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Rurik
Mar 5, 2010

Thief
Warrior
Gladiator
Grand Prince

Tony Danza Claus posted:

Oh my sweet summer child.
What do you know about Absolute loving?

E: dammit, I ruined the new page again!

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Chaka
Apr 20, 2011
Where do Absolute Fuckers go?

El Hefe
Oct 31, 2006

You coulda had a V8/
Instead of a tre-eight slug to yo' cranium/
I got six and I'm aimin' 'em/
Will I bust or keep you guessin'

crazypeltast52 posted:

So I updated this post with the quoted texts and moved deeper into the proto-bad thread. We are still before the time of the absolute fucker, but beneath the surface a dark rage is brewing. GRRM has just missed a deadline for finishing Dance, destroying expectations that it would be published in the fall of 2008.

A means of motivating the GRRM is discovered:


http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=2327492&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=128#post345439260

Little would he know what he would create and the true foulness of the GRRM was not yet known as we know it today, but I must wrap it in spoiler tags to protect the young minds of this thread.


http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=2327492&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=128#post345444593

Continuing onward, I discovered more of what came to be known as "horrible fan-fiction" in the guise of continuing the story should the GRRM perish to a pizza or three.


http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=2327492&userid=0&perpage=40&pagenumber=128#post345446596

It is unknown if these tales ever reached GRRM, but if they had, the yet unBad thread would have contributed to several of countless one-handed typing sessions responsible for the writing delays they had suffered thus far.

drat these two are excellent post more please.

Devorum
Jul 30, 2005

Tony Danza Claus posted:

Oh my sweet summer child.

Soon, the rage will build again and we will be summoned back to our home.

When the cold winds blow, and talk of naught else but pizza and football fills the Notablog...then these summer children will grow bitter and blow the Horn of Bummey to wake the Wild Cards from their slumber.

El Hefe posted:

drat these two are excellent post more please.

Soon enough you will hear the tales of Winnie the Pooh Targaryen, Geodude, and Sandor Clegane P.I.

And you will learn that in the grim darkness of the far future, there are only lemon cakes. Truly, that was a golden age of fan fiction.

Devorum fucked around with this message at 11:57 on Apr 19, 2012

bigmcgaffney
Apr 19, 2009
I have all the ones I wrote in a word document. Also in my last will and testament, with Gurm as the executor.

Rurik
Mar 5, 2010

Thief
Warrior
Gladiator
Grand Prince
You get all kinds of funny stuff after naming your CK2 characters after asoiaf:



Actually, my current game has some asoiaf level political intrigue going on right there. I used the new ruler editor dlc to modify the duke of Lancaster and made him Tywin of the house Lannister. His culture is still Saxon, but he couldn't stop the norman invasion and king Harold was deposed by William the Conqueror.

Tywin married and got three daughters, Cersei being the eldest. The names of the two others I don't remember and I just went with what the game proposed, because hey, what are the other Lannister girl names besides Cersei? I don't remember.

Anyway, Tywin of Lancaster led a plot with duke of York about lowering the crown authority of the kingdom of England. This was after William had made Tywin his marshal. When the plot matured and Tywin presented his ultimatum, William refused and his marshal declared war. Both sides were pretty even, but Tywin fell in battle and his lands were divided between his three daughters equally, because the duchy's succession law was agnatic-cognatic gavelkind.

So duchess Cersei the first of her name, duchess of Lancaster and countess of both Lancaster and Leicester had only two meagre counties in her demesne. Her both sisters were her vassals. At first I tried to plot to have my sisters killed, but not enough people were willing to join. The first sister's guardian, some bishop would've added whooping 40% to the plot's strength, but no matter what gifts 16-year-old Cersei gave him, he didn't want to join in a murder attempt against his 14-year-old ward.

Solution: I sent my marshal to the sister's county and threw her rear end in my jail. She lived perhaps five years there before dying and passing her title to Cersei. Cool. Then I sent my marshal to my other sister's land after she had turned 16 and gotten married. She could have had kids, so in order to get my lands back I had to prevent that. I tried to arrest her too, but the attempt failed and she rebelled against me. I put the rebel down and threw her in jail where she lived for perhaps 25 years before finally dying.

