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Fool Stands On Giant’s Toe

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  1. My older brother told me I couldn’t play with him and his friends because it was Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. I had to just watch and wonder why they rolled dice to hit tacos. (Tacos=THAC0) I had to contend myself with their old regular D&D books. Dreaming of when I’d be cool enough for Advanced. Thank you for the memory.
  2. "Dead is dead." I do not want to know this. "Brandon was different from his brother, wasn't he? He had blood in his veins instead of cold water. More like me." "Brandon was nothing like you." "And there's my grandfather, Lord Rickard, who was beheaded by Mad King Aerys. His daughter Lyanna and his son Brandon are in the tombs beside him. Not me, another Brandon, my father's brother. They're not supposed to have statues, that's only for the lords and the kings, but my father loved them so much he had them done." "The maid's a fair one," Osha said.
  3. Only two lived to ride away… Hmmm.. What if we try a thought experiment. Lets say that we have a total of 10 combatants and 2 are alive. Any 2 out of the 10. The other 8 are dead. Those 8 could still ride away. They would just be hosting a dead body. We got dead that walk, skin changers, and glamours in the story so maybe? "The finest knight I ever saw was Ser Arthur Dayne, who fought with a blade called Dawn, forged from the heart of a fallen star. They called him the Sword of the Morning, and he would have killed me but for Howland Reed." Father had gotten sad then, and he would say no more. Bran wished he had asked him what he meant. People have pointed this out. And these were no shadows; their faces burned clear, even now. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, had a sad smile on his lips. The hilt of the greatsword Dawn poked up over his right shoulder. Ser Oswell Whent was on one knee, sharpening his blade with a whetstone. Across his white-enameled helm, the black bat of his House spread its wings. Between them stood fierce old Ser Gerold Hightower, the White Bull, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Catelyn found her husband beneath the weirwood, seated on a moss-covered stone. The greatsword Icewas across his lap, and he was cleaning the blade in those waters black as night. A thousand years of humus lay thick upon the godswood floor, swallowing the sound of her feet, but the red eyes of the weirwood seemed to follow her as she came. "Ned," she called softly. He lifted his head to look at her. "Catelyn," he said. His voice was distant and formal. "Where are the children?" Cat gets her red hair from her crazy Whent blood When the shadows moved, it looked for an instant as if the dead were rising as well. Lyanna and Brandon, Lord Rickard Stark their father, Lord Edwyle hisfather, Lord Willam and his brother Artos the Implacable, Lord Donnor and Lord Beron and Lord Rodwell, one-eyed Lord Jonnel, Lord Barth and Lord Brandon and Lord Cregan who had fought the Dragonknight. On their stone chairs they sat with stone wolves at their feet. This was where they came when the warmth had seeped out of their bodies; this was the dark hall of the dead, where the living feared to tread. … but then somehow he was back at Winterfell again, in the godswood looking down upon his father. Lord Eddard seemed much younger this time. Hishair was brown, with no hint of grey in it, his head bowed. "… let them grow up close as brothers, with only love between them," he prayed, "and let my lady wife find it in her heart to forgive …" "Father." Bran's voice was a whisper in the wind, a rustle in the leaves. "Father, it's me. It's Bran. Brandon." What if Howland snatched the souls and seeded them into a new born baby? 6 children has Ned Stark. 2 children has Eddard Stark? All fun combinations and stuff can be found some better than others.
  4. Bah! Never thought that. You’d think the Martells Would several different kinds considering their wealth. How many VS weapons in the south just Dawn?
  5. You would think there would be more spears. I gues daggers could be converted back and forth. Is it just the “stigma” of owning a speaR? So much cheaper
  6. "Go with them, Silver Lady," Mirri Maz Duur told her. "I will stay," Dany said. "The man took me under the stars and gave life to the child inside me. I will not leave him." "You must. Once I begin to sing, no one must enter this tent. My song will wake powers old and dark. The dead will dance here this night. No living man must look on them." Then she saw. Her mask is made of starlight. "Remember who you are, Daenerys," the stars whispered in a woman's voice. "The dragons know. Do you?" The next morning she woke stiff and sore and aching, with ants crawling on her arms and legs and face. When she realized what they were, she kicked aside the stalks of dry brown grass that had served as her bed and blanket and struggled to her feet. She had bites all over her, little red bumps, itchy and inflamed. Where did all the ants come from? Dany brushed them from her arms and legs and belly. She ran a hand across her stubbly scalp where her hair had burned away, and felt more ants on her head, and one crawling down the back of her neck. She knocked them off and crushed them under her bare feet. There were so many … "It is such a long way," she complained. "I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl." No. You are the blood of the dragon. The whispering was growing fainter, as if Ser Jorah were falling farther behind. Dragons plant no trees. Rememberthat. Remember who you are, what you were made to be. Remember your words. "Fire and Blood," Daenerys told the swaying grass.
