, farther down the bench. and it seems like they expected support from House Lothston (even though they betrayed in the First Blackfyre Rebellion and Mad Danelle shows up with Bloodraven:
"I think not," said the man in green and grey. "This is only a bit of jousting to celebrate His Lordship's nuptials. A tilt in the yard to mark the tilt between the sheets. Hardly worth the bother for the likes of Otho Bracken." -The Mystery Knight
"Just do your part as promised, and let me concern myself with that. Once we have Butterwell's gold and the swords of House Frey, Harrenhal will follow, then the Brackens. Otho knows he cannot hope to stand…" -The Mystery Knight Third Blackfyre Rebellion
Very little is known about the third rebellion except the fact that Maekar and his sons fought well, Bittersteel and Bloodraven's duel and Haegon's dishonorable death. The only house we know of that is confirmed to have supported the Blackfyre is House Yronwood:
Before Nymeria came, the Kings of Yronwood were the most powerful house in all of Dorne—far greater than the Martells of the time. They ruled half of Dorne—a fact that, to this day, the Yronwoods let no one forget. In the centuries after House Martell rose to the rule of Dorne, the Yronwoods have been the house likeliest to rebel, and have done so several times. Even after Prince Maron Martell united Dorne with the Iron Throne, this habit remained. Lords of Yronwood rode for the black dragon in no less than three of the five Blackfyre Rebellions. -TWOIAF, Dorne: Queer Customs of the South It should also be noted that Ser Eustace Osgrey died sometime between 211 AC and 219 AC. Since the third Blackfyre Rebellion took place in 219 AC it remains possible that he supported and died during this rebellion.
Fourth Blackfyre Rebellion
Like the third rebellion, we have very little information about the rebels during the fourth rebellion. We know the invasion had little support and that it landed at Massey Hook.
Due to Massey Hook being the chosen landing spot, it is possible that House Bar Emmon or House Massey provided some support to the Blackfyres.
As mentioned above House Yronwood was involved (due to process of elimination. We know they fought in at least 3 and that they were not involved in the 2nd or 5th).
War of the Ninepenny Kings
The male line of house Blackfyre was extinguished when Barristan the Bold slew Maelys the Monstrous. That said before his death Maelys did have the support/allegiance from the rest of the Band of Nine.
Its also possible that House Fossoway has supported the Blackfyres (thanks u/nortonimperator):
SER DERRICK FOSSOWAY, An exile from Westeros, and a knight with a black reputation. as well a whatever house Spotted Tom may have been from:
SPOTTED TOM THE BUTCHER: Hailing from Westeros, he was captain of a free company in the Disputed Lands. [Other Events]
There have been other events that seem to have possibly been attempts by lords in Westeros to incite another Blackfyre Rebellion/show some allegiances to the Blackfyres:
A full account of their reigns can be found in Archmaester Haereg's History of the Ironborn. Therein you may read of Dagon Greyjoy, the Last Reaver, whose longships harried the western coasts when Aerys I Targaryen sat the Iron Throne. Of Alton Greyjoy, the Holy Fool, who sought new lands to conquer beyond the Lonely Light. Of Torwyn Greyjoy, who swore a blood oath with Bittersteel, then betrayed him to his enemies. Of Loron Greyjoy, the Bard, and his great and tragic friendship with young Desmond Mallister, a knight of the green lands. -TWOIAF, The Iron Islands: The Old Way and The New Some of these houses listed above are probably who JonCon is talking about in this quote that mirrors the first passage that is quoted in the post:
"Not yet. Let King's Landing think this is no more than an exile lord coming home with some hired swords to reclaim his birthright. An old familiar story, that. I will even write King Tommen, stating as much and asking for a pardon and the restoration of my lands and titles. That will give them something to chew over for a while. And whilst they dither, we will send out word secretly to likely friends in the stormlands and the Reach. And Dorne." That was the crucial step. Lesser lords might join their cause for fear of harm or hope of gain, but only the Prince of Dorne had the power to defy House Lannister and its allies. "Above all else, we must have Doran Martell." -ADWD, The Griffin Reborn And while the Martells are not known to have have supported any of the Blackfyre Rebellions, it should be noted that they could possibly have the same friends in KL:
Prince Doran took a jagged breath. "Dorne still has friends at court. Friends who tell us things we were not meant to know. -ADWD, The Watcher It should also be noted that Illyrio is back in Pentos, "smoothing the way" for Dany/fAegon
"Would it were so. A large dragon is more fearsome than a small one." The magister shrugged. "Much as it would please me to welcome Queen Daenerys to Volantis, I must rely on you and Griff for that. I can serve her best in Pentos, smoothing the way for her return. -ADWD, Tyrion II I didn't want to theorize too much in this post on what these houses will do in the future (thats for a later post lol), just wanted to list out each instance of when they were associated with a rebellion.
TLDR: Listing out every time a house (or a member of a house) supported the Blackfyres.
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2020.08.22 17:21 aelfin Viserys III Targaryen, King on the Iron Throne; Protector of the Seven Kingdoms; Son of Fire; Azor Ahai; The Prince that Was Promised
Bolt#1219 Name and House:
Viserys III Targaryen Age:
45 Cultural Group:
Viserys casts a long shadow, standing at six feet and three inches. His is a slender figure, the iron form beneath moulded by long years spent in a multitude of disciplines. Alabaster skin stained with the remnant of the sun's assaults, silver hair worn long, well kempt and spilling down to his shoulders, while his face is clean shaven. He has a smile easy and affable, violet eyes that drip with a long memory. Carries the scents of lavender and spiceflower, leather and parchment. Gift(s):
Swords(o), Tactician, Inspiring Talent(s):
Language (High Valyrian), Rhetoric, Observation Negative Trait:
N/A Starting Title(s):
King on the Iron Throne Starting Location:
King's Landing Alternate Characters:
In 264AC, beneath a sun stained red on a ship between Dragonstone and King’s Landing leaden with salt and smoked meats, Viserys Targaryen was born the third child of Maekar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone. His little limbs he hardly moved, but wide eyes tinged in violet darted wild about the room, and when he was held high his cry, when it came, was soft in its sounding.
From a young age Viserys was a curious child. His was an ear attuned to listening, his tutors oft reporting an almost sullen silence about the boy. Maekar’s lessons proved sharper than that of the Grandmaester. Rooted in the Blood of the Dragon, of which he sang as the most important quality to guard in himself, and his greatest asset. The Prince of Dragonstone lauded upon his second son as much attention as his heir, and perhaps it was for this fact that Viserys adopted the attitudes he did later in life, lacking a voice to act in argument to his father. Of his siblings he proved the one amongst them who would sooner act than speak; it is recalled a time in which the sons of Maekar stumbled upon a hound in the Kingswood, its flesh torn and its breathing laboured, and while both agreed that the creature deserved an end to its misery it was Viserys who delivered the death blow, for Daeron dithered in his choosing.
Insofar as the wider world, it was a thing Viserys found himself often at odds with. He did not feel that there was a slot in which he fit. Words uttered in jest were taken with more severity for the fact they spilled from the mouth of a Prince. Men chose to guard their tongues, children his own age were reticent to spend more time than was necessary, opting instead to attempt to befriend Daeron, as the elder of them. As a result Viserys threw himself further into his books. He chased and myth and mystery alongside matters of Faith. He bothered the Grandmaester and the High Septon both, his questions seemingly without end, his silences stretching as he considered the answers given by men much more advanced in their years. The Young Dragon;
As Viserys stretched on in height and years he largely cast off the manner in which he had carried himself through his formative years. The quiet boy made himself heard, and that which he had learned helped him show himself as a young man with a cunning cleverness about him. He charmed, was the root of it. The books he abandoned in the pursuit of a life lived more sociably. Fine features and a quick tongue lent themselves to winning friends and waylaying those that took issue with the Blood of the Dragon, and when he could not speak he could sing; it was said that Prince Viserys played such fine ballads that maidens wept as well as stone-hearted old men, that he could turn an enemy to a friend in the space of a smile. But for everything he did, it was never enough. There was never a high enough climb, a long enough race; there was never too many bouts, never a challenge beyond his acceptance.
Of the two of them Daeron was always more; Daeron was the taller, the faster, the stronger, the more charming, the more clever, the more cunning; the more twisted, the more cruel; quicker to ire, quicker to anger. They would fight, as brothers do, they would wrestle and grapple over some trifle of a matter, and although in public they were seen to love one another, the manner in which Daeron behaved when they were alone spoke against anything they put on in front of watching eyes.
Maekar’s affections were ever distant. His lessons were sharp and sometimes cruel, certainly, but Viserys had endured them long enough to harden himself against them. The Prince of Dragonstone taught both of his sons that they were more than men, that they must keep in mind the power vested to them by way of their blood.
He won himself a core group of friends beyond the eyes of his brother’s influence; a pack which would come to include the future Lord Yronwood as well as Alaric Martell. Mostly they drank together, debated issues both theological and philosophical, and made themselves a terror about King’s Landing, though they were never cruel in their actions. Oft they would steal wine, they would recite bawdy poetry to wives and daughters when the men in their lives were away. Theirs was a manner steeped in mischief. It is here the seeds were sown to open Dorne to that which was beyond the customary for the Seven Kingdoms at the time, Alaric Martell becoming something like a younger brother to the elder Viserys. About the shadowed streets they courted the same girl; Bethany Darkyln, the daughter of Davos Darklyn, amongst the Crownlords the one who had made an impression on the Young Princes.
That Bethany chose Alaric in the end shocked Viserys, initially. At first he was wroth; that was not the way things were meant to go. He had wanted
her, and he had made his desire clear, but she had chosen another. Not any other, but his friend
, perhaps the best of them. He had set off from his chamber with dark notions in mind, his hands trembling to the point he ball them into fists to keep steady. It was perhaps grand luck which placed Daeron in Viserys’ path that night, for if his brother had not met him at the base of the stairs and flashed his vicious little smile they would not have fought that last time. Later, Viserys would not recall the comment Daeron had made to set things off, only that he had heard Daeron’s voice and his fist had flown.
When they fought then, it was not as they done before. Two knights of the Kingsguard were forced to intervene, dragging the younger prince from the elder while Daeron, bloody-nosed and wide-eyed, crawled backward. Viserys would not forget the look in Daeron’s eye, the fear that reigned, and though Viserys’ memory bled the memory black and made him forget, Daeron never did.
The both of them knew that would be the last time. The Name-Day Plot;
They had quarrelled that morning, Viserys and his father, and as a result the Prince took his leave of the name day celebrations during the feast to find comfort in prayer. In the Great Sept of Baelor the Prince did kneel and sit in a deafening silence, to empty his mind and ground himself. He was accompanied by one of the Kingsguard, who roused him from his prayers to inform him of Prince Maekar’s death at the hands of traitors. His immediate reaction was a fury so terrible that he could not even bring himself to shout. Instead he was shown to King Aemon, quiet and dark in his grief, and called harshly for the executions of those involved, while Daeron said little to naught, his voice stolen away by sorrow, or worse; a sly sort of serendipity. One less in the line of succession.
Daeron desired the throne and that had been no secret. He had built his life around it, while Viserys had studied his books and tomes and set to work with the sword, content one day to lead his father’s armies, and his brother’s after that; set to marry a woman of standing to improve their relations in the Seven Kingdoms. He had known this was his life and despaired anyway, and there, in that room with his Grandfather - looking ten years older for every day that passed him - and his brother, he thought his hope lost.
He wondered how in the world the Seven-Who-Are-One could allow such a thing, that Maekar Targaryen would be brought low by poison, for surely if there were any justice in the world they would have intervened. But then, he knew better than that; it was said that the Seven had a plan and perhaps this had been theirs for Maekar. Either way, he woke that morning a firm believer and went to sleep with his faith shaken, and for a time afterward a dark cloud hung over the Red Keep. Those great strides he had made were smashed away to nothing, and the man retreated to the comfort of his own mind and his own company. Viserys shut himself away with books. That which he did feel he shut behind walls of his own making. A smile was a rarity on the Prince’s face from then on. He had not loved his father; not in the conventional sense - they had never shared a sweet word nor even embraced one another, any conversation they had was bound to end up an argument; after a certain point they were almost a game, but Maekar had been a Targaryen, the Blood of the Dragon. His end was not to be decided by the scurrying Andals; the rats about the storeroom, the ants swarming the hill. The Voyage;
Finding no peace in King’s Landing, his old haunts leaving him uninspired, numbed, Viserys elected to lead an expedition Across the Narrow Sea, to the Axe and the ruins of Essaria. They set off on a single ship, though he could not say what rightly he set off for - only that he required the escape from the wraiths that haunted the halls of his life. Along their journey they picked up stragglers, interesting stranger from whom Viserys believed he could learn, the hunger for knowledge driving him ever further down different avenues of thought.
One such stranger was a Red Priest, a young man who held himself in a certain way, who peered into the light and seemed so sure of the things that he said, and so Viserys took to speaking to him more and more as they sailed ever closer to their destination. Stopping first in Myr, one night early into their stay those that travelled with him lost themselves to their cup, for Viserys had retired early, and as a result Viserys was stolen away by hands unknown. He knew not how long he’d been taken for, or for why, though the voices in his ear offered several possibilities. That he was saved by this Red Priest and another man who named himself Varelos of Myr was no small mercy, and yet from the events of the night he took with him the crackling sound of a healthy fire.
They found more than that which they had bargained for afterwards. Closer to the Axe, in a sudden storm their ship was badly damaged. Taking on water, they were forced to flee overboard, rescuing that which they could from the hold and what little personal belongings they could carry. When dawn came again they found themselves stranded, stuck, with no clear idea where they were or where they were going. To most it seemed a death sentence, to Viserys his current predicament echoed that which he felt in his mind. Lost, adrift, without purpose. The further they picked across the wilderness, their meagre supplies vanishing with each meal, growing gaunt and skinny, their clothes going to rags and the land giving them sparse recompense with which to live off of, Viserys continued to lose hope in the Seven, yet still he held on for their intervention. He had prayed, even on the day that his father been taken, his test, surely, was almost at its end. So, too, did the Red Priest speak of the Lord of Light. So, too, did he stare into the flames come nightfall and reaffirm that they would be delivered from their predicament. Viserys took to speaking more to this Red Priest, to learn where his sense of surety came from.
When the Red Priest spoke, he spoke of Azor Ahai, The Prince That was Promised. He said that he had seen Viserys in the his flames, standing with his sword alfame against his enemies, that the Seven had not favoured him for he was the Red God’s Chosen, that his father had not been saved because Viserys had been claimed by another and the Seven Gods were wroth. So, too, did he offer to teach Viserys to look into the flames and divine the future. Hungry, desperate, angry with the Gods he had given his love and who had given him only misery in return, and haunted by the things that the Red Priest Nuqir had shown him in the flames, Viserys relented, and agreed to learn more of the Red God and the part that he wished him to play.
It marked the beginning of the end of Viserys’ outward loyalty to the Seven, for when they found their rescue, as the Red Priest would come to pass, he renounced his Faith to take up the mantle of the Red God’s Chosen, and when he sailed back into the Blackwater Bay he came as a heathen Prince. Many resented his decision, claiming he had turned his back on the Seven, which he could not deny; yet they had turned their backs on him first, no? Had left him alone and adrift. Nonetheless, he was the Blood of the Dragon, his was a will incarnate. His belief in himself only grew with the acceptance of the mantle of Azor Ahai, and in turn, others began to believe in him as well, though they kept themselves hidden from the world. The Dragon Lost;
Travelling between Dragonstone and King’s Landing, the same journey upon which Viserys had been brought into the world, his brother’s life was claimed by the sea. Daeron, Prince of Dragonstone, attempted to right their course but met his end when the ship found the jagged spears of the merling king. Viserys had been in King’s Landing, and when the news reached him he demanded that he be left alone with his grief, in part due to the knowledge of what would come after.
His father and brother dead, Prince Viserys would ascend to the title of Prince of Dragonstone and Crown Prince of the Realm, a fact that was unpopular due to his religion. Some held the belief that Viserys himself was behind his brother’s untimely death, making use of strange magics to visit a storm upon Daeron, and from that his wroth grew again. They had not always seen eye-to-eye and their disagreements had oft grown violent but Viserys had never wished Daeron dead. Further he was driven apart from the men of the Seven Kingdoms..
Viserys was married to his brother’s widow, Rhaenys, a cousin to Daeron and Viserys. He had been vaguely aware of her; he had known her insofar as that in their youth his heart had quickened at the sight of her. That she was a beauty was no doubt, that she had kept that beauty into her middle age was widely regarded as a core truth of the world. The first days of their marriage were dark in Viserys’ mind, his thoughts more on the juggling of his newfound role as Prince of Dragonstone and standing as the Red God’s Chosen. Oft he was away in Dorne, concocting something with Alaric Martell, though what he would not say.
Slowly he softened, or, at least, let down his mask enough that she could peek. When he began to see who she was and what those things were that motivated her he grew increasingly comfortable. He had though that he had been stuck with a woman in love with the memory of his brother, and quickly learned that he and Rhaenys were a match more suited to one another.
A year later, Rhaenys birthed their son; that first good thing that had happened to him in what seemed like his life entire. Maekar, they named him, for Viserys’ father and Rhaeys’ uncle. A year after that brought them further joy, their cousin Aerea, from Summerhall, to ward alongside them. The Years Between;
Viserys was an erratic presence around the court at King’s Landing in the years between the birth of his son and the death of his grandfather. Sometimes he was glimpsed many days in a row, sometimes his absence was long talked of. None were quite sure where he would go; whether he was Across the Narrow Sea or about the Seven Kingdoms. Some rumours went out that the Crown Prince was seen in areas that had known tumultuous times, past or present. He delved deeply into the libraries at the Citadel, at Greywater Watch, at Ten Towers and further afield still. He was said to have visited the Lord Commander on the Wall, stayed half a moon, and hurried out again.
He was a champion to those who had nothing. He did not simply provide gold and men, his was an ethic that got down in the mud beside them, to build that which had been lost or or clear that which had been cluttered. He showed them how they could quickly construct defences, how they could whittle arrows and repurpose steel and iron. Where he went he brought hope. He brought people their spirit in those places where there had been no spirit. Those who were not spared his ire were the men whose currency was greed, to whom the world was a thing from which they would take and give nothing. These outbursts toward men of supposed substance in front of those who ploughed the earth further bolstered his popularity with the smallfolk and lessened it with those lords he dressed down.
High and low he searched for a bastard of his brother’s. Daeron’s appetites had been known, his fidelity doubted. Viserys was certain there would be a child out there, somewhere, and searched with a diligence unrivalled for its trail; anyone that Aemon could legitimise and ascend in Viserys’ place.
His duty, as he called it, remained unknown even to his wife. The King either did not know or did want to say he did, for when he was asked the answer he gave in return was non-committal and vague at best. The King is Dead, Long Live the King;
For all his work, he would not get his wish. In 302AC, Aemon Targaryen, the longest-reigning king on the Iron Throne, breathes his last on the ancestral seat at Dragonstone. Viserys is present for the king’s passing, awake with his grandfather late into a long night, and though it is not known exactly what words passed between them, none about the keep could doubt Prince Viserys’ sorrow, for when he opened the door to inform the Kingsguard by the door that the Stranger had taken him his eyes were red-rimmed, his cheeks tear-tracked. They had grown distant following Viserys’ conversion, swapping one or two words in passing every now and then. That night had been the first in a long while that they had spoken at length -- at least, in the minds of those who were outside observers.
Viserys is reported as having asked for ‘a few more hours’
of the King’s Hand before they announced the king’s passing. The Hand had asked what for, and Viserys had answered; ‘to bid goodbye to the peace and quiet.”
He held out a hope that he would find Daeron’s supposed bastard up until the last hour, as he made that last walk as Crown Prince through the streets of King’s Landing. Contrary to the belief of many, Viserys requested a coronation in the Great Sept of Baelor, to be performed by the High Septon. Nuqir advised him that the Lord of Light would not turn his back on his Chosen for what he must do; Nuqir spoke long and often of that which Viserys was delivered unto the world to bring about, and so Viserys went to appease the crowds.
Little time was wasted following the coronation. King in his own right, though controversial, Viserys’ efforts seemed to triple. He first fired the Small Council, bringing in Varelos of Myr as his Master of Whisperers, his goodbrother Lord Stark as Master of Laws, and kin to Lord Greyjoy as Master of Ships, and in addition he invited the High Septon to sit in on Small Council meetings. In 303AC the king put on a Tourney outside King’s Landing, for whom the winner’s prize was a place on Viserys’ Kingsguard, who were only five out of the seven. Both Gwayne Tyrell and Matarys Targaryen distinguished themselves, breaking wood over one another until Viserys stood and announced it a tie, naming both knights to his guard there on the grounds.
In 304AC he would award the Night’s Watch the Third Gift, and did not speak on his reasoning.
To stem the tide of Red Priests proselytising across the Seven Kingdoms, Viserys convened those elders of the Red God inside King’s Landing to demand they be recalled. In what he came to call the Red Accord, Viserys decreed that Red Priests were to find themselves to a Lord’s court through invitation alone, and those who preached on another’s land without their express permission were to be punished as any other.
The King was quick to dispatch groups of bandits that made themselves known, effectively mobilising men and on the often riding out alongside them, a sight in his black and red red plate with the dragonhelm and the red plume. Lord Commander Triston Fell despaired, but had the strength in his arm and a mind sharp as his sword to match, and slowly the rise of robbery upon the roadways was quelled. In 306AC, Lord Commander Fell was slain in an altercation with a group of bandits who had entrenched themselves well enough, led by an old engineer. Viserys and Ser Gwayne Tyrell dispatched the last of them with a whip-crack fury. A few days later and Viserys dubbed the Rose Lord Commander in Fell’s place, much to the surprise of men more senior on the guard.
