#brindled men

[racefortheironthrone]

On your old WOIAF review, you mentioned that the Brindled Men are close to Robert E. Howard's racist ideas about the relationship between humans and apes. Could you elaborate further? Also, what do you think about the theory that the Brindled Men and the Ibbenese are another species of men, like the Neatherthals and the Australoptecus were to us? Or do you think their depictions in WOIAF should be read as not 100% accurate, since the meisters are talking about things so distant from Westeros that they only heard about?

I want to clarify my current thinking, because I find myself a bit unsure as to what the situation is.

It's always difficult to divine a writer's intent, but I think that's particularly true in this case because of two simultaneously true facts: one, GRRM is fascinated by the idea of what if the non-homo sapiens hominids, like the Neanderthals and the Denisovians, were still around. Two, GRRM is a huge fan of the work of Robert E. Howard and that dude had some weird and unusually racist even for the 1920s beliefs about human beings, great apes, and how evolution and species works. (I'm going to leave aside H.P Lovecraft for the moment, because parsing the similarites and differences between their thinking on this when they spent years corresponding with each other about this and many other topics is pretty hard to do.)

To provide a short version of Howard's beliefs: in part because Howard was a white Texan born very close to the "closing of the American frontier," and in part because of how he personally related to America in the 1920s, Howard had this odd combination of beliefs, in which he saw "barbarism" (which he sort of used as a short-hand for both less-developed times, places, and definitely people, including pretty much all non-white people) as savage, unintelligent, driven entirely by base urges, but also honest and vibrant and energetic; similarly, he viewed "civilization" (which again, he used as a short-hand for certain peoples, places, and times that he considered to be the most similar to contemporary white people) as more enlightened, more refined, more intellectual, but also corrupt and decadent.

In Howard's mind, humanity was constantly in a loop of civilization growing ever more refined and decadent until it collapsed back into barbarism due to its own weakness and corruption, at which point it would be replaced by the rising dynamism of the barbarian who had toppled it, who would found a new civilization, and then so on. (Howard was probably borrowing from someone who had borrowed from Ibn Khaldun.)

What made Howard weird, though, is that he thought this could happen at the level of the species: if humanity became too "degenerate," they would literally go backwards and devolve into non-human apes; and vice-versa, apes could ascend and become human (or at least human-like).

You see this trope all over Howard's writings. Here it is in "Tower of the Elephant":

""We saw men grow from the ape and build the shining cities of Valusia, Kamelia, Commoria, and their sisters. We saw them reel before the thrusts of the heathen Atlanteans and Picts and Lemurians. We saw the oceans rise and engulf Atlantis and Lemuria, and the isles of the Picts, and the shining cities of civilization. We saw the survivors of Pictdom and Atlantis build their stone age empires, and go down to ruin, locked in bloody wars. We saw the Picts sink into abysmal savagery, the Atlanteans into apedom again. We saw new savages drift southward in conquering waves from the arctic circle to build a new civilization, with new kingdoms called Nemedia, and Koth, and Aquilonia and their sisters. We saw your people rise under a new name from the jungles of the apes that had been Atlanteans. We saw the descendants of the Lemurians who had survived the cataclysm, rise again through savagery and ride westward, as Hyrkanians. And we saw this race of devils, survivors of the ancient civilization that was before Atlantis sank, come once more into culture and power—this accursed kingdom of Zamora."

Here it is in "Rogues in the House":

“That is Thak,” answered the priest, caressing his temple. “Some would call him an ape, but he is almost as different from a real ape as he is different from a real man. His people dwell far to the east, in the mountains that fringe the eastern frontiers of Zamora. There are not many of them; but, if they are not exterminated, I believe they will become human beings in perhaps a hundred thousand years. They are in the formative stage; they are neither apes, as their remote ancestors were, nor men, as their remote descendants may be. They dwell in the high crags of well-nigh inaccessible mountains, knowing nothing of fire or the making of shelter or garments, or the use of weapons. Yet they have a language of a sort, consisting mainly of grunts and clicks.

“I took Thak when he was a cub, and he learned what I taught him much more swiftly and thoroughly than any true animal could have done. He was at once bodyguard and servant. But I forgot that being partly a man, he could not be submerged into a mere shadow of myself, like a true animal. Apparently his semi-brain retained impressions of hate, resentment, and some sort of bestial ambition of its own."

And here it is again in "Queen of the Black Coast:"

"Cast in the mold of humanity, they were distinctly not men. They were winged and of heroic proportions; not a branch on the mysterious stalk of evolution that culminated in man, but the ripe blossom on an alien tree, separate and apart from that stalk. Aside from their wings, in physical appearance they resembled man only as man in his highest form resembles the great apes. In spiritual, esthetic and intellectual development they were superior to man as man is superior to the gorilla. But when they reared their colossal city, man’s primal ancestors had not yet risen from the slime of the primordial seas.

...Many died who drank of it; and in those who lived, the drinking wrought change, subtle, gradual and grisly. In adapting themselves to the changing conditions, they had sunk far below their original level. But the lethal waters altered them even more horribly, from generation to more bestial generation. They who had been winged gods became pinioned demons, with all that remained of their ancestors’ vast knowledge distorted and perverted and twisted into ghastly paths. As they had risen higher than mankind might dream, so they sank lower than man’s maddest nightmares reach. They died fast, by cannibalism, and horrible feuds fought out in the murk of the midnight jungle. And at last among the lichen-grown ruins of their city only a single shape lurked, a stunted abhorrent perversion of nature."

And here it is in "Shadows in the Moon":

"Out of the shadows of the cliffs moved a monstrous shambling bulk--an anthropomorphic horror, a grotesque travesty of creation.

In general outline it was not unlike a man. But its face, limned in the bright moonlight, was bestial, with close-set ears, flaring nostrils, and a great flabby-lipped mouth in which gleamed white tusk-like fangs. It was covered with shaggy grayish hair, shot with silver which shone in the moonlight, and its great misshapen paws hung nearly to the earth. Its bulk was tremendous; as it stood on its short bowed legs, its bullet-head rose above that of the man who faced it; the sweep of the hairy breast and giant shoulders was breathtaking; the huge arms were like knotted trees.

The moonlight scene swam, to Olivia's sight. This, then, was the end of the trail--for what human being could withstand the fury of that hairy mountain of thews and ferocity? Yet as she stared in wide-eyed horror at the bronzed figure facing the monster, she sensed a kinship in the antagonists that was almost appalling."

So you can see why I get a little nervus when in WOIAF GRRM invents a new group of people in the far-off land of Sothoryos and describes them in terms like this:

"And the native races grow ever more savage and primitive the farther one travels from the coasts.

The Sothoryi are big-boned creatures, massively muscled, with long arms, sloped foreheads, huge square teeth, heavy jaws, and coarse black hair. Their broad, flat noses suggest snouts, and their thick skins are brindled in patterns of brown and white that seem more hoglike than human. Sothoryi women cannot breed with any save their own males; when mated with men from Essos or Westeros, they bring forth only stillbirths, many hideously malformed.

The Sothoryi that dwell closest to the sea have learned to speak the trade talk. The Ghiscari consider them too slow of wit to make good slaves, but they are fierce fighters. Farther south, the trappings of civilization fall away, and the Brindled Men become ever more savage and barbaric. These Sothoryi worship dark gods with obscene rites. Many are cannibals, and more are ghouls; when they cannot feast upon the flesh of foes and strangers, they eat their own dead."

Are these Neanderthals and/or a non-sapiens hominid species, or is GRRM unwisely indulging in a bit of Howard pastiche in a more problematic way than just dropping the city of K'dath or Carcosa on to the map of furthest Essos? It's hard to say. Some of the details - the description of the bones, the long arms, the foreheads, the jaws, the mention of them not being able to cross-breed - suggest a non-sapiens hominid like the Neandethals. But others - the fact that some of them can learn to talk but further into the interior they become more bestial, the mention of "dark gods with obscene rites," the invocation of cannibalism and corpse-eating - feel like Howard pastiche. And then the eponymous skin seems like all GRRM's invention, but it's hardly flattering.

Either way, I think this is an aspect of the world-building that should have been edited out. I don't really see the benefits being worth the potential downsides.