  7. Lady of the leaves a riverland small folk collaborator of the brotherhood without banners? To big for my small mind to work it. She’s still suspicious.
  8. Eddard GoT 10 Ned's wraiths moved up beside him, with shadow swords in hand. They were seven against three. 1. seven vs. three. 2. Ned’s wraiths ? …. They had been seven against three, yet only two had lived to ride away; Eddard Stark himself and the little crannogman, Howland Reed. He did not think it omened well that he should dream that dream again after so many years. 1. Seven vs. three. 2. Only two lived to ride away. Two of the seven lived to ride away? Did some walk or stay? 3. This is a dream of a dream.* Eddard GoT 9 Ned began to drag himself through the mud, gritting his teeth at the agony in his leg. It seemed to take years. Faces watched from candlelit windows, and people began to emerge from alleys and doors, but no one moved to help. Littlefinger and the City Watch found him there in the street, cradling Jory Cassel's body in his arms. Does this appear like a very emotional reaction to jorys death? Cradling Jory like his own child or sibling? 1. Seemed to take years to get to Jory. 2. Found him there. Is this a frame story of Lyanna? Are all the questions we have of the past reflected in the plot/actions of future characters/descendants? …. "I gave them over to the silent sisters, to be sent north to Winterfell. Jory would want to lie beside his grandfather. The bones going North of Jory Cassel. Look up castles as a chess term. Here’s what “castling into” means. castling into it A situation where one side castles and a result is that the king is in more danger at the destination than on the initial square, either immediately or because lines and diagonals can be more readily opened against it. "Why would anyone kill Jory?"-Bran to Rob Stark. Now think of castling and Casterly Rock. What may that mean for Aerys or Rheagar? He stared down at his hands, as if he did not quite know what they were. "I was always strong … no one could stand before me, no one. How do you fight someone if you can't hit them?" Confused, the king shook his head. "Rhaegar … Rhaegar won, damn him. I killed him, Ned, I drove the spike right through that black armor into his black heart, and he died at my feet. They made up songs about it. Yet somehow he still won. He has Lyanna now, and I have her." The king drained his cup. Casterly Rock or Castling Rook? *3 This is a dream of a dream. We are shown examples of dreams but not as we know them. The dreamers are in another’s mind. Usually an animal. We know it is possible to “worg” a human. How would it appear if someone attempted to “worg” you wile sleeping? The king heard him. "You stiff-necked fool," he muttered, "too proud to listen. Can you eat pride, Stark? Will honor shield your children?" Cracks ran down his face, fissures opening in the flesh, and he reached up and ripped the mask away. It was not Robert at all; it was Littlefinger, grinning, mocking him. When he opened his mouth to speak, his lies turned to pale grey moths and took wing. Ned was half-asleep when the footsteps came down the hall. At first he thought he dreamt them; it had been so long since he had heard anything but the sound of his own voice. We also have the prologue of ADoD with six-skins. Can someone exist worging from one body to another? Why do Stark crypts have iron swords bared on their statues, a sign that is usually reserved for denying guest right? Why does the Hound teach mercy to the heart and Bron gives mercy to the brain? Why does the author choose words like worms or insects to describe when internal organs become external or shadows and magic? I know I should just give what I currently hold as an answer but I still have a lot of work and reading to do. There is a reason it takes years to write each book. One could take as much time or more to Read them. It’s not necessary to, but you may find a different version and reason for events that grows in its complexity. I could be wrong. I hope I am. It’s the joy of the discovery that keeps me reading.
