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The Map Guy

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    Highwayyyyy to the Dragon Zone!

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  1. GRRM doesn't write happy endings or bad endings (unlike HBO) ... he writes good endings and earned endings. I just think the Stark/Dayne connection would be a good story, an earned story. Besides, GRRM is not going to give everyone a sad ending. Some characters deserve a happy ending. Out of the Starks, I believe Rickon's future son(s) will carry the Stark bloodline. Bran will have a sad ending when Meera dies. Arya can have a happy ending with Edric Dayne. Sansa I believe she will end up committing suicide by jumping out of a tower (just a hunch). Robb had a very sad ending, so did Ned & Cat ... but it was earned. Jon will have a bittersweet ending. I know, but Arya has Queen Nymeria as a role-model ... therefore naming her direwolf after her. If she marries Edric and has his Dayne children, her children will have Queen Nymeria's blood in their veins. I think that is good story telling. Fan-fiction is where Arya marries Gendry, and somehow Jon Snow ends up with Dawn. Could it happen? Maybe. But I believe GRRM can write a better story than that.
  2. There is currently another thread talking about the credentials of the Sword of the Morning for the current ASOIAF timeline 300AC. Dawn has been MIA since 283AC, so what is another two decades? My pet theory for Arya's fate has always been that she returns to Westeros, and assumes command of the Brotherhood without Banners after Lady Stoneheart finally dies ... something similar to the story of Nymeria: both the direwolf and the Queen. ... I don't know if this topic was ever brought up, but it just hit me now: Queen Nymeria actually married a Dayne, an actual Sword of the Morning. What if Arya Stark marries Edric (Ned) Dayne after ASOIAF is said and done? Their future son becomes Sword of the Morning and gets Dawn, the sword that Ned Stark had temporarily. Ned Stark would actually be the grandfather of the future Sword of the Morning. I don't know how canon this is, but the short HBO animation suggested that a young Ned Stark aspired to be like Ser Arthur Dayne. I think Starfall and Winterfell were meant to be. I believe in the Ashara Dayne + Brandon Stark theory. But they both died, along with their daughter. Tragic story. How poetic and bittersweet if the Dayne/Stark relationship carries on through Edric Dayne and Arya Stark ... with a son named Eddard Dayne, the future Sword of the Morning?
  3. The Map Guy

    Who will narrate Winds of Winter?

    How about Peter Dinklage? TV Spoilers:
  4. The Map Guy

    f/Aegon's Fate, Reborn

    I was addressing this more symbolically than literal. It symbolically represents Jaime ... there is a SINGLE gauntlet there. Jaime is missing a hand and doesn't need two gauntlets. His golden hand could be his gauntlet. Hell, add some colorful gems to his golden hand and it will be Marvel's Thanos' Infinity Gauntlet! It can symbolize the destruction of the world ... or saving the world (my prediction). Jaime & Cersei as secret Targaryens is a pretty popular and convincing theory. Aside from what people have said for years, I added the Rhaegar Ruby Map Theory, Top Secret Theory and ADOS Endgame Theory to support A+J=J&C. I have one more I'll probably write later ... The Middlefinger Theory - The Revenge of the Rains of Castamere. This one, George takes some influence off the Simpsons cartoon lol. Anyways, I think George originally planned Jaime Targaryen-Lannister to be the last action hero against the ASOIAF Dark Sister Rebellion. Then George gave something similar for Cersei Targaryen-Lannister to do in ADWD-TWOW ... to end f/Aegon's Blackfyre Rebellion.
  5. The Map Guy

    f/Aegon's Fate, Reborn

    I found it ...... Book and TV discrepancies to hint at f/Aegon's fate. Ignore the first line of TV credits, GRRM was definitely helping these guys write this Season 2 episode:
  6. The Map Guy

    f/Aegon's Fate, Reborn

    Joffrey and Tommen ... and perhaps Jaime as a secret prince. I have mine at ADOS. Agreed, but if people paid attention to details, f/Aegon may be described as flawless, but he is not. He is too impatient, easily agitated, entitled, and over-confident. He is kind of a brat ... sort of how Joffrey was, but half as bad. Tyrion even compares him to Joffrey once. I don't know ... f/Aegon is over-confident. A Dance with Dragons - The Griffin Reborn Jon Connington did not let his fury show. "And did Homeless Harry try to persuade you to delay [the attack on Storm's End]?" "He did, actually," the prince said, "but I won't. Harry's an old maid, isn't he? You have the right of it, my lord. I want the attack to go ahead … with one change. I mean to lead it." I don't know how I would feel about that. Dany may have started out with just her family name, but she earned everything else. Everything f/Aegon has now was given to him on a gold platter. Dany and f/Aegon are on different leagues. f/Aegon hasn't earned anything. He hasn't faced real conflict yet. He did once when the stone-men attacked his boat ... and he froze! Tyrion had to rescue his ass.
  7. The Map Guy

    Do you like Feast and Dance?

    AFFC and ADWD are suppose to be read together. The fact that they were split by POV, it changes the dynamic a lot. If put together as it was intended, perhaps (as an example) a AFFC Brienne chapter was suppose to follow a ADWD Jon chapter. The original transition between the two chapters are suppose to be smooth, sharing similar themes, and it factors in to being a great single book. But nope, they were split. Its like ordering 2 pizza pies ... but when it arrives and you open both boxes, each pie is missing a half. It feels strange to have 2 half-pies ... we would be more satisfied with 1 full pie, and take the 2nd full pie in another delivery. The pizza man apologizes and promises the other halves are coming out soon ... but then you wait 6 years for the other two halves to be re-delivered. And as an apology, the pizza man throws in free extra slices along with the 2nd delivery (f/Aegon & JonCon ADWD plot as an added excuse to the Meereenese Knot!)
  8. The title of the Sword of the Morning = The title of the Black Panther in Marvel Comics! Ser Arthur Dayne = T'Challa Dawn = Vibranium Starfall = Wakanda The Smiling Knight = Achebe Kingswood Brotherhood = Achebe's forces rebelling in Wakanda Edric Dayne (future title holder of the Sword of the Morning) = Erik Killmonger (a titleholder of the Black Panther) I actually don't believe the last one is intentional, I just threw it out for fun since Edric & Erik sounds similar lol Also Ned Stark actually held Dawn for a little bit, and Edric "Ned" Dayne is named for Ned Stark (maybe?)
  9. The Map Guy