[frosket]

33

[teletubbyinlipstick]

Hybrid!Poly TF141 x Reader Rambles

Once again, I'm unsure what to say. I get high, I get horny for these men, and then I hallucinate scenarios with said men. Please enjoy, please feel free to send in anything about these boys! Requests are open! I really like this idea, and I might continue to add on to it. https://www.tumblr.com/teletubbyinlipstick/760241391145238528/more-hybridpoly-tf141-x-reader-pleaaasseeeee?source=share heres the second part!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OwlHybridAU!

Captain Price has big wings. When spread, they're just shy of 26 ft. A beautiful array of ash and brindle the feathers are easily the length of your arm. He keeps them tucked nicely, looking smaller than they are. On the field, if it ever comes down to it and he needs his wings, the look on enemies' faces when they spread is, in Soaps words,"so fuckin hot."

No one disagrees.

Johnny's wings are a bit smaller, around 18ft they're a deep honey brown. In the light, in-between the feathers, an indigo blue shines just slightly. His are more pointy at the end, a ripple effect used for disguising. Simon loves nothing more than to preen him.

Usually it ends with Johnny face down, high whimpers in his throat.

Speaking of Simon, he has the biggest wings in TF141 at 30ft. They're midnight black with streaks of white. When he's moving fast, they look almost like lightning across a black sky. His second layer of feathers is a dark gray. It's hard to notice the difference, but once you do, it's harder not to notice. He's intimidating. He knows.

It's his kink.

Gaz has the prettiest wings, 20ft, and the sweetest cocoa color. He has dirty blonde undertones that fade into pure auburn. His feathers get ruffled a little easily and the boys love teasing him for it.

It's a group effort to preen his wings.

Now theres you, new to the group, younger than them at early-mid twenties. Assigned as a mate for the boys by the government in hopes of reproducing strong genes. You're a sweet little thing, lithe with a pudgy tummy. Your wings are only 15ft. And very fluffy, a gorgeous cream with strawberry blonde highlights. The edges appear light tawny.

You're very beautiful. And the boys fall in love almost immediately upon receiving your file. They nest for you, soft blankets and pillows and sweatshirts placed in the rec room for a cozy habitat. They're keen to meet you, forgoing preening their feathers the night before in hopes of pack bonding tomorrow with you.

So imagine when you end up being the most reclusive, quiet church mouse they've ever met. You speak maybe 3 sentences in total at the meeting. You were quick to bat Johnny's hand away when he reached for your shoulder for a friendly pat. Feathers ruffling just slightly.

They backed off.

Simon stood quiet the whole time, eyes zeroed in on you. Assessing.

They showed you the loft to your room. Simon kept a polite distance, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. Gaz and Johnny were waiting for Price to make the first move and let you know about the nest they had secured for you in the rec area. But when you politely and quickly excused yourself and darted inside, closing the door with the resounding click. They realized you weren't going to the nest. Nor were you going to the rec room in general.

They slept in their shared king bed. The nest left cold and barren. Tears were wiped from Gaz's eyes, sweet cooing coming from the bed as the boys sought solstice for each other.

No one dried your tears, and you stayed curled in the corner of your bed. Scared. Alone. And unsure what the future will bring.

[2truehearts]

✦ — BUT DARLING, YOU ARE THE ONLY EXCEPTION.

✦ CHARACTER/S︰ijekiel alpheus & lucas from wmmap (who made me a princess).

✦ SYNOPSIS︰love can bloom and burn in any heart at the first sunlit-brindled brief—whether it be bounded by duty, ice, or disbelief; as long as that epitome of affection is you, they suppose they can make an exception and make some space—or in which they fall in-love with you first glance and sight.

✦ CONTENT WARNING/S︰nothing other than one swear word (fuck), & the general fluff and infatuation (from the character/s) + everything is proofread with the wc 200 - 300 each.

✦ A/N︰making my debut as a manhwa writer on main is not the ideal move but idk where to post it okay (side eyes the 2367838 sideblogs under this one/silly (also the title is inspired by "the only exception" by paramore <3 it's bleeping awesome go and give it a listen!!))

IJEKIEL IS NOT ONE TO FALL IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT, to have his world still for a few seconds while his heart overrides and blood races to the forefront of his cheeks—but dear heavens, were you the only exception to that rule bound by duty and a planned future in his chest. you surely weren’t the epitome of grace or as enchanting as the gods, but to him you were enough—more, than enough, truly.

he first met you in an arrangement of his father and your parents from your vague childhood—but oh, how he remembers every second of that first meeting. when the doors opened to you bowing in front of him with a barely-hidden smile of excitement curving the tips of your mouth to look at him with big, bright eyes of wonder staring directly at the copy of the sun—not once backing down to blink or burn away from awe and fluster. so ijekiel does that instead.  his skin flares with the color of blooming carnations, sunlight-prickled hues wide from childish panic at the sudden increased beating of his heart.  was something wrong with him? he felt light-headed and dizzy, stomach twisting, tossing and turning as if he was about to faint from merely seeing you presented before him like the finest muse of a pristine piece of art, incomparable to anything else other than itself. what should he do? should he compliment you? should he act indifferent and use a practiced smile? his mind is trying to adjust to the drastic changes of his swayed heart, but the boy just can’t seem to do just that when he’s faced with a fairytale protagonist right in front of him—and he blinks, catching something from the corner of his eye—and is brought back down to earth when he sees his father’s questioning gaze. then, bows with a smile, greeting you further in to sit down and perhaps enjoy a cup of tea with him?  you said yes out of common courtesy, but that only made his smile grow wider.

LUCAS FIRMLY DOES NOT BELIEVE IN LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT, like come on—who believes in love like that these days? naive little kids? newly adolescent noble ladies? men of high and poor status? it’s simply too . . . unlikely to actually happen in his eyes. the butterflies when you meet “the love of your life’s” eyes? could be the early signs of constipation. the flush in your cheeks when there’s too much prolonged eye contact with them and the dizziness of your heart and mind? could be an oncoming migraine, headache, or a sign you're being possessed by some evil spirit, y’know? anyways, enough joking aside—the point is, he finds the subject some far-fetched fairytale that is highly impossible even with the magic he has—that is, until, you waltz into his life. the things he feels when he's around you is something that could be described as a contradiction. the first gazing into your eyes turns the world upside and back again, the first brush against your fingertips suck all the air out of his chest, the first chuckle that he manages to rouse from deep within your giddy joy paints him a shade darker than his eyes from head to toe—holy fuck were there a lot of firsts that made him experience everything and anything all at once; with most he can't even explain properly without sounding so . . lovesick. god do you make him sick to the last bone with whatever sorcery you possess. in short; when in love, lucas is everything that correlates to being stupidly infatuated and is constantly reeling himself in by a hair’s breadth back to the surface when you smile, laugh, or simply exist next to him—like, can you imagine how utterly moronic it is to see how degenerate he’s become from before you?! . . . but, if it makes you happy, he’ll gladly be idiotic for the rest of his life (though, that depends if you're gonna annoy him or not).

✦ — @khasmies 2023.

[unmaskthewriter]

Home {Charles Smith x Native!Reader}

A/N: This story went through so many ideas. I couldn’t decide, especially because I just feel like my writing isn’t good enough right now, especially bc I try to keep my writing short bc I am not creative enough for long stories and I’m stretching for ideas because I love to write. Thinking about taking requests. Also reader is gender neutral. Might edit this to be an OC fic later on. Also I apologize if this is a little OOC. It’s my first time writing for Charles.

Warnings: canon typical violence, fluff, angst, mourning/grieving, canon character death

Word Count: 1.8k

1899

You met him one afternoon when he entered the reservation to speak with your father and brother. He was a dark skinned man with a long, black braid down the center of his scalp, ending towards the middle of his back. You were sitting alongside your father.

“Father, when will we draw the line? They’ve stolen our horses, they attack our women—“ Eagles Flies ranted.

“Enough, son. We can have our horses returned without fighting.” Rains Fall tried to dissuade his son. You made eye contact with the strange man.

“Rains Fall is right. I will not start a fight over some horses.” He spoke firmly. Eagle Flies lets out a frustrated sigh, storming from the tent. You quickly follow, witnessing through the flaps of the tent as Eagle Flies mounts the strange man’s horse and rides off into the night.