To ensure such problems wouldn't occur anymore I changed the succession law to agnatic-cognatic primogeniture. Everything goes to the eldest child, bitches. At that point I had already had several children: the eldest Myrcella, the eldest boy Joffrey, the middle boy Tommen and some girls and a boy in addition. I married them across the land to get nice alliances. Myrcella became duke of Normandy's wife and died of illness at the age of 30. Tommen died even younger a maimed cripple. But Joffrey is well. Really well.

You see, when he turned 16, I betrothed him to the 13-year-old duchess of Kent. When she turned 16, they married and he went to her court. Meanwhile king William had died and got succeeded by his son king Robert I the Lion. I betrothed one of my daughters to his son, prince Savec (or Salem or Savem or something like that). It took me years to notice they had no kids even though my daughter had the "attractive" trait. Meanwhile I had joined another plot to lower England's crown authority. This war went on for eleven years and the king of France participated on our side. During the war I noticed that prince Savec, heir to the throne of England had the worst trait in the game: inbred! -5% to fertility and lots of other penalties. Sorry daughter.

King Robert was in his 60s and had gotten wounded in the battle, so he promptly died. Enter king Savec the drooling idiot. Duchies of Northumberland and York declared wars of independence as did I. Duchess of Kent decided to declare war for the English throne, since apparently she had the claim! I get enough warscore, enforce my demands and become independent. I press my claim to a small Irish county and proceed to ask to join Kent's duchess' war, which she gladly accepts. Meanwhile king Savec, now known as Savec the Lame is also excommunicated. Team Duchess quickly subdues his forces and my daughter-in-law's command is pressed. She's now queen of England and my son Joffrey is king consort!

When I saved and stopped playing, they had already had a son. Little Aldred is my grandson, heir to my heir Joffrey and heir to his mother the queen. My realm is still independent - there's a large duchy of Lancaster between kingdoms of England and Scotland. I don't want to swear fealty to the queen, because she's Norman and the game has high chances of converting Norman and Saxon cultures into the English if they're in too close contact with each other. I played with the idea of swearing fealty to the Scottish, Norwegian, Danish or Swedish king or maybe the emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, but not now. Unless someone kills my grandson, the Lannisters will be kings of England within two generations.

e: oh, and Savec is now merely a duke of Bedford. And he hates me and his queen both.

Rurik fucked around with this message at 12:37 on Apr 19, 2012

Xiahou Dun
Jul 16, 2009

We shall dive down through black abysses... and in that lair of the Deep Ones we shall dwell amidst wonder and glory forever.



What loving game is that? It looks amazing.

my cat is norris
Mar 11, 2010

#onecallcat

Crusader Kings 2, I believe.

Blade_of_tyshalle
Jul 12, 2009

If you think that, along the way, you're not going to fail... you're blind.

There's no one I've ever met, no matter how successful they are, who hasn't said they had their failures along the way.

Devorum posted:

Soon enough you will hear the tales of Winnie the Pooh Targaryen, Geodude, and Sandor Clegane P.I.

Gregor Clegane, PI. GREGOR.

Sandor would actually be a good noir hero. He's tortured, gruff, has a heart of gold, and does his job well. Gregor is... less so.

Octy
Apr 1, 2010

People keep telling me to get CK2 and I keep forgetting, so thanks for reminding me so I can forget again.

Contra Calculus
Nov 6, 2009

Gravy Boat 2k
I need to loving get that game. I keep seeing it on steam and thinking "I should totally make a Berric Dondarrion ripoff."

Xiahou Dun
Jul 16, 2009

We shall dive down through black abysses... and in that lair of the Deep Ones we shall dwell amidst wonder and glory forever.



Fuuuuuck, want to play that so badly now. I have all this poo poo to do, and I'm going to be pissing and moaning now because I'd rather play that and drink beer.

And BoT, you should post all of GREGOR, P.I. because I think I missed one.

Contra Calculus
Nov 6, 2009

Gravy Boat 2k

Xiahou Dun posted:

Fuuuuuck, want to play that so badly now. I have all this poo poo to do, and I'm going to be pissing and moaning now because I'd rather play that and drink beer.

And BoT, you should post all of GREGOR, P.I. because I think I missed one.

I think this is it here:

quote:

A large office, for a large man. Filled with smoke, the air circles lazily as the ceiling fan whispers away through eternity. I sit at the lone desk, feet up, lights off, blinds closed. The only illumination leaks through the slats of the blinds, cutting solid blades of white fire through the room.