    f/Aegon's Fate, Reborn

    Unless I misread it, f/Aegon doesn't have a navy. The Golden Company is a land force and they were ferried in from Essos. I still don't know if Cersei is suppose to meet Euron, but I am 95% sure Euron's story involves Sam and Gilly. And Sam is due for a tragedy in his life ... bye bye Gilly. I guess we'll have to wait for the next book. Rhaegar doesn't have yellow hair, but the Lannisters do. Perhaps this passage is about the Lannisters and Maggy the Frog. Well Gilly is a secret-Targaryen and her grandfather is out for dragon-binding too. And Euron & Gilly happened to be in the same city, far far away from home. Maybe she's the female shadow figure in Aeron's TWOW dream. You and I have totally different interpretations of Mel's vision lol. I see this as Harrenhal and the God's Eye, where the "dark tide" is not from the lake/sea, but a tide of zombies. Skulls turning into mist are wights exploding cleanly.
  10. The Map Guy

    ASOIAF or Memory Sorrow and Thorn?

    You guys know there is already a Marya in ASOIAF ... Davos' wife. Anyways, did the original AGOT draft have Jon marrying Arya? Or just them liking each other? Arya is suppose to be the closest thing that reminds Ned of his sister Lyanna ... wolfsblood Perhaps in the original draft, GRRM was intending to get the R+L=J foreshadowing-ball rolling early
  11. The Map Guy

    f/Aegon's Fate, Reborn

    I guess ... but depends on what weapon Zombie Mountain uses. If he uses a long sword, perhaps he will cut Aegon's head off. But I like history repeating itself ... Robert Baratheon + warhammering Rhaegar + Gregor Clegane + destroying baby Aegon's head = unstoppable Zombie Mountain playing whack-a-mole with the Golden Company, (the elephants too ... whack-an-elephant! ) If Euron is in Oldtown, its kinda far from the action at King's Landing and Storm's End ... it may be a while for Euron & Cersei to meet, if they ever meet. In the meanwhile, there is a shorter direct path between King's Landing (Cersei & Terminator) and Storm's End (f/Aegon & JonCon). How convenient that there is a river in the between that path ... called the Wendwater (sounds like Pissswater Bend!) ... and how convenient that the location was a site of another failed Blackfrye Rebellion. Also I don't think f/Aegon is the Mummer's Dragon. The Mummer's Dragon was set up way before ADWD, and f/Aegon was written specially for ADWD 2011 after AFFC 2005. Mummer's Dragon can mean two things: an actor pretending to be a dragon ... or a dragon pretending in act I believe it is Bloodraven stuck in a tree like a clothed dragon stuck on a wooden pole (scarecrow!) ... pretending to be Bran's friend since AGOT 1996
  12. The Map Guy