“He stole your horse.” You state plainly, a small smirk playing at your lips.

“My child, please take Charles Smith and find your brother. He is running toward a dangerous situation.” Rains Fall explains from across the tent. So, Charles is his name.

“I know, Father.” You nod and lead Charles to the hitching posts. In front of you stood a tall, warped brindle Arabian.

“Kiona.” You spoke softly, drawing a carrot from your satchel and feeding her. Quickly mountain, Charles mounts behind you.

“A beautiful horse.” He compliments as you follow the trail out of the reservation.

“Found her just outside the reservation. Tamed her myself.” You smile, lightly gripping the reins. Silence passes.

“What do you think about living here… on the reservation, I mean?” He questions.

“It’s not terrible… but my people have suffered. If I could help them escape, I would but with the U.S Army breathing down our necks, it’s impossible,” You respond, “My brother has good intentions, he just… doesn’t always think things through… why don’t you tell me about yourself, Mr. Smith?”

“I know a few men like that,” Charles chuckled, “and please, call me Charles. Mr. Smith is my father. My mother was Indian, and my father a black man. We lived with her people for some time, until one day, some men took her and never came back… my father was never the same after that.”

“I’m… I’m sorry to hear that.” You respond quietly, a frown tearing at the edges of your lips. Up ahead, Charles spotted his horse on the edge of a camp. After reuniting with Eagle Flies in the camp that Charles and his friends inhabited, your brother gathered a small party to reclaim the stolen horses.

“Arthur, we must go with them… to try to stop things from getting… out of hand.”

“I guess… come along. We can get them more horses.” The older man, Arthur, agreed. Charles turned to you, placing a hand to your shoulder.

“Please, return to your father. We will get the horses back.” Charles reassures you.

“Do not worry about the horses, just bring my brother home safe.”

“I promise.” Charles nods to you before mounting his horse and following the others into the night. You did as Charles had asked, and waited at the reservation for the return of your brother.

Hours passed before you witnessed Eagles Flies, Paytah and Charles leading the horses back into the reservation. Rains Fall watches from the entrance of his tent as you approach the group.

“Don’t run off like that again.” You tell Eagles Flies as you wrap your arms around his slender frame. He chuckles, returning the hug.

“Do not worry about me, little one. I am the one who has to protect you.” He spoke softly before pulling away and walking towards your father. You looked at Charles who stood back a few feet. He mounts his horse as you approach.

“Thank you, Charles… for bringing my brother back safely. I’m… my people are indebted to you.” You declare, gently taking his hand. He squeezes it gently before pulling away and leaving.

You should have expected the U.S Army would retaliate.

They came in the night under the cover of darkness, capturing young men and women of the tribe, you amongst them. With a sack pulled over your head and hands and feet bound with tight rope, you couldn’t see or move. All you could feel was the butt of the gun smashing against your head and knocking you unconscious.

For hours, you drift to and from unconsciousness. The sack had been removed from your head, but you were still bound, suspended from the ceiling. Occasionally, soldiers would come and land a few punches and kicks, trying to elicit a response before giving up.

It wasn’t long before you could hear shouting and… gunfire? You hang there, looking around drearily. One of your eyes was swollen shut, bottom lip busted and bruises littering your frame.

“They’re in here!” A familiar voice shouted and weakly you lifted your head to see Charles breaking the lock on the door. He rushes to your side, carefully cutting the ropes to release you. Swiftly, you fell to the ground with a small groan.

“I’m sorry, come on. Are you alright to walk?”

“… ‘m fine.. where’s my brother?” You asked as Charles wrapped an arm around you and helped you to walk.

“Don’t worry, Arthur has him… come on, let’s get out of here.” He encourages you, mounting his horse and carefully lifting you up. You sit behind him, slumped against him. A gunfight ensues during the escape, but you’re too tired and weak to care.

“Alright, we’re at the river. Let’s get you in a canoe.” His sweet voice explains to you, carefully lifting you from the horse and placing you down in the canoe. You laid back against the seat, too tired to sit up.

“Are they okay?” A voice called out as you closed your eyes.

“We just need to-“

And you were out cold.

It was midday when you awoke, the sunlight bleeding in from the tent flaps. You look around slowly, noticing your bloody clothes had been removed, and replaced with a clean tanned leather dress. Underneath, you were bandaged. You could barely see from your left eye, and upon licking your lips you tasted old blood.

“You’re awake.” Charles entered the tent, kneeling down beside you.

“How long was I out?” You ask, gently rubbing your temple as you sit up. He extends a cup of water, to which you graciously accept.

“Half a day. You were beaten up pretty bad. Eagle Flies is okay, he’s recovering.” Charles answered any questions you’d have. You relax slightly as you drink the water he provided. A moment passes between you both.

“Eagle Flies will not let this go, Charles.” You tell him, setting the cup down on the small nightstand.

“I know, I know… just rest now. It’ll be alright.” He comforts you as you lay back down on the bed to rest and recover.

Days had passed before you and Eagle Flies had recovered from your wounds. You returned to your duties, helping the sick and elderly. It wasn’t long before Eagle Flies demanded justice for those who were hurt by the U.S Army.

“Today, we ride! No longer will we be abused and killed by the Army, for sport, for oil!” He shouted, leading a small war party from camp. You watched as father looked on with a frown before mounting his own horse, and following.

It was a quiet day within the reservation. Eagle Flies had fled with some of the brave warriors of the tribe to strike the heart of the tribe’s issues — Cornwall Kerosene and Tar.

He’s your brother, although sometimes it doesn’t feel as though that’s the case. While he was brave and headstrong, you were more calm and peaceful like your father.

With the galloping of hooves outside, you and your father emerge from the tent. Arthur, pale and sickly, dismounts his horse while Charles follows, carefully helping Eagle Flies down from the horse. You take a small step forward, frowning.

“Bring him to me.” Your father commanded, watching as your brother was transported to the small enclosure. You follow, sitting down beside your father as the men carefully place Eagle Flies down. Rains Fall takes hold of his son’s hand as you place a gentle hand to your brother’s cheek. Tears begin to roll.

“My son.” Rains Fall whispered as his son took his final breath. You sobbed, leaning over your brother’s body. Arthur and Charles left the tent, speaking amongst themselves for a moment.

“I’m sorry, but we must pack and move…”

1907

With the changing of the seasons and the passing of the years, you grew into a young adult. It was shortly after the tribe’s arrival in Canada that Charles Smith left to return to his friends.

“Charles, please, wait!” You call out, following him to his horse. You pull something from your satchel, holding it out to him. It was a trinket adorned with a small moose antler with a coyote fang on one end, and a cougar fang on the other, “Take this.”

Charles carefully takes the trinket, examining the craftsmanship before looking at you, “Thank you. This is… amazing.”

“You are one of us.” You reassure him as he puts on the trinket, mounting his horse. He leans down, taking your hand and squeezing gently.

“Until we meet again.” He tells you before releasing your hand and riding off.

It didn’t take you much longer to leave as well, the pain of your brother’s loss being too much to bear. You wandered across the states, never staying in one place for too long. Your mind often wandered to all those years ago, the people you met, and the people you lost. No matter where you traveled, you always felt like something was missing, never feeling at home. Saint Denis was never your cup of tea, but it was a good place to gather supplies and clean up. The sound of a trumpet filled the streets between the random conversations throughout town and noises from the railroad you had overheard. You were standing outside the post office, sliding a letter over the desk.

“To Rains Fall in Canada,” You mention as you glance to your right for a moment. In the distance, two familiar men were crossing the cobblestones street to the docks. Quickly, you pay the man in the window before leading Kiona to the men.

“Charles?” You called out softly, slowly releasing Kiona’s reins. He stopped, and turned on his heel to face you. He looked different — his hair was no longer shaved and braided but instead splayed freely around his shoulders. He wore a collared shirt and vest that had seen better days. There were some bruises and scarring to his face and knuckles but he was still the man you met all those years ago. Before you knew it, you both were running toward each other to embrace. He lifts you into his arms, taking a slow, deep breath.