The door opens, the words painted on the frosted glass turning around so I can read them. “Clegane & Co. Licenced Killers”

My name is Gregor Clegane, and this is my office. I’m a murderer for hire, a tough guy, a heavy. People come to me with their problems, and I help out. When I was made a knight a long time ago, I took an oath. To care. To aid. To serve. Just because I don’t wear the armor anymore, doesn’t mean I’m not still a knight.

The woman walks in, legs the length of the Gold Road, and just as gorgeous. Her hair, black and curly, shimmering like a Myreenese swamp, framing her face just so, and she stops within the threshold.

“Are you Clegane?” Her voice murmurs across the air to me, a throaty rush that catches hold of my heart and brings it to a quickness.

“THAT ME” I reply, cool as ice.

“I have a job for you, mister. My old gambling partner ran off to Storm’s End with the haul we earned in King’s Landing. I need you find him and get him.”

“ME CAN KILL GOOD”

She smiles, and the sadness in that smile is enough to break my heart into a thousand pieces. “No, I need him alive. I want to ask him why he did it.”

“ME KNOW GUY, RAFF, HIM GOOD MAKING MEN TALK” I stand up and cross the room to stand within an inch of her. I was right. She smells as good as she looks. Like vanilla blossoming on a warm spring day.

“YOU PAY ME”

She looks startled, as if the thought of compensating me for the work I was to do had just slipped her mind. Women can be funny like that. Especially when they’re gorgeous like that.

“Of course, Clegane. I’ll give you one of every four stags in the haul.”

Firmly, “NO YOU PAY NOW”

I grab her around the waist, pulling her to me, and I’m amazed. She tastes like vanilla, too. Her lips press to mine, her breath turning hot and loud against my cheek. She pulls back and stares at me, questioning.

“OF ALL GIN JOINTS IN LANNISPORT, YOU WALK INTO MINE”

Another question rises to her lips, but I silence them with a violent blow to the face.

“HERE LOOKING AT YOU SWEET HEART”

She starts to scream, but I crush the breath in her throat before more than a squeak gets out. Throwing her to the ground, I grab the filing cabinet, swinging it one-handed above my head. I bring it down, once, twice, a third time. Her ribs snap, blood bursting from her mouth with each impact. I casually toss the cabinet to the side, kicking her bodily onto the couch, leaving her to die.

I grab my tabard and my cap, shrugging into them. Time to go find her guy and their fortune. I open the door, and turn back to her. There’s a small glimmer of conciousness left in her beautiful green eyes, and with a note of sorrow, I have to let her know what this departure means to me.

“AT LEAST WE ALWAYS HAVE PARRIS”

I close the door, and walk away.

edit: VVVV Well okay, jeeze. I'll let BoT post the rest of it cuz I don't know where it all is. We should go ahead and go with that one dude's suggestion and mail all our lovely fanfiction to gurm. Instead of saying "This is what happens when you gently caress with us," we should just leave a simple "HAVE A WILDCARDS CHRISTMAS" or something else cruelly ironic.

Contra Calculus fucked around with this message at 15:21 on Apr 19, 2012

Xiahou Dun
Jul 16, 2009

We shall dive down through black abysses... and in that lair of the Deep Ones we shall dwell amidst wonder and glory forever.



Dude, there were like 5 more after that.

Gregor gets all over everyone's poo poo.

Stay Safe
Sep 1, 2008

by FactsAreUseless
After watching the latest episode (where Greggor and Co. are looking for Gendry, decides to kill everyone instead), I am convinced Greggor would make a good private eye.

Drunkboxer
Jun 30, 2007
That was Amory Lorch you goofball.

Arnold of Soissons
Mar 4, 2011

by XyloJW

Dead Man Posting posted:

After watching the latest episode (where Greggor and Co. are looking for Gendry, decides to kill everyone instead), I am convinced Greggor would make a good private eye.

How did you think that was Greggor? Greggor won't show up until after they're at Harenhall.

Stay Safe
Sep 1, 2008

by FactsAreUseless
Yeah I was wrong. I thought HBO did another "Let's change this around so our viewers don't get confused" thing, but in my defense I was pretty drunk after watching a hockey game (then that episode after) and it was a dark scene.