    f/Aegon's Fate, Reborn

    Map Guy here and with some more crazies. Everyone has been wondering if Young Griff is the real Aegon, son of Rhaegar Targaryen & Elia Martell ... or just a pretender, like a Blackfrye pretender. My prediction: It doesn't matter! Young Griff is going to die early and in an embarrassing way. On the battlefield, our Aegon Targaryen re-born will meet Ser Gregor Clegane re-born ... and gets his head smashed! Again! Upon the sight of Ser Robert Strong, our over-confident Pisswater Prince will piss himself in the river and our Shy Maid will shy away at the moment of truth, dying a virgin. Tywin Lannister orders his dog Ser Gregor Clegane to kill Aegon as a baby. Cersei Lannister orders her dog Ser Robert Strong to kill Aegon the crybaby. Robert Baratheon smashes Rhaegar Targaryen with a warhammer. Robert Strong will smash Aegon Targaryen's head with a warhammer. Now to the book clues ... keywords: pissing, headaches, hammering, Shy Maid, unprepared, dogs, speechlessness/actionlessness, headlessness, dead flames (dead Targs) These keywords are used as foreshadowing/double meaning clues, hidden through Tyrion, JonCon and Young Griff: A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion I When he stirred again, his head felt like to burst and the ship was spinning round in dizzy circles, though the captain was insisting that they'd come to port. Tyrion told him to be quiet and kicked feebly as a huge bald sailor tucked him under one arm and carried him squirming to the hold, where an empty wine cask awaited him. It was a squat little cask, and a tight fit even for a dwarf. Tyrion pissed himself in his struggles, for all the good it did. He was crammed face-first into the cask with his knees pushed up against his ears. The stub of his nose itched horribly, but his arms were pinned so tightly that he could not reach to scratch it. A palanquin fit for a man of my stature, he thought as they hammered shut the lid. He could hear voices shouting as he was hoisted up. Every bounce cracked his head against the bottom of the cask. The world went round and round {GRRM re-using stories} as the cask rolled downward, then stopped with a crash that made him want to scream. Another cask slammed into his, and Tyrion bit his tongue. That was the longest journey he had ever taken, though it could not have lasted more than half an hour. He was lifted and lowered, rolled and stacked, upended and righted and rolled again. Through the wooden staves he heard men shouting, and once a horse whickered nearby. His stunted legs began to cramp, and soon hurt so badly that he forgot the hammering in his head. It ended as it had begun, with another roll that left him dizzy and more jouncing. Outside, strange voices were speaking in a tongue he did not know. Someone started pounding on the top of the cask and the lid cracked open suddenly. Light came flooding in, and cool air as well. Tyrion gasped greedily and tried to stand, but only managed to knock the cask over sideways and spill himself out onto a hard-packed earthen floor. Above him loomed a grotesque fat man with a forked yellow beard, holding a wooden mallet and an iron chisel {an image of a warhammer?}. His bedrobe was large enough to serve as a tourney pavilion, but its loosely knotted belt had come undone, exposing a huge white belly and a pair of heavy breasts that sagged like sacks of suet covered with coarse yellow hair. He reminded Tyrion of a dead sea cow that had once washed up in the caverns under Casterly Rock. The fat man looked down and smiled. "A drunken dwarf," he said, in the Common Tongue of Westeros. "A rotting sea cow." {You can say The Mountain as a walking corpse can be a rotting sea cow} Tyrion's mouth was full of blood. He spat it at the fat man's feet. [...] A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion III The dwarf's sudden silence went unnoticed, as Duck had begun to regale him with his own life story. His father had been an armorer at Bitterbridge, he said, so he had been born with the sound of steel ringing in his ears and had taken to swordplay at an early age. Such a large and likely lad drew the eye of old Lord Caswell, who offered him a place in his garrison, but the boy had wanted more. He watched Caswell's weakling son named a page, a squire, and finally a knight. "A weedy pinch-faced sneak, he was, but the old lord had four daughters and only the one son, so no one was allowed to say a word against him. T'other squires hardly dared to lay a finger on him in the yard." "You were not so timid, though." Tyrion could see where this tale was going easily enough. "My father made a longsword for me to mark my sixteenth nameday," said Duck, "but Lorent liked the look of it so much he took it for himself, and my bloody father never dared to tell him no. When I complained, Lorent told me to my face that my hand was made to hold a hammer, not a sword. So I went and got a hammer and beat him with it, till both his arms and half his ribs were broken. After that I had to leave the Reach, quick as it were. I made it across the water to the Golden Company. I did some smithing for a few years as a 'prentice, then Ser Harry Strickland took me on as squire. When Griff sent word downriver that he needed someone to help train his son to arms, Harry sent him me." A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion IV Only if we pray in the fashion of the Summer Isles. "No, but do give the Maiden a long, sweet kiss for me." Laughing, the septa walked to the prow of the boat. It was her custom to bathe in the river every morning. "Plainly, this boat was not named for you," Tyrion called as she disrobed. {Well who is the Shy Maid named for?} "The Mother and the Father made us in their image, Hugor. We should glory in our bodies, for they are the work of gods." The gods must have been drunk when they got to me. The dwarf watched Lemore slip into the water. The sight always made him hard. There was something wonderfully wicked about the thought of peeling the septa out of those chaste white robes and spreading her legs. Innocence despoiled, he thought … though Lemore was not near as innocent as she appeared. She had stretch marks on her belly that could only have come from childbirth. {Definitely not a maid} [...] The smell of the bacon cooking soon fetched Duck up from the hold. He sniffed over the brazier, received a swack from Ysilla's spoon, and went back to have his morning piss off the stern. Tyrion waddled over to join him. "Now here's a sight to see," he quipped as they were emptying their bladders, "a dwarf and a duck, making the mighty Rhoyne that much mightier." {pissing into a river} Yandry snorted in derision. "Mother Rhoyne has no need of your water, Yollo. She is the greatest river in the world." Tyrion shook off the last few drops. "Big enough to drown a dwarf, I grant you. The Mander is as broad, though. So is the Trident, near its mouth. The Blackwater runs deeper." "You do not know the river. Wait, and you will see." The bacon turned crisp, the biscuits golden brown. Young Griff stumbled up onto deck yawning. "Good morrow, all." The lad was shorter than Duck, but his lanky build suggested that he had not yet come into his full growth. This beardless boy could have any maiden in the Seven Kingdoms, blue hair or no. Those eyes of his would melt them. {But is Young Griff a maid himself?} Like his sire, Young Griff had blue eyes, but where the father's eyes were pale, the son's were dark. By lamplight they turned black, and in the light of dusk they seemed purple. His eyelashes were as long as any woman's. [...] When the bacon was gone, Duck punched Young Griff in the shoulder. "Time to raise some bruises. Swords today, I think." "Swords?" Young Griff grinned. "Swords will be sweet." Tyrion helped him dress for the bout, in heavy breeches, padded doublet, and a dinted suit of old steel plate. Ser Rolly shrugged into his mail and boiled leather. Both set helms upon their heads and chose blunted longswords from the bundle in the weapons chest. They set to on the afterdeck, having at each other lustily whilst the rest of the morning company looked on. When they fought with mace or blunted longaxe, Ser Rolly's greater size and strength would quickly overwhelm his charge; with swords the contests were more even. {Weakling! Young Griff is not trained for heavy blunt weapon fighting? What will happen if he had to fight someone with a warhammer?