“I never thought I’d see you again.” You cry quietly, remembering all too well the day he left.

“I’m here now.” He spoke softly into your neck, his hot breath hitting your soft skin.

Home wasn’t with the tribe. Home didn’t have four walls and a roof. Home was in his arms, you knew that now.

[scullysflannel]

love it when i’m eight minutes into the x-files season 3 episode 14 “grotesque” and the murder suspect says “fools who would pretend evil can be brought to heel like a brindle bitch or be held by your pathetic gulags, while with a snap of its finger it makes men lick the greasy floor of hell just to see its reflection”

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

TWOW: Barristan I

Welcome back! What's worse than a battle chapter?

A Barristan Selmy battle chapter.

Through the gloom of night the dead men flew, raining down upon the city streets. The riper corpses would fall to pieces in the air, and burst when they came smashing down onto the bricks, scattering worms and maggots and worse things. Others would bounce against the sides of pyramids and towers, leaving smears of blood and gore to mark the places where they'd struck.

Bodies are flying from trebuchets, so that must mean a Lannister is on the other side.

+.+.+

When Daenerys had taken the city, they had broken through that same gate with the huge battering ram called Joso's Cock, made from the mast of a ship.

Just a friendly reminder that this is a rape metaphor, and has nothing to do with Jon Snow's cock. My condolences to that fandom.

+.+.+

Now once again the market was a scene of carnage, though these dead came riding the pale mare. By day Meereen's brick streets showed half a hundred hues, but night turned them into patchworks of black and white and grey. Torchlight shimmered in the puddles left by the recent rains, and painted lines of fire on the helms and greaves and breastplates of the men.

Unfortunate timing: the rain stopped precisely when the threat of a city-state being engulfed by dragon fire reached its peak.

Perhaps the gods are not deaf after all, Ser Barristan Selmy reflected as he watched those distant embers. If not for the rain, the fires might have consumed all of Meereen by now. - The Queen's Hand, ADWD

+.+.+

Ser Barristan Selmy rode past them slowly. The old knight wore the armor his queen had given him—a suit of white enameled steel, inlaid and chased with gold. The cloak that streamed from his shoulders was as white as winter snow, as was the shield slung from his saddle. Beneath him was the queen's own mount, the silver mare Khal Drogo had given her upon their wedding day. That was presumptuous, he knew, but if Daenerys herself could not be with them in their hour of peril, Ser Barristan hoped the sight of her silver in the fray might give heart to her warriors, reminding them of who and what they fought for. 

Remember this, a great joke is coming.

+.+.+

Besides, the silver had been years in the company of the queen's dragons, and had grown accustomed to the sight and scent of them. That was not something that could be said for the horses of their foes.

Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

That was how Khal Jhaqo found her, when half a hundred mounted warriors emerged from the drifting smoke. - Daenerys X, ADWD

Westeros implications as well.

+.+.+

With him rode three of his lads. Tumco Lho carried the three-headed dragon banner of House Targaryen, red on black.

✨ banner ✨

+.+.+

Beneath the towering brick facade of Meereen's ancient Slave Exchange, five thousand Unsullied were drawn up in ten long lines. They stood as still as if they had been carved of stone, each with his three spears, short sword, and shield. Torchlight winked off the spikes of their bronze helmets, and bathed the smooth-cheeked faces beneath. When a body came spinning down amongst them, the eunuchs simply stepped aside, taking just as many steps as were required, then closing ranks again. They were all afoot, even their officers: Grey Worm first and foremost, marked by the three spikes on his helm.

This isn't terribly important, but it's never made clear where the other three thousand are. Is it a surprise?

+.+.+

Not far from them, about the ghastly monument the Great Masters called the Spire of Skulls, several hundred pit fighters had gathered. Selmy saw the Spotted Cat amongst them. Beside him stood Fearless Ithoke, and elsewhere Senerra She-Snake, Camarron of the Count, the Brindled Butcher, Togosh, Marrigo, Orlos the Catamite. Even Goghor the Giant was there, towering above the others like a man amongst boys. Freedom means something to them after all, it would seem. The pit fighters had more love for Hizdahr than they had ever shown Daenerys, but Selmy was glad to have them all the same. Some are even wearing armor, he observed. Perhaps his defeat of Khrazz had taught them something.

It wouldn't be a Barristan Selmy chapter if I didn't breakdown all the ways he's an imbecile.

Possibly Perhaps a Probable Predicament in the Battle #1:

We are not far removed from Barristan Selmy overthrowing Meereen's king and killing Khrazz, a pit fighter and the king's personal guard.

He now surrounds himself with other pit fighters, and is glad to be in their presence. 🚩🚩🚩

Selmy did not fear Khrazz, much less Steelskin. They were only pit fighters. Hizdahr's fearsome collection of former fighting slaves made indifferent guards at best. Speed and strength and ferocity they had, and some skill at arms as well, but blood games were poor training for protecting kings. In the pits their foes were announced with horns and drums, and after the battle was done and won the victors could have their wounds bound up and quaff some milk of the poppy for the pain, knowing that the threat was past and they were free to drink and feast and whore until the next fight. But the battle was never truly done for a knight of the Kingsguard. Threats came from everywhere and nowhere, at any time of day or night. No trumpets announced the foe: vassals, servants, friends, brothers, sons, even wives, any of them might have knives concealed beneath their cloaks and murder hidden in their hearts. For every hour of fighting, a Kingsguard knight spent ten thousand hours watching, waiting, standing silent in the shadows. - The Kingbreaker, TWOW

Could have another Tyrion / Mandon Moore situation on our hands.

+.+.+

Above, the gatehouse battlements were crowded with men in patchwork cloaks and brazen masks: the Shavepate had sent his Brazen Beasts onto the city walls, to free up the Unsullied to take the field. Should the battle be lost, it would be up to Skahaz and his men to hold Meereen against the Yunkai'i … until such time as Queen Daenerys could return. If indeed she ever does.

George will never slip an ellipsis of truth by me!

The takeaway? The battle will be lost ... until Daenerys returns with her weapon of mass destruction.

There's even more evidence of this when we get a preview of Dumbo's overconfidence in his next chapter.

He sees that ironmen are coming ashore, fighting the Yunkish, and says, surprised, "They are on our side!" The sellswords did not come to meet his charge because they were already preoccupied with the ironborn! Barristan is almost gleeful. "It’s like Baelor Breakspear and Prince Maekar, the hammer and the anvil. We have them! We have them!" - Summary of Barristan II, TWOW

None of this is much of a surprise. Moving on.

Possibly Perhaps a Probable Predicament in the Battle #2:

With Barry and his knights, the Unsullied, the Lhazarene, the sellsword companies, the Dothraki, and all the fighting freedmen outside the walls, Barristan has left Skahaz the Shavepoint (aka The Poisoner) and his Brazen Beasts in charge of Meereen. Uhhh, not ideal.

Ser Witless has forgotten why Daenerys believed this was such a bad idea in the first place.

"I know." The queen sighed. "What do you counsel, ser?"

"Battle," said Ser Barristan.

[...]

"Or five. And if I give you the Unsullied, I will have no one but the Brazen Beasts to hold Meereen."

[...]

When she opened her eyes again, Daenerys said, "I cannot fight two enemies, one within and one without. If I am to hold Meereen, I must have the city behind me. The whole city. I need … I need …" She could not say it. - Daenerys V, ADWD

And that's not the only thing he's forgotten.

The hostages again. He would kill them every one if I allowed it. "I heard you the first hundred times. No." - The Queen's Hand, ADWD

Speaking of outcomes that are fairly easy to anticipate:

A battle that looks lost + Skahaz the Shavepate in charge of all the child hostages and Hizdahr zo Loraq = ...

+.+.+

Across the city at other gates others forces had assembled. Tal Toraq and his Stalwart Shields had gathered by the eastern gate, sometimes called the hill gate or the Khyzai gate, since travelers bound for Lhazar via the Khyzai Pass always left that way. Marselen and the Mother's Men had massed beside the south gate, the Yellow Gate.

We remain on high alert regarding anything concerning Missandei's sole surviving brother.