Rurik
Mar 5, 2010

Thief
Warrior
Gladiator
Grand Prince

my cat is norris posted:

Crusader Kings 2, I believe.
Yeah, Crusader Kings 2. I highly recommend it to anyone who's interested in the Sims-esque medieval intrigue with incest and assassinations. It's a gurmy game.

El Hefe
Oct 31, 2006

You coulda had a V8/
Instead of a tre-eight slug to yo' cranium/
I got six and I'm aimin' 'em/
Will I bust or keep you guessin'

Dead Man Posting posted:

Yeah I was wrong. I thought HBO did another "Let's change this around so our viewers don't get confused" thing, but in my defense I was pretty drunk after watching a hockey game (then that episode after) and it was a dark scene.

He even says he's Amory Lorch dude.

Aciiiiiiiiiiiiiiid
Apr 19, 2012
Just read the Red Wedding. I'm normally a genre savvy guy but this loving series has got me 4 times, Ned, Bran+Rickon fakeout, Renly and now this, goddamnit. My motivation to keep going is just gone, I see the next chapter is Tyrions, should I just plow on?

The Anime Liker
Aug 8, 2009

by VideoGames

Aciiiiiiiiiiiiiiid posted:

Just read the Red Wedding. I'm normally a genre savvy guy but this loving series has got me 4 times, Ned, Bran+Rickon fakeout, Renly and now this, goddamnit. My motivation to keep going is just gone, I see the next chapter is Tyrions, should I just plow on?

Jaime gets an awkward boner for Brienne.

Of course you need to keep reading.

Stay Safe
Sep 1, 2008

by FactsAreUseless
I can't wait to read more of Zombie Cat, Lem and Co., Brienne and Jaime in the next boo-oh gently caress :smith:

The hanging that was in the epilogue of one of the books that featured this plot line was easily the most vivid in terms of imagery in the series.

Blade_of_tyshalle
Jul 12, 2009

If you think that, along the way, you're not going to fail... you're blind.

There's no one I've ever met, no matter how successful they are, who hasn't said they had their failures along the way.

Xiahou Dun posted:

And BoT, you should post all of GREGOR, P.I. because I think I missed one.

Sure. The continuing adventure of Ser Gregor Clegane, as you will.

quote:

It was midday, but the streets of King's Landing were pitch black. The clouds overhead were an angry face, glaring down at everyone, threatening to collapse into sudden noise and invasive light. As I approached the scene, the first few drops of rain had begun to fall.

King's Landing was crying.

The body lay in the alleyway, the tabard wrenched about his slashed throat, the dried blood turning wet once more. He looked young, too young for an end like this. I sighed. This kid reminded me of my brother. Innocent. Naive. Laid out prone on the ground.

The watchman in charge came over as I stood over the body, the rain spattering off his polished steel helm in sharp explosions, running down the gilding of the cheek guards. His vivid green eyes sat in shadow, in hollows. His jaw was unshaven, his lips cracked. He didn't look like a man who had been sleeping easily.

But who does, these days?

"You Clegane?" I nodded as he said my name. "Sorry to call you out here in this weather, ser. I came across this body less than a bell ago, and this was on his person." He holds out to me a card, waiting for my hand to remove it from his. I don't need to take it, I know what it says.

Ser Gregor Clegane, Annointed Knight, Licensed Private Eye.

My card. My name. But this kid, I don't know him at all. Who was he? Why did he have my card?

"JUST YOU HERE" I ask softly, not willing to meet the eyes of this haunted man. He nods, kneeling beside the body, and I can see he wants to scream his rage at the world for what's happened here. I can't really blame him. "THAT GOOD"

My thickly muscled leg lashes out, slamming his face into the wall of the filthy tenement we've been in the lee of. His mouth gapes like a fish on the dock, stunned. I wrap my right hand around the back of his head, pressing his face against the wall with slow, irresistable force. He struggles and tries to call out, but I silence him with repeated blows to the torso, my arm moving mere inches with each hit but delivering devastating impacts regardless.

I crush his skull to the stonework, fracturing it, splitting it along the sutures of bone, using his brain as glue to hold him against the wall while I get to work searching the body of the young man. I find a sealed scroll, covered in black wax, in his now ripped-apart anus.

I've always had big hands. Clumsy hands. Finesse is for those who can afford it.

