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Wow, I never noticed that v.16


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Ser Waymar Royce found his fury. “For Robert!” he shouted, and he came up snarling, lifting the frost-covered longsword with both hands and swinging it around in a flatsidearm slash with all his weight behind it. 

Prologue, Game

Get it? Ours is the fury? 

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Wow, I noticed this a while back, but i never noticed this...

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He found what was left of the sword a few feet away, the end splintered and twisted like a tree struck by lightning. Will knelt, lookedaround warily, and snatched it up. The broken sword would be his proof. 

Prologue, Game

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Wow, I never noticed that the first Stark character was introduced to us with the Stark words...

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The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer.

Bran I, Game 1 --first sentence

Winter is comimg. 

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At the center of the Grove an ancient weirwood brooded over a small pool where the waters were black and cold. ... The weirwood's bark was white as bone, it's leaves dark red, like a thousand bloodstained hands. 

Catelyn I, Game 2

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How many eyes does Lord Bloodraven have? ran the riddle Egg had heard in Oldtown. A thousand eyes, and one. 

Six years ago in King's Landing, Dunk had seen him with his own two eyes, as he rode a pale horse up the Street of Steel with fifty Raven's Teeth behind him. That was before King Aerys had ascended to the Iron Throne and made him the Hand, but even so he cut a striking figure, garbed in smoke and scarlet with Dark Sister on his hip. His pallid skin and bone-white hair made him look a living corpse. Across his cheek and chin spread a wine-stain birthmark that was supposed to resemble a red raven...

The Sworn Sword

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17 hours ago, Lost Melnibonean said:

This was a really cool observation. A little less cool, though, Waymar's blade got frosty, and perhaps brittle, as the duel went on. 

14 hours ago, Lost Melnibonean said:

Wow, I noticed this a while back, but i never noticed this...

Prologue, Game

I wonder what happened to the part Will had. For me it would be hillarious if it sits on some shelf in Winterfell and after Winterfell falls it somehow finds it's way to Jon, because, you know, he already has one part of the blade and...

 

"From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king."
 
 
or could be
 
Not all that have fallen are vanquished;
a king may yet be without crown,
A blade that was broken be brandished;
and towers that were strong may fall down.
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46 minutes ago, Corvo the Crow said:

 

I wonder what happened to the part Will had. For me it would be hillarious if it sits on some shelf in Winterfell and after Winterfell falls it somehow finds it's way to Jon, because, you know, he already has one part of the blade and...

 

"From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king."
 
 
or could be
 
Not all that have fallen are vanquished;
a king may yet be without crown,
A blade that was broken be brandished;
and towers that were strong may fall down.

If it is the same sword, the part Will held until UnWaymar did him in is the part that was paid by a wilding to pass the Wall. The remainder was shattered. 

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Doesn’t this suggest that Eddard’s Ice replaced an older, castle-forged, non-Valyrian steel blade? And that the older steel sword, or more likely succession of steel swords, replaced an even older blade of bronze, all of which were called Ice?

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Catelyn found her husband beneath the weirwood, seated on a moss-covered stone. The greatswordIce was across his lap, and he was cleaning the blade in those waters black as night. ...

...

... He had a swatch of oiled leather in one hand. He ran it lightly up the greatsword as he spoke, polishing the metal to a dark glow. ...

... She could see the rippling deep within the steel, where the metal had been folded back on itself a hundred times in the forging. Catelyn had no love for swords, but she could not deny that Ice had its own beauty. It had been forged in Valyria, before the Doom had come to the old Freehold, when the ironsmiths had worked their metal with spells as well as hammers. Four hundred years old it was, and as sharp as the day it was forged. The name it bore was older still, a legacy from the age of heroes, when the Starks were Kings in the North.

Catelyn I, Game II

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On 13/10/2017 at 4:20 AM, Lollygag said:

Drogo's braid was black as midnight and heavy with scented oil, hung with tiny bells that rang softly as he moved. It swung well past his belt, below even his buttocks, the end of it brushing against the back of his thighs.

 

Khal Drago has no ass. An ass of any substance would keep his braid from touching the backs of his thighs.