+.+.+

Too many foes, Ser Barristan brooded. Their numbers must surely tell against us. This attack went against all of the old knight’s instincts. Meereen’s walls were thick and strong. Inside those walls, the defenders enjoyed every advantage. Yet he had no choice but to lead his men into the teeth of the Yunkish siege lines, against foes of vastly greater strength.

The White Bull would have called it folly. He would have warned Barristan against trusting sellswords too. This is what it has come to, my queen, Ser Barristan thought. Our fates hinge upon a sellsword’s greed. Your city, your people, our lives … the Tattered Prince holds us all in his bloodstained hands.

You had no choice? Really, you had no choice?

The best of them overcame their flaws, did their duty, and died with their swords in their hands. The worst …

The worst were those who played the game of thrones. - The Queensguard, ADWD

x

If the Shavepate speaks treason, he will leave me no choice but to arrest him. Hizdahr is my queen's consort, however little I may like it. My duty is to him, not Skahaz. - The Queensguard, ADWD

x

"Daenerys signed that peace," Ser Barristan said. "It is not for us to break it without her leave." - The Queensguard, ADWD

The Tattered Prince's bloodstained hands? The Tattered Prince?

+.+.+

Even if their best hope proved to be forlorn hope, Selmy knew that he had no other choice. He might have held Meereen for years against the Yunkai’i, but he could not hold it for even a moon’s turn with the pale mare galloping through its streets.

Here's that beautiful joke.

Who's the pale mare galloping through the streets, disrupting any chance of peace?

Ser Barristan Selmy rode past them slowly. The old knight wore the armor his queen had given him—a suit of white enameled steel, inlaid and chased with gold. The cloak that streamed from his shoulders was as white as winter snow, as was the shield slung from his saddle. Beneath him was the queen's own mount, the silver mare Khal Drogo had given her upon their wedding day.

+.+.+

"You know our plan of attack," the white knight said, when the captains were gathered around him. "We will hit them first with our horse, as soon as the gate is opened. Ride hard and fast, straight at the slave soldiers. When the legions form up, sweep around them. Take them from behind or from the flank, but do not try their spears. Remember your objectives." "The trebuchet," said the Widower. "The one the Yunkai'i call Harridan. Take it, topple it, or burn it."

The plan is for Barristan to lead a sortie, destroy all the trebuchets, and give the Unsullied enough time to march and form up outside the gates.

And then they win, I guess? I don't know what the hell this guy is thinking.

+.+.+

He let it pass, and said, "These attacks should distract the Yunkai'i long enough for Grey Worm to march the Unsullied out the gate and form up." That was where his plan would rise or fall, he knew. If the Yunkish commanders had any sense, they would send their horse thundering down on the eunuchs before they could form ranks, when they were most vulnerable. His own cavalry would have to prevent that long enough for the Unsullied to lock shields and raise their wall of spears.

An Unsullied weakness has been emphasized by the author. I'm sure that will be important later in the story.

+.+.+

"At the sound of my horn, Grey Worm will advance in line and roll up the slavers and their soldiers. It may be that one or more Ghiscari legions will march out to meet them, shield to shield and spear to spear. That battle we shall surely win." "This one hears," said Grey Worm. "It shall be as you say." "Listen for my horn," Ser Barristan told them. "If you hear the retreat, fall back. Our walls stand behind us, packed with Brazen Beasts. Our foes dare not come too close, or they will find themselves in crossbow range. If you hear the horn sound advance, advance at once. Make for my standard or the queen's."

Possibly Perhaps a Probable Predicament in the Battle #3:

There's more than one person planning on sounding a horn during this fight.

"You will sail with me on Iron Victory," he told them, "but you will not join the battle. Boy, you're the youngest – you'll sound the horn first. When the time comes you will blow it long and loud. They say you are strong. Blow the horn until you are too weak to stand, until the last bit of breath has been squeezed from you, until your lungs are burning. Let the freedmen hear you in Meereen, the slavers in Yunkai, the ghosts in Astapor. Let the monkeys shit themselves at the sound when it rolls across the Isle of Cedars. Then pass the horn along to the next man. Do you hear me? Do you know what to do?" - Victarion I, TWOW

That might be an issue.

Not Barristan Selmy's fault, but I'll blame him anyway.

+.+.+

The Widower's horse sidled to his left. "And if your horn falls silent, ser knight? If you and these green boys of yours are cut down?" It was a fair question. Ser Barristan meant to be the first through the Yunkish lines. He might well be the first to die. It often worked that way. "If I fall, command is yours. After you, Jokin. Then Grey Worm." Should all of us be killed, the day is lost, he might have added, but they all knew that, surely, and none of them would want to hear it said aloud. Never speak of defeat before a battle, Lord Commander Hightower had told him once, when the world was young, for the gods may be listening.

"And if we come upon the captain?" asked the Widower. Daario Naharis. "Give him a sword and follow him."

The Widower and Jokin are Stormcrow captains.

I have no idea why they're ahead of Grey Worm in the line of command.

+.+.+

Though Barristan Selmy had little love and less trust for the queen’s paramour, he did not doubt his courage, nor his skill at arms. And if he should die heroically in battle, so much the better.

No way it will be that easy.

+.+.+

He had done his own praying earlier, as his squires helped him don his armor. His gods were far away across the sea in Westeros, but if the septons told it true, the Seven watched over their children wherever they might wander. Ser Barristan had said a prayer to the Crone, beseeching her to grant him a little of her wisdom, so that he might lead his men to victory. To his old friend the Warrior he prayed for strength. He asked the Mother for her mercy, should he fall. The Father he entreated to watch over his lads, these half-trained squires who were the closest things to sons that he would ever know. Finally he had bowed his head to the Stranger. "You come for all men in the end," he had prayed, "but if it please you, spare me and mine today, and gather up the spirits of our foes instead."

She sure does.

+.+.+

"Ser?" Larraq pointed with the Kingsguard banner, even as a wordless murmur went up from a thousand pairs of lips. Far across the city, where the shadowed steps of Meereen’s Great Pyramid shouldered eight hundred feet into a starless sky, a fire had awoken where once the harpy stood. A yellow spark at the apex of the pyramid, it glimmered and was gone again, and for half a heartbeat Ser Barristan was afraid the wind had blown it out. Then it returned, brighter, fiercer, the flames swirling, now yellow, now red, now orange, reaching up, clawing at the dark. Away to the east, dawn was breaking behind the hills.

The beacon!

"We have built a beacon atop the pyramid where once the Harpy stood. Dry wood soaked with oil, covered to keep the rain off. Should the hour come, and I pray that it does not, we will light that beacon. The flames will be your signal to pour out of our gates and attack. - The Queen's Hand, ADWD

This beacon isn't as fun as Stannis' beacon. (Or is it??)

+.+.+

Another thousand voices were exclaiming now. Another thousand men were looking, pointing, donning their helms, reaching for their swords and axes. Ser Barristan heard the rattle of chains. That was the portcullis coming up. Next would come the groan of the gate’s huge iron hinges. It was time. The Red Lamb handed him his winged helm. Barristan Selmy slipped it down over his head, fastened it to his gorget, pulled up his shield, slipped his arm inside the straps. The air tasted strangely sweet. There was nothing like the prospect of death to make a man feel alive. "May the Warrior protect us all," he told his lads. "Sound the attack."

Earlier:

Ser Barristan smiled. "Well said … but take care that you do not seek death out there, or you will surely find it. The Stranger comes for all of us, but we need not rush into his arms."

Love that this moron continuously references the Faith of the Seven to a bunch of people who don't know what the hell he's talking about.

Final thoughts:

Can officially confirm Barristan Selmy still sucks in The Winds of Winter.

Next chapter: Victarion I

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[daenystheedreamer]

Any thoughts on Sothoryos?

super cool. i have rival headcanons of a) all the "exotic" races (e.g. the ibbenese, thousand islanders, brindled men) on planetos are just regular people and a lot of the evil exotic magic/illnesses/animals are hyped up by the racist maesters and b) magic is cool everytjing is magic. and then the doylist oh grrm is just a bit racist. also they have bigfoot in sothoryos so i guess sothoryos is the usa

[aegor-bamfsteel]

What do you think happened to Red Ralf Stonehouse?