} Neither man had taken up a shield this morning, so it was a game of slash and parry, back and forth across the deck. The river rang to the sounds of their combat. Young Griff landed more blows, though Duck's were harder. After a while, the bigger man began to tire. His cuts came a little slower, a little lower. Young Griff turned them all and launched a furious attack that forced Ser Rolly back. When they reached the stern, the lad tied up their blades and slammed a shoulder into Duck, and the big man went into the river. He came up sputtering and cursing, bellowing for someone to fish him out before a 'snapper ate his privates. Tyrion tossed a line to him. "Ducks should swim better than that," he said as he and Yandry were hauling the knight back aboard the Shy Maid. [...] Geometry followed languages. There the boy was less adroit, but Haldon was a patient teacher, and Tyrion was able to make himself of use as well. He had learned the mysteries of squares and circles and triangles from his father's maesters at Casterly Rock, and they came back more quickly than he would have thought. By the time they turned to history, Young Griff was growing restive. {Careful now, history may repeat itself} "We were discussing the history of Volantis," Haldon said to him. "Can you tell Yollo the difference between a tiger and an elephant?" "Volantis is the oldest of the Nine Free Cities, first daughter of Valyria," the lad replied, in a bored tone. "After the Doom it pleased the Volantenes to consider themselves the heirs of the Freehold and rightful rulers of the world, but they were divided as to how dominion might best be achieved. The Old Blood favored the sword, while the merchants and moneylenders advocated trade. As they contended for rule of the city, the factions became known as the tigers and elephants, respectively. [...] "Malaquo is a tiger, Nyessos and Doniphos are elephants." "And what lesson can we draw from Volantene history?" "If you want to conquer the world, you best have dragons." Tyrion could not help but laugh. {Ha! You better get dragons then! Wait, you aren't going to Daenerys first?} [...] (Playing cyvasse) Tyrion almost grabbed his dragon but thought better of it. Last game he had brought her out too soon and lost her to a trebuchet. {Better keep your dragon back and not in front of the line!} "If we do meet these fabled pirates, I may join up with them. I'll tell them that my name is Hugor Halfmaester." He moved his light horse toward Haldon's mountains. Haldon answered with an elephant. "Hugor Halfwit would suit you better." "I only need half my wits to be a match for you." Tyrion moved up his heavy horse to support the light. "Perhaps you would care to wager on the outcome?" [...] Tyrion stretched a hand out for his dragon. It was three hours later when the little man finally crept back up on deck to empty his bladder. Duck was helping Yandry wrestle down the sail, while Ysilla took the tiller. The sun hung low above the reed-beds along the western bank, as the wind began to gust and rip. I need that skin of wine, the dwarf thought. His legs were cramped from squatting on that stool, and he felt so light-headed that he was lucky not to fall into the river. A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion V Young Griff did not seem to share his misgivings. "Let them try and trouble us, we'll show them what we're made of." {Cocky little guy huh?} "We are made of blood and bone, in the image of the Father {way to humble him Lemore!} and the Mother," said Septa Lemore. "Make no vainglorious boasts, I beg you. Pride is a grievous sin. The stone men were proud as well, and the Shrouded Lord was proudest of them all." [...] "A turtle," the prince announced cheerfully. "A big 'snapper, that's all it was. {Oh snaps!}" He thrust his pole out ahead of them and pushed them away from a towering green obelisk. The fog clung to them, damp and chilly. A sunken temple loomed up out of the greyness as Yandry and Duck leaned upon their poles and paced slowly from prow to stern, pushing. They passed a marble stair that spiraled up from the mud and ended jaggedly in air. Beyond, half-seen, were other shapes: shattered spires, headless statues, trees with roots bigger than their boat. [...] Young Griff gave his father a stubborn look. "Lemore knows where her cabin is. I want to stay." "We are sworn to protect you," Lemore said softly. "I don't need to be protected. I can use a sword as well as Duck. I'm half a knight." "And half a boy," said Griff. "Do as you are told. Now." The youth cursed under his breath and flung his pole down onto the deck. The sound echoed queerly in the fog, and for a moment it was as if poles were falling around them. "Why should I run and hide? Haldon is staying, and Ysilla. Even Hugor." "Aye," said Tyrion, "but I'm small enough to hide behind a duck." He thrust half a dozen torches into the brazier's glowing coals and watched the oiled rags flare up. Don't stare at the fire, he told himself. The flames would leave him night blind. "You're a dwarf," Young Griff said scornfully. "My secret is revealed," Tyrion agreed. "Aye, I'm less than half of Haldon, and no one gives a mummer's fart whether I live or die." Least of all me. "You, though … you are everything." "Dwarf," said Griff, "I warned you—" A wail came shivering through the fog, faint and high. Lemore whirled, trembling. "Seven save us all." [...] Tyrion had no sooner exhaled than Young Griff grabbed hold of his arm. "What do you mean? I am everything? What did you mean by that? Why am I everything?" "Why," said Tyrion, "if the stone men had taken Yandry or Griff or our lovely Lemore, we would have grieved for them and gone on. Lose you, and this whole enterprise is undone, and all those years of feverish plotting by the cheesemonger and the eunuch will have been for naught … isn't that so?" {Thanks for the foreshadowing Tyrion} The boy looked to Griff. "He knows who I am." If I did not know before, I would now. By then the Shy Maid was well downstream of the Bridge of Dream. All that remained was a dwindling light astern, and soon enough that would be gone as well. {"Shy Maid", "Bridge of Dream", "gone as well" ... ouch GRRM} "You're Young Griff, son of Griff the sellsword," said Tyrion. "Or perhaps you are the Warrior in mortal guise. Let me take a closer look." He held up his torch, so that the light washed over Young Griff's face. "Leave off," Griff commanded, "or you will wish you had." [...] On the larboard side of the boat, a huge stone hand was visible just below the water. Two fingers broke the surface. How many of those are there? Tyrion wondered. A trickle of moisture ran down his spine and made him shudder. The Sorrows drifted by them. Peering through the mists, he glimpsed a broken spire, a headless hero, an ancient tree torn from the ground and upended, its huge roots twisting through the roof and windows of a broken dome. Why does all of this seem so familiar? ahead, the stone men on the span began to wail. A few were pointing down at them. "Haldon, get the prince below," commanded Griff. It was too late. The current had them in its teeth. They drifted inexorably toward the bridge. Yandry stabbed out with his pole to keep them from smashing into a pier. The thrust shoved them sideways, through a curtain of pale grey moss. Tyrion felt tendrils brush against his face, soft as a whore's fingers. Then there was a crash behind him, and the deck tilted so suddenly that he almost lost his feet and went pitching over the side. A stone man crashed down into the boat. He landed on the cabin roof, so heavily that the Shy Maid seemed to rock, and roared a word down at them in a tongue that Tyrion did not know. A second stone man followed, landing back beside the tiller. The weathered planks splintered beneath the impact, and Ysilla let out a shriek. [...] The leap had shattered one of his legs, and a jagged piece of pale bone jutted out through the rotted cloth of his breeches and the grey meat beneath. {These stonemen sound like walking corpses} The broken bone was speckled with brown blood, but still he lurched forward, reaching for Young Griff. His hand was grey and stiff, but blood oozed between his knuckles as he tried to close his fingers to grasp. The boy stood staring, as still as if he too were made of stone. His hand was on his sword hilt, but he seemed to have forgotten why. {Tyrion: Don't freeze. Aegon: I never freeze! Tyrion: You froze.