Though he worked tirelessly, concerns were raised about the king’s habits. He slept little, working late into the night and into the wee hours. He frequently insisted they depart for Dragonstone at odd hours, stealing across and back again for all of an hour spent there. He seemed to speak in riddles, oft to himself. Through it he kept his smile, that charm that had won many a man round. Recent Events;
309AC, and Viserys’ son stands to come of age and the Crown Prince finds himself at a crossroad; to stand in line with a father whom he has hardly known stably through his life, or to tend to the needs of the Realm that demand a different faith, while the King’s mind is on darker things elsewhere. The call has gone out to the Realm, that the Prince’s name-day celebrations will be celebrations for all. And so they stand to see who answers, and for why. Bio-Timeline; 264AC
- Viserys Targaryen is born, the second son to Maekar Targaryen 270AC
- His lessons are handled by a mixture of his father, the Grandmaester, and the High Septon. He is a quiet child with wide, darting eyes. 280-290AC
- At six-and-ten he is far from the wraith he had been as a youth, instead now he charms, quick with a smile and his words. In 282AC, Daeron weds Rhaenys for which Viserys is present for the ceremony, though he desired their cousin for himself. He often takes to King’s Landing with his pack of friends, and he and Alaric Martell vie for the affections of Bethany Darklyn. In 288AC Prince Maekar is poisoned in the Name Day Plot. The following year, Viserys would journey to Essos to escape the Seven Kingdoms; it’s here that he crosses paths with Nuqir and Varelos of Myr, and converts to the Lord of Light. 290-300AC
- In 293AC Daeron is claimed by a summer storm. Against his will Viserys is named the Prince of Dragonstone, and marries his brother’s widow, and though they had feared her barren they produce an heir within the year. Most of this time is spent between his family and a calling which he refuses to share. 300-310AC
- In 302AC, King Aemon Targaryen passes peacefully at Dragonstone, his last words apparently; ‘Egg...I dreamed that I was...old.”,
a year later, at King Viserys’ coronation tourney, Gwayne Tyrell and Matarys Targaryen are named to the Kingsguard. In 306AC Lord Commander Fell of the Kingsguard is slain by bandits in the Kingswood, and Viserys names the young Tyrell a few days after the fact. 309AC
- The calls have been put out for a feast in King’s Landing, for the Crown Prince’s name-day celebrations. NPCs;
Maekar Targaryen; Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, Prince of Dragonstone; Archetype - Tourney Knight
Ser Corlys Bar Emmon; An old friend of Viserys, a familiar face around the court; Archetype - Warrior (Swords)
Ser Rennifer Harte; Once a storied knight, now a merchant; Viserys met Ser Rennifer before he lost his arm and recalls a very different man; Archetype - General
Jonquil; She was pretty before a vexed sailor took a knife to her face, the sweet girl that had looked out of those eyes had died and been born again harsher when she watched the man swing on the King's order; Archetype - Medic
Tacit Pursuit; He is a shadow about the Red Keep, a mystery in porcelain skin from whom emotions seem to have been bled, an addition to the King's confidences from Across the Narrow Sea - Archetype; Huntsman
Wee Malcolm; Another of the King's old friends, a small boy who grew into a large man, a gentle giant; Archetype - Castellan
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2020.08.13 22:21 OB8O Every Legal 4-Letter Word In Scrabble
AAHS AALS ABAC ABAS ABBA ABBE ABBS ABED ABET ABID ABLE ABLY ABOS ABRI ABUT ABYE ABYS ACAI ACCA ACED ACER ACES ACHE ACHY ACID ACME ACNE ACRE ACTA ACTS ACYL ADAW ADDS ADDY ADIT ADOS ADRY ADZE AEON AERO AERY AESC AFAR AFFY AFRO AGAR AGAS AGED AGEE AGEN AGER AGES AGHA AGIN AGIO AGLU AGLY AGMA AGOG AGON AGUE AHED AHEM AHIS AHOY AIAS AIDA AIDE AIDS AIGA AILS AIMS AINE AINS AIRN AIRS AIRT AIRY AITS AITU AJAR AJEE AKAS AKED AKEE AKES AKIN ALAE ALAN ALAP ALAR ALAS ALAY ALBA ALBE ALBS ALCO ALEC ALEE ALEF ALES ALEW ALFA ALFS ALGA ALIF ALIT ALKO ALKY ALLS ALLY ALMA ALME ALMS ALOD ALOE ALOO ALOW ALPS ALSO ALTO ALTS ALUM ALUS AMAH AMAS AMBO AMEN AMES AMIA AMID AMIE AMIN AMIR AMIS AMLA AMMO AMOK AMPS AMUS AMYL ANAL ANAN ANAS ANCE ANDS ANES ANEW ANGA ANIL ANIS ANKH ANNA ANNO ANNS ANOA ANON ANOW ANSA ANTA ANTE ANTI ANTS ANUS APAY APED APER APES APEX APOD APOS APPS APSE APSO APTS AQUA ARAK ARAR ARBA ARBS ARCH ARCO ARCS ARDS AREA ARED AREG ARES ARET AREW ARFS ARGH ARIA ARID ARIL ARIS ARKS ARLE ARMS ARMY ARNA AROW ARPA ARSE ARSY ARTI ARTS ARTY ARUM ARVO ARYL ASAR ASCI ASEA ASHY ASKS ASPS ATAP ATES ATMA ATOC ATOK ATOM ATOP ATUA AUAS AUFS AUKS AULA AULD AUNE AUNT AURA AUTO AVAL AVAS AVEL AVER AVES AVID AVOS AVOW AWAY AWDL AWED AWEE AWES AWFY AWKS AWLS AWNS AWNY AWOL AWRY AXAL AXED AXEL AXES AXIL AXIS AXLE AXON AYAH AYES AYIN AYRE AYUS AZAN AZON AZYM
BAAL BAAS BABA BABE BABU BABY BACH BACK BACS BADE BADS BAEL BAFF BAFT BAGH BAGS BAHT BAHU BAIL BAIT BAJU BAKE BALD BALE BALK BALL BALM BALS BALU BAMS BANC BAND BANE BANG BANI BANK BANS BANT BAPS BAPU BARB BARD BARE BARF BARK BARM BARN BARP BARS BASE BASH BASK BASS BAST BATE BATH BATS BATT BAUD BAUK BAUR BAWD BAWL BAWN BAWR BAYE BAYS BAYT BEAD BEAK BEAM BEAN BEAR BEAT BEAU BECK BEDE BEDS BEDU BEEF BEEN BEEP BEER BEES BEET BEGO BEGS BEIN BELL BELS BELT BEMA BEND BENE BENI BENJ BENS BENT BERE BERG BERK BERM BEST BETA BETE BETH BETS BEVY BEYS BHAI BHAT BHEL BHUT BIAS BIBB BIBS BICE BIDE BIDI BIDS BIEN BIER BIFF BIGA BIGG BIGS BIKE BILE BILK BILL BIMA BIND BINE BING BINK BINS BINT BIOG BIOS BIRD BIRK BIRL BIRO BIRR BISE BISH BISK BIST BITE BITO BITS BITT BIZE BLAB BLAD BLAE BLAG BLAH BLAM BLAT BLAW BLAY BLEB BLED BLEE BLET BLEW BLEY BLIN BLIP BLIT BLOB BLOC BLOG BLOT BLOW BLUB BLUE BLUR BOAB BOAK BOAR BOAS BOAT BOBA BOBS BOCK BODE BODS BODY BOEP BOET BOFF BOGS BOGY BOHO BOHS BOIL BOIS BOKE BOKO BOKS BOLA BOLD BOLE BOLL BOLO BOLT BOMA BOMB BONA BOND BONE BONG BONK BONY BOOB BOOH BOOK BOOL BOOM BOON BOOR BOOS BOOT BOPS BORA BORD BORE BORK BORM BORN BORS BORT BOSH BOSK BOSS BOTA BOTE BOTH BOTS BOTT BOUK BOUN BOUT BOWL BOWR BOWS BOXY BOYF BOYG BOYO BOYS BOZO BRAD BRAE BRAG BRAK BRAN BRAS BRAT BRAW BRAY BRED BREE BREI BREN BRER BREW BREY BRIE BRIG BRIK BRIM BRIN BRIO BRIS BRIT BROD BROG BROO BROS BROW BRRR BRUS BRUT BRUX BUAT BUBA BUBO BUBS BUBU BUCK BUDA BUDI BUDO BUDS BUFF BUFO BUGS BUHL BUHR BUIK BUKE BULB BULK BULL BUMF BUMP BUMS BUNA BUND BUNG BUNK BUNN BUNS BUNT BUOY BURA BURB BURD BURG BURK BURL BURN BURP BURR BURS BURY BUSH BUSK BUSS BUST BUSY BUTE BUTS BUTT BUYS BUZZ BYDE BYES BYKE BYRE BYRL BYTE
CAAS CABA CABS CACA CACK CADE CADI CADS CAFE CAFF CAGE CAGS CAGY CAID CAIN CAKE CAKY CALF CALK CALL CALM CALO CALP CALX CAMA CAME CAMO CAMP CAMS CANE CANG CANN CANS CANT CANY CAPA CAPE CAPH CAPI CAPO CAPS CARB CARD CARE CARK CARL CARN CARP CARR CARS CART CASA CASE CASH CASK CAST CATE CATS CAUF CAUK CAUL CAUM CAUP CAVA CAVE CAVY CAWK CAWS CAYS CEAS CECA CEDE CEDI CEES CEIL CELL CELS CELT CENS CENT CEPE CEPS CERE CERO CERT CESS CETE CHAD CHAI CHAL CHAM CHAO CHAP CHAR CHAS CHAT CHAV CHAW CHAY CHEF CHER CHEW CHEZ CHIA CHIB CHIC CHID CHIK CHIN CHIP CHIS CHIT CHIV CHIZ CHOC CHOG CHON CHOP CHOU CHOW CHUB CHUG CHUM CHUR CHUT CIAO CIDE CIDS CIEL CIGS CILL CINE CION CIRE CIRL CIST CITE CITO CITS CITY CIVE CLAD CLAG CLAM CLAN CLAP CLAT CLAW CLAY CLEF CLEG CLEM CLEW CLIP CLIT CLOD CLOG CLON CLOP CLOT CLOU CLOW CLOY CLUB CLUE COAL COAT COAX COBB COBS COCA COCH COCK COCO CODA CODE CODS COED COFF COFT COGS COHO COIF COIL COIN COIR COIT COKE COKY COLA COLD COLE COLL COLS COLT COLY COMA COMB COME COMM COMP COMS COND CONE CONF CONI CONK CONN CONS CONY COOF COOK COOL COOM COON COOP COOS COOT COPE COPS COPY CORD CORE CORF CORK CORM CORN CORS CORY COSE COSH COSS COST COSY COTE COTH COTS COTT COUP COUR COVE COWK COWL COWP COWS COWY COXA COXY COYS COZE COZY CRAB CRAG CRAM CRAN CRAP CRAW CRAY CRED CREE CREM CREW CRIA CRIB CRIM CRIS CRIT CROC CROG CROP CROW CRUD CRUE CRUS CRUX CUBE CUBS CUDS CUED CUES CUFF CUIF CUIT CUKE CULL CULM CULT CUMS CUNT CUPS CURB CURD CURE CURF CURL CURN CURR CURS CURT CUSH CUSK CUSP CUSS CUTE CUTS CWMS CYAN CYMA CYME CYST CYTE CZAR
DAAL DABS DACE DACK DADA DADO DADS DAES DAFF DAFT DAGO DAGS DAHL DAHS DAIS DAKS DALE DALI DALS DALT DAME DAMN DAMP DAMS DANG DANK DANS DANT DAPS DARB DARE DARG DARI DARK DARN DART DASH DATA DATE DATO DAUB DAUD DAUR DAUT DAVY DAWD DAWK DAWN DAWS DAWT DAYS DAZE DEAD DEAF DEAL DEAN DEAR DEAW DEBE DEBS DEBT DECK DECO DEED DEEK DEEM DEEN DEEP DEER DEES DEET DEEV DEFI DEFO DEFT DEFY DEGS DEGU DEID DEIF DEIL DEKE DELE DELF DELI DELL DELO DELS DELT DEME DEMO DEMY DENE DENI DENS DENT DENY DERE DERM DERN DERO DERV DESI DESK DEUS DEVA DEVS DEWS DEWY DEXY DEYS DHAK DHAL DHOL DHOW DIAL DIBS DICE DICH DICK DICT DIDO DIDY DIEB DIED DIEL DIES DIET DIFF DIFS DIGS DIKA DIKE DILL DIME DIMP DIMS DINE DING DINK DINO DINS DINT DIOL DIPS DIPT DIRE DIRK DIRL DIRT DISA DISC DISH DISK DISS DITA DITE DITS DITT DITZ DIVA DIVE DIVI DIVO DIVS DIXI DIXY DIYA DJIN DOAB DOAT DOBS DOBY DOCK DOCO DOCS DODO DODS DOEK DOEN DOER DOES DOFF DOGE DOGS DOGY DOHS DOIT DOJO DOLE DOLL DOLS DOLT DOME DOMS DOMY DONA DONE DONG DONS DOOB DOOK DOOL DOOM DOON DOOR DOOS DOPA DOPE DOPS DOPY DORB DORE DORK DORM DORP DORR DORS DORT DORY DOSE DOSH DOSS DOST DOTE DOTH DOTS DOTY DOUC DOUK DOUM DOUN DOUP DOUR DOUT DOUX DOVE DOWD DOWF DOWL DOWN DOWP DOWS DOWT DOXY DOYS DOZE DOZY DRAB DRAC DRAD DRAG DRAM DRAP DRAT DRAW DRAY DREE DREG DREK DREW DREY DRIB DRIP DROP DROW DRUB DRUG DRUM DRYS DSOS DUAD DUAL DUAN DUAR DUBS DUCE DUCI DUCK DUCT DUDE DUDS DUED DUEL DUES DUET DUFF DUGS DUIT DUKA DUKE DULE DULL DULY DUMA DUMB DUMP DUNE DUNG DUNK DUNS DUNT DUOS DUPE DUPS DURA DURE DURN DURO DURR DUSH DUSK DUST DUTY DWAM DYAD DYED DYER DYES DYKE DYNE DZHO DZOS
EACH EALE EANS EARD EARL EARN EARS EASE EAST EASY EATH EATS EAUS EAUX EAVE EBBS EBON ECAD ECCE ECCO ECHE ECHO ECHT ECOD ECOS ECRU ECUS EDDO EDDY EDGE EDGY EDHS EDIT EECH EELS EELY EERY EEVN EFFS EFTS EGAD EGAL EGER EGGS EGGY EGIS EGMA EGOS EHED EIDE EIKS EILD EINA EINE EISH EKED EKES EKKA ELAN ELDS ELFS ELHI ELKS ELLS ELMS ELMY ELSE ELTS EMES EMEU EMIC EMIR EMIT EMMA EMMY EMOS EMPT EMUS EMYD EMYS ENDS ENES ENEW ENGS ENOL ENOW ENUF ENVY EOAN EONS EORL EPEE EPHA EPIC EPOS ERAS ERED ERES EREV ERGO ERGS ERHU ERIC ERKS ERNE ERNS EROS ERRS ERST ERUV ESES ESKY ESNE ESPY ESSE ESTS ETAS ETAT ETCH ETEN ETHE ETHS ETIC ETNA ETUI EUGE EUGH EUKS EUOI EURO EVEN EVER EVES EVET EVIL EVOE EVOS EWER EWES EWKS EWTS EXAM EXEC EXED EXES EXIT EXON EXPO EXUL EYAS EYED EYEN EYER EYES EYNE EYOT EYRA EYRE EYRY
FAAN FAAS FABS FACE FACT FADE FADO FADS FADY FAFF FAGS FAHS FAIK FAIL FAIN FAIR FAIX FAKE FALL FALX FAME FAND FANE FANG FANK FANO FANS FARD FARE FARL FARM FARO FARS FART FASH FAST FATE FATS FAUN FAUR FAUT FAUX FAVA FAVE FAWN FAWS FAYS FAZE FEAL FEAR FEAT FECK FEDS FEEB FEED FEEL FEEN FEER FEES FEET FEGS FEHM FEHS FEIS FELL FELT FEME FEMS FEND FENI FENS FENT FEOD FERE FERM FERN FESS FEST FETA FETE FETS FETT FEUD FEUS FEWS FEYS FIAR FIAT FIBS FICE FICO FIDO FIDS FIEF FIER FIFE FIGO FIGS FIKE FIKY FILA FILE FILL FILM FILO FILS FIND FINE FINI FINK FINO FINS FIQH FIRE FIRK FIRM FIRN FIRS FISC FISH FISK FIST FITS FITT FIVE FIXT FIZZ FLAB FLAG FLAK FLAM FLAN FLAP FLAT FLAW FLAX FLAY FLEA FLED FLEE FLEG FLEW FLEX FLEY FLIC FLIM FLIP FLIR FLIT FLIX FLOB FLOC FLOE FLOG FLOP FLOR FLOW FLOX FLUB FLUE FLUS FLUX FOAL FOAM FOBS FOCI FOEN FOES FOGS FOGY FOHN FOID FOIL FOIN FOLD FOLK FOND FONE FONS FONT FOOD FOOL FOOT FOPS FORA FORB FORD FORE FORK FORM FORT FOSS FOUD FOUL FOUR FOUS FOWL FOXY FOYS FOZY FRAB FRAE FRAG FRAP FRAS FRAT FRAU FRAY FREE FRET FRIB FRIG FRIS FRIT FRIZ FROE FROG FROM FROS FROW FRUG FUBS FUCI FUCK FUDS FUEL FUFF FUGS FUGU FUJI FULL FUME FUMS FUMY FUND FUNG FUNK FUNS FURL FURR FURS FURY FUSC FUSE FUSS FUST FUTZ FUZE FUZZ FYCE FYKE FYLE FYRD
GABS GABY GADE GADI GADS GAED GAEN GAES GAFF GAGA GAGE GAGS GAID GAIN GAIR GAIT GAJO GAKS GALA GALE GALL GALS GAMA GAMB GAME GAMP GAMS GAMY GANE GANG GANS GANT GAOL GAPE GAPO GAPS GAPY GARB GARE GARI GARS GART GASH GASP GAST GATE GATH GATS GAUD GAUM GAUN GAUP GAUR GAUS GAVE GAWD GAWK GAWP GAWS GAYS GAZE GAZY GEAL GEAN GEAR GEAT GECK GEDS GEED GEEK GEEP GEES GEEZ GEIT GELD GELS GELT GEMS GENA GENE GENS GENT GENU GEOS GERE GERM GERS GERT GEST GETA GETS GEUM GHAT GHEE GHIS GIBE GIBS GIDS GIED GIEN GIES GIFT GIGA GIGS GILA GILD GILL GILT GIMP GING GINK GINN GINS GIOS GIPS GIRD GIRL GIRN GIRO GIRR GIRT GISM GIST GITE GITS GIVE GIZZ GJUS GLAD GLAM GLED GLEE GLEG GLEI GLEN GLEY GLIA GLIB GLID GLIM GLIT GLOB GLOM GLOP GLOW GLUE GLUG GLUM GLUT GNAR GNAT GNAW GNOW GNUS GOAD GOAF GOAL GOAS GOAT GOBI GOBO GOBS GOBY GODS GOEL GOER GOES GOEY GOFF GOGO GOJI GOLD GOLE GOLF GOLP GONE GONG GONK GONS GOOD GOOF GOOG GOOK GOOL GOON GOOP GOOR GOOS GORA GORE GORI GORM GORP GORY GOSH GOSS GOTH GOUK GOUT GOVS GOWD GOWF GOWK GOWL GOWN GOYS GRAB GRAD GRAM GRAN GRAT GRAV GRAY GREE GREN GREW GREX GREY GRID GRIG GRIM GRIN GRIP GRIS GRIT GROG GROK GROT GROW GRRL GRUB GRUE GRUM GUAN GUAR GUBS GUCK GUDE GUES GUFF GUGA GUID GULA GULE GULF GULL GULP GULS GULY GUMP GUMS GUNG GUNK GUNS GUPS GURL GURN GURS GURU GUSH GUST GUTS GUVS GUYS GYAL GYBE GYMP GYMS GYNY GYPS GYRE GYRI GYRO GYTE GYVE
HAAF HAAR HABU HACK HADE HADJ HADS HAED HAEM HAEN HAES HAET HAFF HAFT HAGG HAGS HAHA HAHS HAIK HAIL HAIN HAIR HAJI HAJJ HAKA HAKE HAKU HALE HALF HALL HALM HALO HALT HAME HAMS HAND HANG HANK HANT HAOS HAPS HAPU HARD HARE HARK HARL HARM HARN HARO HARP HART HASH HASK HASP HASS HAST HATE HATH HATS HAUD HAUF HAUL HAUT HAVE HAWK HAWM HAWS HAYS HAZE HAZY HEAD HEAL HEAP HEAR HEAT HEBE HECH HECK HEED HEEL HEFT HEHS HEID HEIL HEIR HELD HELE HELL HELM HELO HELP HEME HEMP HEMS HEND HENS HENT HEPS HEPT HERB HERD HERE HERL HERM HERN HERO HERS HERY HESP HEST HETE HETH HETS HEWN HEWS HEYS HICK HIDE HIED HIES HIGH HIKE HILA HILD HILI HILL HILT HIMS HIND HING HINS HINT HIOI HIPS HIPT HIRE HISH HISN HISS HIST HITS HIVE HIYA HIZZ HOAR HOAS HOAX HOBO HOBS HOCK HODS HOED HOER HOES HOGG HOGH HOGS HOHA HOHS HOIK HOKA HOKE HOKI HOLD HOLE HOLK HOLM HOLP HOLS HOLT HOLY HOMA HOME HOMO HOMS HOMY HOND HONE HONG HONK HONS HOOD HOOF HOOK HOON HOOP HOOR HOOT HOPE HOPS HORA HORE HORI HORN HORS HOSE HOSS HOST HOTE HOTS HOUF HOUR HOUT HOVE HOWE HOWF HOWK HOWL HOWS HOYA HOYS HUBS HUCK HUED HUER HUES HUFF HUGE HUGS HUGY HUHU HUIA HUIC HUIS HULA HULE HULK HULL HUMA HUMF HUMP HUMS HUNG HUNH HUNK HUNS HUNT HUPS HURL HURT HUSH HUSK HUSO HUSS HUTS HWAN HWYL HYED HYEN HYES HYKE HYLA HYLE HYMN HYPE HYPO HYPS HYTE
IAMB IBEX IBIS ICED ICER ICES ICHS ICKY ICON IDEA IDEE IDEM IDES IDLE IDLY IDOL IDYL IFFY IGAD IGGS IGLU IKAN IKAT IKON ILEA ILEX ILIA ILKA ILKS ILLS ILLY IMAM IMID IMMY IMPI IMPS INBY INCH INFO INGO INGS INIA INKS INKY INLY INNS INRO INTI INTO IONS IOTA IRED IRES IRID IRIS IRKS IRON ISBA ISIT ISLE ISMS ISNA ISOS ITAS ITCH ITEM IURE IWIS IXIA IZAR
JAAP JABS JACK JADE JAFA JAGA JAGG JAGS JAIL JAKE JAKS JAMB JAMS JANE JANN JAPE JAPS JARK JARL JARP JARS JASP JASS JASY JATO JAUK JAUP JAVA JAWS JAXY JAYS JAZY JAZZ JEAN JEAT JEDI JEED JEEL JEEP JEER JEES JEEZ JEFE JEFF JEHU JELL JEON JERK JESS JEST JETE JETS JEUX JEWS JIAO JIBB JIBE JIBS JIFF JIGS JILL JILT JIMP JINK JINN JINS JINX JIRD JISM JIVE JIVY JIZZ JOBE JOBS JOCK JOCO JOES JOEY JOGS JOHN JOIN JOKE JOKY JOLE JOLL JOLS JOLT JOMO JONG JOOK JORS JOSH JOSS JOTA JOTS JOUK JOUR JOWL JOWS JOYS JUBA JUBE JUCO JUDO JUDS JUDY JUGA JUGS JUJU JUKE JUKU JUMP JUNK JUPE JURA JURE JURY JUST JUTE JUTS JUVE JYNX
KAAL KAAS KABS KACK KADE KADI KAED KAES KAFS KAGO KAGU KAID KAIE KAIF KAIK KAIL KAIM KAIN KAIS KAKA KAKI KAKS KALE KALI KAMA KAME KAMI KANA KANE KANG KANS KANT KAON KAPA KAPH KARA KARK KARN KARO KART KATA KATI KATS KAVA KAWA KAWS KAYO KAYS KAZI KBAR KEAS KEBS KECK KEDS KEEF KEEK KEEL KEEN KEEP KEET KEFS KEGS KEIR KEKS KELL KELP KELT KEMB KEMP KENO KENS KENT KEPI KEPS KEPT KERB KERF KERN KERO KESH KEST KETA KETE KETO KETS KEWL KEYS KHAF KHAN KHAT KHET KHIS KHOR KHUD KIBE KICK KIDS KIEF KIER KIEV KIFF KIFS KIKE KILD KILL KILN KILO KILP KILT KINA KIND KINE KING KINK KINO KINS KIPE KIPP KIPS KIRK KIRN KIRS KISH KISS KIST KITE KITH KITS KIVA KIWI KLAP KLIK KNAG KNAP KNAR KNEE KNEW KNIT KNOB KNOP KNOT KNOW KNUB KNUR KNUT KOAN KOAP KOAS KOBO KOBS KOEL KOFF KOHA KOHL KOIS KOJI KOKA KOLA KOLO KOND KONK KONS KOOK KOPH KOPS KORA KORE KORO KORS KORU KOSS KOTO KOWS KRAB KRIS KSAR KUDO KUDU KUEH KUES KUFI KUIA KUKU KULA KUNA KUNE KURI KURU KUTA KUTI KUTU KUZU KVAS KYAK KYAR KYAT KYBO KYES KYLE KYND KYNE KYPE KYTE KYUS
LABS LACE LACK LACS LACY LADE LADS LADY LAER LAGS LAHS LAIC LAID LAIK LAIN LAIR LAKE LAKH LAKY LALL LAMA LAMB LAME LAMP LAMS LANA LAND LANE LANG LANK LANT LANX LAPS LARD LARE LARI LARK LARN LARS LASE LASH LASS LAST LATE LATH LATI LATS LATU LAUD LAUF LAVA LAVE LAVS LAWK LAWN LAWS LAYS LAZE LAZO LAZY LEAD LEAF LEAK LEAL LEAM LEAN LEAP LEAR LEAS LEAT LECH LEED LEEK LEEP LEER LEES LEET LEFT LEGS LEHR LEIR LEIS LEKE LEKS LEKU LEME LEND LENG LENO LENS LENT LEPS LEPT LERE LERP LESS LEST LETS LEUD LEVA LEVE LEVO LEVY LEWD LEYS LEZZ LIAR LIAS LIBS LICE LICH LICK LIDO LIDS LIED LIEF LIEN LIER LIES LIEU LIFE LIFT LIGS LIKE LILL LILO LILT LILY LIMA LIMB LIME LIMN LIMO LIMP LIMY LIND LINE LING LINK LINN LINO LINS LINT LINY LION LIPA LIPE LIPO LIPS LIRA LIRE LIRI LIRK LISK LISP LIST LITE LITH LITS LITU LIVE LOAD LOAF LOAM LOAN LOBE LOBI LOBO LOBS LOCA LOCH LOCI LOCK LOCO LODE LODS LOFT LOGE LOGO LOGS LOGY LOID LOIN LOIR LOKE LOLL LOMA LOME LONE LONG LOOF LOOK LOOM LOON LOOP LOOR LOOS LOOT LOPE LOPS LORD LORE LORN LORY LOSE LOSH LOSS LOST LOTA LOTE LOTH LOTI LOTO LOTS LOUD LOUN LOUP LOUR LOUS LOUT LOVE LOWE LOWN LOWP LOWS LOWT LOYS LUAU LUBE LUCE LUCK LUDE LUDO LUDS LUES LUFF LUGE LUGS LUIT LUKE LULL LULU LUMA LUMP LUMS LUNA LUNE LUNG LUNK LUNT LUNY LURE LURK LURS LUSH LUSK LUST LUTE LUTZ LUVS LUXE LWEI LYAM LYCH LYES LYME LYMS LYNE LYNX LYRA LYRE LYSE LYTE
MAAR MAAS MABE MACE MACH MACK MACS MADE MADS MAES MAGE MAGG MAGI MAGS MAHA MAID MAIK MAIL MAIM MAIN MAIR MAKE MAKI MAKO MAKS MALA MALE MALI MALL MALM MALS MALT MAMA MAMS MANA MAND MANE MANG MANI MANO MANS MANY MAPS MARA MARC MARD MARE MARG MARK MARL MARM MARS MART MARY MASA MASE MASH MASK MASS MAST MASU MATE MATH MATS MATT MATY MAUD MAUL MAUN MAUT MAWK MAWN MAWR MAWS MAXI MAYA MAYO MAYS MAZE MAZY MEAD MEAL MEAN MEAT MECK MEDS MEED MEEK MEER MEES MEET MEFF MEGA MEGS MEIN MELA MELD MELL MELS MELT MEME MEMO MEMS MEND MENE MENG MENO MENT MENU MEOU MEOW MERC MERE MERI MERK MERL MESA MESE MESH MESS META METE METH METS MEUS MEVE MEWL MEWS MEZE MEZZ MHOS MIBS MICA MICE MICH MICK MICO MICS MIDI MIDS MIEN MIFF MIGG MIGS MIHA MIHI MIKE MILD MILE MILF MILK MILL MILO MILS MILT MIME MINA MIND MINE MING MINI MINK MINO MINT MINX MINY MIPS MIRE MIRI MIRK MIRO MIRS MIRV MIRY MISE MISO MISS MIST MITE MITT MITY MIXT MIXY MIZZ MNAS MOAI MOAN MOAS MOAT MOBE MOBS MOBY MOCH MOCK MOCS MODE MODI MODS MOER MOES MOFO MOGS MOHR MOIL MOIT MOJO MOKE MOKI MOKO MOLA MOLD MOLE MOLL MOLS MOLT MOLY MOME MOMI MOMS MONA MONG MONK MONO MONS MONY MOOD MOOI MOOK MOOL MOON MOOP MOOR MOOS MOOT MOPE MOPS MOPY MORA MORE MORN MORS MORT MOSE MOSH MOSK MOSS MOST MOTE MOTH MOTI MOTS MOTT MOTU MOUE MOUP MOUS MOVE MOWA MOWN MOWS MOXA MOYA MOYL MOYS MOZE MOZO MOZZ MUCH MUCK MUDS MUFF MUGG MUGS MUID MUIL MUIR MULE MULL MUMM MUMP MUMS MUMU MUNG MUNI MUNS MUNT MUON MURA MURE MURK MURL MURR MUSE MUSH MUSK MUSO MUSS MUST MUTE MUTI MUTS MUTT MUZZ MWAH MYAL MYCS MYNA MYTH MYXO MZEE
NAAM NAAN NABE NABK NABS NACH NADA NADS NAFF NAGA NAGS NAIF NAIK NAIL NAIN NALA NAME NAMS NAMU NANA NANE NANG NANS NAOI NAOS NAPA NAPE NAPS NARC NARD NARE NARK NARY NATS NAVE NAVY NAYS NAZE NAZI NEAL NEAP NEAR NEAT NEBS NECK NEDS NEED NEEM NEEP NEFS NEGS NEIF NEKS NEMA NEMN NENE NEON NEPS NERD NERK NESH NESS NEST NETE NETS NETT NEUK NEUM NEVE NEVI NEWS NEWT NEXT NGAI NIBS NICE NICK NIDE NIDI NIDS NIED NIEF NIES NIFE NIFF NIGH NILL NILS NIMB NIMS NINE NIPA NIPS NIRL NISH NISI NITE NITS NIXE NIXY NOAH NOBS NOCK NODE NODI NODS NOEL NOES NOGG NOGS NOIL NOIR NOLE NOLL NOLO NOMA NOME NOMS NONA NONE NONG NONI NOOB NOOK NOON NOOP NOPE NORI NORK NORM NOSE NOSH NOSY NOTA NOTE NOTT NOUL NOUN NOUP NOUS NOUT NOVA NOWL NOWN NOWS NOWT NOWY NOYS NUBS NUDE NUFF NUKE NULL NUMB NUNS NURD NURL NURR NURS NUTS NYAS NYED NYES
OAFS OAKS OAKY OARS OARY OAST OATH OATS OATY OBAS OBES OBEY OBIA OBIS OBIT OBOE OBOL OBOS OCAS OCCY OCHE OCTA ODAH ODAL ODAS ODDS ODEA ODES ODIC ODOR ODSO ODYL OFAY OFFS OFFY OGAM OGEE OGLE OGRE OHED OHIA OHMS OIKS OILS OILY OINK OINT OKAS OKAY OKEH OKES OKRA OKTA OLDE OLDS OLDY OLEA OLEO OLES OLID OLIO OLLA OLMS OLPE OMBU OMEN OMER OMIT OMOV ONCE ONER ONES ONIE ONLY ONOS ONST ONTO ONUS ONYX OOFS OOFY OOHS OOMS OONS OONT OOPS OOSE OOSY OOTS OOZE OOZY OPAH OPAL OPED OPEN OPES OPPO OPTS OPUS ORAD ORAL ORBS ORBY ORCA ORCS ORDO ORDS ORES ORFE ORFS ORGY ORLE ORRA ORTS ORYX ORZO OSAR OSES OSSA OTIC OTTO OUCH OUDS OUKS OULD OULK OUMA OUPA OUPH OUPS OURN OURS OUST OUTS OUZO OVAL OVEL OVEN OVER OVUM OWED OWER OWES OWLS OWLY OWNS OWRE OWSE OWTS OXEN OXER OXES OXID OXIM OYER OYES OYEZ PAAL
PAAN PACA PACE PACK PACO PACS PACT PACY PADI PADS PAGE PAHS PAID PAIK PAIL PAIN PAIR PAIS PALE PALL PALM PALP PALS PALY PAMS PAND PANE PANG PANS PANT PAPA PAPE PAPS PARA PARD PARE PARK PARP PARR PARS PART PASE PASH PASS PAST PATE PATH PATS PATU PATY PAUA PAUL PAVE PAVS PAWA PAWK PAWL PAWN PAWS PAYS PEAG PEAK PEAL PEAN PEAR PEAS PEAT PEBA PECH PECK PECS PEDS PEED PEEK PEEL PEEN PEEP PEER PEES PEGH PEGS PEHS PEIN PEKE PELA PELE PELF PELL PELS PELT PEND PENE PENI PENK PENS PENT PEON PEPO PEPS PERE PERI PERK PERM PERN PERP PERT PERV PESO PEST PETS PEWS PFFT PFUI PHAT PHEW PHIS PHIZ PHOH PHON PHOS PHOT PHUT PIAL PIAN PIAS PICA PICE PICK PICS PIED PIER PIES PIET PIGS PIKA PIKE PIKI PILA PILE PILI PILL PILY PIMA PIMP PINA PINE PING PINK PINS PINT PINY PION PIOY PIPA PIPE PIPI PIPS PIPY PIRL PIRN PIRS PISE PISH PISO PISS PITA PITH PITS PITY PIUM PIXY PIZE PLAN PLAP PLAT PLAY PLEA PLEB PLED PLEW PLEX PLIE PLIM PLOD PLOP PLOT PLOW PLOY PLUE PLUG PLUM PLUS POAS POCK POCO PODS POEM POEP POET POGO POGY POIS POKE POKY POLE POLK POLL POLO POLS POLT POLY POME POMO POMP POMS POND PONE PONG PONK PONS PONT PONY POOD POOF POOH POOK POOL POON POOP POOR POOS POOT POPE POPS PORE PORK PORN PORT PORY POSE POSH POSS POST POSY POTE POTS POTT POUF POUK POUR POUT POWN POWS POXY POZZ PRAD PRAM PRAO PRAT PRAU PRAY PREE PREM PREP PREX PREY PREZ PRIG PRIM PROA PROB PROD PROF PROG PROM PROO PROP PROS PROW PRUH PRYS PSIS PSST PTUI PUBE PUBS PUCE PUCK PUDS PUDU PUER PUFF PUGH PUGS PUHA PUIR PUJA PUKA PUKE PUKU PUKY PULA PULE PULI PULK PULL PULP PULS PULU PULY PUMA PUMP PUMY PUNA PUNG PUNK PUNS PUNT PUNY PUPA PUPS PUPU PURE PURI PURL PURR PURS PUSH PUSS PUTS PUTT PUTZ PUYS PYAS PYAT PYES PYET PYIC PYIN PYNE PYOT PYRE PYRO QADI
QAID QATS QINS QOPH QUAD QUAG QUAI QUAT QUAY QUEP QUEY QUID QUIM QUIN QUIP QUIT QUIZ QUOD QUOP
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2020.08.09 05:57 marfether [The Sparrow and the Dragon] 6
New? Start here.