“Instead he had broken the great fleet into squadrons, and sent each by a different route to Slaver's Bay. The swiftest ships he gave to Red Ralf Stonehouse to sail the corsair's road along the northern coast of Sothoryos. The dead cities rotting on that fervid, sweltering shore were best avoided, every seamen knew, but in the mud-and-blood towns of the Basilisks Isles, teeming with escaped slaves, slavers, skinners, whores, hunters, brindled men, and worse, there were always provisions to be had for men who were not afraid to pay the iron price.” —ADWD The Iron Suitor

So Victarion decided to split the Iron Fleet (numbering 99 ships when they departed the Stepstones) into 3 squadrons to regroup at the Isle of Cedars; 45 ships arrive, and it sounds like Stonehouse’s squadron was the least fortunate of the 3, as Victarion notes “only nine” had made it. Victarion admits that his own squadron didn’t arrive all at once, but in small groups or even alone, so it could just be Stonehouse’s squadron was caught up in storms and thus lost at sea. Furthermore, there’s a new aggressive Corsair king in the Basilisk Isles who’d recently sacked Tall Trees Town, so it could be his squadron were engaged in a fight and lost some of their number (as Corsair kings have preyed on sailors by burning their ships and selling the captives into slavery). While acknowledging that north Sothoryos is a death trap, Victarion doesn’t admit that the Basilisk Isles are “…Hot, humid, and swarming with stinging flies, sand fleas, and bloodworms, these islands have always proved singularly unhealthy for man and beast alike.” (TWOIAF) The Red Death, which originated in the Basilisk Isles, is transmitted by fly bites and has a high mortality rate. I think the most likely explanation is that disease killed most of Stonehouse’s men, so corsairs preyed on the lightly manned ships, and then storms delayed those who were able to make it out. Ralf Stonehouse, as Victarion’s standard bearer who encouraged him to press his claim rather than stay put at Moat Cailin, I imagine tried to pay “the iron price” in the Basilisk Isles and thus contracted a disease (maybe being mercy killed, maybe deciding to go out fighting.) As TWOIAF says, “the Basilisk Isles are best avoided, for no good has ever come to those who journey hence.”

[sapphicsmaximoff]

the heir - daenerys targaryen (pt. 2)

a/n: since I already have 4 parts posted on ao3, I'm posting them all here as well.

i ii iii iv v

“What is this Khal Drogo like?” Viserys inquires. 

“The Dothraki may be peculiar people, but he is a simple man. He will like Daenerys.” Carra seemed to get more nervous as Daenerys’ betrothal to the man approached its head. He wasn’t a gentleman, a fact she knew. But it wasn’t her place because Daenerys would be given to him. Viserys and Carra would take his armies to King’s Landing in exchange for her hand. 

The two could laugh the feast before Robert Baratheon’s head when this was all over. She dreamt of such a sight. 

“Good.”

Their wedding wasn’t for several moons, and Carra had stayed for four. She and Daenerys had begun to get closer. In the mornings, the princess hoped to wake up and hear the pattering of Carra’s boots as she ran around the compound several times. 

The girl wouldn’t admit it, but she enjoyed watching her. She sweats profusely, and her muscles glistened in the sunlight. She was freakishly tall, and her stark black hair with silver streaks became matted when she did her morning run.  And when she finishes, the three of them eat breakfast, and the two women share glances and smiles. 

“Carra, tell me of your escapades through Sorthoryos. The Magister said that is how you discovered Blackfyre.” Carra nods. “Yes. I had an encounter with the Brindled Men. I escaped with my life, but they were fewer men and more grotesque creatures. I found the sword buried there. Why and how? I have no idea. But it was there, and it was intact. I did gain a few scars, but nothing debilitating.” Now he was curious. 

“Could you show me?” Carra glances at the siblings nervously before simply pulling up her shirt. Daenerys eyes widen as her eyes land on the large gash that trailed close to Carra’s heart to the right of her abdomen. “Goodness.”

“Yeah, it is the main reason I only wear shirts.” Carra chuckles, pulling down her shirt. “There’s one on my hand, but that’s healed. I still can’t feel this finger.” She wiggles her pinky finger. “I have a few burns, don’t ask how. Very nasty explanation.”

“Oh, I won’t, I promise.” Viserys chuckles. Carra looks over at Daenerys with a smile. “How are you still alive?” The girl asks. 

“Luck.” 

Later in the day, Viserys had gone off with the Magister, and Carra had spent her time reading Daenerys’ room. She’d spent a lot of time in there recently. 

“How many times have you read that since you came here?” It was one of the only possessions Carra brought along with her. “I have no idea.” She mutters, pretending to read while staring at the princess from the corner of her eye. “You’ve never told me what it was about.”

“It’s a story of love. “The Face of Beauty” is not in the common tongue, though.” Daenerys hums, sitting up. “Read it to me.” Carra looks away and over to her. 

“Is that an order?” She smirks. Daenerys immediately shakes her head, making the older woman chuckle. “I was teasing. Of course, I’ll read it to you.”

She turns to her favorite page. 

“Borros stood at the head of the table, watching his wife. They stared at one another, and despite her scar, he still loved her. She was different now, no longer his delicate flower, but he didn’t love Lyana any less. He loved her more. She was different, but she was still his.” Carra continued, and Daenerys stared with her hand supporting her head. 

Over and over, Carra repeated the phrase “his delicate flower,” and it made the girl wonder if this book was where Carra had gotten it from. 

She was so deep in her thoughts that she almost hadn’t noticed when Carra closed the book. “That’s all for today.” She smirks, placing it beside her. “Do you want to get out? I could take you on horseback, perhaps?” The young princess had never smiled wider in her life. “Yes.” 

“No,” Viserys says. 

“You know I will protect her, Viserys.”

“I do, but you have no idea how many people have attempted to take our lives since we were born, Ser Carra.” Carra knew she’d gone through the source of these men just to find the siblings. “I understand, I-”

“Brother.” The two look over at Daenerys. “I trust her. I just wanted to get out.” Viserys glares at her, and Carra frowns but steps in front of her. He focuses back on Carra, his gaze softening. “If she comes back with even a scratch-”

“You will have my head. I’m sure.” She smiles and grabs the younger girl’s hand. The duo exit, and Carra covers the blonde with a blanket as they ride towards the small beach down the hill. 

She stopped the horse and hopped down before pulling Daenerys down. The shorter girl took in a deep breath of the salty air, and Carra sat on the damp sand. “Do you ever wonder what is beyond the Narrow Sea?” Daenerys asks. 

“Not really.” She receives in response. “Well, I think there's more society. We only know the seven kingdoms, but what if there are more beyond the wall or land we have not yet discovered?” Carra shrugs. 

“I think it best if they remain undetected. The royals will wish to conquer it. Imagine the amount of suffering that could’ve been prevented if Aegon had not wished to conquer everything.” Daenerys looks over at her and watches her expression. “Conquests and rebellions only bring pain.” She thought back to her family. She’d failed to mention the young sisters that she hid away with another family to escape freely. 

Robert’s Rebellion was good for the Baratheons, Starks, and Lannisters. Celene Tiren was no enemy; now her daughter suffered because people believed she was. “Do you truly wish not to rule if my brother takes back King’s Landing?” Her question was presented in a way that almost made Carra sad. 

She was so quiet, soft, and innocent. 

It was something Carra admired. “I would not. I was being serious when I admitted I’d rather just retire to a beach.” 

“Well, you can’t just leave me,” Daenerys says playfully. “You will not be alone because you will be a queen.” Daenerys’ smile falters, and she looks away from Carra. “I do not wish to be a queen, Carra.” Carra looks at the sand with guilt. 

“I’m sorry, Daenerys.”

“What for?” Carra looks at her with sad eyes. “I didn’t know you well when I asked Viserys to give you away but know that I have; I will never forgive myself.” She watches as the shorter woman walks back to her and sits down beside her. Daenerys grabs her hands softly. 

“It is what needs to be done.” The brunette shakes her head. “No, we could find another way. Another army.” 

“No one would negotiate with us. You know that. And this marriage won’t last forever, I hope.” Carra scoffs. “You know if Viserys could milk the relationship with the Dothraki until the utter was dry, he would,” Daenerys smirks as they look into each other’s eyes. 