 

O my god that's awesome

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1 hour ago, Lost Melnibonean said:

If it is the same sword, the part Will held until UnWaymar did him in is the part that was paid by a wilding to pass the Wall. The remainder was shattered. 

My mistake, Confused Will and Gared but isn't the end of the blade is the pointy side, making it's middle the shattered part?

On Ice, yes it is so and ice isn't the only one. Strangely, Corbrays' sword was never replaced, they possibly came from Andalos already wielding the blade. Could it be they gained it after a battle against Valyrians before they crossed the narrow sea?

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There came a soft knock on her door. "Come," Dany said, turning away from the window. Illyrio's servants entered, bowed, and set about their business. They were slaves, a gift from one of the magister's many Dothraki friends. There was no slavery in the free city of Pentos. Nonetheless, they were slaves. The old woman, small and grey as a mouse, never said a word, but the girl made up for it. She was Illyrio's favorite, a fair-haired, blue-eyed wench of sixteen who chattered constantly as she worked.

Daenerys I, Game 3

Perhaps the first gal was in Varys’s employ long ago?

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“We both grew rich, and richer still when Varystrained his mice."

"In King's Landing he kept little birds."

"Mice, we called them then.”

Tyrion II, Dance 5

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27 minutes ago, Lost Melnibonean said:

The second gal is Doreah.

Dany places Doreah at close to twenty in Dany III. 

There is another girl who at Illyrio's manse who seems to fit the description, though. The one who was bought to please the king, in Tyrion I, Dance. 

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She was blue-eyed and fair, young and willowy.

All in all, Illyrio certainly seems to have a type, and if this girl was bought to please the king. I'm assuming she's talking about Young Griff here.

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29 minutes ago, Widow's Watch said:

Dany places Doreah at close to twenty in Dany III. 

There is another girl who at Illyrio's manse who seems to fit the description, though. The one who was bought to please the king, in Tyrion I, Dance. 

All in all, Illyrio certainly seems to have a type, and if this girl was bought to please the king. I'm assuming she's talking about Young Griff here.

You're right my bad. I was only considering the grey mouse. 

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I think this girl is Dorea. Pate proves she can be Dorea. If you look at the way Dorea died in the Red Waste, it isn't the way others died, and no one caught her fever. She also had a premonition she would die if she went into the Red Waste, that went beyond the dismal expectations anyone might have.

On 02/12/2017 at 8:53 AM, Widow's Watch said:

this girl was bought to please the king. I'm assuming she's talking about Young Griff here.

Almost certainly talking about Viserys. Young Griff is most probably a virgin - remember he is just fifteen, and Illyrio hasn't seen him for years:

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“How fares our lad?” asked Illyrio as the chests were being secured ...
“He is as tall as Griff now. Three days ago he knocked Duck into a horse trough.”

 

(ADwD, Ch.08 Tyrion III)

When Illiryo thinks of getting a little something young Griff might like, he thinks "candied ginger". And he is far too discreet to casually give Tyrion Griff's secret identity.

Although I agree, Illyrio has a type. He might have more Serra-clones where that one came from.

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Theon's feast dream

 

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That night he dreamed of the feast Ned Stark had thrown when King Robert came to Winterfell. The hall rang with music and laughter, though the cold winds were rising outside. At first it was all wine and roast meat, and Theon was making japes and eyeing the serving girls and having himself a fine time . . . until he noticed that the room was growing darker. The music did not seem so jolly then; he heard discords and strange silences, and notes that hung in the air bleeding. Suddenly the wine turned bitter in his mouth, and when he looked up from his cup he saw that he was dining with the dead.