} Tyrion kicked the lad's leg out from under him and leapt over him when he fell, thrusting his torch into the stone man's face to send him stumbling backwards on his shattered leg, flailing at the flames with stiff grey hands. The dwarf waddled after him, slashing with the torch, jabbing it at the stone man's eyes. A little farther. Back, one more step, another. They were at the edge of the deck when the creature rushed him, grabbed the torch, and ripped it from his hands. Bugger me, thought Tyrion. The stone man flung the torch away. There was a soft hiss as the black waters quenched the flames. The stone man howled. He had been a Summer Islander, before; his jaw and half his cheek had turned to stone, but his skin was black as midnight where it was not grey. Where he had grasped the torch, his skin had cracked and split. Blood was seeping from his knuckles though he did not seem to feel it. That was some small mercy, Tyrion supposed. Though mortal, greyscale was supposedly not painful. [...] "Stand aside!" someone shouted, far away, and another voice said, "The prince! Protect the boy!" The stone man staggered forward, his hands outstretched and grasping. Tyrion drove a shoulder into him. It felt like slamming into a castle wall, but this castle stood upon a shattered leg. The stone man went over backwards, grabbing hold of Tyrion as he fell. They hit the river with a towering splash, and Mother Rhoyne swallowed up the two of them. The sudden cold hit Tyrion like a hammer. As he sank he felt a stone hand fumbling at his face. Another closed around his arm, dragging him down into darkness. Blind, his nose full of river, choking, sinking, he kicked and twisted and fought to pry the clutching fingers off his arm, but the stone fingers were unyielding. Air bubbled from his lips. The world was black and growing blacker. He could not breathe. A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion VI The square was dominated by a white marble statue of a headless man in impossibly ornate armor, astride a warhorse similarly arrayed. "Who might that be?" wondered Tyrion. "Triarch Horonno. A Volantene hero from the Century of Blood. He was returned as triarch every year for forty years, until he wearied of elections and declared himself triarch for life. The Volantenes were not amused. He was put to death soon after. Tied between two elephants and torn in half." "His statue seems to lack a head." [...] (Playing cyvasse & losing) The rest was slaughter, though the dwarf held on another dozen moves. "The time has come for bitter tears," Qavo said at last, scooping up the pile of silver. "Another game?" "No need," said Haldon. "My dwarf has had his lesson in humility. I think it is best we get back to our boat." {Learn some humility Aegon and go back to Essos!} A Dance with Dragons - The Lost Lord She shrugged. "My lord, wouldn't it be safer to leave the boy here aboard the boat?" "Safer, yes. Wiser, no. He is a man grown now, and this is the road that he was born to walk." Griff had no patience for this quibbling. He was sick of hiding, sick of waiting, sick of caution. I do not have time enough for caution. "We have gone to great lengths to keep Prince Aegon hidden all these years," Lemore reminded him. "The time will come for him to wash his hair and declare himself, I know, but that time is not now. Not to a camp of sellswords." "If Harry Strickland means him ill, hiding him on the Shy Maid will not protect him. Strickland has ten thousand swords at his command. We have Duck. Aegon is all that could be wanted in a prince. They need to see that, Strickland and the rest. These are his own men." "His because they're bought and paid for. Ten thousand armed strangers, plus hangers-on and camp followers. All it takes is one to bring us all to ruin. If Hugor's head was worth a lord's honors, how much will Cersei Lannister pay for the rightful heir to the Iron Throne? You do not know these men, my lord. It has been a dozen years since you last rode with the Golden Company, and your old friend is dead." Blackheart. Myles Toyne had been so full of life the last time Griff had left him, it was hard to accept that he was gone. A golden skull atop a pole, and Homeless Harry Strickland in his place. Lemore was not wrong, he knew. Whatever their sires or their grandsires might have been back in Westeros before their exile, the men of the Golden Company were sellswords now, and no sellsword could be trusted. Even so … [...] "Illyrio could not have been expected to know that the girl would choose to remain at Slaver's Bay." "No more than he knew that the Beggar King would die young, {Aegonville - Forever Young} or that Khal Drogo would follow him into the grave. Very little of what the fat man has anticipated has come to pass." Griff slapped the hilt of his longsword with a gloved hand. "I have danced to the fat man's pipes for years, Lemore. What has it availed us? The prince is a man grown. His time is—" "Griff," Yandry called loudly, above the clanging of the mummers' bell. "It's Haldon." [...] "Bring the boy," Griff told Lemore. "See that he's ready." "As you say," she answered, unhappily. So be it. He had grown fond of Lemore, but that did not mean he required her approval. Her task had been to instruct the prince in the doctrines of the Faith, and she had done that. No amount of prayer would put him on the Iron Throne, however. That was Griff's task. He had failed Prince Rhaegar once. He would not fail his son, not whilst life remained in his body {JonCon is going to die trying, but doesn't mean he'll succeed in his goal}. [...] "Soon enough." Griff would be glad to go back to his own true colors too, though his once red hair had gone to grey. He clapped the lad on the shoulder. "Shall we go? Your army awaits your coming." "I like the sound of that. My army." A smile flashed across his face, then vanished. "Are they, though? They're sellswords. Yollo warned me to trust no one." [...] "It's worse than that, you bugger," said Franklyn Flowers. "They knighted me as well." He clasped Griff by the forearm, pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. "You look awful, even for a man's been dead a dozen years. Blue hair, is it? When Harry said you'd be turning up, I almost shit myself. And Haldon, you icy cunt, good to see you too. Still have that stick up your arse?" He turned to Young Griff. "And this would be …" [...] His words came as no surprise to Griff. Harry Strickland had always been a genial man, better at hammering out contracts than at hammering on foes. {Better not find a foe with a hammer on the battlefield} He had a nose for gold, but whether he had the belly for battle was another question. "There is the land route," suggested Franklyn Flowers. "The demon road is death. We will lose half the company to desertion if we attempt that march, and bury half of those who remain beside the road. It grieves me to say it, but Magister Illyrio and his friends may have been unwise to put so much hope on this child queen." No, thought Griff, but they were most unwise to put their hopes on you. And then Prince Aegon spoke. "Then put your hopes on me," he said. "Daenerys is Prince Rhaegar's sister, but I am Rhaegar's son. I am the only dragon that you need." Griff put a black-gloved hand upon Prince Aegon's shoulder. "Spoken boldly," he said, "but think what you are saying." "I have," the lad insisted. "Why should I go running to my aunt as if I were a beggar? My claim is better than her own. Let her come to me … in Westeros." Franklyn Flowers laughed. "I like it. Sail west, not east. Leave the little queen to her olives and seat Prince Aegon upon the Iron Throne. The boy has stones, give him that." The captain-general looked as if someone had slapped his face. "Has the sun curdled your brains, Flowers? We need the girl. We need the marriage. If Daenerys accepts our princeling and takes him for her consort, the Seven Kingdoms will do the same. Without her, the lords will only mock his claim and brand him a fraud and a pretender. And how do you propose to get to Westeros? You heard Lysono. There are no ships to be had." [...] "Which plan?" said Tristan Rivers. "The fat man's plan? The one that changes every time the moon turns? First Viserys Targaryen was to join us with fifty thousand Dothraki screamers at his back. Then the Beggar King was dead, and it was to be the sister, a pliable young child queen who was on her way to Pentos with three new-hatched dragons. Instead the girl turns up on Slaver's Bay and leaves a string of burning cities in her wake, and the fat man decides we should meet her by Volantis. Now that plan is in ruins as well. "I have had enough of Illyrio's plans. Robert Baratheon won the Iron Throne without the benefit of dragons. We can do the same. And if I am wrong and the realm does not rise for us, we can always retreat back across the narrow sea, as Bittersteel once did, and others after him." {probably going to happen} Strickland shook his head stubbornly. "The risk—" [...] "A Lannister woman," insisted the captain-general. "The bitch will have the Kingslayer at her side, count on that, and they will have all the wealth of Casterly Rock behind them. And Illyrio says this boy king is betrothed to the Tyrell girl, which means we must face the power of Highgarden as well." 