The Chateau de Coeur sat perched on a ridge, half buried in the mountain, half jutting out like her mother’s chin. She’d seen her ancestral home twice before, yet Anya still gaped. Four massive pillars rose out of the valley, their blue marble supporting the part of the castle that hung over the ridge. In the center of the structure sat a great tower nearly as tall as the mountain itself surrounded by five shorter towers. Although she couldn’t see it now, she knew nine small holds were tucked between each tower and the thick stone walls. It stood as a guardian overlooking the river below, a key point of defense for the city of Minora just beyond.
It was a fortress unlike any Anya had heard about. Agetha de Coeur had built the beast built nearly five hundred years ago when the region was wild and new, before Loriselle was a nation. It was rumored that Ser Jarren Kellen had instructed the House to build it, and even when they lost the war, Agetha kept building it, for she knew a time would come when the region would need a castle. And she’d been right. If Anya remembered her history accurately, the Chateau had never been vacant, from the Lorin Independence War, the Sukku Rebellions, and the Reconquest.
And all those years it had been ruled by women. If she proved herself, Anya could be one of those women.
She rode beside her mother at the head of a column of men as a horn sounded behind her to signal the return of the Lady Helene de Coeur.
“You should thank me.” It was the first thing Helene had said to Anya since they’d left Giorn.
“For?” Anya asked, taken aback. It was the wrong thing to say.
Helene’s face twitched. “For keeping you from the Legion. If I had known that leaving you with the Bassi would turn you savage, I never would have left you.”
“I’m not savage,” Anya said. Her mother shot her a glare. “I just need to be reminded is all,” she added quickly.
Helene de Coeur gave a tight nod and turned to take a look at the castle.
They traveled the rest of the way in silence. Only the hooves of the horses could be heard, echoing through the mountain pass. Anya was relieved as they rounded a particularly tight bend in the road and came upon the Chateau’s entrance. The gate was thinner than she remembered, or perhaps she had been smaller then. Horses could pass just two abreast, and Anya began to wonder how wagons and deliveries made it through.
In the courtyard, they were welcomed by a row of servants, hands folded with smiles pressed to their faces.
A young man stepped forward, brown hair slicked back wearing a pressed Lorin suit. “Welcome back m’Lady,” he said with a smile and a bow.
“Thank you, Stephen.” Helene smiled back, trotting her horse further into the courtyard. She dismounted in a wide sweeping motion that made it look easy. “You remember Anya, don’t you?”
“Of course, m’Lady,” the man said with a toothy grin. “I remember her as a babe.” He turned to her then. “You’ve grown quite a bit, haven’t you m’Lady?”
“Yeah,” Anya said, not knowing how to react to the man. And one look at her mother told her that, yet again, it was the wrong thing to say. “Forgive me… er… Stephen, but it’s been a long journey.”
“Of course, m’Lady.”
“Tomas, unsaddle her,” Helene said with a sharp sigh.
Servants set about Anya, surrounding her and helping her to dismount. She made to protest, as she was more than capable of dismounting by herself. She’d dismounted deggons daily and they were no different than a horse. But she could sense that letting the servants go about their business was what would please Helene. So she resigned.
Once on solid ground, she thanked the servants and followed her mother.
“I would like my chambers to be turned over immediately. And two baths drawn, one for me in the private quarters, and one for Anya,” Helene told Stephen as he nodded, “I think the servant quarters should be fine for her wash. Have a maid sent and make sure there is extra soap for her. She needs a thorough cleaning. I also want Clemence brought down from her tower to attend dinner.”
“Anything else m’Lady?” Stephen asked.
“Have Anya set up in the Cresten Wing,” she said after a moment.
“Of course m’Lady.”
Anya was whisked away then, with maids crowding her in the halls and guiding her off, away from her mother.
“Get off,” she huffed, pulling back her arms from the two maid by her side when Helene was out of view. “I can walk myself, thank you.”
The maids looked horrified, stopping in the corridor with mouths open.
“This is customary, miss Anya,” said the woman Anya assumed to be the lead maid.
“S-sorry,” Anya muttered quickly. “I’m just accustomed to doing everything myself. Please, if you would? I mean no offense.” She gestured a hand. “I will follow. Just don’t try and carry me.”
“As you will, then.” The maid gave her a pressed smile.
She followed them, keeping up with their pace. They led her through a few more corridors, one with windows that peered out over the valley and it tempted Anya to look, but she didn’t dare turn her head. The maids would swarm her again.
They passed a door and were inside a room entirely built of stone. Two deep holes were carved into the floor, one already filled with steaming water. The maids wasted no time and began to tug at Anya’s clothes. She fought them off for a moment, but they persisted. Anya sighed. In a moment she was naked, a thick lather smoothed over her skin and rubbed into her hair.
Anya stood in the entrance of the Great Hall of the Chateau, stiff as a post after being scrubbed and jammed into a court dress. She was styled in the common Lorin fashion, the maids had told her. But one look in the mirror and Anya knew it was gaudy and nothing at all like what she’d seen the girls of Loriselle wearing. There were four parts to it but Anya wouldn’t dare name the pieces they’d put on her lest she get the names wrong. The fabric was scratchy and pressed by irons and all layered together. Anya swore it was thicker than Bassi armor.
A clacking noise began to waft in through the corridor, and Anya turned. The sound crescendoed and it took Anya a good long look to recognize her mother. Most of when she saw her, Helene was armored and riding, out there in the wild and ready for it. She’d never seen her ready for court. Helene stood tall, a dress tight and elegant around her waist, the blue fabric lighter than the sky at noon, her skin glowing with a powder, shimmering from the candlelight.
“You smell wonderful,” Helene said through a thin smile as she stepped forward.
“And you look absolutely beautiful,” Anya whispered, doing her best to give a curtsy in the tight fitting dress.
Helene winced at the bow. “I thought I taught you that?”
“I’ve been out of practice.”
Helene simply nodded, turned, and strode through the door into the Great Hall. Anya followed close behind, and stepped into a large room filled with people who all began to murmur when their eyes fell on her. She hesitated a moment, but Anya decided it was better to carry on to get to her seat as soon as possible. Perhaps then the eyes would stop staring at her. At the sound of Anya’s heavy footfalls behind her, her mother stopped and gave a polite smile to the crowd gathered around the table. Most of them were faces Anya recognized, women of the de Coeur line. Only two men were in audience, not servants. “Seems my daughter has forgotten to come in only when introduced.”
The crowd chuckled, and Anya flushed.
“Apolog-” Anya started.
“She’s just come back from her Gifting ceremony with her siblings in Giorn!” Helene drowned her out. “She had been blessed by Netimnly, the Gift of Shifting!”
A small applause arose, including a few claps from Helene. It died quickly. Anya’s heart was beating heavy in her ears. Everyone was staring at her and she’d forgotten all the rules of court.
“She is to be tried and tested here in the Chateau,” Helene said as she stepped up towards a table that was removed from all the rest. She hovered over an old woman, her hair white and sparse, eyes clouded, skin sagging and wrinkling. “Clemence here is proud to know we have another Shifter in the family, it’s been a long time since that particular Gift has shown itself.”
Another small applause.
A woman from the far end of a table rose, a glass in hand.
Helene clenched her teeth, and turned to face the woman. “Yes, Margaux?”
“I think I can speak for most of us,” she said as she looked around the room, eyes twinkling slyly, “I would love to hear about Anya’s life with the Bassi. Everyone is dying to know what the savages get up to.”
Helene gave a laugh that sounded closer to horse than human to Anya. “That would be a wonderful thing, but I do believe she is tired from the road.”
“Let her speak for herself.” Margaux grinned. “Anya, girl, are you too tired to tell of your adventures far from home?”
“This is hardly appropriate,” Helene said, crossing her arms.
“I think we should leave this to Mother. What do you think, Clemence?”
The old woman looked up at her name. “Eh?” Spittle flew from her mouth. “Where is the puddin’? I was told there would be puddin’.”
Helene glared at her sister. “Sit down, Margaux. You’re drunk already.”
Margaux gave a small laugh. “You’re not the Matron until Mother is dead.” Margaux looked around to read the room. Anya did the same, trying to judge the room in the same manner, but everyone was able to hide their expressions with a dull look of amusement. “But you are quite right. I’ve done nothing but drink all day. Too much leisure. I’ll see myself removed.” Her shoes clacked on the stone as she left the Great Hall.
Helene shook her head slightly. “Come, let’s eat.” And she took her seat at the table.
Anya moved to the only empty chair at the table across from Helene. Next to her was a young girl with the same black hair as the rest of the family, her features a bit soft with a round heart shaped face.
“Did you really live with the Bassi?” The girl asked.
“I did,” Anya smiled politely, trying desperately to remember something about the girl. “And you? What have you been doing?”
“I’ve been studying with Ma. What’s it like outside?”
“Outside?” Anya’s brow rose.
The girl nodded eagerly. “I’ve never left the Chateau. Allena tells me stories. Will you tell me stories too?”
“Of course,” Anya said with a smile. A genuine smile, she realized. Her first one in a few days. She’d been so on edge with her mother she’d forgotten to smile. “Would you be able to help me?”
“With what?” The girl leaned in, her curling hair falling in front of her face.
Anya also leaned in so she could whisper, “I don’t remember the rules of the House. And I am quite embarrassed to say, I don’t recall your name”
The girl giggled, covering her mouth. “You’re silly. I’m Jienna”
Anya’s smile grew. She made to reply but a line of servants emerged from behind a door she hadn’t noticed before, bearing trays of food. They served in a methodical manner, Anya suspected due to the diligence of Helene. If Helene had been angry with Anya just for following her into the Great Hall without being announced, she could hardly imagine what kind of anger these servants had seen.
In a moment, a plate of a whole roasted duck, the skin baked with a rich red sauce that glistened with the light, was placed in front of her in the center of the table, with the vegetables still steaming with heat. A sudden hunger came to her. Anya hadn’t eaten since this morning and only seeing the food had reminded her stomach. Instantly she reached for the duck, her fingers feeling the warmth and the stickiness of the sauce, pulling the whole bird towards her. Anya leaned forward and took a bite, the flesh of it coming off with ease and the flavor, and oh
, the flavor was unlike anything Anya had ever…
The girl beside her stared at Anya in horror. “That was for the table,” the girl whispered.
Anya turned, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room, looking as all of them gaped at her. And when her eyes landed on Helene, she knew wrath was about to fall from the sky.
“With me,” her mother hissed, rising from the table. “Now.”
Anya’s eyes widened and she nodded and got up from the table, following Helene into the kitchen.
“Out! All of you out!” Helene commanded the kitchen staff.
“But m’lady we’ve got a pan on the stove and-” A servant said, still stirring a pot of sauce.
The maid bowed and followed the others out the side door.
“I am so glad!” Helene turned, her face burgeoning red, jagged finger pointed at Anya. “Glad that you’re not my real daughter!” She laughed then. A laugh that cut into Anya. “That’s right, you insolent little wretch. You’re not really my daughter. You were given to me by a whore and I treated you like my own. You should thank me!”
Anya backed away, grasping at the wall, looking around her for the servant’s door. What had her mother just said? Not really her daughter?
Helene stepped forward, her face scarlet with rage. “You’re nothing but filth! Why do you think I took you from the Legion? Because you’re family?” She laughed again, hard and hysterical. “No! I took you because you would be a disgrace. You would soil the name de Coeur!”
“I- I-” Anya stammered, choking back the threat of tears that bubbled up from a place of confusion. Of course Helene was her mother, they looked the same… They had the same temperament…
“You what?” Helene snarled.
Anya opened her mouth, but she had no words. Nothing came to her. She was in shock. Not her daughter? Then who? Why? No… she was just trying to hurt her. She’s lying. “You’re lying.”
Helene gawked. “Why would I lie? You’re a wretch and a stain. You don’t have an ounce of de Coeur in you!”
“And… and if I-I did?” Anya stammered, trying to find her voice. That wasn’t right, was it? She had the same black hair… but, half the world had black hair.
“I should end you right here.”
“Then do it.” Anya challenged.
Helene’s eyes shortened in a squint, calculating what Anya meant. But Anya didn’t even know what she meant. “I’ve told the world you are mine so you must act like it. You will remain in your room until I decide what’s to be done with you.”
Anya laughed. She didn’t know what else to do. It’s not like she could fight Helene right here, in the kitchen. At least in her room alone she could make a plan. Formulate a way to get out from under this crazy woman’s thumb. What had her sister said? I’ve never left the Chateau.
Well, Anya wouldn’t let that be her.
“Stephen!” Helene shouted.
A man came running into the kitchens from the hall immediately. “Yes, m’lady?”
“Take her to her room. She’s to be confined.”
“Yes, m’lady.” The man bowed and turned to Anya, grabbing her by her arm.
,” Anya swore at her mother in the Bassi tongue.
Helene piqued at that, turning redder than an apple. “You speak that savage ilk under this roof again and I will make sure you don’t have a tongue.”
Stephen tugged at Anya then, pulling her out of the room through the servant’s door. “C’mon. Don’t want no trouble. We can have your supper brought to you. I know the Lady has a temper. Just got to wait it out.”
Anya nodded and let the tears finally come. She missed the tribe and the Bassi. At least she understood them.
Table of Contents
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2020.07.03 20:29 canitryto What is a theory that you are proud of developing on your own ? (spoilers extended )
Mine is Rhaegar brought his little infant brother Jaehaeyrs, born in 274 , to Starfall to save him from Aerys because he was born with a streak of black hair . That infant is Darkstar , the most dangerous man in Dorne . The hair was proof Rhaella cheated on the Mad King with a Dornish noble . My best guess is Oberyn or Lewyn Martell for the father of Jaehaeyrs , the older brother of Viserys . Darkstar could have a claim on the Iron Throne if i am right . Any takers ? The timeline matches as Rhaegar was in Dorne in 274 according to Jon Connington . It would also explain why Oberyn could not kill Darkstar as the kinslayer is cursed . It is known .
Dance with Dragons - The Griffin Reborn
"Of course, my lord." Yet when they parted, Jon Connington did not go to the sept. Instead his steps led him up to the roof of the east tower, the tallest at Griffin's Roost. As he climbed he remembered past ascents—a hundred with his lord father, who liked to stand and look out over woods and crags and sea and know that all he saw belonged to House Connington, and one (only one!) with Rhaegar Targaryen. Prince Rhaegar was returning from Dorne, and he and his escort had lingered here a fortnight. He was so young then, and I was younger. Boys, the both of us. At the welcoming feast, the prince had taken up his silver-stringed harp and played for them. A song of love and doom, Jon Connington recalled, and every woman in the hall was weeping when he put down the harp. Not the men, of course. Particularly not his own father, whose only love was land. Lord Armond Connington spent the entire evening trying to win the prince to his side in his dispute with Lord Morrigen. The door to the roof of the tower was stuck so fast that it was plain no one had opened it in years. He had to put his shoulder to it to force it open. But when Jon Connington stepped out onto the high battlements, the view was just as intoxicating as he remembered: the crag with its wind-carved rocks and jagged spires, the sea below growling and worrying at the foot of the castle like some restless beast, endless leagues of sky and cloud, the wood with its autumnal colors. "Your father's lands are beautiful," Prince Rhaegar had said, standing right where Jon was standing now. And the boy he'd been had replied, "One day they will all be mine." As if that could impress a prince who was heir to the entire realm, from the Arbor to the Wall.
The Winds of Winter - Arianne I "She has Areo Hotah with her." Prince Doran's captain of guards had dispatched Ser Arys Oakheart with a single blow, though the Kingsguard were supposed to be the finest knights in all the realm. "No man can stand against Hotah." "Is that what Darkstar is? A man?" Ser Daemon grimaced. "A man would not have done what he did to Princess Myrcella. Ser Gerold is more a viper than your uncle ever was. Prince Oberyn could see that he was poison, he said so more than once. It's just a pity that he never got around to killing him." Poison, thought Arianne. Yes. Pretty poison, though. That was how he'd fooled her. Gerold Dayne was hard and cruel, but so fair to look upon that the princess had not believed half the tales she'd heard of him. Pretty boys had ever been her weakness, particularly the ones who were dark and dangerous as well. That was before, when I was just a girl, she told herself. I am a woman now, my father's daughter. I have learned that lesson.
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2020.06.26 15:25 LChris24 The Current Situation in King's Landing (Spoilers Extended)
There are numerous good theories about what happens at Cersei's trial and while that is not the goal of this post, I have seen numerous posters assume that she wins (which is still very possible) due to this quote:
“How long do you think we’ll be here?”
"Longer than you'd like," the old man replied. "If he goes back without the gold the queen will have his head. Besides, I seen that wife of his. There's steps in Casterly Rock she can't go down for fear she'd get stuck, that's how fat she is. Who'd go back to that, when he has his sooty queen?" -TWOW, Mercy
Regarding Harys Swyft and the crown's envoy (which includes several of the Mountain's Men
in it) to the Iron Bank of Braavos. In this post I wanted to look at the different factions, etc. in King's Landing that seem to be preventing this Cersei's thoughts:
False friends, treacherous servants, men who had professed undying love, even her own blood … all of them had deserted her in her hour of need. Osney Kettleblack, that weakling, had broken beneath the lash, filling the High Sparrow's ears with secrets he should have taken to his grave. His brothers, scum of the streets whom she had raised high, did no more than sit upon their hands. Aurane Waters, her admiral, had fled to sea with the dromonds she had built for him. Orton Merryweather had gone running back to Longtable, taking his wife, Taena, who had been the queen's one true friend in these terrible times. Harys Swyft and Grand Maester Pycelle had abandoned her to captivity and offered the realm to the very men who had conspired against her. Meryn Trant and Boros Blount, the king's sworn protectors, were nowhere to be found. Even her cousin Lancel, who once had claimed to love her, was one of her accusers. Her uncle had refused to help her rule when she would have made him the King's Hand. She does have some guards in the Red Keep:
And Jaime … -ADWD, Cersei I
There are … there are hundreds of Lannister guardsmen in this castle." But they aren't completely tied to her:
"But none in this room, thankfully. This pains me, my lord. You do not deserve to die alone on such a cold dark night. There are many like you, good men in service to bad causes … but you were threatening to undo all the queen's good work, to reconcile Highgarden and Casterly Rock, bind the Faith to your little king, unite the Seven Kingdoms under Tommen's rule. So …" -ADWD, Epilogue
All her guards have been dismissed and replaced with my own men. In place of her former ladies-in-waiting, she will henceforth be attended by a septa and three novices selected by the High Septon. She is to have no further voice in the governance of the realm, nor in Tommen's education. I mean to return her to Casterly Rock after the trial and see that she remains there. Let that suffice."
The rest he left unsaid. Cersei was soiled goods now, her power at an end. Every baker's boy and beggar in the city had seen her in her shame and every tart and tanner from Flea Bottom to Pisswater Bend had gazed upon her nakedness, their eager eyes crawling over her breasts and belly and woman's parts. No queen could expect to rule again after that. In gold and silk and emeralds Cersei had been a queen, the next thing to a goddess; naked, she was only human, an aging woman with stretch marks on her belly and teats that had begun to sag … as the shrews in the crowds had been glad to point out to their husbands and lovers. Better to live shamed than die proud, Ser Kevan told himself. "My niece will make no further mischief," he promised Mace Tyrell. "You have my word on that, my lord." -ADWD, Epilogue
Factions The Faith
Currently has a ton of support in the city from the commoners, especially due to a grevious error by Cersei:
The High Septon pondered that a moment. "As you wish. This debt shall be forgiven, and King Tommen will have his blessing. The Warrior's Sons shall escort me to him, shining in the glory of their Faith, whilst my sparrows go forth to defend the meek and humble of the land, reborn as Poor Fellows as of old." -AFFC, Cersei VI and:
Jaime shrugged. "I am certain she had reasons." So even if she wins her upcoming trial she will have a pretty strong adversary in the current High Septon and his followers.