There had been a sort of unspoken thing between them that Viserys noticed but would never allow. Carra saw the way he treated his sister, and when she tried to calm him down, he would give her a silent threat that kept her silent. She had no reason to be afraid. 

She was taller and stronger. These were traits she got from her father. 

But he seemed like a man with a temper. If she questioned him or got out of line, she was sure he’d chop one of her limbs off. She was also worried for Daenerys because he knew they liked each other. It was a definite weakness. “I’m sorry, I just worry for you.” 

“That’s sweet, but I think I can handle myself.” Carra hums, knowing that might not be true. And unfortunately, the days go by faster. Eventually, it becomes very few days before the Khal and Daenerys are to be married, and Carra is readying herself to travel. The first thing she did when she woke was run a bath before the maidens could attend to it for her. 

Daenerys had woken up early as the sun rose. It was almost as though her body had led her to Carra downstairs, and her eyes raked over Carra’s body. Her back had more scars, and her muscles shifted as she wiped herself with soap. “I didn’t think you a spectator, Daenerys.” The girl gulps as Carra turns around with a genuine smirk. 

She could see the scar on her abdomen more clearly and saw that it ran further down to her hip bone. “Would you like to take a bath with me?” The blonde’s breath hitches, and she tries to avert her gaze. “No. I-I have the faintest idea as to why I came here.” She lets out nervously. 

“It’s alright. I’m sure I won’t be the last naked woman you see.” Daenerys doesn’t move, and Carra chuckles as she turns back around.

[bravelittlescrib]

For some reason I have literally always thought that the fandom had universally accepted the idea that the Crannogmen are a non homo sapien, likely homo Neanderthalis or Denisovan-like species. I don’t know why I thought this. I just looked it up and I can’t find any record of this theory. Apparently I came up with this and forgot I did

It’s probably more likely that Crannogmen just have some Children of the Forest DNA in them, but I like to think it’s not totally impossible for them to be another hominin species. George has written about at least one other non-sapiens homo species (the Brindled Men of Sothoryos) and possibly something else I’m forgetting about…. But yeah since asoiaf takes place in a pseudo ice age can I pls have neanderthals in my fantasy world thank you 🙏

[ferretteeth]

I cannot imagine coming away from reading ASOIAF and its millions of words and theories and lore and art and ONLY caring about Targaryens. And I mean specifically those who are a little too into Valyrian blood quantum when there is so much else going on in this world (Harrenhal, blood magic, the first men, weirwood, the drowned god, Braavos, the brindled men, Naath, the Qarth magic, whatever is happening in Sothoryos, who are the Daynes) but they only care about those little white haired bitches!!!!!! L + ratio + bald + stan Hot Pie

[frosket]

99

[lollahazadi]

Zeb x Y/N (Your Name)

"I already told you…" you whisper to the lasat beside you "there's no one here!" he spoke in a low, squeaky voice. "Relax there, I know what I'm doing" Zeb said looking from side to side with the communicator in his hand. " The only thing you know how to do right now is holding that communicator and making us walk in circles…." you said without putting much faith in the path they were taking through the city. The communicator beeps and reveals Kanan's call with a worried and impatient tone of voice: "Zeb where are you two?" Zeb, his face creased in lost but unadmitted, gazes at the outskirts of the city. You, in desperation to get to the meeting place soon, take Zeb's giant fist and shout "HE MADE US GET LOST!" snorted, Zeb looked at you irritated and snapped "What do you think you're doing, girl???" . Kanan, on the other side of the frequency, asked what that complaint had been and Zeb took possession of the communicator, undoing the thesis of his friend next to him: "It was nothing, it's her drama" He explained glaring at you while you just shake your head slowly in a (no) and meaning (you're completely wrong) "Me and y/n at the rendezvous point. Where are you?"

"Your're not at the rendezvous point , because i'm at the rendezvous point. Y/n is right." Kanan laughed "You really got lost!". Zeb turned his gaze to the right where you were standing and he could see you raise your left eyebrow in a (I told you big guy) "I told you big guy" you warned smiling in the corner. That voluntary movement that you made made Zeb glazed over you, he saw that as a charm that you carried with you and that from time to time he reproduced whenever he had the opportunity. You were a piece of perfection that made him want to bite, but so tiny that he was even sorry to break you. His voice echoed as he looked at her, it was trying to bring him back to the real world, Rebellion, Empire, Buckheads with guns and the rendezvous….. you called it. "Zeb…Zeb…ZEB!!!" Until he heard the last call of his name and was able to return to the reality in which they found themselves: "Huh? What?" Zeb woke up. "Ask Kanan, where should we go" he Asked you pointing to the big purple hand holding the communicator. Confused and silly, Zeb clears his doubts: "Uh, where's the rendezvous point again ? Kanan had said over and over again that it was in the alley and in a market, but even so, the duo could not reach the predicted location. Zeb smiled mischievously: "Well, I am in an alley" while watching StormTroopers overwhelm an ugnaught merchant. Kanan said that the one who was in the right place was himself and that it was another alley. You intervened nervously: "My God in heaven, this is a city, with many fairs, with thousands of alleys, it could have given a better reference point, no ???" and you put both hands on his cheeks until they slid and his face was like a hutt's. Then you can look at the poor ugnaught trying to talk to the empire troopers in order to avoid his arrest and you looked at Zeb waiting for him to do something and shook his swollen biceps and brindled dark purple. "Look there! They're going to arrest him!" Pointing worriedly at the small humanoid, you notice that Zeb contorts his joints, neck and shoulders. Yes, in addition to realizing how masculine and altruistic that was, you realized that he was about to pick a fight with a fist in the face and possible broken limbs. the Lasat smiling in satisfaction at having to feel the crash of those men's helmets going against his fists said to Kanan:

"Yeah, there's a lot of alleys in this town" The only thing you could do was bring both hands together and snap your fingers stretching them out in front of your body. You were no brute, although, you liked this big brute, with the goatee and side beard, big green eyes that you enjoy looking at for a while while you guys talk about sabacc, podracer or wrestling that goes through the holonet. Just as the two stormtroopers were about to arrest the small, porcine creature, Zeb's large hands came out on either side and brought the two troopers' heads together to collide with each other like two marbles, knocking them unconscious to the ground. Job well done, Zeb wipes both of his hands as the little creature looks on that he's just been saved by a lasat. You laughed at the two men who easily succumbed to Zeb's blow and congratulated him by clapping his hands "You make it look so easy, you crumpled them like one who crumples paper" Zeb looked at her cheekily and bragged "It was nothing honey, you can also crumple those heads of potty". You asked suggestively approaching him "Perhaps some private lessons on how to delete a trooper…" "Oh stop y/n, you don't need lessons, you blow these guys away with that flexible, energetic little body of yours, it's pretty easy for you to do a surprise attack." Zeb spurred you on as he looked deep at him. You were flattered and slightly blushing "If that's what it says.." but he insisted "Hey hey girl, stop now, I don't even need to say this, look at you, you have a body to envy, look at that hair, that eyebrow, those eyes and… besides, I'm not just talking because you're pretty , but also because you are incredible and skilled in battle". Now you turned into a cherry tomato because your cheeks changed color because of the things he said to you "Oh, but…you don't have to say those things to me Zeb…" laughed "You're not bad either, your physique is too a kind I like and admire…." WAIT! WHAT ??? No, you shouldn't have said you like his physique!! Now he's going to think you're an idiot!! But Zeb seemed to laugh heartily in his thick, husky voice, finding you amusing.

