rice n gravy
New member
whhile looking up whos related to who i found this its pretty funny

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S.jR.;2846859 said:^^^^ Nice find, especially for those trying to figure out where certain houses and people fit in..
My problem with spoilers are people acting like they making guesses knowing full well what actually happens.. And guessing shit that's almost impossible to guess based on season 1.... Imma lmao if I see these people trying to claim credit as some kinda psychic when it "by chance" happens. That's all imma say about that.
“The Usurper wanted his head,” Illyrio told them. “Some trifling affront. He sold some
poachers to a Tyroshi slaver instead of giving them to the Night’s Watch. Absurd law. A
man should be able to do as he likes with his own chattel.”
“We won’t need his whole khalasar,” Viserys said. His fingers
toyed with the hilt of his borrowed blade, though Dany knew he had never used a sword
in earnest. “Ten thousand, that would be enough, I could sweep the Seven Kingdoms
with ten thousand Dothraki screamers.
The girl scrubbed her back and her feet and told her how lucky she was. “Drogo
is so rich that even his slaves wear golden collars. A hundred thousand men ride in his
khalasar, and his palace in Vaes Dothrak has two hundred rooms and doors of solid
silver.” There was more like that, so much more, what a handsome man the khal was, so
tall and fierce, fearless in battle, the best rider ever to mount a horse, a demon archer.
Daenerys said nothing.
The realm will rise for its rightful king. Tyrell,
Redwyne, Darry, Greyjoy, they have no more love for the Usurper than I do. The
Dornishmen burn to avenge Elia and her children. And the smallfolk will be with us.
They cry out for their king.” He looked at Illyrio anxiously. “They do, don’t they?”
“They are your people, and they love you well,” Magister Illyrio said amiably. “In
holdfasts all across the realm, men lift secret toasts to your health while women sew
dragon banners and hide them against the day of your return from across the water.” He
gave a massive shrug. “Or so my agents tell me.”
Ned had last seen the king nine years before during Balon Greyjoy’s rebellion,
when the stag and the direwolf had joined to end the pretensions of the self-proclaimed
King of the Iron Islands. Since the night they had stood side by side in Greyjoy’s fallen
stronghold, where Robert had accepted the rebel lord’s surrender and Ned had taken his
son Theon as hostage and ward,
Brandon had been twenty when he died, strangled by order of the Mad King Aerys
Targaryen only a few short days before he was to wed Catelyn Tully of Riverrun. His
father had been forced to watch him die. He was the true heir, the eldest, born to rule.
She did not speak, nor did the maester. They waited, quiet, while
Eddard Stark said a silent farewell to the home he loved. When he turned away from the
window at last, his voice was tired and full of melancholy, and moisture glittered faintly
in the corners of his eyes. “My father went south once, to answer the summons of a king.
He never came home again.”
Father frowned. “This is only a dead animal, Jory,” he said. Yet he seemed troubled.
Snow crunched under his boots as he moved around the body. “Do we know what killed
her?”
“There’s something in the throat,” Robb told him, proud to have found the answer before
his father even asked. “There, just under the jaw.”
His father knelt and groped under the beast’s head with his hand. He gave a yank and
held it up for all to see. A foot of shattered antler, tines snapped off, all wet with blood.
A sudden silence descended over the party. The men looked at the antler uneasily, and
no one dared to speak. Even Bran could sense their fear, though he did not understand.
His father tossed the antler to the side and cleansed his hands in the snow. “I’m
surprised she lived long enough to whelp,” he said.
“Would that I could,” Catelyn said. “The letter had other tidings. The king is riding to
Winterfell to seek you out.”
It took Ned a moment to comprehend her words, but when the understanding came, the
darkness left his eyes. “Robert is coming here?” When she nodded, a smile broke across
his face.
Catelyn wished she could share his joy. But she had heard the talk in the yards; a
direwolf dead in the snow, a broken antler in its throat. Dread coiled within her like a
snake, but she forced herself to smile at this man she loved, this man who put no faith in
signs.
The Tarlys were a family old in honor, bannermen to Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South. The eldest son of Lord Randyll Tarly, Samwell was born heir to rich lands, a strong keep and a storied two-handed greatsword named heartsbane, forged of Valyrian steel and passed down from father to son near five hundred years.