"Reasons?" Lady Genna made a rude noise. "They had best be good reasons. The Swords and Stars troubled even the Targaryens. The Conqueror himself tread carefully with the Faith, so they would not oppose him. And when Aegon died and the lords rose up against his sons, both orders were in the thick of that rebellion. The more pious lords supported them, and many of the smallfolk. King Maegor finally had to put a bounty on them. He paid a dragon for the head of any unrepentant Warrior's Son, and a silver stag for the scalp of a Poor Fellow, if I recall my history. Thousands were slain, but nigh as many still roamed the realm, defiant, until the Iron Throne slew Maegor and King Jaehaerys agreed to pardon all those who would set aside their swords."
"I'd forgotten most of that," Jaime confessed. -AFFC, Jaime V
The City Watch
- Tyene Sand has also been sent to King's Landing under the guise of a septa.
Currently led by Humfrey Waters, the gold cloaks have seen an infusion of reachmen:
"A dog takes after its master," declared Mace Tyrell. "Black cloaks would suit them, I agree. I will not suffer such men in the city watch." A hundred of his own Highgarden men had been added to the gold cloaks, yet plainly his lordship meant to resist any balancing infusion of westermen. -ADWD, Epilogue The Kingsguard
Outside of Robert Strong, Cersei's support among the Kingsguard consists of:
- Jaime Lannister (burned her lettedisappeared with Brienne)
- Osmund Kettleblack (imprisoned by Kevan)
- Meryn Trant (abandoned Cersei, still serviceable)
- Boros Blount (Cersei's at one point, craven and possibly dying)
Ser Boros Blount was in attendance on the boy king and his mother when Ser Kevan entered the royal chambers. Blount wore enameled scale, white cloak, and halfhelm. He did not look well. Of late Boros had grown notably heavier about the face and belly, and his color was not good. And he was leaning against the wall behind him, as if standing had become too great an effort for him. -ADWD, Epilogue
The Small Council
- Balon Swann (A good guy, but currently escorting Myrcella back to KL, could possibly fight his brother in Swannbowl get hyped!)
- Ser Loras is "dying" from his wounds received on Dragonstone.
It also should be noted that Dorne has other "friends" in King's Landing:
- Kevan Lannister (regent) - killed by Varys
- Mace Tyrell (Hand of the King)
- Pycelle (Grand Maester) - killed by Varys and his little birds
- Randyll Tarly (Master of Laws)
- Harys Swift - Lannister supporter, but currently in Braavos
- Paxter Redwyne (Master of Ships) - Aurane Waters has abandoned her for the Stepstones
- Jaime Lannister (LC of the KG) - disappeared with Brienne
- Nymeria Sand - sent to KL to be an advisor in place of Doran
Prince Doran took a jagged breath. "Dorne still has friends at court. Friends who tell us things we were not meant to know. This invitation Cersei sent us is a ruse. Trystane is never meant to reach King's Landing. On the road back, somewhere in the kingswood, Ser Balon's party will be attacked by outlaws, and my son will die. I am asked to court only so that I may witness this attack with my own eyes and thereby absolve the queen of any blame. Oh, and these outlaws? They will be shouting, 'Halfman, Halfman,' as they attack. Ser Balon may even catch a quick glimpse of the Imp, though no one else will." -ADWD, The Watcher
- Qyburn (Master of Whispers) - Owes all his power to Cersei
Lord Hallyne and the Alchemists have been used by the crown for the Battle on the Blackwater and to burn down the Tower of the Hand.
The Tyrell army has been brought to KL:
The more I give him, the more he wants. Kevan Lannister was beginning to understand why Cersei had grown so resentful of the Tyrells. But this was not the moment to provoke an open quarrel. Randyll Tarly and Mace Tyrell had both brought armies to King's Landing, whilst the best part of the strength of House Lannister remained in the riverlands, fast melting away. "The Mountain's men were always fighters," he said in a conciliatory tone, "and we may have need of every sword against these sellswords. If this truly is the Golden Company, as Qyburn's whisperers insist—" -ADWD, Epilogue Although the Tyrells might want Cersei to win:
But Mace Tyrell could not seem to see beyond the threat to his own daughter. "His Grace named Ser Robert to the Kingsguard," Ser Kevan reminded him, "and Qyburn vouches for the man as well. Be that as it may, we need Ser Robert to prevail, my lords. If my niece is proved guilty of these treasons, the legitimacy of her children will be called into question. If Tommen ceases to be a king, Margaery will cease to be a queen." This line could be of some importance:
"Strike! Now, while the castle sleeps." Renly looked back at Ser Boros again and dropped his voice to an urgent whisper. "We must get Joffrey away from his mother and take him in hand. Protector or no, the man who holds the king holds the kingdom. We should seize Myrcella and Tommen as well. Once we have her children, Cersei will not dare oppose us. The council will confirm you as Lord Protector and make Joffrey your ward." -AGOT, Eddard XIII Keep in mind that GRRM may be resisting killing her though:
[What was the hardest death to write?] Obviously Tommen/Myrcella will die at some point and fAegon is likely to be crowned as well.
GRRM The Red Wedding was the hardest thing I´ve ever written. I don't know that I have actually enjoyed any of them. Even when you kill a bad guy, it can be hard... he´s one of your "children" too. Besides, good villains are hard to find, and you always have the nagging doubt that maybe you'll need him down the line. -SSM, Asshai.com Forum Chat: 27 July 2008
We will also soon find out which Hand of the King that the tunnel to Chataya's brothel was built for as well.
TLDR: Just some thoughts on the number of factions and elements at play wrt Cersei's return to power
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2020.06.22 12:52 Cuddley Seeking: Swedish. Offering: English.
Hur är det med dig? How's it going?
Mitt namn är Luke (25/m), jag kommer från england och letar efter en svensk penpal. My name is Luke (25/m), I come from England and am looking for penpals.
I am hoping to find someone to practice Swedish with through messages and maybe voice chat later on. I'd be happy to help with your English, or talk to others who are also learning. I'm even up for chatting to new people with different languages who just want to make friends :)
I am a mechanical engineer turned blacksmith, so I love to chat about design, craft or arts. My main hobby is dungeons and dragons, but I'm happy to chat about most things fantasy, whether they are board games, tabletop role-playing, books or video games. I'm currently working my way through Terry Pratchett's discworld series. I have a fluffy little cat called Freja and would love to share pictures if you also have a cat! I'm a big fan of music and movies, most recently spaghetti western soundtracks and The Tale of Buster Scruggs being a standout film. I love hiking and live near The Lake District in England, one of our best hiking locations.
I look forward to hearing from you, Jag ser fram emot att höra från dig,
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2020.06.15 19:00 Jullebulle2 Pissprov
Rökte för en vecka sen och tog E för 2 dagar sen. Idag blir jag inkallad på piss av jobbet då min syster inte kunde hålla sin käft stängd. Stor risk att jag inte får jobba kvar då dom har noll tolerans på min arbetsplats. Har druckit mycket vatten/Té och hoppas till gudarna att dom inte testar för E/MDMA. Är så sjukt ledsen och deprimerad just nu. Nekar jag att följa med på piss så säger dom att dom inte vill ha kvar mig på arbetsplatsen längre. Nån som har gått igenom liknande och har några tips på hjälp? Ska träffa socialen för att få prata med en person som kan hjälpa mig sluta hålla på med droger men då mitt liv är kaotiskt och ingen annan laglig medicin har hjälp mig må bättre har jag då valt att självmedicinera. Känns som att hela världen är emot mig och varje gång jag ser en glimta hopp så är det nånting som ska dra ner mig. Fick ta pissprov, blodprov och saliv prov så finns ingen chans på planeten att alla skulle av nått mirakel visa negativt. Peace and love boys wish me luck ✌🏻
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2020.05.16 20:18 Kulp1155 Rodwell Bolton, Dreadfort Castellan
Kulp#9252 Name and House:
Rodwell Bolton Age:
55 Cultural Group:
Rodwell is an old man of winter well past his prime days. His alcoholism has not helped his looks in anyway. To put it gently Rodwell has a worn face. Generally clean shaven and sports a thinning white mess of short hair. He wears no eye patch over his missing eye but rather the weathered skin around it sort of envelopes the old wound. Gifts:
Archery (o), Fortifier, Tactician Talents:
Drinking, Blood letting, Survivalism Negative Traits:
Missing Left Eye, Maimed Right Leg (Amputated at the knee), Maimed Left Hand (Severed at the wrist), and Addict (Alcohol) Starting Titles:
Castellan Starting Location:
Dreadfort Alternate Characters:
Ser Erich Farwynd Biography:
Born a winter child in the year of 325, Rodwell was the second son of Domeric Bolton. Often left alone by his cold and distant father Rodwell kept close to his elder brother Theobald. The two would practice at swords and learn histories together or else practice at hunting. But such a simple and a quite life was not what Rodwell ever wanted. He longed to see the world and the places he would so oft read about.
While wintering as a young teenager within the Dreadfort a heated dispute came to a head. Rodwell and Domeric hurled insults and threats at one another. Until exhausted and infuriated Domeric told his son that come spring he would take the black. That eve amidst the harsh winter weather Rodwell left home with haste and sought out passage to Kings Landing.
There he would fall eventually to an apprenticeship within the Alchemists Guild. A fascination with fire and flames had caught the impulsive youths attention. Only it weren’t meant to be. In under a weeks time the Alchemists realized the boys falsehoods. He had spoken lies of proper experience and so was promptly booted out the door. From there he turned to the Street of Steel and sought a more mundane apprenticeship.
For a time things had been well enough but Rodwell soon became bored and abandoned his posting. Coin soon ran out for the young Bolton and so he took to the roads dreaming to see the rest of the grand world as a wanderer. Fate had other plans though and the small group he traveled the road with were quickly beset upon by nasty bandits. Robbed and deeply shamed Rodwell would return to Kings Landing with empty pockets. Bereft of choices Rodwell wrote a short note home and soon Lord Domeric arranged passage for his son to return.
Aboard the Acorn
, Rodwell sailed North dreading the coming reunion with his Lord father. Fierce fall storms soon mangled the ship and her good crew wrecking them all upon the unwelcoming shores of Skagos. Grim and angry Rodwell and the others wintered there waiting the snows slow retreat. As spring came the crew emerged with gaunt faces, distended stomachs, and thinly stretched skin. Vowing never to return to that cursed rock of an island Rodwell left with foul memories of their experience.
Finally returning home to the Dreadfort after nearly a decade in being gone. It were a surprise to all when Rodwell strode into the hall for many had thought him for dead. Scarcely recognizable it were his brother Theobald now the Lord who hugged him first.
In the coming later Spring when the wolves did howl Rodwell was stationed commanding amongst those at Moat Calin. It was his sharp wit and knowledge of defenses (fortifier)
that helped to hold the line for as long as they had. It were a well placed arrow that took his eye that day and as fever took his mind he was honorably removed from his station.
Before having time to fully recover word of Wildlings in the North drew his fevered attention. Cursing the entire ride Rodwell forced his men to ride hard north and north west. For there he knew a hill by memory and set his men to digging trenches and tunnels. (tactician)
From his fortified location Rodwell would lead his men to shattering the unwitting wildling invaders. Sword in hand Rodwell and his men slew ten for every man of theres that fell that day. In a blood frenzy the Bolton men followed Rodwell down pursuing the fleeing wildlings.
At the head of the charge Rodwell sighted a dozen or more of the Wildlings. They’d scurried atop a rocky cliffside making for a hidden cave. Rodwell was the first to begin the near vertical climb. He would have their lives that he swore upon his steel. Grasping a firm hand upon the top edge Rodwell began to heave himself up and over. In a blink the blur of a swinging axehead came down to meet his wrist and lop off the hand. His grip severed Rodwell fell roughly five man heights onto jagged rocks below. The impact twisting his right leg into an unnatural position. Bone jutted out through pierced flesh as Rodwell lay screaming he blacked out.
Rodwell awoke a different man after the events of the war. True he still held his talent of ordering men (command)
, but he was a shell of what he’d once been. A cripple in the eyes of many but despite this Rodwell refused to let his wounds slow him down. Blacksmiths at the Dreadfort quickly crafted him a iron peg to fix to his right leg stump. The battered commander would learn to walk once more in time though he would likely never run nor dance again.
His days of masterful sword play were done that much were obvious with the loss of his favored hand. Though determined to be a lethal force on the field Rodwell summoned the blacksmiths once more to him. For nights they hammered forging for him not a hook like hand but a Y shaped attachment. The instrument strapped to his left arm stump was awkward at first but in little time Rodwell strapped a bow to it. (archery)
The old pains of battle never left Rodwell and so to cope he drank. And he drank. And he drank. Not even his marriage to the lovely Lyarra Stark nor the birth of their three children could snap the habit free of him. But what he did find to seek solace in was the act of opening his own veins. Maester Rymund once spoke ‘One must let out the bad blood and let in the good blood’. Whenever pained most severely and alcohol proves insufficient to numb the pain Rodwell acquires good
blood and drains out the bad.
Time weighed immensely taking its toll on the rebuilt warrior. As it were Lord Theobald had shelved him to the duties of Castelan. Such responsibilities only served to farther drive his alcoholism and other habits. Moons seemed to pass in blinks at times between one drink and the next. All the while his men whispered lowly of how he should just take the black.
It took the death of his dear Lord brother to snap some sense into him. Since that day Rodwell has stemmed his drinking fervor somewhat. Still drunk a majority of the time but somewhat more capable of performing his duties as Castellan. Timeline:
325 AC - Born
339 AC - Journeys to Kings Landing
345 AC - Shipwrecked on Skagos
347 AC - Returns home
352 AC - Woe of Wolves
355 AC - Weds Lyarra Stark
356 AC - Bennard born
357 AC - Torrhen born
358 AC - Alara born
378 AC - Theobald passes
379 AC - Wintered during Dragons Defiance
380 AC - Present Day Family Tree: Family Tree Npcs:
Jon-No-Thumbs - Warrior (Swords): Jon is a simple man rightly named for his lack of thumbs. He is a man who grips his two swords as if they were clubs. Not a man suited for stealthy tasks or courtly appearances.
Kyle - Castellan: A soldier once but then chosen and reforged by Rodwell to perform the duties of Castellan as well as he can himself. Kyle often steps in when Rodwell is too drunk to perform his tasks.
Grunt - Huntsman: An old man as hardy as a tree stump. It were Grunt whom helped teach Rodwell how to properly shoot a bow, and can nearly match the man in his cups. Notes:
Considering Rodwells numerous negative traits and skills I believe it is fair to say that: Rodwell can’t use a bow in any unexpected combat situations. It takes time and preparation to setup his arm tool. If ever caught in mobile offensive combat Rodwell will suffer harsh negative effects on his archery rolls due to his bad leg. He can shoot while defending or stationary just fine but just about anything else is a hell of a struggle.
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2020.05.06 17:40 Morenofael About Brazilian music.
I am Brazilian, and I think it would be great to share some of our music here. I will show some of my favorite artists, and put a music as an example. I may use the word "MPB", wich means "Brazilian popular music".
Gonzaguinha - O Que É O Que É - Samba - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tHLdWLdAyP8
- this song speakes about life, in general, a very optmist song.
Luiz Gonzaga - A morte do vaqueiro - Baião - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jSWwftxuSQQ
- Luiz Gonzaga was Gonzaguinha's father, this song is about a dead man who had a lot of cows. We call this person "vaqueiro", that's why the title is "vaqueiro's death".
Adriana Calcanhoto - Vambora - MPB - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hsmp8yR-AK8
- A song that manages to talk about love without being tacky .
Mano Brown - Negro Drama - Rap - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tWSr-NDZI4s
- This rap speakes about living in Brazil as a black shanty town resident.
Chico Buarque - Apesar De Você - Samba - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LZJ6QGSpVSk
- During the military dictature in Brazil, no one could protest, so he made this song in a way that he could protest against the government without the militarys notice.
Lô Borges - Trem de Doido - Rock/MPB - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PxtcGK6Nneg
- To be honest, I am not very sure about what this song means, but in my interpretation, it is a song about proceding to the future and not looking back.
Elza Soares - Luz Vermelha - Rock/MPB - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uwz1Z2pWc7g
- The song received this name because a man known as "O bandido da luz vermelha", he used to steal rich persons houses and rape the womans who lived there.
Milton nascimento - Tudo O Que Você Podia ser - MPB - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0rJz-tazK4I
Another song about dicatures.
Gilberto Gil - A Paz - MPB - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hpo49PNa8L0
- As the name says, a song about the peace.
Ná Ozetti - O Tic Tac Do Meu Coração - MPB - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aLbJ_1KP_Tk
- Another happy song about love.
Caetano Veloso - No Dia Que eu Vim-me Embora - MPB - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aLbJ_1KP_Tk
- The history of a man who has to leave his family to go to the capital.
Raça Negra - Cheia de Mania - Samba - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJz0F36TGoc
- A guy trying to "chegar" to a girl.
Zeca Pagodinho - Faixa Amarela - Pagode - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fVQ4HLU6ZP8
- The perspective of a guy trying to give a present to a girl.
Adoniram Barbosa - O trem das onze - Samba - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ceBdGz3eTFg
- A man who need urgently get in the last train.
Cartola - Onde Anda Você - Samba - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gb5sbORA62w
- A nice song that Cartola made for his daughter.
Tim Maia - Ela Partiu - MPB - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=syqJAgTQdlU
- Tim Maia used to speake a lot about love in his songs, in this ones, he speakes about a woman who levead him.
Hope you enjoy it.
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2020.05.04 23:24 I-am-the-Peel (Spoilers Extended) Why didn't Stannis just legitimise Edric Storm?
After his defeat at the Battle of the Blackwater, Stannis has a somewhat crisis of conscience and tells Davos he never asked for someone like Melisandre to prophecise him as a saviour of mankind;
"Edric—" he started. "—is one boy! He may be the best boy who ever drew breath and it would not matter. My duty is to the realm." His hand swept across the Painted Table. "How many boys dwell in Westeros? How many girls? How many men, how many women? The darkness will devour them all, she says. The night that never ends. She talks of prophecies . . . a hero reborn in the sea, living dragons hatched from dead stone . . . she speaks of signs and swears they point to me. I never asked for this, no more than I asked to be king. Yet dare I disregard her?" He ground his teeth. "We do not choose our destinies. Yet we must . . . we must do our duty, no? Great or small, we must do our duty. Melisandre swears that she has seen me in her flames, facing the dark with Lightbringer raised on high. Lightbringer!" Stannis gave a derisive snort. "It glimmers prettily, I'll grant you, but on the Blackwater this magic sword served me no better than any common steel. A dragon would have turned that battle. Aegon once stood here as I do, looking down on this table. Do you think we would name him Aegon the Conqueror today if he had not had dragons?" "Your Grace," said Davos, "the cost . . ."
Later on in ASOS he tells Davos that he never even wanted the Iron Throne or to be crowned King after Robert died;
"Four of my sons died for you on the Blackwater. I might have died myself. You have my loyalty, always." Davos Seaworth had thought long and hard about the words he said next; he knew his life depended on them. "Your Grace, you made me swear to give you honest counsel and swift obedience, to defend your realm against your foes, to protect your people. Is not Edric Storm one of your people? One of those I swore to protect? I kept my oath. How could that be treason?" Stannis ground his teeth again. "I never asked for this crown. Gold is cold and heavy on the head, but so long as I am the king, I have a duty . . . If I must sacrifice one child to the flames to save a million from the dark . . . Sacrifice . . . is never easy, Davos. Or it is no true sacrifice. Tell him, my lady."
Until eventually he flatly outlines that he had a difficult time rebelling against Aerys II and truly doesn't want to be King;
"I am your man, Your Grace. So it is your tongue, to do with as you please." "It is," he said, calmer. "And I would have it speak the truth. Though the truth is a bitter draught at times. Aerys? If you only knew . . . that was a hard choosing. My blood or my liege. My brother or my king." He grimaced. "Have you ever seen the Iron Throne? The barbs along the back, the ribbons of twisted steel, the jagged ends of swords and knives all tangled up and melted? It is not a comfortable seat, ser. Aerys cut himself so often men took to calling him King Scab, and Maegor the Cruel was murdered in that chair. By that chair, to hear some tell it. It is not a seat where a man can rest at ease. Ofttimes I wonder why my brothers wanted it so desperately." "Why would you want it, then?" Davos asked him. "It is not a question of wanting. The throne is mine, as Robert's heir. That is law. After me, it must pass to my daughter, unless Selyse should finally give me a son." He ran three fingers lightly down the table, over the layers of smooth hard varnish, dark with age. "I am king. Wants do not enter into it. I have a duty to my daughter. To the realm. Even to Robert. He loved me but little, I know, yet he was my brother.
With Cersei's children not being Robert's, the only reason why Stannis campaigns to be crowned as King is because he feels duty bound as Robert's trueborn heir. But why did this have to be the case?
Though Robert's children by Cersei were not his actual children, he still had plenty of illegitimate bastard children, one of them being Edric Storm, who's mother was also a noble and Edric himself had been recognised by Robert and the Crown as a royal bastard. Very few in Westeros would've been able to deny Edric's ancestry especially when he had been raised in Storm's End his whole life and looked so much like Robert Baratheon;
Yet Edric Storm was three inches taller and broader in the chest and shoulders. He was his father's son in that; nor did he ever miss a morning's work with sword and shield. Those old enough to have known Robert and Renly as children said that the bastard boy had more of their look than Stannis had ever shared; the coal-black hair, the deep blue eyes, the mouth, the jaw, the cheekbones. Only his ears reminded you that his mother had been a Florent.
If Stannis truly did not want to become King, why didn't he just legitimise Edric Storm as Robert Baratheon's trueborn son Edric Baratheon and campaign to crown him as King?
There's a small chance Renly might've been willing to put aside his crown in favour of a King who wasn't Stannis and who might've had a chance of uniting the realm and Stannis would've been more willing to marry Edric off to a noble house to guarantee their support than he was with Shireen, someone like say the Martells who might've jumped at the opportunity to finally have a Dornish Queen on the Iron Throne that they've waited years for.
An even sweeter deal for Stannis in doing all of this would've been that Stannis could finally have been given Storm's End by Edric as thanks for legitimising him and helping him claim the throne in the first place which Stannis had wanted for years and been able to pass the castle down to his daughter Shireen.
So what do you all think, should Stannis have legitimised Edric Storm and crowned him as King after Robert died at the beginning of ACOK, would this have been within his character and would Edric have been able to take the throne?
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2020.04.14 16:23 Aleefth [Meta] Deepdown wiki and epilogues
Although the island of Skagos is scarcely inhabited for the most part, the surplus of fish that live around the island and the large amount of stone that lies within the mountain range in the surrounding area allows them to be viable for trade with the Free Folk to their north, the Night's Watch to their west and the Northerners to their south, or at least the ones that are willing to trade with 'Kneelers' or 'Wildlings'.
Like most other Skagosi houses, little of House Crowl's history has survived the passage of time, either due to their isolation from the rest of the Seven Kingdoms or the fact that the First-Men preferred oral tradition to written scripts. One of the houses more famous members, if not the most, would be the unnamed Lord Commander of the Night's Watch who's reign took place more then a thousand years ago.
In the 10th month 198, House Crowl ceased to be due to a cowardly and unwarranted attack by House Manderly. Despite a heroic defense by the soldiers of Deepdown, Manderly managed a narrow victory. Joseth Crowl fell in battle, and the rest of his family was executed by the invaders. The people of Skagos will never forget this infamous day, and the heroism of the Crowl family.
House Stark - Cadet Branch
Deepdown was awarded to Torrhen of House Stark following the conquest, as well as High Lordship over the whole of Skagos. The remaining members of House Magnar were held captive and raised in Deepdown.
Ser Torrhen Stark The Stone Wolf, Butcher of Skagos
Torrhen Stark, born in 177AC, was warded and raised in White Harbour, and squired and later knighted by Lord Brandon Manderly. For his key role in crushing the Skagosi Rebellion, he was rewarded with Lordship of Deepdown. He then led the Northern houses in conquest of Kingshouse and Driftwood Hall.
Since the Rebellion, Torrhen married Juliet Bar Emmon
, and had one child with her Jon Stark
. The relationship turned cold after their second child, Beth
Torrhen had a paramour, Rhaesanne, a ex-whore in Crippled Cat's in the village of Twinstone. She gave him four bastard children Rhaenya
. She died in Torrhen's arms.
Torrhen was convinced by Lady Anya Woolfield that her daughter Neiridia Snow was the true heir of Winterfell. To that end, the pair of them took the child beyond the Wall in order to garner troops and support, promising the Freefolk land and war South of the Wall.
After five years uniting many clans, they finally reached Winterfell and after a year long siege, took the castle.
But it was not without cost.
Torrhen lost friends, allies, his reputation and his sword arm.
He then fled back to Skagos, and across to Essos, before King Baelor marched North, and Torrhen's son Jon ended the wildling rebellion.
He returned to Westeros with Jasper Arryn, and joined the court of House Royce of Runestone. While there, he initiated a plot to see the Northern Lords demand Bear Island return to the North.
Once Aeryn began his campaign to retake the North, he followed Royce in declaring him King of Winter.
As his age progressed, his sanity began to fail him. His mind became clouded with rage, and was eventually unable to tell friend from foe.
He fought through the North to bring Aeryn to power, he fought through the Vale to rid them of invaders, and he fought the Ironborn and Wildlings at the Wall.
It was there, under the Shadow Tower, that he fell.
Argelle Stark Torrhen's Sister
Lady Argelle was raised in King's Landing as a handmaid of the Queen. She returned to Deepdown prior to the outbreak of the Blackfyre rebellion, where she ruled as regent while her brother led men on the mainland.
After the war, she helped raise her nephew, and brought them all to White Harbour to celebrate the life of the late Lord Wylis Manderly. She remained fiercely loyal to he cousin Rodwell, and hates her brother for his treason.
She married Lord Rogar Forrester, and they had a son, Beron.
Lord Jon Stark Torrhen's Son, "Kanye", The Unicorn Knight
Kanye grew up alone on Skagos, with few friends. His aunt found two village boys for company, but banished them after he was caught kissing one of them.