King Robert sat with his guts spilling out on the table from the great gash in his belly, and Lord Eddard was headless beside him. Corpses lined the benches below, grey-brown flesh sloughing off their bones as they raised their cups to toast, worms crawling in and out of the holes that were their eyes. He knew them, every one; Jory Cassel and Fat Tom, Porther and Cayn and Hullen the master of horse, and all the others who had ridden south to King's Landing never to return. Mikken and Chayle sat together, one dripping blood and the other water. Benfred Tallhart and his Wild Hares filled most of a table. The miller's wife was there as well, and Farlen, even the wildling Theon had killed in the wolfswood the day he had saved Bran's life.
But there were others with faces he had never known in life, faces he had seen only in stone. The slim, sad girl who wore a crown of pale blue roses and a white gown spattered with gore could only be Lyanna. Her brother Brandon stood beside her, and their father Lord Rickard just behind. Along the walls figures half-seen moved through the shadows, pale shades with long grim faces. The sight of them sent fear shivering through Theon sharp as a knife. And then the tall doors opened with a crash, and a freezing gale blew down the hall, and Robb came walking out of the night. Grey Wind stalked beside, eyes burning, and man and wolf alike bled from half a hundred savage wounds.

The feast is for the dead, we see. Robb, who'll die soon also joins to the feast.

 

Jon's fever dream in ice cell

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He dreamt he was back in Winterfell, limping past the stone kings on their thrones. Their grey granite eyes turned to follow him as he passed, and their grey granite fingers tightened on the hilts of the rusted swords upon their laps. You are no Stark, he could hear them mutter, in heavy granite voices. There is no place for you here. Go away. He walked deeper into the darkness. "Father?" he called. "Bran? Rickon?" No one answered. A chill wind was blowing on his neck. "Uncle?" he called. "Uncle Benjen? Father? Please, Father, help me." Up above he heard drums. They are feasting in the Great Hall, but I am not welcome there. I am no Stark, and this is not my place. His crutch slipped and he fell to his knees. The crypts were growing darker. A light has gone out somewhere. "Ygritte?" he whispered. "Forgive me. Please." But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his golden eyes shining sadly through the dark .

Statues tell Jon don't belong there and he is no Stark. Lyanna and Brandon didn't belong there either, despite being Starks, they weren't lords of Winterfell, so could it be the feast they are referring to and not the crypts and he doesn't belong not because he's not a Stark but he's alive?

 

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"What everyone knows is that Ser Alliser is a knight from a noble line, and trueborn, while I'm the bastard who killed Qhorin Halfhand and bedded with a spearwife. The warg, I've heard them call me. How can I be a warg without a wolf, I ask you?" His mouth twisted. "I don't even dream of Ghost anymore. All my dreams are of the crypts, of the stone kings on their thrones. Sometimes I hear Robb's voice, and my father's, as if they were at a feast. But there's a wall between us, and I know that no place has been set for me."

The living have no place at the feasts of the dead. It tore the heart from Sam to hold his silence then. Bran's not dead, Jon, he wanted to stay. He's with friends, and they're going north on a giant elk to find a three-eyed crow in the depths of the haunted forest. It sounded so mad that there were times Sam Tarly thought he must have dreamt it all, conjured it whole from fever and fear and hunger . . . but he would have blurted it out anyway, if he had not given his word.

Sam says as much, living have no place at the feasts of the dead. The Wall seperates the living and the dead, and Jon has no place set for him in the feast of the dead.

 

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I wonder if it was Arthur Dayne that chose the Tower of Joy location? (Sorry about the large text. Phone doesn’t have text size options) 

A Dance with Dragons - The Lost Lord 

They gave the prince the best of the three horses, a big grey gelding so pale that he was almost white. Griff and Haldon rode beside him on lesser mounts. The road ran south beneath the high white walls of Volon Therys for a good half mile. Then they left the town behind, following the winding course of the Rhoyne through willow groves and poppy fields and past a tall wooden windmill whose blades creaked like old bones as they turned.
They found the Golden Company beside the river as the sun was lowering in the west. It was a camp that even Arthur Dayne might have approved of—compact, orderly, defensible. A deep ditch had been dug around it, with sharpened stakes inside. The tents stood in rows, with broad avenues between them. The latrines had been placed beside the river, so the current would wash away the wastes. The horse lines were to the north, and beyond them, two dozen elephants grazed beside the water, pulling up reeds with their trunks. Griff glanced at the great grey beasts with approval. There is not a warhorse in all of Westeros that will stand against them.
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