Whatever pride his lord father might have felt as Samwell's birth vanished as the boy grew up plump, soft and awkward. Save loved to listen to music and make his own songs, to wear soft velvets, to play in the castle kitchen beside the cooks, drinking in the rich smells as he snitched lemon cakes and blueberry tarts. His passions were books and kittens and dancing clumsy as he was. But he grew ill at the sight of blood, and wept to see even a chicken slaugtered. A dozen masters-at-arms came and went at Horn Hill, trying to turn Samwell into the knight his father wanted. The boy was cursed and caned, slapped and starved. One man had him sleep in his chainmail to make him more martial. Another dressed him in his mothers' clothing and paraded him through the bailey to shame him into valor. He only grew fatter and more frightened, until Lord Randyll's disappointment turned to anger and then to loathing. "One more time," Same confided, his vioce dropping from a whisper, "two men came to the castle, warlocks from Qarth with white skin and blue lips. They slaughtered a bull aurochs and made me bathe in the hot blood, but it didn't make me brave as they'd promised. I got sick and retched. Father had them scourged."
Finally after three girls in as many years, Lady Tarly gave her lord husband a second son. From that day, Lord Randyll ignored Sam, devoting all his time to the younger boy, a fierce, robust child more to his liking. Samwell had known several years of sweet peace with his music and his books.
Until the dawn of his fifteenth name day, when he had been awakeend to find his horse saddled and ready. Three men-at-arms had escorted him into a wood near Horn Hill, where his father was skinning a deer. "You are almost a man grown now, and my heir," Lord Randyll Tarly had told his eldest son, his long knife laying bare the carcass as he spoke. "You have given me no cause to disown you, but neither will I allow you to inherit the land and title that should be Dickon's. Heartsbane must go to a man strong enough to weild her, and you are not worthy to tough her hilt. So I have decided that you shall this day announce tha tyou wish to take the black. You will forsake all claim to your brother's inheritance and start north before evenfall.
"If you do not, then on the morrow we shall have a hunt, and somewhere in these woods your horse will stumble, and you will be thrown from the saddle to die...or so I will tell your mother. She has a woman's heart and finds it in her to cherish even you, and I have no wish to cause her pain. Please do not imagine that it will truly be that easy, should you think to defy me. Nothing would please me more than to hunt you down like the pig you are." His arms were red to the elbow as he laid the skinning knife aside. "So. There is your choice. The Night's Watch"-he reached inside the deer, ripped out its heart, and held it in his fist, red and dripping-"or this."
tru_m.a.c;2861677 said:Background on the strength of they Tygareans. The Lonious Monk, this is what I was hoping you would tell me.
Background on the houses that still favor the Tygareans:
More on the alliances within the kingdom:
S.jR.;2861756 said:Damn I'm not gonna lie I didn't even pick up on that one.
Crazy how I'm hype for 2012 already, can't wait til HBO starts with their GOAT promos for this show, again.
The Lonious Monk;2861807 said:Well, I couldn't have given you those answers. I only watch the show, never read the books. Kinda weird though, the Dothrakians seem to be a little more civilized in the books than in the show. There was no hint of Drogo having a palace at all.
tru_m.a.c;2861827 said:Lol I wouldn't go with "civilized" more so "organized brutality"
The book perfectly laid out the wedding scene with all the massacres. And its very descriptive about the dothrakian way of life.
The Lonious Monk;2861845 said:Nah I only mean civilized as in "city dwelling." In the show, they seem to be completely nomadic, where as if he has such a glamorous palace in the book, they much live an at least somewhat sedentary lifestyle from time to time.
"Unspeakable?" the king roared. "What Aerys did to your Brother Brandon was unspeakable. The way your lord father died, that was unspeakable. And Rhaegar...how many times do you think he raped your sister? How many hundreds of times?"
"I will kill every Targaryen I can get my hands on, until they are dead as their dragons and then I will piss on their graves."
“As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted,” Tyrion began, “there is a serious flaw in Littlefinger’s fable. Whatever you may believe of me, Lady Stark, I promise you this-I never bet against my family.”
“A hundred golden dragons on the Kingslayer,” Littlefinger announced loudly as Jaime Lannister entered the lists.
“Done,” Lord Rengly shouted back. “The Hound has a hungry look about him this morning.”
[Jest ensues and Jamie loses to the Hound]
“A pity the Imp is not here with us,” Lord Renly said. “I should have won twice as much.”
Ibex;2832388 said:Dragons trump everything, as soon as they get big, Starks, Lannisters, white walkers, or whomever else will become obsolete.....The Khaleesi holds all the power