He found and tamed a unicorn in the forests near Deepdown, and now rides her whenever he gets a chance.
When they visited White Harbour, he met with Alannah Reed, who was to become a ward of his father. The developed strong feelings for one another over the ten years they were together, and finally kissed at the wedding of Karl Stark in Winterfell. At fourteen he proposed to marry her and everything seemed to be going well.
When the Red Priests came to Deepdown, however, he allowed them to stay, but was betrayed by his own men who had converted. Eventually he rode out on his unicorn, capturing the leader and executed him beneath the Heart Tree.
At the Tourney of Harrenhal he performed well in the Joust and Melee, but afterward offered himself as a hostage to King Baelor as he rode North to defeat his father. He was personally responsible for the end of the War, ordering his garrison to stand down and allow the Crown forces entry.
Lord Jon married and had children with Lady Alannah. Jon ruled Deepdown freely since the regency ended and followed the threads his father left behind, securing a more open Skagos, and one that is no longer isolated.
Jon began to form a plan to oust the Black Wolf, Theon Stark, from Winterfell. His support for Aeryn's cause was unwavering, and was rewarded with Regency of Winter. In this time, he showed his quality as a statesman, and helped bring diplomatic solutions to a lot of internal conflicts.
It is not known for certain what became of Jon after the Battle at the Shadow Tower. Some suggest that he took a blade for his wife, while others suggest that it was his Unicorn that slew the Wildling King, before carrying Alannah and him home.
Either way, he left a legacy that has been upheld by his son Lord Ellard Stark
Ellard Stark High Lord of Skagos, Lord of Deepdown Jon's Son
Ellard was a bully as a child, he found many an excuse to be mean to his brother. This was unintentionally encouraged by his mother's blind eye to his wrong doing.
After his parents left to fight in the Last War, he bonded with his brother, seeing his value as an advisor and Castellan. He developed an attachment to both Alannah Bolton and Nessa Snow, who were wards of his Father.
Brandon “The Beautiful” Stark Jon's Son
Brandon was born with a cleft palate - so had trouble breathing, though his mind is sharper than most. He has a wide vocabulary and knowledge for a child of his age. He took to wearing his father's helmet almost all the time to hide his face.
During the Last War, he helped his brother manage his duties, and became Castellan of Deepdown.
He experienced dreams in the form of warnings, and began following the thread with his grandfather, to determined what the warning meant.
He served as Master of Coin on the Winter Council under King Aeryn I Stark.
He never married.
Cregan Stark Jon's Son
Cregan suffered from a form a ADHD. As a child he was often distracted by the smallest things. As he grew up, he maintained a very close bond with his sister, and the two of them were often found in each other's company.
Cregan served as a scribe and squire to Lord Marlon Manderly in White Harbour and converted to the Faith of the Seven.
He married Alyra Cerwyn.
Marissa Stark Jon's Daughter
Marissa was a beauty, but she was not renowned for her smarts. Marissa later married and her relationship with her brother, Cregan, caused a number of marital problems.
She married Lord Durran Dondarrion.
Eddard Stark Jon's Son
Eddard was named for Jon's friend Eddard Flint. He served as commander of Skagos for his entire life, and took on the role of Master at Arms at Winterfell. He married Alannah Flint of Widow's Watch.
Edric Stark Jon's Son
Not much is known about the young Edric Stark, only that he was loved.
Rhaenya Snow Torrhen's Natural born Daughter
Rhaenya Snow was offered as a ward to Raventree Hall as compliance after the North lost the rebellion. She loved her time there and has a deep love and respect for Missy Blackwood and the other bastards that lived there.
Rhaenya moved to King's Landing and made an impact on a good proportion of the Smallfolk.
Her goal is twofold: equality and justice amongst the citizens, and bringing the city under her control.
She became Mistress of Secrets of the Shadow Court of King's Landing, and helped bring about a new order to the city.
Kaerella Snow Torrhen's Natural born Daughter, The Little Swallow
Kaerella was an odd child. She had strange dreams and would often here her father's voice speak to her. She was kidnapped by the Red Priestess Phillipa, who took her to Volantis to train her to become an emissary of the Lord of Light.
After a couple of years she escaped with the help of a loyal Skagosi, and sailed back to Deepdown. They were caught in a hurricane and crashed on Hardhome.
They both got lost trying to return South of the Wall, and her companion died in the Haunted Forest.
Her dreams became more vivid and led her to her father's sword, embedded in a weirwood stump.
She now wields Retribution
and was hunting all sorts of monsters beyond the Wall before she crossed recently and arrived at Blackpool.
At Blackpool she met with Ophelia Reed and has formed a strong bond with her after they shared a soulgaze. They know each other intimately and the surrogate mother-daughter relationship is unbreakable.
While visiting Ophelia's home, she met with Cayla Snow, and was overwhelmed with the power the girl possessed - their soulgaze almost killed Kiri.
Kiri believed that Cayla was the one who was destined to save the world. She bonded with a wild boar that triggered her skinchanging abilities.
She helped Cayla Snow achieve her destiny as a Saviour of Westeros.
Freïa Snow Torrhen's Natural born Daughter
Freïa was always overshadowed by her older sister, but came into her own as a ward of House Glover.
Very dedicated to the Old Gods, she helped oversee the regency of Skagos during the Last War.
She became very close friends with Teaghan Greysnow, and later married Orin Reed.
Kylar Snow Torrhen's Natural born Son
The last of Torrhen's bastards and the one who's birth killed his mother. Kylar was a ward of House Bolton, but returned home after Royce Bolton's death.
He had a high tolerance for pain, and was certifiably masochistic, believing the pain he took to be punishment for not preventing Royce's death.
He led an expedition beyond the Wall, where he was able to spread awareness of the Wildling plans for invasion.
He led the assault on Bear Island, where he reclaimed it for the North, but was slain by a lucky arrow. Deepdown
rests on the second highest peak of the northern Skagosi Hills, and is hewn from Dragonglass. It has four cylindrical towers and faces southwest, its gates carved from weirwood.
1. Main Gate
The main gate is always guarded by two very loyal, if uneducated guardsmen, who take turns resting during the night.
Lumpy is the taller of the guards, he's around six feet tall with a hideously pockmarked face that gives him his unfortunate nickname. The shorter rounder guard is Thom, and his eyes water frequently.
2. Great Hall
In the centre of the courtyard is the Great Hall. Like the rest of Deepdown it is hewn from the dragonglass that makes up most of the hill, but has two huge ironwood doors carved with Old Runes. Inside the Great Hall is a huge ring table around an open fire with almost fifty seats. All residents of the castle are permitted to eat at this table, including servants and soldiers after the nobility have eaten. The table is made from black ebony and is made a ring so that no man is above another.
2a. Dais with Stone Throne
At the northern end of the hall a raised platform of black stone supports a roughly hewn throne, above which hang the skull of a huge unicorn flanked by the banner of Deepdown, and Ellard Stark's personal banner.
The kitchens here extend downward into the rock, where the natural cold keeps food fresh for longer.
The chef, a man named Lyo, is an older man who remembers serving human flesh to the members of House Crowl. He is very happy that this tradition is over.
2c. Servants' Quarters
The servants quarters here, and up the stairs are lined with beds, and personal trunks for their belongings. None of the servants are permanent residents, they are all members of families from Twinstone or Snowshore.
2d. Side room Jon has it set up as a war room, with a table with the map of Westeros.
This room is kept locked unless Jon is inside. The central table has a poorly drawn map of Westeros with red and blue flags in a number of important locations.
2e. Side room Designated play area for kids right now.
This room is wide open. The floors are covered in a thick carpet of red and silver, and the walls are lined with toys that vary in age and quality.
2f. Stairs To upper balcony and more servants' quarters
The balcony overlooks the main hall, and the servants' quarters up here are pretty much the same as those below.
3. Side entrance Mostly concealed, leads toward the Godswood.
This door is concealed by ivy on the outside and painted the same colour as the walls on the inside. It is usually only guarded by the view of a single guard. This gate leads out of the castle along a path to the Godswood.
4. Lord's Tower Ellard and Ala live here.
This tower has multiple floors on a spiral staircase. At the very top is Ellard and Alannah Stark's room. Decorated in reds and green it overlooks the cliffs to the northwest of the Isle. The room contains a cot for the youngest of the Stark children.
Below the Lord and Lady's chamber is the children's room. This is kept as this generation remembers with two large beds are in this room and they face each other at either end. Ellard's old bed is white and decorated with a number of twigs and stones from around the island. Brandon's old bed is earthy brown, and has children's books strewn across it.
5. Gods' Tower Guest rooms, Juliet Stark and Fjori the Godhand's room.
Fjori lives in the broken room at the top of the tower, and it is always closed off to visitors. The room is inhospitable and no one else would be able to live here.
The Lady Juliet Bar Emmon lives below that, in a room made up for a southron woman.
The Magnars live in the rooms just below and their rooms are decked out in their house colours, and the lobster and harpoon is displayed on their door.
The guest rooms below are far better equipped and much more comfortable. Feel free to describe these yourselves.
6. Maester's Tower Maester's room, Ellard's Solar and the armoury.
Maester Arnold lived just below the rookery in this tower, and his room is quite spartan. Below his chambers is Ellard's Solar, where he is usually found between midday and dinner.
The armoury is in the basement, and is well guarded.
7. Seer's Tower Grey, Janys and Teaghan's rooms, barracks on the ground and first floors.
This tower is guarded by a guard faithful to Grey, and he makes sure no one is admitted without his or Janys' express permission.
The barracks is on the first two floors and is always busy.
The stables at the back are covered with a thatched roof that is changed regularly to avoid combustion. There are a few more stalls than are designated on the map, and horses of many shapes and sizes.
8a. Dusk's Stable
Dusk's stall is at the end of the stable, shrouded in mystery. She likes visitors, but is not especially friendly to anyone unless introduced by Jon.
A real ancient weirwood tree stands as the Heart Tree in the Godswood of Deepdown, and the remains of House members are interred beneath its roots.
A great dragonglass monument stands on the highest peak of the northern Skagosi Hills, enscribed with the names of every man, woman or child whose lives were lost as a result of the Skagosi rebellion and the Wildling invasion.
The village of Twinstone
at the base of the hill is named for the two giant stones that protrude from the sea on approach to the jetties. The Skagosi family that holds chiefdom over the village is Clan Darkwater. Clan Darkwater has suffered a lot in the recent years, Chief Lokar was killed trying to retake Greywater Watch from House Frey, and his younger brother Tormund was burned and mutilated by the Red Priest Horus. Tormund's son Ragnar is ruling with help from Chief Nowy Tends. For lore purposes, the village is considered an extension of the Keep, and is linked by a gravel path wide enough for two horse up the hill
The village of Snowshore
is on the smaller of the two Skagosi Isles, and is run by the Tends Clan. Chief Nowy Tends is a loyal commander of the Skagosi army, and served Torrhen Stark loyally to the end. He now serves his grandson just as loyally.
The Jagged Shore
The small village on the Jagged Shore
is loyally held by the Moss clan, and is the one remaining village on Skagos where cannibalism is regularly practiced. The chief Mance Moss rarely leaves the village except to hunt.
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2020.03.18 06:44 w33nuz Such Poem, Much Like - Critiques of the Week (3/11/20 - 3/18/20)
Welcome to SuCh PoEm, MuCh LiKe
Welcome to the Pound Lounge. u/Garmo738
- we need a feature called Pound Lounge, where we pound Ezra pound for being a fascist.
It's me, Nuz. You can call me Nuz. This week, I'd like to start off with the words of u/Casual_Gangster
(much love Cassie_G... I wish I was right about your deer tongues):
"What did you find beautiful about this poem in particular; why? Was there anything you thought could bee improved? "
"What is beautiful about this poem; why? Where did you see the tensions you mention?"
What's all this jibber-jabber about who, what, when and why? Readers don't care. Well, the bad ones anyway.
I encourage all critics out there, whether you're reading in poetry_critics
to try a little harder, and give a little bit. Supertramp or whatever. Goodbye stranger. I'd like to be a super tramp, if you know what I mean. I just moved to the PNW. Watch Paul Thomas Anderson's Boogie Nights and read John Berryman's Dream Songs.
The nerds of collectiveworks
keep going on about Ulysses, Joyce and Homer. My favorite film director, Wong Kar-wai produced Chinese Odyssey 2002 Try Cream's Tales of Brave Ulysses
, one of the greatest psychedelic songs. Slow Hand... Clapton is God. Jack Bruce is chill. RIP Ginger Baker.
Shout out to James Merrill and his fan club including me, u/SerPatrickSpens
. We are the heads (chihuahua Cerberus) and only members of the James Merrill Fan Club. (David's Night in Velies is the goods, trust.)
Shout out Lisez-le-lui
for just being who they are. Shout out to u/colorblooms
and their book on Prynne
while doing grad school. They are the first order. Shout out to everyone, u/BeverlyDriveGhosts
you freakin' weebs.
Best critiques of u/OCPoetry
: "I recently kept someone's shirt..."
— I like anecdotal honesty of this critique. They could be a little meaner, no doubt, but I think it's also helpful for the poet to hear that their stuff is working for some people. (The OP's poem is called "Your Shirt." I'd like to read a poem called "Your Sweat.")
"I think you're onto something here, [but]...
" by u/lllg17
— This is the type of balance I'm looking for in critiques. They lay out what the OP is doing well while criticizing them in a helpful manner. The bonus is that the critic explains to them what they think poetry should be. I think that's important otherwise it's just ME LIKE or ME NO LIKEY. it woke me up a bit...
— Similar to the one above. Says what's good and what's bad and says the piece literally got them out of bed and their funk! Be careful with using "literally." Regardless, nice effort critique. Despite really liking the poem, they've made suggestions.
Best critiques of u/poetry_critics
: such boring imagery
and very digestible
— I appreciate the terseness of these two critiques. They're straightforward and helpful. Also, the critic finds grammatical errors. I've enjoyed your critiques so far, so hopefully you keep on truckin.' nice jagged little piece
— Same qualities as above and they enjoy multi-syllabic words. Needs more multi-syllabic words.
Honorable mentions: Hi Nuz
— Look, you don't have to read my poem but I have to shout out PT for the high-effort critique. Shoutout to u/LylyScuir
for answering my call and shitting all over me. Is it unethical to post critiques from my own pieces? Well, shout out to u/mrpatricular
... I hope you're still writing critiques. Yeah, but is it Poetry?
— Shout out to OP. This isn't exactly poetry criticism but I want to give credit to these thoughtful responses. I wish finding good critiques was as easy as looking through this thread.
I think good criticism starts a dialogue. It's not about ME LIKE, ME NO LIKE. Please try harder, everyone. You can be apart of my weekly Cannes Critic's Festival. I'm handing out Palme d'Or's here.
Seriously, for those who I mentioned, thank you for your effort. I hope you respond to my admiration. Hehe, gone fishin' like the NBA.
"THE ROCKS WAVE THE DEAD SHIP" - Vicente Huidobro
THE UNSUNG HEROES OF POETRY SUBS ARE ITS CRITICS.
Edit: for spelling and grammatical mistakes. I'm sure there are more.
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2020.02.05 18:51 Alivealive0 The Direwolves of Winterfell: Part 4, Summer and Bran’s Bond - Volume II - A Clash of Kings – Summer and The Winged Wolf – Chained (Spoiler Extended)
This is part 4, Volume II
in a series about our direwolves. Due to length, I am breaking it into multiple volumes, as below: Volume I (AGoT)
, Volume III (ASoS)
, Volume IV (ADwD). Series
posts: Part 1: Lady/Sansa
, Part 2: Grey Wind/Robb
, Part 3: Nymeria/Arya
, Part 5: Shaggydog/Rickon, Part 6: Ghost/Jon
A Clash of Kings – Summer and The Winged Wolf – Chained
In this volume, while we continue our themes, we see how close Summer and Bran truly are through the introduction of wolf dreams. Later, Bran gets his first mentor in Jojen, and we get even more information about how Bran’s power fits into this bond. Finally, Bran is isolated in the crypts, and we see a step change in Bran’s ability to truly warm into Summer. By the end of this book we’ll see how the magic indeed is stronger in Bran, which makes their bond develop stronger and faster.
Maester Luwin’s anti magic bias is continued rather heavy-handedly in this volume as well. Coupled with the effect of Old Nan’s stories, Bran fears the obvious magical implications of his dreams. The effect is to limit his receptivity to the message of the 3iCrow, Jojen, and the tree dreams. Jojen calls him the winged wolf, but he is chained to Winterfell by this fear and reticence.
Unfortunately, the theme of the Direwolves not being able to protect the boys when separated from them continues in this volume, too.
The first Bran chapter in ACoK is the first mention of a wolf dream in the story, although Old Nan tells Bran that he is not the first Stark to experience one. She also echoes the SSM from our introduction.
This chapter is almost non-stop direwolf interaction and wolf dream hints. Bran is stuck in his room a lot and finds interest in the behavior of the wolves, especially howling. This is an example of the call of the pack. He tries to get in the wolves heads, especially about why they’re howling at the comet, and he gets a lot of conflicting feedback from people around Winterfell. One ironic comment is from Roderick Cassel, who asks “who can know the mind of a wolf?” Oh, Ser Roderick, the answer was staring into your face!
A Clash of Kings – Bran IHe could not walk, nor climb nor hunt nor fight with a wooden sword as once he had, but he could still look. He liked to watch the windows begin to glow all over Winterfell as candles and hearth fires were lit behind the diamond-shaped panes of tower and hall, and he loved to listen to the direwolves sing to the stars.Of late, he often dreamed of wolves. They are talking to me, brother to brother, he told himself when the direwolves howled. He could almost understand them . . . not quite, not truly, but almost . . . as if they were singing in a language he had once known and somehow forgotten. The Walders might be scared of them, but the Starks had wolf blood. Old Nan told him so. “Though it is stronger in some than in others,” she warned.Summer’s howls were long and sad, full of grief and longing. Shaggydog’s were more savage. Their voices echoed through the yards and halls until the castle rang and it seemed as though some great pack of direwolves haunted Winterfell, instead of only two . . . two where there had once been six. Do they miss their brothers and sisters too? Bran wondered. Are they calling to Grey Wind and Ghost, to Nymeria and Lady’s Shade? Do they want them to come home and be a pack together?“Who can know the mind of a wolf?” Ser Rodrik Cassel said when Bran asked him why they howled. Bran’s lady mother had named him castellan of Winterfell in her absence, and his duties left him little time for idle questions.“It’s freedom they’re calling for,” declared Farlen, who was kennelmaster and had no more love for the direwolves than his hounds did. “They don’t like being walled up, and who’s to blame them? Wild things belong in the wild, not in a castle.”“They want to hunt,” agreed Gage the cook as he tossed cubes of suet in a great kettle of stew. “A wolf smells better’n any man. Like as not, they’ve caught the scent o’ prey.”Maester Luwin did not think so. “Wolves often howl at the moon. These are howling at the comet. See how bright it is, Bran? Perchance they think it is the moon.”When Bran repeated that to Osha, she laughed aloud. “Your wolves have more wit than your maester,” the wildling woman said. “They know truths the grey man has forgotten.” The way she said it made him shiver, and when he asked what the comet meant, she answered, “Blood and fire, boy, and nothing sweet.
The howling continues, making us all wonder what it’s like in the mind of a wolf. Bran, remembering his wolf dream and determined to find out, starts howling himself. It’s a bit of humor at the beginning of this part of the saga, although it’s clear that this pack behavior is recognized by the wolves and represents a deepening of the bond. Ominously, though, this is the first time that both wolves have been confined away from the boys since Bran awoke. Did nobody tell Ser Roderick of the protection that Summer has provided their Lord? Is his memory so short?
And still the direwolves howled. The guards on the walls muttered curses, hounds in the kennels barked furiously, horses kicked at their stalls, the Walders shivered by their fire, and even Maester Luwin complained of sleepless nights. Only Bran did not mind. Ser Rodrik had confined the wolves to the godswood after Shaggydog bit Little Walder, but the stones of Winterfell played queer tricks with sound, and sometimes it sounded as if they were in the yard right below Bran’s window. Other times he would have sworn they were up on the curtain walls, loping round like sentries. He wished that he could see them.[…]Summer had howled the day Bran had fallen, and for long after as he lay broken in his bed; Robb had told him so before he went away to war. Summer had mourned for him, and Shaggydog and Grey Wind had joined in his grief. And the night the bloody raven had brought word of their father’s death, the wolves had known that too. Bran had been in the maester’s turret with Rickon talking of the children of the forest when Summer and Shaggydog had drowned out Luwin with their howls.Who are they mourning now? Had some enemy slain the King in the North, who used to be his brother Robb? Had his bastard brother Jon Snow fallen from the Wall? Had his mother died, or one of his sisters? Or was this something else, as maester and septon and Old Nan seemed to think?If I were truly a direwolf, I would understand the song, he thought wistfully. In his wolf dreams, he could race up the sides of mountains, jagged icy mountains taller than any tower, and stand at the summit beneath the full moon with all the world below him, the way it used to be.It made Bran feel queer when they called him prince, though he was Robb’s heir, and Robb was King in the North now. He turned his head to howl at the guard. “Oooooooo. Oo-oo-oooooooooooo.”“Oooo,” Bran cried tentatively. He cupped his hands around his mouth and lifted his head to the comet. “Ooooooooooooooooooo, ahooooooooooooooo,” he howled. It sounded stupid, high and hollow and quavering, a little boy’s howl, not a wolf’s. Yet Summer gave answer, his deep voice drowning out Bran’s thin one, and Shaggydog made it a chorus. Bran haroooed again. They howled together, last of their pack.The noise brought a guard to his door, Hayhead with the wen on his nose. He peered in, saw Bran howling out the window, and said, “What’s this, my prince?”It made Bran feel queer when they called him prince, though he was Robb’s heir, and Robb was King in the North now. He turned his head to howl at the guard. “Oooooooo. Oo-oo-oooooooooooo.”Hayhead screwed up his face. “Now you stop that there.”“Ooo-ooo-oooooo. Ooo-ooo-ooooooooooooooooo.”
Certainly, Maester Luwin knows better than confine the wolves away from the boys, but he can admit to to himself due to his prejudices against magic. That skepticism is in full force in the second half of the selections below. Bran is dropping hints left and right about wolf dreams and trees dreams. It’s clear that he’s being bombarded with information in these dreams and is trying to make sense of it. He doesn’t even seem to realize that he is “dreaming” inside the consciousness of Summer. He desperately misses the wolf, given the forced separation. I wonder if the separation fostered a quicker development of the wolf dreams that might have otherwise happened. Thinking back to part 3, the same didn’t happen immediately with Arya And Nymeria, although their connection seemed to be reignited when in closer proximity while still being separated in the Riverlands.
“All men must sleep, Bran. Even princes.”“When I sleep I turn into a wolf.” Bran turned his face away and looked back out into the night. “Do wolves dream?”“All creatures dream, I think, yet not as men do.”“Do dead men dream?” Bran asked, thinking of his father. In the dark crypts below Winterfell, a stonemason was chiseling out his father’s likeness in granite.“Some say yes, some no,” the maester answered. “The dead themselves are silent on the matter.”“Do trees dream?”“Trees? No . . .”“They do,” Bran said with sudden certainty. “They dream tree dreams. I dream of a tree sometimes. A weirwood, like the one in the godswood. It calls to me. The wolf dreams are better. I smell things, and sometimes I can taste the blood.”[…]“Home. It’s their fault you won’t let me have Summer.”“The Frey boy did not ask to be attacked,” the maester said, “no more than I did.”“That was Shaggydog.” Rickon’s big black wolf was so wild he even frightened Bran at times. “Summer never bit anyone.”“Summer ripped out a man’s throat in this very chamber, or have you forgotten? The truth is, those sweet pups you and your brothers found in the snow have grown into dangerous beasts. The Frey boys are wise to be wary of them.”“We should put the Walders in the godswood. They could play lord of the crossing all they want, and Summer could sleep with me again. If I’m the prince, why won’t you heed me? I wanted to ride Dancer, but Alebelly wouldn’t let me past the gate.”“And rightly so. The wolfswood is full of danger; your last ride should have taught you that. Would you want some outlaw to take you captive and sell you to the Lannisters?”“Summer would save me,” Bran insisted stubbornly. “Princes should be allowed to sail the sea and hunt boar in the wolfswood and joust with lances.”“Bran, child, why do you torment yourself so? One day you may do some of these things, but now you are only a boy of eight.”“I’d sooner be a wolf. Then I could live in the wood and sleep when I wanted, and I could find Arya and Sansa. I’d smell where they were and go save them, and when Robb went to battle I’d fight beside him like Grey Wind. I’d tear out the Kingslayer’s throat with my teeth, rip, and then the war would be over and everyone would come back to Winterfell. If I was a wolf . . .” He howled. “Ooo-ooo-oooooooooooo.”Luwin raised his voice. “A true prince would welcome—”“AAHOOOOOOO,” Bran howled, louder. “OOOO-OOOO-OOOO.”– A Clash of Kings – Bran I
Luwin, it seems that YOU have forgotten that when Summer tore that man’s throat out it was saving Bran and Catelyn’s life. Bran even argues that Summer would protect him, but Luwin is so sure that everyone else needs protection from the wolves that he is unable to remember!
The other key takeway is that spending nights as a direwolf is definitely rubbing off on Bran. It’s cute, but Bran it bears remembering that Bran is impressionable to Summer’s wolfishness.
As an aside, all the howling in that chapter reminds me of the Ozzy Osbourne song “Bark at the Moon”. I’ve made a recording of that song, and I will be using it on a post on YouTube.
The theme of the wolves being protectors is doubled-down on in the following chapter, in addition to further discussion of wolf dreams. The boys do get a chance to play with them in the godswood, but the wolves remain confined there at night. Chekhov’s confinement. Bran does seem to make a point of visiting whenever he can, suggesting continued affection. We also see of the wolves’ savagery, their threat to enemies, sense of threats, and pack behavior.