I get up to leave the scene, and the watchman's corpse peels off the wall, the rain having loosened enough of the makeshift adhesive. It limply bends backwards, flopping across the boy. The man's hand opens as it splashes into a puddle which wasn't there two minutes ago. The card falls into the water, and I pick it up. These men died to get me on this case. I would not let their sacrifices go unanswered.

***

I had recognized the sigil on the boy's tabard, and found myself at the Man of the Black Hill, a tavern. I hadn't been there since quitting the force to open my own office. Memories of a better time came flooding back, of when promises meant something. When smiles weren't always hiding daggers.

It hadn't changed much. Poxy whores rutting in the rear rooms, sour casks of ale stinking up the room, tables stained with vomit and ale. It had been a while, but I was pretty sure the old man choking on his own blood and teeth behind the bar was the same, too. I took a mouthful of watery ale from my cup, willfully ignoring what was floating in it. A source of protein, maybe, but I didn't want to think about where it had been before my drink.

I leaned over the bar, grabbed a handful of the barkeep's shirt and hauled him to his feet. "WHEN SEE BOY" I muttered, keeping my voice down in case someone was listening in. There had been a conspicuous empty space around me since I sat down, the rest of the patrons having retreated to the booths on the walls or up the stairs to their lice-infested rooms. But you can never be too careful in this part of town.

The man mewled at me, a coarsely-ground paste of blood and bone dribbling out of his mouth. From the shape of his face, I suspected his jaw had been broken, if not a cheekbone and maybe even the eyesocket. He wasn't making any sense, delirious with pain as he was, so I laid him out on the bar and tried to bring him back around with a draught of ale.

"WHEN SEE BOY" I asked again, pouring the ale over a cloth I had stretched taut across his shattered mouth and nose. "GINGER, AGE OF THREE AND TEN, WHEN SEE BOY" I could see the awareness creeping back into his eyes, the knowledge locked within. A hand came feebly into my field of view, two fingers stretched out. "TWO DAYS" A weak nod, and a muffled scream as the motion jostled his fragmented jaw. His eyes rolled up into his head. Shock.

I growled in frustration and hammered my fist down, a wet snapping noise making me check my hand for injuries. Nothing looked or felt broken, which was good. I poured myself another cup, since the barkeep clearly wasn't up to it. An elderly woman was screaming and sobbing in the corner, but when I looked casually over to see what the problem was, she didn't appear to be in trouble. Must have been that time of the month. Women.

I must have sat there for a while, musing into my cup, for when I finally noticed the man sitting to my right, the tavern was deserted. He was dressed in red and gold, his shaggy blond hair pooling across his shoulders, dark green eyes watching me.

Lannister.

"Hey, Greg." Jaime Lannister's face formed an easy smile as he sipped from a decanter of white wine. "Fancy running into you in a dive like this."

***

The Maesters had told me once about spinning clouds in some far away lands. Massive vorticies of air, a combination of warm and cold air moving past each other and the rotation of the world. Pure power, capable of shredding the most stalwart city into rubble, obliterating lives with casual ease. I've always wanted to see one. They sound dangerous and exciting.

But now the room I found myself in was spinning, spinning like those terrible cyclones in distant countries. A frothing mess, brown and black. The ale began to churn in my gut, threatening to come spilling forth like a waterspout. A lone speck of brilliant green, utterly stationary, gave me succor, safe harbour in this storm. The world settled around me, the tide receding back to the depths.

From the green came yellow, then white, now the tanned skin of a man who spent a good amount of time outside. Jaime Lannister, as I brought my faculties back from the brink, raised one perfect eyebrow. "Too much to drink?"

I pressed the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger, wishing him to go away. I made an effort to do so lightly, as I had shattered my sinuses this way before.

Jaime poured himself another glass from the carafe. "Sometimes I like to come by these seedy little places. It's more charming, in a broader way than the nicer places uptown. You know?"

I looked away in abstract disgust. "WHAT WANT"

"The people are what get me." He continued on, ignoring me. "Old men who run the tavern every night til they just... drop dead at the bar. Young boys, running messages and errands for the patrons. Cute girls, wenching the tables. The ambience, you understand?"

I had always found Jaime insufferable. My father worked for his, so we grew up together. He's always been a self-absorbed braggart, in love with his own reflection. I wouldn't put it past him to jerk it to his twin sister, honestly, since no one else could be pretty enough for poor Jaime.