  9. After that he remembered nothing. They had found him still holding her body, silent with grief. The little crannogman, Howland Reed, had taken her handfrom his. Ned could recall none of it. After that he remembers nothing. They found him. Holding her body. Howland took her from him. He recalls none of it. If he recalls none of it and remembers nothing, who told him where he was and what he was doing? Or else how would he know? The only supposed survivor is Howland. But “they” found him. Was he missing? Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life Ned remembers. When she gives up her hold. She holds Neds hand. Its all a fever dream. Maybe about another dream. Very confusing. The author doesn’t to give to much to early. More fun in the mystery. The story could be read so many ways and all enjoyable.
  10. The Fever river? Home of the Cranogmen? All speculation just thoughts wile we wait.
  11. . I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don't you see? Don't you SEE? "I was so," Arya said. "I watched you every second!" "Watching is not seeing, dead girl. The water dancer sees. Come, put down the sword, it is time for listening now." How could they have all been so blind? The truth was there in front of them all the time, written on the children's faces.
  12. Ned doesn't recall HR separating him from her dead body or the immediate aftermath of that (ie leaving the room, the tower etc). He does recall her death, the promises he made, etc. Its not that confusing really. He arrived in the room just before she died, she extracted some promises from him, then died, he went semi-catatonic from grief, Howland and someone else found the two of them and started sorting it out. Bran GoT “He had taken off Father's face, Bran thought, and donned the face of Lord Stark of Winterfell.” The hands from one to another and memory loss ,It just reminds me of warg possession. When a character has an inner monologue and refers to themselves in 3rd person, I like it not one spec.
  13. It may have to do with them being sheep and/or Andal blood. (Upstarts?) I think there is another reason why Tanda drags her “dimw witted” daughter around all the time. Lollys appears to see through glamours or faceless men. Not sure. Ive been meaning to dig into the Stokeworths again and reevaluate. She recognized her lone kidnapper Bron yea? It’s been some time so…
  14. You know at the end of the day Gregor Clegane's the only one who actually bother to sit down and feed the damn goat. whose the real monster? Ha!
  15. The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister's eyes. Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rosepetals spilling from her palm, dead and black. After that he remembered nothing. They had found him still holding her body, silent with grief. The little crannogman, Howland Reed, had taken her handfrom his. Ned could recall none of it. "I bring her flowers when I can," he said. "Lyanna was … fond of flowers." The fever, her palm dead and black, the exchanging of hands, and her fondness of flowers are a lot to look at. Then when you add in that “Ned could recall none of it” as this pov is recalling it, is just confusing. But fever may be the cause.
  16. I like the thought she was wearing Rheagars armor and went to speak to Robert. Everynight I kill him in my dreams.
  17. Someone will chop off her manhood and feed it to a goat
  18. I love these short,hairy, thick of brow, Ib men. At first I was like whalers, jerks! Then I became curious as to why they all chew the whale fat. This sparked my imagination. These sailors hunt the largest creatures of the sea. Who knows what things they may run afoul of. I hope we get to see an Ib merchantman. Euron is supposedly known around the isles of Ib. I wonder if he’s learned something of pig poop and fat oil.
  19. Catelyn could scarcely imagine what she might need that had not already been provided. The pavilion was larger than the common rooms of many an inn and furnished with every comfort: feather mattress and sleeping furs, a wood-and-copper tub large enough for two, braziers to keep off the night's chill, slung leather camp chairs, a writing table with quills and inkpot, bowls of peaches, plums, and pears, a flagon of wine with a set of matched silver cups, cedar chests packed full of Renly's clothing, books, maps, game boards, a high harp, a tall bow and a quiver of arrows, a pair of red-tailed hunting hawks, a vertible armory of fine weapons. He does not stint himself, this Renly, she thought as she looked about. Small wonder this host moves so slowly. Everything you need has been provided?(Small wonder this book writes so slowly?)