A Clash of Kings – Bran II“Let him. I always wanted a wolfskin cloak.”“Summer would tear your fat head off,” Bran said.Little Walder banged a mailed fist against his breastplate. “Does your wolf have steel teeth, to bite through plate and mail?”[…]“As you will, my prince,” said Ser Rodrik. “You did well.” Bran flushed with pleasure. Being a lord was not so tedious as he had feared, and since Lady Hornwood had been so much briefer than Lord Manderly, he even had a few hours of daylight left to visit with Summer. He liked to spend time with his wolf every day, when Ser Rodrik and the maester allowed it.No sooner had Hodor entered the godswood than Summer emerged from under an oak, almost as if he had known they were coming. Bran glimpsed a lean black shape watching from the undergrowth as well. “Shaggy,” he called. “Here, Shaggydog. To me.” But Rickon’s wolf vanished as swiftly as he’d appeared.[…]And then Osha exploded up out of the pool with a great splash, so sudden that even Summer leapt back, snarling. Hodor jumped away, wailing “Hodor, Hodor” in dismay until Bran patted his shoulder to soothe his fears. “How can you swim in there?” he asked Osha. “Isn’t it cold?”“As a babe I suckled on icicles, boy. I like the cold.” Osha swam to the rocks and rose dripping. She was naked, her skin bumpy with gooseprickles. Summer crept close and sniffed at her. “I wanted to touch the bottom.”[…]“He’d never dare hurt me. He’s scared of Summer, no matter what he says.”“Then might be he’s not so stupid as he seems.” Osha was always wary around the direwolves. The day she was taken, Summer and Grey Wind between them had torn three wildlings to bloody pieces. “Or might be he is. And that tastes of trouble too.” She tied up her hair. “You have more of them wolf dreams?”“No.” He did not like to talk about the dreams.“A prince should lie better than that.” Osha laughed. “Well, your dreams are your business. Mine’s in the kitchens, and I’d best be getting back before Gage starts to shouting and waving that big wooden spoon of his. By your leave, my prince.”She should never have talked about the wolf dreams, Bran thought as Hodor carried him up the steps to his bedchamber. He fought against sleep as long as he could, but in the end it took him as it always did. On this night he dreamed of the weirwood. It was looking at him with its deep red eyes, calling to him with its twisted wooden mouth, and from its pale branches the three-eyed crow came flapping, pecking at his face and crying his name in a voice as sharp as swords.– A Clash of Kings – Bran II
Notice at the end of that passage how Bran is now not happy about having the dreams. Could it be that he still likes the wolf dreams and it’s the other dreams he’s not happy about? Could it be that he is realizing they are real and he is going into Summer? Could Summer’s mood about being confined be affecting Bran? Could he be worried about being a warg? I think the answer to all these questions is “YES”. Chiefly though, it’s probably the last question that bothers him. Wargs don’t have a good reputation in many of the stories Old Nan has told him, especially the scary ones that Bran used to like.
In the next chapter, we are again reminded of the wolves’ confinement, and during Bran’s first meeting with the Reeds we are also reminded of Summer’s ability to keep Shaggydog in check.
A Clash of Kings – Bran IIIDancer was draped in bardings of snowy white wool emblazoned with the grey direwolf of House Stark, while Bran wore grey breeches and white doublet, his sleeves and collar trimmed with vair. Over his heart was his wolf’s-head brooch of silver and polished jet. He would sooner have had Summer than a silver wolf on his breast, but Ser Rodrik had been unyielding.[…]“They won’t bite if I’m there.” Bran was pleased that they wanted to see the wolves. “Summer won’t anyway, and he’ll keep Shaggydog away.” He was curious about these mudmen. He could not recall ever seeing one before. His father had sent letters to the Lord of Greywater over the years, but none of the crannogmen had ever called at Winterfell. He would have liked to talk to them more, but the Great Hall was so noisy that it was hard to hear anyone who wasn’t right beside you.
Finally, we get our first vivid depiction of a wolf dream, through Summer’s eyes when the Reeds visit the Godswood. Not how the author bridges the boy’s thoughts with the wolf’s thoughts using the sense of smell. Masterful. The first wolf thoughts are of pack and the instinct to hunt. Then, when the Reeds enter, he notes that they had no taint of fear, likely a scent-related observation. Note also Jojen’s observation about SummeBran’s power. Jojen’s also admits later that he sensed Bran inside Summer.
He went to sleep with his head full of knights in gleaming armor, fighting with swords that shone like starfire, but when the dream came he was in the godswood again. The smells from the kitchen and the Great Hall were so strong that it was almost as if he had never left the feast. He prowled beneath the trees, his brother close behind him. This night was wildly alive, full of the howling of the man-pack at their play. The sounds made him restless. He wanted to run, to hunt, he wanted to—The rattle of iron made his ears prick up. His brother heard it too. They raced through the undergrowth toward the sound. Bounding across the still water at the foot of the old white one, he caught the scent of a stranger, the man-smell well mixed with leather and earth and iron.The intruders had pushed a few yards into the wood when he came upon them; a female and a young male, with no taint of fear to them, even when he showed them the white of his teeth.His brother growled low in his throat, yet still they did not run.“Here they come,” the female said. Meera, some part of him whispered, some wisp of the sleeping boy lost in the wolf dream. “Did you know they would be so big?”“They will be bigger still before they are grown,” the young male said, watching them with eyes large, green, and unafraid. “The black one is full of fear and rage, but the grey is strong . . . stronger than he knows . . . can you feel him, sister?”“No,” she said, moving a hand to the hilt of the long brown knife she wore. “Go careful, Jojen.”“He won’t hurt me. This is not the day I die.” The male walked toward them, unafraid, and reached out for his muzzle, a touch as light as a summer breeze. Yet at the brush of those fingers the wood dissolved and the very ground turned to smoke beneath his feet and swirled away laughing, and then he was spinning and falling, falling, falling . . .– A Clash of Kings – Bran III
Both Reeds, Jojen especially, seem quite aware of the way of wargs and are completely comfortable around the wolves, too comfortable as we find out later.
That comfort continues without concern early in the next chapter as Meera plays with Summer. She even muses how mild-tempered Summer is, when Bran agrees that Summer wouldn’t hurt them. Summer certainly doesn’t consider them a threat, and Bran obviously likes both Jojen and Meera, so he’s mirroring Bran’s good humor, especially in the affection for Meera. It’s quite endearing. Still, summer is undoubtedly acting as a wolf, and the way he hunts her is reminiscent of the way he was very careful during the attack on the wildlings in AGoT. Later Bran and Summer have another touching affectionate moment as well.
A Clash of Kings – Bran IVMeera moved in a wary circle, her net dangling loose in her left hand, the slender three-pronged frog spear poised in her right. Summer followed her with his golden eyes, turning, his tail held stiff and tall. Watching, watching . . .“Yai!” the girl shouted, the spear darting out. The wolf slid to the left and leapt before she could draw back the spear. Meera cast her net, the tangles unfolding in the air before her. Summer’s leap carried him into it. He dragged it with him as he slammed into her chest and knocked her over backward. Her spear went spinning away. The damp grass cushioned her fall but the breath went out of her in an “Oof.” The wolf crouched atop her.Bran hooted. “You lose.”“She wins,” her brother Jojen said. “Summer’s snared.”He was right, Bran saw. Thrashing and growling at the net, trying to rip free, Summer was only ensnaring himself worse. Nor could he bite through. “Let him out.”Laughing, the Reed girl threw her arms around the tangled wolf and rolled them both. Summer gave a piteous whine, his legs kicking against the cords that bound them. Meera knelt, undid a twist, pulled at a corner, tugged deftly here and there, and suddenly the direwolf was bounding free.“Summer, to me.” Bran spread his arms. “Watch,” he said, an instant before the wolf bowled into him. He clung with all his strength as the wolf dragged him bumping through the grass. They wrestled and rolled and clung to each other, one snarling and yapping, the other laughing. In the end it was Bran sprawled on top, the mud-spattered direwolf under him. “Good wolf,” he panted. Summer licked him across the ear.Meera shook her head. “Does he never grow angry?”“Not with me.” Bran grabbed the wolf by his ears and Summer snapped at him fiercely, but it was all in play. “Sometimes he tears my garb but he’s never drawn blood.”“Your blood, you mean. If he’d gotten past my net . . .”“He wouldn’t hurt you. He knows I like you.” All of the other lords and knights had departed within a day or two of the harvest feast, but the Reeds had stayed to become Bran’s constant companions. Jojen was so solemn that Old Nan called him “little grandfather,” but Meera reminded Bran of his sister Arya. She wasn’t scared to get dirty, and she could run and fight and throw as good as a boy. She was older than Arya, though; almost sixteen, a woman grown. They were both older than Bran, even though his ninth name day had finally come and gone, but they never treated him like a child.“I wish you were our wards instead of the Walders.” He began to struggle toward the nearest tree. His dragging and wriggling was unseemly to watch, but when Meera moved to lift him he said, “No, don’t help me.” He rolled clumsily and pushed and squirmed backward, using the strength of his arms, until he was sitting with his back to the trunk of a tall ash. “See, I told you.” Summer lay down with his head in Bran’s lap. “I never knew anyone who fought with a net before,” he told Meera while he scratched the direwolf between the ears. “Did your master-at-arms teach you net-fighting?”
Summer’s affection for Bran and Meera doesn’t appear to extend to Jojen. When he joins the exchange he quickly moves on to the supernatural, implying that Bran is “the winged wolf” of his dream. The assertion that the wolf is held by “grey stone chains” seems a rather heavy-handed implication that maester Luwin and Winterfell itself are holding Bran back from achieving his magical potential. I do wonder if there is a larger prophecy around this figure of the winged wolf, or if it is first introduced into Westerosi lore by Jojen.
In any case, Summer mirrors Bran, by first acting intrigued by the conversation and then acting defensive when Bran wants to change the subject to things Bran is uncomfortable with.
Jojen’s eyes were the color of moss, and sometimes when he looked at you he seemed to be seeing something else. Like now. “I dreamed of a winged wolf bound to earth with grey stone chains,” he said. “It was a green dream, so I knew it was true. A crow was trying to peck through the chains, but the stone was too hard and his beak could only chip at them.“Did the crow have three eyes?”Jojen nodded.Summer raised his head from Bran’s lap, and gazed at the mudman with his dark golden eyes.“When I was little I almost died of greywater fever. That was when the crow came to me.”[…]“I only have two.”“You have three. The crow gave you the third, but you will not open it.” He had a slow soft way of speaking. “With two eyes you see my face. With three you could see my heart. With two you can see that oak tree there. With three you could see the acorn the oak grew from and the stump that it will one day become. With two you see no farther than your walls. With three you would gaze south to the Summer Sea and north beyond the Wall.”Summer got to his feet. “I don’t need to see so far.” Bran made a nervous smile. “I’m tired of talking about crows. Let’s talk about wolves. Or lizard-lions. Have you ever hunted one, Meera? We don’t have them here.”
Then, the chapter takes a dangerous turn, when Jojen’s intrusive “dream” questions make Bran uncomfortable and then angry. Summer continues to mirror Bran’s mood. As the situation escalates, it shows the lie to Bran’s earlier assertion that Summer wouldn’t hurt them. He would if Bran’s mood led there. Also, we see Summer’s independence again as he does not obey immediately when Bran calls him off. Bran says that he wants Summer to stop threatening the Reeds, but Summer independently follows his mood, not his command. We also see pack behavior as Shaggydog joins Summer in threatening the Reeds. Bran’s assertion that they won’t hurt Hodor is dubious, given how he had only just insisted that Summer wouldn’t hurt Meera either. At the end of it all, Summer lays next to Bran. This could be interpreted as affection or a protectiveness.
There is a lot exposed in this passage so I’ve kept it mostly intact, bolding a lot of the important lines. In parallel to the near attack, Bran is consciously realizing (possibly for the first time) through Jojen’s dialogue, that his wolf dreams are actually real dreams inside Summer. His anger comes as Jojen forces him to admit this fact, even as Bran is in denial.
“No,” said Bran. “I told you, I don’t want—”“Did you dream of a wolf?”He was making Bran angry. “I don’t have to tell you my dreams. I’m the prince. I’m the Stark in Winterfell.”“Was it Summer?”“You be quiet.”“The night of the harvest feast, you dreamed you were Summer in the godswood, didn’t you?”“Stop it!” Bran shouted. Summer slid toward the weirwood, his white teeth bared.Jojen Reed took no mind. “When I touched Summer, I felt you in him. Just as you are in him now.”“You couldn’t have. I was in bed. I was sleeping.”“You were in the godswood, all in grey.”“It was only a bad dream . . .”Jojen stood. “I felt you. I felt you fall. Is that what scares you, the falling?”The falling, Bran thought, and the golden man, the queen’s brother, he scares me too, but mostly the falling. He did not say it, though. How could he? He had not been able to tell Ser Rodrik or Maester Luwin, and he could not tell the Reeds either. If he didn’t talk about it, maybe he would forget. He had never wanted to remember. It might not even be a true remembering.“Do you fall every night, Bran?” Jojen asked quietly.A low rumbling growl rose from Summer’s throat, and there was no play in it. He stalked forward, all teeth and hot eyes. Meera stepped between the wolf and her brother, spear in hand. “Keep him back, Bran.”“Jojen is making him angry.”Meera shook out her net.“It’s your anger, Bran,” her brother said. “Your fear.”It isn’t. I’m not a wolf.” Yet he’d howled with them in the night, and tasted blood in his wolf dreams.“Part of you is Summer, and part of Summer is you. You know that, Bran.”Summer rushed forward, but Meera blocked him, jabbing with the three-pronged spear. The wolf twisted aside, circling, stalking. Meera turned to face him. “Call him back, Bran.”“Summer!” Bran shouted. “To me, Summer!” He slapped an open palm down on the meat of his thigh. His hand tingled, though his dead leg felt nothing.The direwolf lunged again, and again Meera’s spear darted out. Summer dodged, circled back. The bushes rustled, and a lean black shape came padding from behind the weirwood, teeth bared. The scent was strong; his brother had smelled his rage. Bran felt hairs rise on the back of his neck. Meera stood beside her brother, with wolves to either side. “Bran, call them off.”“I can’t!”“Jojen, up the tree.”“There’s no need. Today is not the day I die.”“Do it!” she screamed, and her brother scrambled up the trunk of the weirwood, using the face for his handholds. The direwolves closed. Meera abandoned spear and net, jumped up, and grabbed the branch above her head. Shaggy’s jaws snapped shut beneath her ankle as she swung up and over the limb. Summer sat back on his haunches and howled, while Shaggydog worried the net, shaking it in his teeth.Only then did Bran remember that they were not alone. He cupped hands around his mouth. “Hodor!” he shouted. “Hodor! Hodor!” He was badly frightened and somehow ashamed. “They won’t hurt Hodor,” he assured his treed friends.A few moments passed before they heard a tuneless humming. Hodor arrived half-dressed and mud-spattered from his visit to the hot pools, but Bran had never been so glad to see him. “Hodor, help me. Chase off the wolves. Chase them off.”Hodor went to it gleefully, waving his arms and stamping his huge feet, shouting “Hodor, Hodor,” running first at one wolf and then the other. Shaggydog was the first to flee, slinking back into the foliage with a final snarl. When Summer had enough, he came back to Bran and lay down beside him.No sooner did Meera touch ground than she snatched up her spear and net again. Jojen never took his eyes off Summer. “We will talk again,” he promised Bran.It was the wolves, it wasn’t me. He did not understand why they’d gotten so wild. Maybe Maester Luwin was right to lock them in the godswood. “Hodor,” he said, “bring me to Maester Luwin.”
Summer mirrors Bran’s mood throughout that passage; that’s plain. It’s worth considering how much Bran may have been directly feeding Summer’s actions through their bond. Bran never thinks of himself as a wolf, so he’s clearly not warging him, but does this passage represent their consciousnesses blending to some degree as Bran gets more and more agitated? I’d like to think yes, but I can’t be sure.
Later, Bran is still in denial, but that won’t last long. He is placing his faith in Maester’s Luwin’s increasingly blind assertions that magic doesn’t exist or is gone from the world. Meera sees through that façade.
“No, my prince. Jojen Reed may have had a dream or two that he believes came true, but he does not have the greensight. No living man has that power.”Bran said as much to Meera Reed when she came to him at dusk as he sat in his window seat watching the lights flicker to life. “I’m sorry for what happened with the wolves. Summer shouldn’t have tried to hurt Jojen, but Jojen shouldn’t have said all that about my dreams. The crow lied when he said I could fly, and your brother lied too.”“Or perhaps your maester is wrong.”– A Clash of Kings – Bran IV
This chapter bears summarizing. Jojen says that a part of Summer is in Bran and vice versa. This is the first time this concept is explained in the text, but it immediately rings true. He also repeatedly mentions the “winged wolf” and hangs the moniker on Bran. He also confirms that he’s also dreamed of the three-eyed crow (3icrow).
We also find out that Bran does partially remember Jaime Lannister pushing him, which is part of the reason he doesn’t want real dreams is the golden man and falling. He must be having a recurring nightmare about this. However, I think the fears about being a warg discussed prior are also true because of Bran’s assertion that he’s not a wolf and that the wolves caused the incident, not him. Both assertions smack of denial.
He seems terrified of being labelled a warg, which relates back to Old Nan’s stories. The next chapter proves it. Jojen also repeats the mantra of the winged wolf and also hangs the monikers of “Warg” and “beastling” on Bran. He is not diplomatic at all; he seems intent on piercing Bran’s denial. It’s starting to work, but it makes Bran more fearful than ever.
He was scared, even then, but he had sworn to trust them, and a Stark of Winterfell keeps his sworn word. “There’s different kinds,” he said slowly. “There’s the wolf dreams, those aren’t so bad as the others. I run and hunt and kill squirrels. And there’s dreams where the crow comes and tells me to fly. Sometimes the tree is in those dreams too, calling my name. That frightens me. But the worst dreams are when I fall.” He looked down into the yard, feeling miserable. “I never used to fall before. When I climbed. I went everyplace, up on the roofs and along the walls, I used to feed the crows in the Burned Tower. Mother was afraid that I would fall but I knew I never would. Only I did, and now when I sleep, I fall all the time.”Meera gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Is that all?”“I guess.”“Warg,” said Jojen Reed.Bran looked at him, his eyes wide. “What?”“Warg. Shapechanger. Beastling. That is what they will call you, if they should ever hear of your wolf dreams.”The names made him afraid again. “Who will call me?”“Your own folk. In fear. Some will hate you if they know what you are. Some will even try to kill you.”Old Nan told scary stories of beastlings and shapechangers sometimes. In the stories they were always evil. “I’m not like that,” Bran said. “I’m not. It’s only dreams.”“The wolf dreams are no true dreams. You have your eye closed tight whenever you’re awake, but as you drift off it flutters open and your soul seeks out its other half. The power is strong in you.”“I don’t want it. I want to be a knight.”“A knight is what you want. A warg is what you are. You can’t change that, Bran, you can’t deny it or push it away. You are the winged wolf, but you will never fly.” Jojen got up and walked to the window. “Unless you open your eye.” He put two fingers together and poked Bran in the forehead, hard.When he raised his hand to the spot, Bran felt only the smooth unbroken skin. There was no eye, not even a closed one. “How can I open it if it’s not there?”
So Jojen has been trying to get him to open his eye, just like the 3iCrow. He tells Bran that they’re all going to call him a Warg. I’m not so sure that following Jojen’s advice is such a great idea. Bran is facing his fears which is to the good, but these dreams would freak out anybody and with good reason. Let’s separate the ability to Warg, and the entreaty to go north to the 3iCrow. I’m all for Bran developing his power to skinchanger, but I don’t trust 3i. Those dreams make me uneasy. The whole situation makes Bran fearful. Continued in oldest reply.
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2020.01.31 02:48 LuckyInfinity Dangerous Women: The Four Pillar Theory (Spoilers Extended)
”I am not blind, nor deaf. I know that you all believe me weak, frightened, feeble. Your father knew me better. Oberyn was ever the viper. Deadly, dangerous, unpredictable. No man dared tread on him. I was the grass. Pleasant, complaisant, sweet-smelling, swaying with every breeze. Who fears to walk upon the grass? But it is the grass that hides the viper from his enemies and shelters him until he strikes. Your father and I worked more closely than you know … but now he is gone. The question is, can I trust his daughters to serve me in his place?" A Dance with Dragons – The Watcher Introduction
Names like Ser Aerys Oakheart, Princess Arianne Martell, and Ser Balon Swann are foreign to show only watchers but exhibit the lack of effort given to the true Dornish plot of A Song of Ice and Fire. The lowest rated episode by viewers in the television series ‘Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken’ is titled with the words of House Martell. The Sandsnakes and Dornish were received as shallow and uninspired characters with no relevance. Their true natures and actions are massively underrated and will play a role in The Winds of Winter. I invite you to drop those prior thoughts and dive into the Deeper Dorne and a reeducation of the infamous older four of the eight daughters of Prince Oberyn Martell the Red Viper of Dorne and how they will play their part in events so come.
The ruling family of Dorne consist of Prince Doran Martell, his royal consort Mellario of Norvos and their three children, heir Princess Arianne, Prince Quentyn, and Prince Trystane. The Sandsnakes are the 8 daughters of his brother Prince Oberyn who function as supporting characters in the Dornish plot, working under their father, uncle, and cousins to promote Dornish interest unlike the show where they called the shots. Our primary POVs into them are the Captain of Guards in Sunspear, Areo Hotah and a close companion of the Sandsnakes, their cousin Princess Arianne.
Hotah studied each of them in turn. Obara, rusted nails and boiled leather, with her angry, close-set eyes and rat-brown hair. Nymeria, languid, elegant, olive-skinned, her long black braid bound up in red-gold wire. Tyene, blue-eyed and blond, a child-woman with her soft hands and little giggles. A Dance with Dragons – The Watcher Dangerous Women Obara Sand
Obara. He knew her stride; long-legged, hasty, angry. In the stables by the gates, her horse would be lathered, and bloody from her spurs. She always rode stallions and had been heard to boast that she could master any horse in Dorne . . . and any man as well. Obara was the eldest Sand Snake, a big-boned woman near to thirty, with the close-set eyes and rat-brown hair of the Oldtown whore who'd birthed her. Obara Sand always walked too fast. She is chasing after something she can never catch, the prince had told his daughter once, in the captain's hearing. Beneath a mottled sandsilk cloak of dun and gold, her riding clothes were old brown leather, worn and supple. They were the softest things about her. On one hip she wore a coiled whip, across her back a round shield of steel and copper. She had left her spear outside. A Feast for Crowns - Captain of the Guards
Boisterous and perpetually angry Obara chose the spear over tears at an early age. She is usually the first to act out of her siblings and often does so without much thought beforehand. Obara holds a deep seeded hate for Oldtown, the birthplace of her disgraced mother. Seeking the approval of her father Obara shows true loyalty to only he and her sisters and lacks respect for many others regardless of social rank. Nymeria Sand
Nymeria Sand was five-and-twenty, and slender as a willow. Her straight black hair, worn in a long braid bound up with red-gold wire, made a widow's peak above her dark eyes, just as her father's had. With her high cheekbones, full lips, and milk-pale skin, she had all the beauty that her elder sister lacked . . . but Obara's mother had been an Oldtown whore, whilst Nym was born from the noblest blood of old Volantis. A dozen mounted spearmen tailed her, their round shields gleaming in the sun. They followed her down the dune. A Feast for Crows – Captain of the Guards
She wore a gown of yellow silk so sheer and fine that the candles shone right through it to reveal the spun gold and jewels beneath. So immodest was her garb that the white knight seemed uncomfortable looking at her, but Hotah approved. Nymeria was least dangerous when nearly naked. Elsewise she was sure to have a dozen blades concealed about her person. A Dance with Dragons- The Watcher
A princess is all but name, Lady Nym is the second eldest and most beautiful of the Sandsnakes. She is known to carry similar lust as her father, enjoying the company women sometimes two at a time. Inheriting Oberyn’s martials prowess as well, she wields blades all over her person. Calculating and regal, Nymeria commands the most respect of her siblings and is often the mouthpiece for the group. She has a close relationship with House Fowler who controls The Prince’s Pass, one of the two land passes into Dorne from the north. Tyene Sand
She was sitting cross-legged on a pillow beneath the raised dais where the high seats stood, but she rose as they entered, dressed in a clinging gown of pale blue samite with sleeves of Myrish lace that made her look as innocent as the Maid herself. In one hand was a piece of embroidery she had been working on, in the other a pair of golden needles. Her hair was gold as well, and her eyes were deep blue pools . . . and yet somehow they reminded the captain of her father's eyes, though Oberyn's had been as black as night. All of Prince Oberyn's daughters have his viper eyes, Hotah realized suddenly. The color does not matter. Lady Tyene's voice was gentle, and she looked as sweet as summer strawberries. Her mother had been a septa, and Tyene had an air of almost otherworldly innocence about her. A Feast for Crows – Captain of the Guards
”Sisters, truly, I know the poison Father used. If his spear so much as broke the Mountain's skin, Clegane is dead, I do not care how big he was. Doubt your little sister if you like, but never doubt our sire." Lady Tyene smiled at that. Her soft, pale hands were as deadly as Obara's callused ones, if not more so. He watched her carefully, alert to every little flutter of her fingers. A Dance with Dragons – The Watcher
Pious, proper, and poisonous Tyene Sand is the slyest of her sisters. Growing up as best friends with her cousin Princess Arianne, they know better than any the dangerous extent of one another’s allure. They two ladies learned to read together and shared their first man and drink. She always seems to have more information that what she lets on and shares Oberyn’s mastery of poisons and her mother’s education as a septa from The Reach. Tyene maintains an innocent composure but remains as vengeful as her siblings. Sarella Sand
My uncle brought me here, with Tyene and Sarella." The memory made Arianne smile. "He caught some vipers and showed Tyene the safest way to milk them for their venom. Sarella turned over rocks, brushed sand off the mosaics, and wanted to know everything there was to know about the people who had lived here." A Feast for Crows – The Queenmaker
The prince considered. "Ellaria's girls are too young to be a danger, but there are those who might seek to use them against me. It would be best to keep them safe in hand. Yes, the little ones as well . . . but first secure Tyene, Nymeria, and Obara." "As my prince commands." His heart was troubled. My little princess will mislike this. "What of Sarella? She is a woman grown, almost twenty." "Unless she returns to Dorne, there's naught I can do about Sarella save pray that she shows more sense than her sisters. Leave her to her . . . game. Gather up the others. I shall not sleep until I know that they are safe and under guard." A Feast for Crows – Captain of the Guards
How could you tell I was of noble birth?" "The same way you can tell that I'm half Dornish." The statement was delivered with a smile, in a soft Dornish drawl. A Feast for Crowns – Prologue
Many speculate that that acolyte training alongside Samwell Tarly, “Lazy Leo” Tyrell, and Pate the Pigboy is Sarella under a male disguise (ALLERAS backwards). Alleras admits to a half Dornish, half Summer Islander heritage, the same as Sarella Sand. Alleras has great skill in archery as Summer Islanders are renowned for. Alleras has also made a quick friendship with Marwyn the Mage, an archmaster known to possess a Glass Candle and dabble in Dark Magic. Interesting enough, Sarella leaves Dorne during the events of either A Game of Thrones or A Storm of Swords meaning both Oberyn and Doran are aware of the plot and the Dornish have truly been working for some time to influence events in the story. The Four Pillar Theory
Some of the tension went out of the prince. Hotah saw him sag back into his chair. He held out his hand, and Princess Arianne moved to his side to hold it. "Tell them, Father." Prince Doran took a jagged breath. "Dorne still has friends at court. Friends who tell us things we were not meant to know. This invitation Cersei sent us is a ruse. Trystane is never meant to reach King's Landing. On the road back, somewhere in the kingswood, Ser Balon's party will be attacked by outlaws, and my son will die. I am asked to court only so that I may witness this attack with my own eyes and thereby absolve the queen of any blame. Oh, and these outlaws? They will be shouting, 'Halfman, Halfman,' as they attack. Ser Balon may even catch a quick glimpse of the Imp, though no one else will." Areo Hotah would not have believed it possible to shock the Sand Snakes. He would have been wrong. A Dance with Dragons – The Watcher
The four pillars of Westeros society are the Crown
, the Faith
, and the Citadel
. The Iron Throne controls laws and economy, the military and lieges defend it, the Faith inspires the morality of the realm, and the maesters control information, education, and scientific progress. Prince Doran is aware of the unpredictable nature of his nieces and decides to place each of them in positions to learn these systems from the inside out and spread Dornish influence in each while seeking revenge for the death of their father. All the while Doran is playing every side in the current wars that surround his country. Prince Trystane has been betrothed to Princess Myrcella Baratheon, Princess Arianne has been sent to Storm’s End to meet with the suspected son of her late aunt Elia, (f)Aegon Targaryen, and Prince Quentyn has been dispatched to Meereen to seek a marriage pact to Queen Daenerys Targaryen. Currently Dorne has a hand in nearly every cookie jar of southern politics in Westeros and many of Doran’s overcooked plans will start to bear fruit very soon via his children and overzealous nieces. The Crown – Lady Nym
The time is not yet come for Dorne to openly defy the Iron Throne, so we must need return Myrcella to her mother, but I will not be accompanying her. That task will be yours, Nymeria. The Lannisters will not like it, no more than they liked it when I sent them Oberyn, but they dare not refuse. We need a voice in council, an ear at court. Be careful, though. King's Landing is a pit of snakes." Lady Nym smiled. "Why, Uncle, I love snakes." A Dance with Dragons – The Watcher
The fued between the Reach and Dorne goes back thousands of years from invasions, assassinations, and growing disdain between the two regions igniting with recent events. Although Willas Tyrell found forgiveness for the jousting incident that left him crippled Mace Tyrell has not let it go that Oberyn Martell injured his heir decades prior to the start of the story. Going so far as to having a full fledge meltdown in A Storm of Swords when it’s announced that the Dornish would be attending Margaery’s wedding and now have their own seat on the Small Council. Mace will have a jarring reaction to the bastard daughter of Oberyn taking over the seat on the now Reachmen heavy council. More so because before Kevan Lannister can inform the council members of her arrival he is murdered by Varys so he is currently unaware that she is even coming.