"And the music, Greg, the music. None tonight, I couldn't imagine why, but I was sent word there would be a minstrel show. 'Hello, my baby, hello, my honey,' all that. A young man let me know. Red-haired, runs errands here all the time."

My head turned to look at him, the vertebrae grinding slowly.

"Young Irving came to my office two days ago, as I am a patron of the arts, and when he left on his way to Baelor's Sept, he asked if the Kingsguard was still offering self-defense courses. Being a tavern herald can be dangerous. But you knew that already."

Jaime's right hand thudded to the bar, still mailed in gilded plate. His left scratched absently at the stubble on his jaw. A shaft of dawn light crept up the wall behind the bar.

He got up, weak and unstable on his feet. "I should be going. Duty calls, and so forth." Jaime walked to the door, pausing to say "By the way, your brother sends his regards." before departing into the dazzling morning light.

I set down my flagon and picked up one that wasn't twisted into a interpretive sculpture. I took a mouthful of tepid ale and decided it had been too long since my last confession. I grabbed my hat and hoped to the Father the Septon was in.

I thought there was more than just three chapters, too. Welp! I should do something about that, I guess.

El Hefe
Oct 31, 2006

You coulda had a V8/
Instead of a tre-eight slug to yo' cranium/
I got six and I'm aimin' 'em/
Will I bust or keep you guessin'

Blade_of_tyshalle posted:

Sure. The continuing adventure of Ser Gregor Clegane, as you will.


I thought there was more than just three chapters, too. Welp! I should do something about that, I guess.

These ae really good.

Contra Calculus
Nov 6, 2009

Gravy Boat 2k
I'd also post the infamous Winnie the Pooh one, but I would rather not be banned. (Also, the novelty shock kind of wears off after reading so many GRRM books anyway)

IRQ
Sep 9, 2001

SUCK A DICK, DUMBSHITS!

Aciiiiiiiiiiiiiiid posted:

Just read the Red Wedding. I'm normally a genre savvy guy but this loving series has got me 4 times, Ned, Bran+Rickon fakeout, Renly and now this, goddamnit. My motivation to keep going is just gone, I see the next chapter is Tyrions, should I just plow on?

Jon dies, AFFC/ADWD suck poo poo, Arya goes blind, Bran becomes a tree, Tyrion rides a pig, and Dany shits water in the desert for an entire book.

In other words, yes, plow on!

The Glumslinger
Sep 24, 2008

Coach Nagy, you want me to throw to WHAT side of the field?


Hair Elf
From the non-spoiler thread

Blind Sally posted:

Dany doesn't need a naval fleet if she has dragons. Right now her problem seems to be surviving long enough so that the dragons can grow large enough to be a viable option.

Oh, I only wish this was true :allears:

Arnold of Soissons
Mar 4, 2011

by XyloJW

Aciiiiiiiiiiiiiiid posted:

Just read the Red Wedding. I'm normally a genre savvy guy but this loving series has got me 4 times, Ned, Bran+Rickon fakeout, Renly and now this, goddamnit. My motivation to keep going is just gone, I see the next chapter is Tyrions, should I just plow on?

After Tyrion shoots Tywin in the gut on the shitter, then you'll know that everything after is poo poo.

Junkenstein
Oct 22, 2003

I really liked the A Song of Ice and Wire crossover fanfic. Someone post that.

Joramun
Dec 1, 2011

No man has need of candles when the Sun awaits him.

Tony Danza Claus posted:

Jon is dead. Ghost acts dumber than before, though, and is always humping Dolorous Edd.
:lol:

Please write this as Jon's next POV chapter, GRRM.

El Hefe
Oct 31, 2006

You coulda had a V8/
Instead of a tre-eight slug to yo' cranium/
I got six and I'm aimin' 'em/
Will I bust or keep you guessin'
Anyone remembers who gives Sansa the hairnet with the poison beads that kills Joffrey?

IRQ
Sep 9, 2001

SUCK A DICK, DUMBSHITS!

El Hefe posted:

Anyone remembers who gives Sansa the hairnet with the poison beads that kills Joffrey?

Queen of Thorns.

Urdnot Fire
Feb 13, 2012

Actually, Dontos is the one who physically gives it to her, in one of their Godswood meetings.