((Host is another subject)) So where's the bread?" "Fuck, we need bowls, cups, spoons—" "No you don't." Rorge heaved the scalding hot broth across the table, full in their faces. Jaqen H'ghar did the same. Biter threw his kettles too, swinging them underarm so they spun across the dungeon, raining soup. One caught the captain in the temple as he tried to rise. He went down like a sack of sand and lay still. The rest were screaming in agony, praying, or trying to crawl off. Once freed, the captives stripped the dead guards of their weapons and darted up the steps with steel in hand. Their fellows crowded after them, bare-handed. They went swiftly, and with scarcely a word. None of them seemed quite so badly wounded as they had when Vargo Hoat had marched them through the gates of Harrenhal. "This of the soup, that was clever," the man Glover was saying. "I did not expect that. Was it Lord Hoat's idea?" Rorge began to laugh. He laughed so hard that snot flew out the hole where his nose had been. Biter sat on top of one of the dead men, holding a limp hand as he gnawed at the fingers. Bones cracked between his teeth. It’s taken me forever to see what little I think is being played. Almost every character is a part of the games,and playing their own game. Card games, board games, kissing game? (Wouldn’t it be funny if Vargo Hoat was playing the kissing game?), maybe even tic-tax-toe. The only reason I saw some of it is because I collect antique tarot’s cards. No idea if I am correct. I’m sure someone has posted it. Makes you think of why Rorge laughs and why was Rob so mad at his uncle Edmure for not following 0rders. This is no longer a game for two players, if ever it was. Stannis Baratheon and Lysa Arryn have fled beyond my reach, and the whispers say they are gathering swords around them. The Knight of Flowers writes Highgarden, urging his lord father to send his sister to court. The girl is a maid of fourteen, sweet and beautiful and tractable, and Lord Renly and Ser Loras intend that Robert should bed her, wed her, and make a new queen. Littlefinger … the gods only know whatgame Littlefinger is playing. The bold little boy with wild black hair and laughing eyes was a man grown now, one-and-twenty, and still he played his games. Look at me, I'm a king, Cressen thought sadly. Oh, Renly, Renly, dear sweet child, do you know what you are doing? And would you care if you did? . It is real, all of it, he thought, the wars, the intrigues, the great bloody game, and me in the center of it . . . me, the dwarf, the monster, the one they scorned and laughed at, but now I hold it all, the power, the city, the girl. This was what I was made for, and gods forgive me, but I do love it . . Maegor the Cruel decreed four levels of dungeons for his castle," Varys replied. "On the upper level, there are large cells where common criminals may be confined together. They have narrow windows set high in the walls. The second level has the smaller cells where highborn captives are held. They have no windows, but torches in the halls cast light through the bars. On the third level the cells are smaller and the doors are wood. The black cells, men call them. That was where you were kept, and Eddard Stark before you. But there is a level lower still. Once a man is taken down to the fourth level, he never sees the sun again, nor hears a human voice, nor breathes a breath free of agonizing pain. Maegor had the cells on the fourth level built for torment." They had reached the bottom of the steps. An unlighted door opened before them. "This is the fourth level. Give me your hand, my lord. It is safer to walk in darkness here. There are things you would not wish to see." Tyrion hung back a moment. Varys had already betrayed him once. Who knew what game the eunuch was playing? What answer does he want? Must I promise him gold we do not have? A highborn husband for his daughter's daughter? Lands, honors, titles? Lord Alester Florent had tried to play that game, and the king had burned him for it. The day had come. It was the hour of the wolf. Soon enough the sun would rise, and four thousand wildlings would come pouring through the Wall. Madness. Jon Snow ran his burned hand through his hair and wondered once again what he was doing. Once the gate was opened there would be no turning back. It should have been the Old Bear to treat with Tormund. It should have been Jaremy Rykker or Qhorin Halfhand or Denys Mallister or some other seasoned man. It should have been my uncle. It was too late for such misgivings, though. Every choice had its risks, every choice its consequences. He would play the game to its conclusion.
  20. Ser Bonifer Hasty and the Holy Hundred. 86 after battle of the Blackwater. They hold Harrenhall.
  21. Outside the armory, Ser Endrew Tarth was working with some raw recruits. They'd come in last night with Conwy, one of the wandering crows who roamed the Seven Kingdoms collecting men for the Wall. This new crop consisted of a greybeard leaning on a staff, two blond boys with the look of brothers, a foppish youth in soiled satin, a raggy man with a clubfoot, and some grinning loon who must have fancied himself a warrior. Ser Endrew was showing him the error of that presumption. He was a gentler master-at-arms than Ser Alliser Thorne had been, but his lessons would still raise bruises. Sam winced at every blow, but Jon Snow watched the swordplay closely.
  22. Anyone have a maker breaker board of Westeros? Not sure if it’s a thing
  23. How do I change my icon image for the little forum picture. Keeps saying to big. I can’t shrink it to 50
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