The seventh voice would be the Dornishwoman now escorting Myrcella home. The Lady Nym. But no lady, if even half of what Qyburn reports is true. A bastard daughter of the Red Viper, near as notorious as her father and intent on claiming the council seat that Prince Oberyn himself had occupied so briefly. Ser Kevan had not yet seen fit to inform Mace Tyrell of her coming. The Hand, he knew, would not be pleased. The man we need is Littlefinger. Petyr Baelish had a gift for conjuring dragons from the air. A Dance with Dragons – Epilogue
However, Lady Nym does not easily forget either and although her father’s paramour Ellaria Sand gives a heartfelt testimonial that peace is what the Sandsnakes should seek to break the wheel of constant violence and vengeance Nymeria is hearing none of it.
Ellaria’s cheeks were wet with tears, her dark eyes shining. Even weeping, she has a strength in her, the captain thought. “Oberyn wanted vengeance for Elia. Now the three of you want vengeance for him. I have four daughters, I remind you. Your sisters. My Elia is fourteen, almost a woman. Obella is twelve, on the brink of maiden-hood. They worship you, as Dorea and Loreza worship them. If you should die, must El and Obella seek vengeance for you, then Dorea and Loree for them? Is that how it goes, round and round forever? I ask again, where does it end?” Ellaria Sand laid her hand on the Mountain’s head. “I saw your father die. Here is his killer. Can I take a skull to bed with me, to give me comfort in the night? Will it make me laugh, write me songs, care for me when I am old and sick?” “What would you have us do, my lady?” asked the Lady Nym. “Shall we lay down our spears and smile, and forget all the wrongs that have been done to us? When she had gone, Lady Nym said, “I know she loved our father well, but it is plain she never understood him.” A Dance with Dragons - The Watcher
Cersei has recently found a taste for exotic women in Taena Merryweather. Later, following Cersei’s arrest Taena runs back to her husband’s seat of Longtable and the Queen may be open to having some new allies around her and a reunion with Myrcella could immediately put Lady Nym in her good graces. Luckily Nymeria likes the ladies too. In addition, a meeting between Nymeria Sand and Ser Robert strong is inevitable and would expose the lie that the skull sent to Dorne was not Ser Gregor Clegane's if it's revealed they are one in the same. The Military – Obara
Prince Doran raised a hand. His knuckles were as dark as cherries and near as big. "Ser Balon is a guest beneath my roof. He has eaten of my bread and salt. I will not do him harm. No. We will travel to the Water Gardens, where he will hear Myrcella's story and send a raven to his queen. The girl will ask him to hunt down the man who hurt her. If he is the man I judge, Swann will not be able to refuse. Obara, you will lead him to High Hermitage to beard Darkstar in his den. A Dance with Dragons – The Watcher
Obara will serve as Prince Doran’s muscle carrying out his secret martial pursuits. She wouldn’t last in Kingslanding with such an aggressive and uncouth demeanor and must also be sent away from Sunspear because of her current bloodthirst in response to Oberyn’s murder.
Starfall, the seat of House Dayne is the location of various mysteries and developing plots within the story. Namely the mysterious suicide of Ashara Dayne after her alleged lover Ned Stark returns the famed sword Dawn following the Battle at The Tower of Joy, Ashara’s alleged stillbirth and rumors of mothering Jon Snow, locating the lost young lord Edric who is nicknamed “Ned”, the possibility of another Sword of the Morning from the current generation emerging, and the truth about the assault on Princess Myrcella.
Ser Gerald “Darkstar” Dayne is the lord of High Hermitage, a cadet branch of House Dayne further up the Red Mountains. He is the alleged perpetrator in the maiming of Princess Myrcella but Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene all agree that it wasn’t him but if so, who was it? Balon Swann, Areo Hotah, and Obara could be walking into an ambush or be forced to change perspectives once he pleads his case. Either way something smells fishy. Areo Hotah has imagined that a time will come when he’d cross swords with Arys Oakheart, Balon Swann, and Obara Sand and the possible outcomes of each and yet the three are tasked with working together now. So far 1/3 have already come true. If they all come to pass, can Areo find victory each time and what side will Obara pick.
The white knight. The captain frowned. Ser Arys had come to Dorne to attend his own princess, as Areo Hotah had once come with his. Even their names sounded oddly alike: Areo and Arys. Yet there the likeness ended. The captain had left Norvos and its bearded priests, but Ser Arys Oakheart still served the Iron Throne. Hotah had felt a certain sadness whenever he saw the man in the long snowy cloak, the times the prince had sent him down to Sunspear. One day, he sensed, the two of them would fight; on that day Oakheart would die, with the captain’s longaxe crashing through his skull. A Feast for Crows - Captain of the Guards The Faith – Tyene
When she appeared beneath the triple arch, Areo Hotah swung his longaxe sideways to block the way. The head was on a shaft of mountain ash six feet long, so she could not go around. “My lady, no farther.” His voice was a bass grumble thick with the accents of Norvos. “The prince does not wish to be disturbed.” She had left her spear outside. For that, Areo Hotah gave thanks. Quick and strong as she was, the woman was no match for him, he knew... but she did not, and he had no wish to see her blood upon the pale pink marble. A Feast for Crows-The Captain of the Guards
Ser Balon Swann was taut as a drawn bow, the captain of guards observed. This new white knight was not so tall nor comely as the old one, but he was bigger across the chest, burlier, his arms thick with muscle. His snowy cloak was clasped at the throat by two swans on a silver brooch. One was ivory, the other onyx, and it seemed to Areo Hotah as if the two of them were fighting. The man who wore them looked a fighter too. This one will not die so easy as the other. He will not charge into my axe the way Ser Arys did. He will stand behind his shield and make me come at him. If it came to that, Hotah would be ready. His longaxe was sharp enough to shave with. A Dance with Dragons - The Watcher
”Your mother was a septa. Oberyn once told me that she read to you in the cradle from the Seven-Pointed Star. I want you in King's Landing too, but on the other hill. The Swords and the Stars have been re-formed, and this new High Septon is not the puppet that the others were. Try and get close to him." "Why not? White suits my coloring. I look so … pure." A Dance with Dragons – The Watcher
As stated by her older sister Lady Nym and Tyene herself, she is the key to getting into the Red Keep and doing damage that no one would see coming. The Sandsnakes have their assassination victims already listed Tywin, Cersei, Jaime, and Tommen. Two targets are present in the capital. Tyene looks young, innocent, and under the guise of religion can get a place at court amongst the growing fanatics who are struggling with nobles for power in the capital.
Nym glanced over a shoulder, to where her companions rode a dozen lengths behind. “I was abed with the Fowler twins when the word reached me,” the captain heard her say. “You know the Fowler words? Let Me Soar! That is all I ask of you. Let me soar, Uncle. I need no mighty host, only one sweet sister.” “Obara?” “Tyene. Obara is too loud. Tyene is so sweet and gentle that no man will suspect her. Obara would make Oldtown our father’s funeral pyre, but I am not so greedy. Four lives will suffice for me. Lord Tywin’s golden twins, as payment for Elia’s children. The old lion, for Elia herself. And last of all the little king, for my father.” A Feast for Crows-Captain if the Guards
Queen Regent Cersei Lannister attempts to forgo a portion of the crown’s depts by foolishly decreeing the resurgence of the Faith Militant under the direction of the corrupt new High Septon, deemed the High Sparrow. This results in her arrest and public humiliation on a confession of accused charges. Following her walk of atonement Cersei is now under 24/7 supervision by the High Sparrow’s female novices and septas who have access to her bed, food, drink, and whereabouts throughout the Red Keep. A dangerous position to put a poisons expert in.
The meal was served by three novices, well-scrubbed girls of good birth between the ages of twelve and sixteen. In their soft white woolens, each seemed more innocent and unworldly than the last, yet the High Septon had insisted that no girl spend more than seven days in the queen’s service, lest Cersei corrupt her. They tended the queen’s wardrobe, drew her bath, poured her wine, changed her bedclothes of a morning. One shared the queen’s bed every night, to ascertain she had no other company; the other two slept in an adjoining chamber with the septa who looked over them. A Dance with Dragons – Epilogue The Citadel – The Sphinx
Tell them how wise and good they are. Tell them that Aemon commanded you to put yourself into their hands. Tell them that you have always dreamed that one day you might be allowed to wear the chain and serve the greater good, that service is the highest honor, and obedience the highest virtue. But say nothing of prophecies or dragons, unless you fancy poison in your porridge." Marwyn snatched a stained leather cloak off a peg near the door and tied it tight. "Sphinx, look after this one." "I will," Alleras answered, but the archmaester was already gone. They heard his boots stomping down the steps. "I have a confession. Ours was no chance encounter, Sam. The Mage sent me to snatch you up before you spoke to Theobald. He knew that you were coming." "How?" Alleras nodded at the glass candle. Sam stared at the strange pale flame for a moment, then looked away. Outside the window it was growing dark. A Feast for Crows- Samwell V
The wildcard. If Alleras the acolyte at the Citadel is indeed Sarella Sand, Doran Martell has a wide scope of information available to him. Alleras is trusted with Samwell Tarly and a glass candle. Complicating things further, a distance cousin of House Tyrell “Lazy Leo” also is aware of the glass candle and could possibly use it. Though it hasn’t been used by a POV character yet glass candles are said to cause visions and allow the user to see over vast distances. An incredibly useful tool supported by the abundance of information available at the Citadel. With the Ironborn invading the Reach and Faceless Men now present in Oldtown the ancient Valyrian artifact and Alleras may be invaluable assets in coming events.
Jon, Daenerys, Jaime, Aemon and other characters have experienced dreams and visions that heavily hint at the use of various Glass Candles being in use throughout the world. Maesters do not like magic and Alleras like Sarella is said to often put themselves in the middle of situations that they should probably leave alone due to curiosity. One of the only characters to also mention the three headed dragon prophesy and nicknamed “The Sphinx”, Alleras will be a game changer.
When Marwyn had returned to Oldtown, after spending eight years in the east mapping distant lands, searching for lost books, and studying with warlocks and shadowbinders, Vinegar Vaellyn had dubbed him “Marwyn the Mage.” The name was soon all over Oldtown, to Vaellyn’s vast annoyance. “Leave spells and prayers to priests and septons and bend your wits to learning truths a man can trust in,” Archmaester Ryam had once counseled Pate, but Ryam’s ring and rod and mask were yellow gold, and his maester’s chain had no link of Valyrian steel. Armen looked down his nose at Lazy Leo. He had the perfect nose for it, long and thin and pointed. “Archmaester Marwyn believes in many curious things,” he said, “but he has no more proof of dragons than Mollander. Just more sailors’ stories.” “You’re wrong,” said Leo. “There is a glass candle burning in the Mage’s chambers.” A hush fell over the torchlit terrace. Armen sighed and shook his head. Mollander began to laugh. The Sphinx studied Leo with his big black eyes. A Feast for Crown – Prologue TL;DR The older Sandsnakes will be extremely influential characters in the coming events in The Winds of Winter but not nearly in the way that their HBO counterparts were. They will infiltrate the four pillars of Westeros society the Crown (Nymeria), Military (Obara), the Faith (Tyene), & Citidel (Sarella) on the order of Prince Doran. Planning to enact revenge for the deaths of Princess Elia and Prince Oberyn and the attempt on Prince Trystane’s life. They will send knowledge back to Prince Doran of events surrounding them while furthering Dornish interest from behind the scenes.
That had been one of his last good days. After that the [Maester Aemon] old man spent more time sleeping than awake, curled up beneath a pile of furs in the captain's cabin. Sometimes he would mutter in his sleep. When he woke he'd call for Sam, insisting that he had to tell him something, but oft as not he would have forgotten what he meant to say by the time that Sam arrived. Even when he did recall, his talk was all a jumble. He spoke of dreams and never named the dreamer, of a glass candle that could not be lit and eggs that would not hatch. He said the sphinx was the riddle, not the riddler, whatever that meant. A Feast for Crows - Samwell IV
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2020.01.20 15:28 LChris24 Random Thoughts, Musings, Questions III (Spoilers Extended)
Recently when I've had a few thoughts, etc. that I couldn't seem to get a full posts worth of info into, I have been combining several of them and posting them as a group: Random Thoughts, Musings Questions II Random Thoughts, Musings Questions I Cortnay Penrose
"Nothing from Bitterbridge. From Storm's End, three birds from the castellan, Ser Cortnay Penrose, all carrying the same plea. Stannis has him surrounded by land and sea. He offers his allegiance to whatsoever king will break the siege. He fears for the boy, he says. What boy would that be, do you know?" He risks everything because Stannis demanded Edric Storm, which isn't unreasonable seeing as though hostages are valuable and the Florents are behind Stannis. Do you think he heard rumors about Mel? What do you think made him "fear for the boy" seeing as he is Stannis' blood?
"Edric Storm," Brienne told them. "Robert's bastard son."
Edmure looked at her curiously. "Stannis has sworn that the garrison might go free, unharmed, provided they yield the castle within the fortnight and deliver the boy into his hands, but Ser Cortnay will not consent."
He risks all for a baseborn boy whose blood is not even his own, Catelyn thought. "Did you send him an answer?" -ACOK, Catelyn V
Obviously its very possible this was just a plot device used to drive forward Stannis' plotline.
Wylla Fenn and Lonnel "Lonny" Snow
I posted recently about the She Wolves of Winterfell:
Does anyone think its possible that this pregnant woman is Wylla:
He saw no more of his father, nor the girl who looked like Arya, but a woman heavy with child emerged naked and dripping from the black pool, knelt before the tree, and begged the old gods for a son who would avenge her. -ADWD, Bran III Wylla was a member of House Fenn but was also the mother of Brandon's bastard Lonnel. Brandon was married to Alys Karstark and had trueborn sons (Rodwell/Beron).
Dorne's Friends at Court
Who do you think is relaying info to Dorne from court in King's Landing?
Prince Doran took a jagged breath. "Dorne still has friends at court. Friends who tell us things we were not meant to know. This invitation Cersei sent us is a ruse. Trystane is never meant to reach King's Landing. On the road back, somewhere in the kingswood, Ser Balon's party will be attacked by outlaws, and my son will die. I am asked to court only so that I may witness this attack with my own eyes and thereby absolve the queen of any blame. Oh, and these outlaws? They will be shouting, 'Halfman, Halfman,' as they attack. Ser Balon may even catch a quick glimpse of the Imp, though no one else will." -ADWD, The Watcher Its def. possible it is Varys, but he has gone into hiding at this point (still could get info though).
While there is some confusion around just how many shadowbabies could be created and who can create them:
"Is the brave Ser Onions so frightened of a passing shadow? Take heart, then. Shadows only live when given birth by light, and the king's fires burn so low I dare not draw off any more to make another son. It might well kill him." Melisandre moved closer. "With another man, though . . . a man whose flames still burn hot and high . . . if you truly wish to serve your king's cause, come to my chamber one night. I could give you pleasure such as you have never known, and with your life-fire I could make . . ." -ASOS, Davos III We have seen how powerful they are:
I beg you in the name of the Mother," Catelyn began when a sudden gust of wind flung open the door of the tent. She thought she glimpsed movement, but when she turned her head, it was only the king's shadow shifting against the silken walls. She heard Renly begin a jest, his shadow moving, lifting its sword, black on green, candles guttering, shivering, something was queer, wrong, and then she saw Renly's sword still in its scabbard, sheathed still, but the shadowsword . . . and:
"Cold," said Renly in a small puzzled voice, a heartbeat before the steel of his gorget parted like cheesecloth beneath the shadow of a blade that was not there. He had time to make a small thick gasp before the blood came gushing out of his throat. -ACOK, Catelyn IV
"Why no, I trust you implicitly." A bitter laugh echoed off the shuttered windows. "I trust you like one of my own blood, in truth. Now tell me how Cortnay Penrose died." This passage goes on to have Varys/Tyrion discuss magic, Varys's cutting, etc. but the question/thought I have is do we have any other instances where a seemingly healthy individual who had no reason to want to die just happens to "kill themselves" in ASOIAF history?
"It is said that he threw himself from a tower."
"Threw himself? No, I will not believe that!" -ACOK, Tyrion X
I haven't looked into yet, but it would be cool to see if there was anything weird around the circumstances of some apparent suicides in history (ex: Jaehara Targaryen - I doubt it happened in this case, just an example of someone dying):
The last living offspring of Aegon II, Jaehaera Targaryen was eight when she wed her cousin Aegon III, and ten when she threw herself from Maegor's Holdfast to the spikes of the dry moat below. She lived on for half an hour, in agony, before she died. -TWOIAF: The Targaryen Kings: Aegon III I'm sure several of these have been posted about in the past (if not all, its been 8 years), but I would love to discuss any of these points with anyone who has any thoughts. As I mentioned, feel free to make your own post, blog, etc. or even just provide links to previous theories about the above, I don't mind.
submitted by LChris24
to asoiaf [link] [comments]
2019.12.09 20:48 _Juggerobb_ Issues #1: R/P/S: Hand Takes Host
P /S: Hand Takes Host #1
Dimensions collide when one boy’s quest to be crowned the Rock Paper Scissors Grand Champion becomes a battle for our world.
Panel 1: Wide shot of a condemned parking garage dwarfed by skyscrapers. A faint glow is coming from the 3rd story.
Panel 2: A large crowd (girls/boys all younger in age 12-16) has gathered inside the abandoned urban parking garage. They’re a rough looking group, with guns, knives, and other makeshift weapons drawn. The walls and pillars of the parking garage are heavily vandalized with the gang names FeldSpar, The Sheared, and Euncuch, however none of these people are in said gangs.
You’re done now, kid! He’s got your number!
Down 1-0! Whatcha gonna do about that!?
You better pay up!
Encircled by the crowd are three kids - Chase, Trent, and Dirty Child. Trent is a well-to-do looking teenager, with a husky frame. He stands out from the group because his clothes look much less rag-tag. Instead, he has a polo shirt on and a sweater wrapped around his shoulders. Chase also stands out, but it’s because he is not nearly as imposing. Trent and Chase are standing face to face. Dirty Child has a hand between them and one hand raised in the air holding a green card over the head of Trent.
Panel 1: Trent wears a facial expression of confidence. A group of kids similarly dressed stand behind him with their arms crossed. They look just as confident as Trent.
So, what’s it gonna be Chase?
This is almost too easy!
If you had any sense at all, you’d just quit right now. Walk away. Sure, you’ll lose some cash, but you’ll keep what dignity you have left.
Panel 2: Chase has a look of determination and grit. The group standing behind him look like a pack of hyenas ready to pounce. However, Chase’s one supporter is AJ. She is standing behind him and wears a concerned expression on her face.
Panel 3: In dramatic fashion the Dirty Child raises his hand Trent and Chase.
ROCK! PAPER! SCISSORS! SHOOT!
Panel 1: Trent throws paper. Around his wrist is a shining Rolex watch, which is displaying 11:32.
Panel 2: Close up of Trent, he has a surprised look on his face.
Panel 3: Chase throws scissors. Inside his sweater pocket is the pocket edition of Advanced Fundamentals of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Chase looks surprised that he won, the crowd behind him is equally as amazed. By his foot is a pile of cash. A blue hue is cast across the panel as police arrive on scene.
Scissors beats paper! Chase takes round two!
Trent Cronie 1:
How did he?
Whoa, Chase took a round front Trent.
Panel 4: Bird’s eye view shot as three police cars pull up to the group of kids and attempt to block them in with their cars. Many in the group draw hand guns, knives, and bats to fight, while others are already beginning to run away.
Panel 1: Officers in heavy tactical riot gear get out and position themselves behind the doors of their police cars.
Panel 2:Officer Melbourn steps out of a vehicle. Clearly a veteran of the force, Melbourn has deep wrinkles, salt and pepper hair, and a mustache. He’s not wearing his tactical helmet. He brings the vehicle’s microphone to his mouth.
I am Officer Melbourn of the Los Angeles Tactical Strike Force. Stand down! NOW!
Panel 3: One of Trent's cronies, with a bead of sweat rolling down his face, lets a shot ring out. It shatters a car door window and hits an officer.
Not a chance!
Panel 4-6: A fire fight between the two groups breaks out. However, due to their superior gear and weaponry, the LAPD quickly overwhelm the group. Their bullets tear through many of the children indiscriminately.
Brakka Brakka Brakka!
Panel 1: Trent is able to escape gunfire by using Crony 2 as a shield. The bullets pelt off his friend’s body and splash Trent with blood.
Panel 2: Trent reaches the edge of the parking garage as bullets whiz by him. One strikes him in the shoulder and he falls off the edge.
Panel 3: Meanwhile, Chase steps in front of AJ and takes a shot to the abdomen. AJ is also shot in the leg, however the bullet doesn’t penetrate her skin. She doesn’t react to it at all.
Panel 4: Trent falls into a dumpster. Panel 5: As many members of the group are either killed or surrender, AJ drags Chase and hides behind a concrete column in the parking garage.
Panel 1: The task force, with their guns drawn, overlook the result of the fire fight. Some of the onlookers are now kneeling with their hands on their head. Other dead bodies riddled with bullet holes litter the ground. Dirty Child’s dead body is sprawled out on the concrete floor. One of the officers begin walking around the bullet soaked pillar.
Stay down you pieces of shit. Don’t you move, god damn it, or I’ll shoot you right in the fuckin head.
Another officer peers around the pillar with his gun drawn and sees Chase leaning up against the pillar desperately clutching the right side of his abdomen. Blood from his gunshot wound has soaked his sweatshirt. Despite having been shot, AJ doesn’t seem to be favoring her injury at all.
Panel 3:Reflecting off the officer's visor we can see in Chase’s face just how badly injured he is. He barely able to maintain consciousness. Through the visor, we can see a scowling face of the officer.
Get down now.
He needs help!
The officer uses the butt of his gun to hit Chase in the face as AJ looks on in horror.
Panel 1: A massive covered stadium complex alongside an interstate highway is completely sold out as fans line up to enter. The stadium is surrounded by a large parking lot, which is completely filled with parked cars. A blimp flies over head with an electronic sign that reads RPS World Championship.
Panel 2: Two Commentators are dressed in clothes that look like something out of a Tom Ford fashion show. They sit at a desk perched on a stage with headsets on. Commentator 1 is wearing a bright red leopard print suit with shoulder pads that point up nearly to his ears. The collar to the jacket is black fur. Around his neck is an white ascot tie. He’s also sporting large sunglasses. Commentator 2 is wearing more neutral colored clothing, but he’s just as wild. A large, ornate trophy is sitting on a pedestal behind them.