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." "Prince Aegon," said Tristan Rivers, "we are your men. Is this your wish, that we sail west instead of east?" "It is," Aegon replied eagerly. "If my aunt wants Meereen, she's welcome to it. I will claim the Iron Throne by myself, with your swords and your allegiance. Move fast and strike hard, and we can win some easy victories before the Lannisters even know that we have landed. That will bring others to our cause." Rivers was smiling in approval. Others traded thoughtful looks. Then Peake said, "I would sooner die in Westeros than on the demon road," and Marq Mandrake chuckled and responded, "Me, I'd sooner live, win lands and some great castle," and Franklyn Flowers slapped his sword hilt and said, "So long as I can kill some Fossoways, I'm for it." When all of them began to speak at once, Griff knew the tide had turned. This is a side of Aegon I never saw before. It was not the prudent course, but he was tired of prudence, sick of secrets, weary of waiting. Win or lose, he would see Griffin's Roost again before he died, and be buried in the tomb beside his father's. {Well will Aegon get his head smashed like his father?} A Dance with Dragons - The Griffin Reborn 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. Griffin's Roost had been his, eventually, if only for a few short years. From here, Jon Connington had ruled broad lands extending many leagues to the west, north, and south, just as his father and his father's father had before him. But his father and his father's father had never lost their lands. He had. I rose too high, loved too hard, dared too much. I tried to grasp a star, overreached, and fell. [...] He had lost it all at Stoney Sept, in his arrogance. Robert Baratheon had been hiding somewhere in the town, wounded and alone. Jon Connington had known that, and he had also known that Ser Robert's head upon a spear would have put an end to the rebellion, then and there. He was young and full of pride. How not? King Aerys had named him Hand and given him an army, and he meant to prove himself worthy of that trust, of Rhaegar's love. He would slay the rebel lord himself and carve a place out for himself in all the histories of the Seven Kingdoms. And so he swept down on Stoney Sept, closed off the town, and began a search. His knights went house to house, smashed in every door, peered into every cellar. He had even sent men crawling through the sewers, yet somehow Robert still eluded him. The townsfolk were hiding him. They moved him from one secret bolt-hole to the next, always one step ahead of the king's men. The whole town was a nest of traitors. At the end they had the usurper hidden in a brothel. What sort of king was that, who would hide behind the skirts of women? {Aegon hiding behind Lemore?} Yet whilst the search dragged on, Eddard Stark and Hoster Tully came down upon the town with a rebel army. Bells and battle followed, and Robert emerged from his brothel with a blade in hand, and almost slew Jon on the steps of the old sept that gave the town its name. [...] He was not wrong, Jon Connington reflected, leaning on the battlements of his forebears. I wanted the glory of slaying Robert in single combat, and I did not want the name of butcher. So Robert escaped me and cut down Rhaegar on the Trident. "I failed the father," he said, "but I will not fail the son." {easy foreshadowing} [...] "Some of you will know me," he told them. "The rest will learn. I am your rightful lord, returned from exile. My enemies have told you I am dead. Those tales are false, as you can see. Serve me as faithfully as you have served my cousin, and no harm need come to any of you." [...] Ten thousand men had sailed from Volon Therys, with all their weapons, horses, elephants. Not quite half that number had turned up thus far on Westeros, at or near their intended landing site, a deserted stretch of coast on the edge of the rainwood … lands that Jon Connington knew well, as they had once been his. Only a few years ago, he would never have dared attempt a landing on Cape Wrath; the storm lords were too fiercely loyal to House Baratheon and to King Robert. But with both Robert and his brother Renly slain, everything was changed. Stannis was too harsh and cold a man to inspire much in the way of loyalty, even if he had not been half a world away, and the stormlands had little reason to love House Lannister. And Jon Connington was not without his own friends here. Some of the older lords will still remember me, and their sons will have heard the stories. And every man of them will know of Rhaegar, and his young son whose head was smashed against a cold stone wall. Fortunately his own ship had been one of the first to reach their destination. Then it had only been a matter of establishing a campsite, assembling his men as they came ashore and moving quickly, before the local lordlings had any inkling of their peril. And there the Golden Company had proved its mettle. The chaos that would inevitably have delayed such a march with a hastily assembled host of household knights and local levies had been nowhere in evidence. These were the heirs of Bittersteel, and discipline was mother's milk to them. [...] "Good ransoms," said Homeless Harry, happily. "It is time we sent for Prince Aegon as well," Lord Jon announced. "He will be safer here behind the walls of Griffin's Roost than back at camp." {smart} "I'll send a rider," said Franklyn Flowers, "but the lad won't much like the idea of staying safe, I tell you that. He wants to be in the thick o' things." {stupid} [...] The prince arrived to join them four days later, riding at the head of a column of a hundred horse, with three elephants lumbering in his rear. Lady Lemore was with him, garbed once more in the white robes of a septa. Before them went Ser Rolly Duckfield, a snow-white cloak streaming from his shoulders. A solid man, and true, Connington thought as he watched Duck dismount, but not worthy of the Kingsguard. He had tried his best to dissuade the prince from giving Duckfield that cloak {chosing friends as Kingsguards? they better be more skilled at fighting than dying}, pointing out that the honor might best be held in reserve for warriors of greater renown whose fealty would add luster to their cause, and the younger sons of great lords whose support they would need in the coming struggle, but the boy would not be moved. "Duck will die for me if need be," he had said, "and that's all I require in my Kingsguard. The Kingslayer was a warrior of great renown, and the son of a great lord as well." At least I convinced him to leave the other six slots open, else Duck might have six ducklings trailing after him, each more blindingly adequate than the last. "Escort His Grace to my solar," he commanded. "At once." Prince Aegon Targaryen was not near as biddable as the boy Young Griff had been, however. The better part of an hour had passed before he finally turned up in the solar, with Duck at his side. "Lord Connington," he said, "I like your castle." "Your father's lands are beautiful," he said. His silvery hair was blowing in the wind, and his eyes were a deep purple, darker than this boy's. "As do I, Your Grace. Please, be seated. Ser Rolly, we'll have no further need of you for now." "No, I want Duck to stay." The prince sat. "We've been talking with Strickland and Flowers. They told us about this attack on Storm's End that you're planning." Jon Connington did not let his fury show. "And did Homeless Harry try to persuade you to delay it?" "He did, actually," the prince said, "but I won't. Harry's an old maid, isn't he? You have the right of it, my lord. I want the attack to go ahead … with one change. I mean to lead it." {Bold ... and with TWOW samplers, we know what happens. But why don't Aegon lead the next one, or the next one after that, or the next next next one?"} A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion XI "You take that up with her the next time she holds court," the pitmaster threw back at him. Even now, Penny did not suspect. When she spoke about the pit, her chief worry was that more people had not laughed. They would have pissed themselves laughing if the lions had been loosed {Tyrion convincing Aegon to go to Westeros and Cersei unleasing Zombie Mountain on him}, Tyrion almost told her. Instead he'd squeezed her shoulder. Penny came to a sudden halt. "We're going the wrong way. A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion XII Tyrion cocked his head. "Red ink?" "A tradition of the company," Inkpots explained. "There was a time when each new man wrote his name in his own blood, but as it happens, blood makes piss-poor ink." "Lannisters love tradition. {again we repeat history!