El Hefe
Oct 31, 2006

You coulda had a V8/
Instead of a tre-eight slug to yo' cranium/
I got six and I'm aimin' 'em/
Will I bust or keep you guessin'
Thanks it was killing me haha.

Contra Calculus
Nov 6, 2009

Gravy Boat 2k

Arnold of Soissons posted:

After Tyrion shoots Tywin in the gut on the shitter, then you'll know that everything after is poo poo.

I can see a review for the 5th and 6th seasons of the show now:

"When Tywin gave up the ghost, all quality died with him."

Greatbacon
Apr 9, 2012

by Pragmatica

Urdnot Fire posted:

Actually, Dontos is the one who physically gives it to her, in one of their Godswood meetings.

Yup, and he's all "you have to wear this at the wedding. it's magical! And then I think one of the Queen of Thorn's lackies is all "here let me fix your hairnet" and then Joff claws out his throat. :allears:

TrickyTrev
Feb 8, 2005
ZOMG I HAVE ROCKET

Greatbacon posted:

Yup, and he's all "you have to wear this at the wedding. it's magical! And then I think one of the Queen of Thorn's lackies is all "here let me fix your hairnet" and then Joff claws out his throat. :allears:

Does Varys know that it was not Tyrion or does he just not care?

TrickyTrev fucked around with this message at 22:02 on Apr 19, 2012

thornghost
Oct 11, 2010

I have a picture of me with GRRM. He looks less than enthused.

A chapter from Storm of Swords that ended up on the cutting room floor:

Joffrey

His nails dug into the soft flesh of his neck, hands becoming slicker and slicker from the leaking blood as he clawed. The small folk around him gawped and stared, the simple minded fools! Why wasn't anyone helping? He was their king, their master!

Suddenly dizzy, he pitched forward, crashing into the dining table. He felt nothing as he slipped onto the floor, silverware and broken plates crashing down around him. His vision began to darken at the edges when he tried and failed to drag in a long breath into his burning lungs. He was near on the edge of consciousness when he felt a peculiar tugging at his mind and suddenly all was bright light.

***

The next moment, wind buffeted his face, his body, his...wings? In an instant of panic, the world pitched below and around him as he tried desperately to gain his bearings. He was a bird! The Seven save him, he was a bird and he was flying! He caught a brief glance of a three-eyed crow lifting toward the sun and started. Confusion broke his concentration and he flapped downward in a dizzying half-controlled spiral toward some dingy street below.

Bouncing off the side of some building, he crashed hard onto packed earth and lie there barely conscious. What had happened to him?

Before he could even begin to piece together his surroundings or predicament, something had closed hard around his body. He felt himself lifted roughly away from the ground. Through clouded eyes he spied what seemed to be a grubby-faced street urchin holding him tight. He tried to flap his wings, tried to get away, but as he did so the urchin calmly smashed him against a nearby stone wall and he felt no more.

***

"Mr. Lemon, I caught a pigeon!" Bummy yelled as he exploded into the tumble-down shack.

"Ahh, yes, let me see it then!" Mr. Lemon turned and reached for the bloody bird in the child's hands, fingers lingering a bit too long on the smooth wrists of the orphan. That was the way Mr. Lemon was; he might touch you a bit and make you wait, but he'd never cheat you out of your supper if you brought him a bird.

"So you have child. Here, have a sit over there while I get this in the pot and get your bowl of brown."

Bummy did as he was told, taking a seat in the rotting chair against the wall. The smell of the soup was intoxicating, but he knew he had to wait. Just a bit. Just a bit longer before his feast.

Mr. Lemon made short work of plucking the pigeon and pulling off the beak and legs before tossing the wretched thing into the boiling pot.

"We'll just need to wait on that to finish cooking," He took a seat in the chair next to Bummy, hands already moving roughly across the child's knee. "Now, child, sweet child, have I told you about the giants north of the wall? And their leader Lord Manning?" And so his tired story began. Every time it was like this, Bummy recalled.

For his part, Joffery Baratheon just stewed.

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Tiger Crazy
Sep 25, 2006

If you couldn't find any weirdness, maybe we'll just have to make some!
HODOR HODOR HODOR HODOR HODOR

http://store.hbo.com/game-of-thrones-hodor-t-shirt/detail.php?p=362322&v=hbo_shows_game-of-thrones

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