Welcome everyone to the ROCK! PAPER! SCISSORS! CHAMPIONSHIP!
We have a very special series ahead of us! A man who is no stranger to success, “Cool Hand” Luke Gavin, will make his first-ever appearance in the Grand Championship.
Panel 3: Close up of the charismatic Commentator 1. His sunglasses reflect the thousands of people in attendance.
He has defeated literally hundreds of other P/Sers to make it to this stage.
Panel 4: A close up of the trophy.
But before he can call himself a champion, he’s got one heck of a challenge in front of him.
Panel 1: The two commentators are almost exploding with excitement. Getting up out of their seats with their hands in the air.
The Grand Champion! Dryden!
Panel 2: Now back to their seats, one has balled up fist in excitement, while the other one clenches the edge of the desk.
After arriving on the scene three years ago, Dryden has gone on an unparalleled winning streak. Including winning the last 3 GRAND CHAMPIONSHIPS!
Panel 3: The members of the crowd are on their feet cheering. There are foam rock, paper, scissor hands being worn and waved by a number of those in attendance.
He is as steadfast as rock while staring into the eyes of his fiercest competitor.
Panel 4: POV shot of fans in the stands looking down at the field. The demographic includes every age and gender. On the field, the commentators continue to hype this match.
His strategy is as flawless as a fresh piece of paper.
Panel 5: Close up of Commentator 1, who is making a chopping motion with his hand.
And he cuts through his competition like scissors!
Panel 1: A large home basks in the sunshine of a bright and beautiful afternoon. It sits on a spacious lot and the lawn is well manicured. A pair of blooming dogwood trees flank each side.
Panel 2: Interior shot of the home reveals that it is furnished with expensive, ornate, and almost impractical furniture. On the wall, is a large flat screen television, which is playing the RPS Grand Championship. Patricia Briggs is in the kitchen cooking something. She is Trent’s mother.Trent descends down the stairs.
Good morning, sweety!
Panel 3: Mrs. Briggs offer Trent a plate stacked high with pancakes, bacon, and eggs. She has a warm and loving smile on her face. However, Trent seems disinterested and simply walks by. Despite being shot the night before, he is not injured.
That’s fine, I can bring it to you!
Panel 4: Trent slumps onto the couch. The P/S Championship is playing on the large flatscreen television.
I assumed you wanted to watch the P/S World Championship.
Panel 5: Trent has a scowl on his face.
Dryden is in the finals, of course.
Panel 1: The large hi-def flat screen shows both of the commentators further discussing the match. Mrs. Briggs places a bed and breakfast tray with the plate she had offered Trent earlier alongside some juice onto the living room table.
Do you think he’ll win the championship again? Panel 2: Trent is staring unblinkingly at the television.
I am going to find Chase and make him pay for last night.
Mrs. Briggs (OOF):
He is you favorite, right?
Then, I am going to find Dryden and make him pay.
Mrs. Briggs (OOF):
I think he’ll win again.
Panel 3: In one quick and fluid motion, Trent rises from the couch and throws the clicker as hard as he can at the flat screen TV. This also knocks over the tray his mother had set on the table in front of him.
I’ll make them all pay!
Panel 4:The television screen is still playing, but the image is warped, broken, and distorted.
Is there anything he can’t do!?
Mrs. Briggs (OOF):
Oh. Let me just clean this up. Panel 5: In the foreground the spilled glass of orange juice is pouring off the table onto the floor. Trent is walking away past the wall mounted television. His mother has knelt down to start cleaning up the mess.
Commentator 1 (OOF): There’s simply no one like him!
Panel 1: Daytime: Exterior shot of a large hospital. Though it doesn’t look to be well-kept, it’s obviously still in use. A large metropolitan city overshadows it.
Panel 2: Interior shot. Chase is sleeping in the hospital bed. He has an IV and is hooked up to a heart monitor which shows a steady heart rate. However his left arm is noticeably handcuffed to the bed rail. Tuck away in the ceiling corner is a small tube TV which is also playing the P/S championship. Meanwhile, the room door is opening as a Dr. Boyd enters.
Panel 3: Chase wakes to see Dr. Boyd standing over him. Dr. Boyd is wearing a white lab coat with pencils nestled into his breast pocket. His hair is parted and he has an uncomfortable smile, which is unfit for what his patient has just gone through. He’s holding a clipboard and reviewing its contents. Underneath the clipboard is Chase’s blood soaked edition of Advanced Fundamental of Rock, Paper, Scissors.
Good, you’re awake. Busy night, huh? We attempted to contact your guardian, but didn’t get a response. In the meantime, we’ve done everything we can to make you comfortable.
Panel 4: Chase attempts to reposition himself and notices that he is handcuffed to the bedrail.
Dr. Boyd (OOF):
I did say everything we could. Unfortunately, we can only do so much. You should just be thankful you’re still alive. I heard others weren’t so lucky. Panel 5: Close up of Chase. His expression has changed from grimace to extreme concerned. He is now sitting upright and leaning towards Dr. Boyd. His left arm, still handcuffed to the bedrail, is being pulled taught.
Dr. Boyd (OOF):
Page 1: Chase turns and starts trying to wrestle his left arm free from the handcuffs but to no avail. You can see now that his abdomen is heavily wrapped. Dr. Boyd is trying to calm him down.
The girl! She is a little taller than me… Short hair … um, she would have been wearing a white shirt?
You may not be dead, but that doesn’t mean you should be pushing it.
Panel 2: Visibly exhausted, Chase has given up on trying to free himself from the hospital bed. He lays back down.
Dr. Boyd (OOF):
I don’t remember any admissions coming in matching that description. However, disclosing patient information is strictly against HIPPA.
Panel 3: Suddenly Clair Bennett (Chase’s sister) bursts through the door. She is a small thin woman with dark brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. She’s wearing a stained server’s apron and a tacky blouse. In hallway leading to Chae’s room, an armed guard is sitting.
Panel 4: She embraces him with zero regard for the fact that he is currently hooked up to various IVs and monitors. Chase is clearly uncomfortable, but wraps his arm around her, because he knows how worried she must be. Dr. Boyd watches on and is prepared to give a full status update.
Oh god, are you alright?
Stop it, please … I’m fine.
Panel 5: Dr. Boyd is holding up the bloodied edition of Advanced Fundamentals of Rock, Paper, Scissors. A bullet has clearly shredded the bottom spine of the book and blood has soaked through parts of it. However, it could still be read.
Thankfully, the bullet wasn’t deep. In a stroke of luck, this prevented the bullet from doing critical damage.
Panel 1: Clair Bennett notices that Chase is handcuffed to the hospital bed. She looks back at Dr. Boyd, visibly upset.
What is this!?
Panel 2: Dr. Boyd is embarrassed and uncomfortable. After all, making sure his patients are comfortable is his number one job. But he is resolute in his response.
I am sorry, but your brother ...
Panel 3: The armed guard who was standing out in the hallway enters. He wears the same tactical gear the strike force wore. Dr. Boyd is startled by the guard's outburst.
Your brother is under arrest as part of an illegal P/S gambling ring!
Panel 4: Clair Bennett doesn’t stand down or seem intimidated.
Clair Bennett :
This hardly seems necessary! He’s just a kid.
And a dangerous one at that! Last night he put a lot of lives at risk!
Panel 5: The guard continues his rant.
Including the life of my fellow offices.
Panel 6: A well-dressed man (AJ’s Father) enters behind the guard. His hair is well-kept and his glasses rest on the tip of his nose. He looks and acts confidently.
I’m sure you can find it in your heart to forgive young Chase here. You were a child once making some bad decisions, were you not?
Panel 1: Somehow the guard is even more enraged - and hovers his hand around his gun. Meanwhile, Dr. Boyd is looking overwhelmed.
How dare you come in here and -
However you feel, it doesn’t matter. All charges against Chase have been dropped. Once he is recovered, he’s free to go.
Panel 2: AJ’s Father continues. His posture is tall and strong compared to the guard who is seemingly leaning in to engage in a fight
You should be receiving a text from your superior. Right. About.
Cell Phone FX:
Panel 3: The guard is looking at his cellphone in complete surprise. Meanwhile Chase is left nearly speechless by the whole confrontation, before finally blurting out.
Is AJ alright!?
Panel 4: AJ’s Father looks down at Chase and smiles.
Yes, and apparently I have you to thank for that. I’ll let her know you’re awake, and send for a driver.
Panel 5: The guard is walking over to unhandcuff Chase as AJ’s Father is leaving the room. The small television still shows the RPS championship on the screen.
Now all you have to do is rest up and enjoy the RPS Championships. AJ tells me you’re fond of it.
Panel 1: Commentator 1 & 2 are sitting at their desk. The crowd is erupting behind them.
The battle to crown this year’s RPS champion in a best of 3 series is about to begin!
Panel 2: A wide shot of the entrance tunnels shows a man beginning to emerge from it. Flanked on either side are two women. Music is playing over the stadium PA as fans cheer.
Panel 3: A full body shot of the challenger Luke GAVIN. He is tall and wiry. He’s wearing a green leather jacket with yellow stripes, ripped denim jean pants and Converse shoes. He has dyed purple hair the length of his shoulders. He is expressionless as he moves through the tunnel, but his eyes show his fierceness. The beautiful women that flank either side of him are visibly nervous, yet try to keep a brave face as it’s their job to escort out the competitor.
Now introducing the challenger, Cool! Hand! Luke!
Panel 4: Luke GAVIN emerges from the tunnel. The crowd rains down a chorus of boos on him.
Panel 1: Wide shot of a darkened stadium. In the center is the stadium tunnel.
Commentator 1 (OOF)
A silence has settled over the crowd as they await the arrival of the Grand Champion…
Panel 2: A single beam of blue light shines down at the end of the entrance tunnel. Dryden is standing in the center, casting an imposing silhouette.
Panel 3: Dryden has his back turned. He has a bodybuilder physique and his shoulders are nearly as wide as the frame. He has long flowing hair the rests gently along his shoulders and flow beyond it. He is wearing a royal purple jacket with a golden brocade pattern.
Panel 1: Dryden turns toward the stage and is standing as if he is basking in the glow of the spotlight. Fireworks are going off behind him. He is wearing a silk glove on his right hand that is encrusted with diamonds.
Panel 2: Exterior shot of the stadium as an impressive fireworks display is happening outside as well.
Panel 3: Dryden begins walking towards the stage. He has a look of determination and confidence about him. The crowd is absolutely erupting around him.
Commentator 2 (OOF):
What an unbelievable ovation to the world’s biggest and brightest competitor!
Commentator 1 (OOF):
The crowd is clearly behind him, and with a 3 year winning streak, why shouldn’t they be!
Panel 4: A close up of Chase sitting in his hospital bed. He is staring straight ahead (directly back at the “camera”.)
There he is. Dryden, my hero
Panel 5: On the television, Dryden is standing proudly with thousands of fans cheering his name.
And the hero of millions of people around the world.
Panel 1: Dryden is standing face-to-face with Luke on an elevated stage. They’re surrounded by television cameras. Behind them is a large jumbotron displaying the action on the stage. A ref approaches them.
I have been told that dreams are for fools. That if I follow my dreams, they’ll only lead me to more heartbreak.
Panel 2: Both Dryden and Luke ball up their right hand into the palm of their left hand. Dryden’s diamond encrusted glove glitters in the stadium lighting.
But I just can’t give up.
Panel 3: Close up of Dryden wearing a confident smile. The ref is standing in the background.
And when I see Dryden, it gives me hope that someday I might be as beloved as him.
Panel 4: Close up of Luke. He has a scowl on his face and is exposing some razor sharp teeth. The REF is in the background.
Because in the face of so many obstacles and challenges, Dryden continues to persevere and succeed.
Panel 1: Dryden takes a step back and assumes a martial art-esque fighting stance. Luke is simply standing. Panel 2: Dryden jumps high into the air! He looks down at Luke and the REF below him.
Panel 3: As he lands it kicks up a wave of dust. As the dust settles, Dryden has thrown paper.
Panel 4: Luke throws rock. Despite the fact he loses the first match. Luke’s face is completely expressionless.
Dryden takes the first match!
Panel 1: Dryden, sure of his own victory, offers Luke some words of advice.
You should be proud. You have given it your all to get here. There is no shame in defeat, so long as you learn from your mistakes.
Panel 2: A close up of Luke’s emotionless expression.
Panel 3: Dryden again jumps high in the air. Only this time, when he looks down there is only the ref standing beneath him.
WHAT!? Where is --
Panel 4: Dryden surveys the landscape, as a blur suddenly appears in front of him.
Panel 5 : Same shot as before, but it becomes clear that the blur is Luke, who has his eyes fixed on Dryden. Dryden is taken aback.
How can anyone be that fast!?
Panel 6: Dryden once again lands with a big wave of dust surrounding him. As the dust settles he is showing scissors.
Panel 7: Luke is finally expressing emotion as a jagged and sinister smile crests his face.
Panel 1: To the shock of Dryden, the ref, fans, and Commentators, Luke is once again showing rock.
Panel 2: Though defeated, Dryden hasn’t lost his confidence. He begins taking off his diamond glove. On the back of his hand there is a simplistic tattoo of a Circle inside of a Triangle.
In the first time in three years, Dryden has lost a round! Luke takes round two! This is truly unbelievable!
I’ll admit, I’ve underestimated you. But know, it won’t be a mistake I make twice.
Panel 3: In the foreground, the glove hits the ground kicking up a bit of dust. In the background, Luke is standing resolute.
It’s no mistake that you lost last round Dryden. You can’t beat me.
Panel 4: Luke face has once again settled to expressionless. Luke rolls up his sleeve, exposing his wrist and a small tattoo (which looks more like a scar) of a circle inside a triangle.
I know your secrets. You and me, we aren’t so different.
Panel 5: A look of fear suddenly sweeps over Dryden. A look we, to this point, have never seen from his normally confident and self-assured facade.
No. That could only mean -
Panel 1: Dryden digs his feet into the ground.
I have to give this everything I have! The world is depending on me!
Panel 2: Dryden balls up his fist and takes a martial arts stance.
Panel 3: An explosion of dust and debris is seemingly emanating from Dryden’s fist. Dryden is visibly exhausted.
Panel 4: As the dust and energy from Dryden’s scissors settles, Luke still stands completely unphased. He is once again showing rock.
Panel 5: As Dryden collapses in a lump in front of him, the ref looks on in utter disbelief and horror. He’s finally able to determine the outcome of the match.
Luke … Defeats … Dryden. 2-1.
Panel 1: The events of the match are happening on Chase’s television. Luke stands tall over Dryden. There is no sense of enjoyment in beating him. He simply looks down at Dryden with the same lifeless expression.
You're getting weak old man. You thought no one could beat you. You were wrong. And these people are going to pay the price.
Panel 2: AJ, who has just turned off the television, is smiling at Chase. There’s no indication that she was injured the night before during the shoot out at the parking garage.
I CANNOT BELIEVE WHAT WE HAVE JU ---
Haven't you had enough of Rock, Paper, Scissors yet?
Panel 3: Chase gets out of bed, dragging all of the medical equipment he’s attached to with him. Tears begin swelling in his eyes. The book has been placed on his bed, it is opened to a page as if he has been reading it.
I was so scared. I thought you might be …
Panel 4: AJ smiles again and wraps her arms around Chase’s shoulders.
Panel 1: We’ve now transitioned to a close up of Trent. His face is sinister and splattered with blood.
ROCK PAPER SCISSORS SHOOT!
Panel 2: A wide shot shows that Trent is practicing his P/S throw.
ROCK PAPER SCISSORS SHOOT!
Panel 3: Overhead shot of Trent in his room with his back towards us. Scattered throughout the floor is a bunch of newspaper clippings about Dryden and the events of the night before. Trent’s mom (Mrs. Briggs) is lying dead on the floor. Her head is completely pulverized. On the floor, painted with blood is a design of a triangle within a circle.
submitted by _Juggerobb_
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2019.12.09 09:57 Rockdigger [Lore/Event] "We could have had such a damned good time together." / "Yes," I said. "Isn't it pretty to think so?"
Dunk, somewhere in Essos
They languidly sat, like magister's cats, along the white beaches that stretched from one inkling of the horizon to the other. It didn't matter what beach, or where. The place never really existed except in Dunk's mind. A conjured image drawn from stories and drawings of pristine eastern shorelines. Calm and vacant, awaiting anyone to come and sift their toes through warm sand, to hear the distant bickering of gulls that drifted effortlessly upon a cool western breeze.
Five fair children bobbed amidst the pleasant surf. A young boy, no older than Dunk was when Ser Arlan had found him covered in muck and shit, was holding aloft a little girl who giggled ferociously as whitecap rushed up to her chest. Further yet, another, older, girl waded in the softly-swirling sea watching as the ringlets of her silvery hair pooled around her - like the tendrils of some creature of the deep. She caught Dunk's gaze and raised a slender hand from the clear waters in a wave, her face flashing a smile as a lighthouse would guide his heart to calm bay.
Ashore two boys of silvery-blonde hair, the oldest of the lot, contemplated meticulously over a sandcastle. A relic, a distant memory of a home
from the place that came before. They wetted loose sand and smoothed out towers and crenelations, heavens-scraping keeps and walled gardens, hunkered donjons and storm-battered cliffs. Their hands were careful, considerate, and gentle. Little fingers dirty, clumping and working and thinking
- with fondness and warm memory. As one paints the old kindly face of a nuncle, long since taken by the Stranger.
Somewhere - far away at the other end of an endlessly rolling sea - a Kingdom split apart. Contemptuous, vain Lords and Ladies took up crowns and tore at eachother: ripped and bit and beat at the breast of the whole of a continent. Throwing their own babes into fires to hold, for a little while longer, crowns and thrones and swords they thought meant something.
Here, the wheel had stopped. In the only way it could. Not through revolution or final, bloody confrontation. Nothing like songs. They had simply slipped away - as they always could. Generations upon generations of their family had been thrown into the fiery engines churning the seven kingdoms into one - and for what? Always more babes to the fire, always more babes. Matarys had been a babe once. Viserys. Baelor. Valarr.
Here, the weight had been lifted from Dunk's shoulders. The weight he had, unknowingly, bore the whole of his life. He wore no armour, carried no blade, held no shield. No one would hurt anyone here. Here people were beautiful, here people were kind, and good. Here babes could grow. They could love, they could weep, they could yearn, and they could breath
. A sword never loved. Neither did a crown. Neither, Dunk thought, did a Dragon.
Here, they were not Dragons. They were just babes.
She shifted her weight by his side, soft warmth of her legs amidst his moved with soft-falling sand. One of Dunk's massive arms was wrapped around her, the other supported the back of his head as they laid on that beach, the two of them. Watching their children. With another breeze her hair tickled at his face, drifting with it the smell of lavender. Willowy fingers traced over his chest, hugging the jagged edges of scars from long distant, meaningless battles. Her head was buried in his arm, and he could feel the warmth of her breath upon his breast.
"Jae." The voice that came from his throat was well-rested, and homely. Dunk cupped her cheek with one hand and ran a thumb over her ear, following it to the cascading depths of her hair. It ran between his fingers. He lifted her chin to see her face, again, just one more time. Just before. Dunk, Sharp Point, 235 AC
Distant gulls and crestfallen waves supported the dream for a few, wrenching heartbeats as it all faded about him. Duncan's eyes fluttered open, and he found that he was weeping. The worldly aches of his body tumbled about him then, and he shifted onto his side with all the more effort. Torn from heaven, this was all too bright, too hard, too -
A sharp knock thrice upon the doors of his chambers, and a muffled voice from the hallway beyond.
"Ser Duncan?" It said, "Ser Duncan, they're here."
He held himself a moment longer, trying to recall all he could before it slipped away with his heart. Duncan closed his eyes again, hoping for the briefest of moments to go back there - where he was finished.
The realm called, and with it he thrust himself back into its toil. Living for the moments in between. When he could escape hell and return to the life he knew he must be living, he could be living. If it hadn't been, oh for a hundred choices. He reasoned. 'Living is to regret.' Ser Arlan had once said to him.
The giant rose, ruffled at unkempt hair, and marched ahead.
submitted by Rockdigger
to SevenKingdoms [link] [comments]
2019.12.03 03:24 xVigilantAtWar Bill "Big Balls" Polansky
“Anything is possible.”
- Human proverb
“Hold my beer.”
- Bill “Big Balls” Polansky
It is common knowledge that the human species suffers from a detrimental psychological duality. This conflict in human behavior and thought process almost caused their extinction. Fortunately the small number of remaining humans on their dying planet were saved by the Astari. Their population is still relatively small compared to the other species of the galaxy.
Luckily for the crew of the Standador 7, we happened to hire one on.
Bill “Big Balls” Polansky was an excellent addition to the crew. His work ethic and output exceeded expectations. His ability to work, however, was not the highlight of his employment aboard the Standador 7. His personality filled the empty spaces of the cargo ship. During his introduction to the crew “Big Balls” Polansky informed us of his nick name and then proceeded to show us why he had gotten it. While his sexual organs did not seem all that impressive, a cursory investigation in the computer’s drive suggested that Polansky’s balls were, in fact, big in comparison to the average human male.
There is a saying around the galaxy that, “If you want something to get done, just tell a human it can't be done. They'll prove you wrong or die trying.” This is certainly true. At least anecdotally in regard to “Big Balls” Polansky.
The crew’s first test of this saying resulted in Polansky officially breaking the ship’s time record for reorganizing the ships larders. Jokingly, Thred, told him that his first attempt was 3 earth seconds under the record, which could never be beaten. Polansky actually took everything out of the larder and did it again. It should be noted that there was no recorded record for reorganizing the ship’s pantry. There is now.
Of course with every test to the saying, the crew found its true virtue. The true meaning of the saying had two aspects. First, humans are hilarious creatures that will do anything when intoxicated. Second, and most importantly, humans will come through when you need them most, or truly die trying.
The book on humanity is a constantly growing list of information. “Big Balls” Polansky was no exception. We discovered that Polansky was a connoisseur of alcohol. By connoisseur I mean a creature that likes to drink. One of his talents included brewing a specific type of alcohol once crafted on Earth known as beer. The crew is half and half on its quality. I suppose it has to do with the differences in biology. Some of the crew can not stomach it, the other half think it’s the most glorious thing ever created. One thing the crew does agree on is that “Big Balls” Polansky is the most fun to mess with when he has had more than a few beers.
The truth on how lucky we were to find Bill Polansky would become fully evident to us on the date 11.02.222. On that fateful day the Standador 7 was attacked by pirates.
Pirating was a common enough occurrence throughout the galaxy. The Standador 7 had two encounters with pirates in its 10 years of service. Both attacks were easily thwarted by the ship’s defensive systems. Low level thieves are no match for cargo ships built and owned by SER Corp. The amount and value of our cargo necessitate a certain level of security. A level of security that SER Corp. can and does afford.
The Standador 7’s third encounter with space pirates proved to be much more serious than anticipated. The ship exited slip space to prepare for its next jump. This is a standard event that takes around 36 hours. Most of the repairs and preparation for a jump are conducted by the ship’s computers and robots. As such, time is often taken for morale boosting. In the middle of one such party on 11.02.222, 19 hours into the Standador 7’s jump preparation, another ship exited slip space.
The ship was a Tandori Class hunter killer. It had been appropriated by the Glowing Sun after the Fantix War. The ship was no match for current military vessels but was more than a match for the defensive capabilities of the Standador 7. Crewed by the notorious Glowing Sun, the situation was dire. The criminal enterprise was not known for leaving any crew member alive when they took a ship.
Once the hunter killer had taken out our engines and nullified our defensive systems it docked with our ship. Then, we were boarded. An entire platoon of Glowing Sun soldiers began a push to take full control of the Standador 7. It was guaranteed that our lives had become forfeit. No engagement with the Glowing Sun had ever been thwarted by a cargo ship without a military escort. Unluckily for us, our cargo did not have military value, and thus did not necessitate a military escort.
It is an understatement to say that our party was ruined. Drunk cargo sailors don’t have the tools, or the skills needed to stage any sort of defense against hardened criminal pirates. We barricaded ourselves in the galley and tried to isolate as many systems as possible to slow the pirates progress. To our dismay, we were unable to activate a distress beacon. Our fate was all but assured.
Polansky didn’t understand our fear. He kept going on about how we needed to fight “these cock suckers.” While a drunk human is fun to be around. Their reasoning ability goes out the window. He had never heard of the Glowing Sun and he didn’t understand their abilities on the battlefield. The spark that set the powder keg off was a simple statement made by me.
“Bill you can’t defeat these pirates. It can’t be done.”
Polansky, who was holding two bottles of his ship crafted beer, a tactic he referred to as “double fisting,” handed one of the bottles to Thred and said, “hold my beer.”
He then smashed the other bottle against a table to create a jagged impromptu weapon. Beer sprayed all over himself and the table. He pointed the broken glass at me and said, “I’m Bill “Big Balls” Polansky, and cock sucking pirate motherfuckers aren’t killing my friends today.”
With anger and gusto he strode to the door. He belched and fumbled with the key pad. The door slid open and we watched our shipmate and our friend walk to his doom. We didn’t know it then, but we watched him walk to our salvation.
When the smoke was clear we found Polansky on the bridge. With his last breath he had engaged the emergency transponder. The five holes that drained his red blood all over the console and floor of the bridge was nothing in comparison to the trail of brutal violence he left behind in his wake. The military hushed the incident up. I think they knew more about human beings than they let on. Things that didn’t need to be disseminated to the rest of the galaxy. While it hasn’t been confirmed, I think the galactic government feels that humanity’s brush with extinction was fortuitous to the galaxy at large.
After seeing the devastation wrought by a single human, I might be inclined to agree with them. But then I think about why that hate and violence was laid upon 24 trained Glowing Sun soldiers. It was a testament to his love and friendship. Bill “Big Balls” Polansky waged war against all odds for those he considered his friends. Maybe it was his large testicles, but he truly believed anything was possible, and he died showing us that that was true.
Edit: Editing as the comments from helpful Reddit users come in. Thanks everyone for helping me edit and work on my craft (if you could call it that (fuck it, I'm calling it my craft)).
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