} Lend me your knife." A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion XII "Hammer might be passed-out drunk," Kem cautioned. "Piss in his face. That'll wake him up." Snatch turned back to Tyrion and Penny. "We never had no bloody dwarfs before, but boys we never lacked for. Sons o' this whore or that one, little fools run off from home to have adventures, butt boys, squires, and the like. Some o' their shit might be small enough to fit imps. It's the shit they were wearing when they died, like as not, but I know that won't bother fuckers fierce as you two. Nine, was it?" He shook his head and walked away. Other Chapters: A Dance with Dragons - Jon IV Godry the Giantslayer guffawed. "I had forgotten that you northmen worship trees." "What sort of god lets himself be pissed upon by dogs {Clegane}?" asked Farring's crony Clayton Suggs. Jon chose to ignore them. "Your Grace, might I know if the Umbers have declared for you?" A Dance with Dragons - Cersei II The knight stood, turned, raised a hand. Two of his men stepped to the towering doors and pushed them open, and Cersei walked through them into the open air, blinking at the sunlight like a mole roused from its burrow. A gusty wind was blowing, and it set the bottom of her robe snapping and flapping at her legs. The morning air was thick with the old familiar stinks of King's Landing. She breathed in the scents of sour wine, bread baking, rotting fish and nightsoil, smoke and sweat and horse piss. No flower had ever smelled so sweet {Aegon never got de-flowered, him dying in his own piss is sweet to Cersei}. Huddled in her robe, Cersei paused atop the marble steps as the Warrior's Sons formed up around her. It came to her suddenly that she had stood in this very spot before, on the day Lord Eddard Stark had lost his head. That was not supposed to happen. Joff was supposed to spare his life and send him to the Wall. Stark's eldest son would have followed him as Lord of Winterfell, but Sansa would have stayed at court, a hostage. Varys and Littlefinger had worked out the terms, and Ned Stark had swallowed his precious honor and confessed his treason to save his daughter's empty little head. I would have made Sansa a good marriage. A Lannister marriage. Not Joff, of course, but Lancel might have suited, or one of his younger brothers. Petyr Baelish had offered to wed the girl himself, she recalled, but of course that was impossible; he was much too lowborn. If Joff had only done as he was told, Winterfell would never have gone to war, and Father would have dealt with Robert's brothers. A Dance with Dragons - The Kingbreaker "Yes, Your Worship." "Take Draqaz with you. One flagon of Arbor gold, and one of that sweet red. None of our yellow piss, thank you. And the next time I find my flagon dry, I may have to take a switch to those pretty pink cheeks of yours." The boy went running off, and the king turned back to Selmy. "I dreamed you found Daenerys." "Dreams can lie, Your Grace." A Dance with Dragons - The Dragontamer "One hopes," said Gerris. The big man looked out toward the terrace. "I knew it would rain," he said in a gloomy tone. "My bones were aching last night. They always ache before it rains. The dragons won't like this. Fire and water don't mix, and that's a fact. You get a good cookfire lit, blazing away nice, then it starts to piss down rain and next thing your wood is sodden and your flames are dead." Believe it or not ... I actually have more. But the thread is getting too long. I'll stop here and move on. Now to outside clues: After reviewing some Top Secret Theory sources, I have determined that Young Griff's current character and future fate is based on a few outside characters. I'll try not go into specifics since I got into trouble last time, but one influence is a modern-day boy band (and I can't picture George liking boy-bands). Another influence is an over-confident character in a movie that pretends to be something he is not. His goal is to get laid. He was caught twice. Facing death, he pisses himself ... both times. And he never got laid for his efforts. And c'mon! Young Griff's BFF is named DUCK! Both Young Griff and Duck are going to get their heads smashed! George is sending us on a wild Goose chase! For Fun: I mentioned in Reference & Homage that Ser Robert Strong is a Terminator! Where JonCon = John Connor! Robert Patrick was the T-1000 Terminator and Arnold "Strong" Schwarzenegger was the T-800 Terminator. Even though the good guys won in the film T2 ... Robert hammered the crap out of Arnie at the factory towards the end of the film ... perhaps we will see this again in TWOW where Robert = Robert-reborn hammering Arnie = Aegon-reborn? Did you know Lena Headley, actress to Cersei Lannister, is a Sarah Connor-reborn in the TV series Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles (before ADWD, 2008)? She has a pet Terminator in the TV show. I wonder if that affected GRRM's casting of GoT. According the A+J=J&C, Cersei would be Aegon's aunt ... out for nepoticide in TWOW! Did you know Emilia Clarke, actress to Daenerys Targaryen, is also a Sarah Connor-reborn in Terminator: Genisys (after ADWD, 2015). If Daenerys was the one to kill Aegon, that would be nepoticide too! The purpose of Aegon's story (besides probably being another fail Blackfrye Rebellion) is to get Daenerys the sword Blackfyre! Probably Arianne picks it up after Aegon gets his head smashed and brings it to Dorne. This is where Daenerys starts her invasion of Westeros: in the welcoming arms of Dorne. With the sword Blackfrye as a gift, and Doran claiming that the lemon tree in her Braavosi childhood home was from his family (Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy Theory!), it secures an alliance between Daenerys and the Martells! A Dance with Dragons - Tyrion III Outside, voices were speaking in a tongue he did not know. Tyrion swung his legs through the curtains and hopped to the ground, to find Magister Illyrio standing by the horses with two riders looming over him. Both wore shirts of worn leather beneath cloaks of dark brown wool, but their swords were sheathed and the fat man did not look to be in danger. "I need a piss," the dwarf announced. He waddled off the road, undid his breeches, and relieved himself into a tangle of thorns. It took quite a long time. "He pisses well, at least," a voice observed. Tyrion flicked the last drops off and tucked himself away. "Pissing is the least of my talents. You ought to see me shit." He turned to Magister Illyrio. "Are these two known to you, magister? They look like outlaws. Should I find my axe?" "Your axe?" exclaimed the larger of the riders, a brawny man with a shaggy beard and a shock of orange hair. "Did you hear that, Haldon? The little man wants to fight with us!" His companion was older, clean-shaved, with a lined ascetic face. His hair had been pulled back and tied in a knot behind his head. "Small men oft feel a need to prove their courage with unseemly boasts," he declared. "I doubt if he could kill a duck." Tyrion shrugged. "Fetch the duck." "If you insist." The rider glanced at his companion. The brawny man unsheathed a bastard sword. {Blackfrye is a bastard sword} "I'm Duck, you mouthy little pisspot." Oh, gods be good. "I had a smaller duck in mind." "I should gladly settle for a quieter one." The man called Haldon studied Tyrion with cool grey eyes before turning back to Illyrio. "You have some chests for us?" "And mules to carry them." "Mules are too slow. We have pack horses, we'll shift the chests to them. Duck, attend to that." "Why is it always Duck who attends to things?" The big man slipped his sword back in its sheath. "What do you attend to, Haldon? Who is the knight here, you or me?" Yet he stomped off toward the baggage mules all the same. "How fares our lad?" asked Illyrio as the chests were being secured. Tyrion counted six, oaken chests with iron hasps. Duck shifted them easily enough, hoisting them on one shoulder. "He is as tall as Griff now. Three days ago he knocked Duck into a horse trough." "I wasn't knocked. I fell in just to make him laugh." "Your ploy was a success," said Haldon. "I laughed myself." "There is a gift for the boy in one of the chests. Some candied ginger. {Blackfrye has a ruby/"candied ginger"} He was always fond of it." Illyrio sounded oddly sad. "I thought I might continue on to Ghoyan Drohe with you. A farewell feast before you start downriver …" [...] "It's just armor," said Duck, with a shrug. "Clothing as well," Haldon broke in. "Court clothes, for all our party. Fine woolens, velvets, silken cloaks. One does not come before a queen looking shabby … nor empty-handed. The magister has been kind enough to provide us with suitable gifts." Also Varys killing Kevan was a mistake for Aegon. Kevan was going to send Cersei back to Casterly Rock with Ser Robert Strong. Now that Kevan is murdered by Varys, Cersei will stay in King's Landing and then unleashes her dog. After Aegon dies, Varys would probably just sneak back into the Small Council and pretended he wasn't involved with any of it lol. Anyways sorry if I pissed off any f/Aegon fans ... but when the moment of truth arrives, he's gonna stop ... and then its hammer time.
  13. The Map Guy

    Songs that Make Us Think of A Song of Ice and Fire

    Cersei Lannister Natalie Imbruglia - Torn I thought I saw a man brought to life [Ser Robert Strong?] He was warm, he came around like he was dignified He showed me what it was to cry Well you couldn't be that man I adored [fallout with Jaime? Jaime burning her letter?] You don't seem to know, don't seem to care What your heart is for No, I don't know him anymore There's nothin' where we used to lie Conversation has run dry That's what's going on Nothing's fine, I'm torn I'm all out of faith [Faith of the Seven?] This is how I feel, I'm cold and I am shamed [Shame! Shame! Shame!] Lying naked on the floor [Atonement?] Illusion never changed [Paranoia?] Into something real Wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn You're a little late I'm already torn So I guess the fortune teller's right [Maggy?] I should have seen just what was there And not some holy light But you crawled beneath my veins and now I don't care, I have no luck [her own plans working against her] I don't miss it all that much There's just so many things That I can't touch, I'm torn I'm all out of faith This is how I feel, I'm cold and I am shamed Lying naked on the floor Illusion never changed Into something real I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn You're a little late I'm already torn Torn There's nothing where he used to lie My inspiration has run dry [I guess GRRM needed some inspiration for AFFC & ADWD] And that's what is goin' on Nothin's right, I'm torn I'm all out of faith This is how I feel I'm cold and I am shamed Lying naked on the floor Illusion never changed Into something real I'm wide awake and I can see the perfect sky is torn I'm all out of faith This is how I feel, I'm cold and I'm ashamed Bound and broken on the floor You're a little late I'm already torn Torn Torn I guess in the music video, the dude is Jaime Lannister. Perhaps the first short dude that popped up behind Jaime is Tyrion lol! Any believers in A+J=J&C twins theory? I wonder what a Targaryen-Lannister sigil would look like? Perhaps a golden dragon on a black field? I really like Natalie's t-shirt.
  14. The Map Guy

    A Bittersweet ending?

    Steward: "It’s all we have left for the rest of winter." LC Dolorous Edd: "Alright boys, we have to leave our defenses and take our fight to the Others! I was told once that 'the night is dark and full of turnips.' Let's go get them!!"