"Y/N you really are the kind of person everyone would like to be around" He looked at you and you repeated the look of complicity, you on your tiptoes trying to reach Zeb's face to stare at him closer and closer deep, but had to cease as Kanan was still online asking if they would come to the meeting or not. Before you could even respond, dozens of soldiers in white armor came towards you shouting: "Hey! you guys, stop". Zeb looks at you and says: "You spoke too soon when you said I made everything look too easy, girl." "Yeah, I think I overdid it a bit…" You said, shrugging your shoulders and bracing yourself for what was to come. Zeb sighs and tells Kanan that you would be a little late, making Kanan complain that you were already late and start running from the stormtroopers in pursuit. Zeb gives his hand for you to take and run together, but you were so desperate to escape the oppression that you ended up overtaking Zeb, making him look silly and perplexed, but they ran together until they reached a dead end, you screamed : "Look there! What did I say! This town doesn't have a point of reference that isn't a damn alley." But in the alley there was a TIE fighter and a pilot beside it, when he saw them, he warned that it was a restricted area, but you didn't care, you just wanted to escape or fight. Zeb warned Kanan in a humorous tone; "Right. So we are definitely going to be late" . And you started to fight to the sound of Kanan scolding both "Late-er.Late-er!" . The lasat bravely punched the pilot who kept the fighter, climbed into the ship and jumped into a huddle of soldiers, surrendering and hitting them one by one. You with your two hands disarmed a trooper, broke his wrist and kicked him away with your boot. The next one who was shooting you dodged to one side and did a backflip and landed on the ground with one hand and the other raised and your legs well positioned on the ground, one of your legs slipped on the soldier's ankles, knocking him over for once. A trooper coming from behind, you can reflexively elbow him. While you fought, Zeb watched her from afar, admiringly and with a full look, thinking "Karabast. Look at these moves, I like this" and stretched his rifle, transforming it into an electric baton, ascending it at each end.

"Wait, you and y/n are fighting stormtroopers??" Kanan wanted to know without being able to see anything, just hear the mess made. Zeb positioning his Lasat weapon asked feigning innocence: "What makes you say that ?" and attacks his imperial opponents, electrocuting anyone he can.

"I heard blaster fire." Kanan justified every hit Zeb landed on the troopers, making one of them scream in pain "And Screaming". Kanan continued and Zeb not caring said calmly "there may be more screaming" but Kanan does not forgive the delay and continued to scream "Oh thats great. You get lost in the middle of a mission for you two to be sneaking out in any alley and decide to start your own battle with y/n again". You hear it from afar and defend yourself by yelling as you grab a trooper and kick him with your knee in his groin " I HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS NO KANAN, I told you, he made us lose!" you accuse Zeb " Go on As for me, I was just as focused on getting to the reunion as you are."

Zeb also defends himself to Kanan while also defending himself against enemies in "Didn't Decide." a soldier jumps on Zeb's back as if they were playing football " It just happened. " Zeb put his back against his leg in the TIE fighter to shoot the guy on his back and wrapped his rifle around him and threw him to take down the soldiers who came.Kanan asks on the call "So you two…?" "This time . And NO! I didn't plan to be alone with y/n and I didn't make us both get lost, nothing happened, Just happened I mean because we couldn't get to the rendezvous. He looked at her and they both gasped after a good fight and were interrupted by the LS-607 pilot who called desperately for help when he saw a lasat of 2.10 with his back to him. The communication asks how many opponents there were, Zeb was joking looking at himself, looking at you, around and pointing at him even " One", but you intervened " Stop being brazen, you fought alone, did you? Two" You leaned on Zeb like he was a doorframe as you watched the terrified pilot.

Zeb gets the idea to climb the TIE while the poor pilot miserably shoots Zeb, but Zeb hides. Seeing that he didn't see the lasat, he approached the vehicle terrified, but he was suddenly lifted by the humanoid's prehensile feet and fell hard to the ground. You with your machine gun blaster shot at the trooper reinforcements that came and took down as many as you could, shooting, disarming, striking each man until some of them passed out at your feet. When your ammunition ran out, without a second thought, with the machine gun itself, with the weight of it, you howled and beat your opponents in the head, in the ribs, in the back until you were sure that their bones were broken enough to fight back. Zeb half kneeling on top of the TIE looked at her as if he saw the doors of Ashla's paradise, as if it were the most beautiful, most beautiful and most exciting thing to waste his hours and hours watching. Kanan on the line asked feigning embarrassment "Oh, Zeb. Are you embarrassing the imperials again". Zeb taking the device off his belt, said satisfied "No, y/n is doing a beautiful job for me and honestly, Kanan. Its hard not to. She is learning from the best." He smiled proudly as he watched you beat up the idiots. That was better than watching a Miss Universe show that airs every year on the holonet.

But just an empty blaster wasn't going to stop the reinforcements that arrived more and more. Then Zeb had an idea as they tried to shoot him, Zeb crawled behind the vehicle until he was upside down and the shots were all concentrated on the TIE, causing it to leak fuel. You run for cover behind the TIE and see Zeb who is clinging to the TIE like a spider: "These guys are too many!" You say. He notices that the liquid was coming out of the vehicle and advises you as he looks at you "I think you better run and fast." You look down and immediately see the reason and connect it to the shots focused on the ship and worriedly ask: " And you ?!" "I can handle it, run to the alley!" You, even though you don't want to, decide you need to get out and fast. "Alright, back to the alley!" Said frustrated while running "Always the alley, this city is full of alleys!" you complain leaving the field of view of the troopers who shoot.

Orrelios watching the ship leak, head over heels dodging the blasters quickly, he laments jokingly: "Well, thats not good". Kanan blindly, apprehensively asks: "Whats not good? whats not good?" And suddenly, a big explosion devastates that scene, spreading debris from the TIE and you protecting yourself as you can under a tent. After the impact, you can come out of hiding and together with the ugnaught that appeared with his droid carrying a basket of fruits, they could see all the soldiers knocked out on the ground in the middle of the explosive fog. You search with your eyes where that crazy lasat is that risked to be able to blow up those bucket heads, until you saw him coming out of the smoke screen as if nothing had happened to him. Unceremoniously you run up to him and jump into a tight, reassuring embrace, he holding you behind your back and you wrapping your legs around his wide hips, "You crazy !" You scream in congratulations drowning your face in his shoulder "It could have been in pieces, are you sure it's in one piece?" You wanted to know as you felt around Zeb's strong shoulders, his full biceps, every part of his body making sure he wasn't scratched, he was intact. You accidentally end up touching his ears too, a sensitive and intimate part of a lasat's body, making Zeb shiver at the sweet touch and growl affectionately. You noticed that you went too far and stopped immediately, because you remembered that his species' ears cannot be easily touched "It was bad Big, it escaped me, I did it on impulse" You still hid your face in his shoulders. Zeb even though he liked the soft touch of her little hands, he replied calmly "It's okay, it was nothing, as you can see, I'm fine, girl, are you hurt maybe? Those toilet-headed men weren't kidding with you" He questions while touching her back with his hands and then sliding down to her spine to see if she hadn't been compromised and accidentally groping her waist, squeezing it slightly and going down to her behind, but realizing that it was a precious female part being touched, the Lasat he gasped and his cheeks went from purple to burgundy and he placed his hands under his thighs, stilling himself. You ask "okay big guy? I heard choking" you took your face from his shoulder to face your purple friend who looked you in the eyes, he replied nervously " Yes yes, it was no big deal, you're fine, I'm fine, we're all fine he he " He laughed awkwardly at the situation and hoped she hadn't noticed the touch on her buttock. You answer mischievously looking at him "Don't worry, no trooper kicked my ass, I kicked theirs" leaving Zeb blushing and clearing his throat with nervousness and that he was still holding her but was afraid of being disrespectful, but the two looked good . "Look y/n, I just… I didn't mean to touch her the way you think…." You cover your big lips " Shshsh, it's ok Zeb, I know you, you're not the perverted type, that's even.. cute Zeb" you laughed red and you both looked at each other not knowing what to do next. The communication device still left Kanan on: "Zeb ! Y/N! I see smoke . Was that? was that a TIE fighter exploding?"

Instantly, the two of you pull apart as if Kanan was able to see the scene. Zeb gently releases you to the ground and you reach down and stroke your right arm like you're cold. The ugnaught offers its credits as a way of gratitude to both of you, but you decline and prefer something you can eat. Zeb takes a piece of fruit from the stallholder's basket and offers it to you first, you gladly accept it, wipe it off on your clothes and take a bite. Zeb takes his fruit and denies coughing to Kanan that there was no explosion: "No" but then he saw that there was no reason to lie and admitted "Okay. Yes" and bites the fruit. Excited Kanan says "Nice". Zeb thinks out loud "I thought so". As you two follow the course to leave, more stormtroopers appear as Kanan says "Okay, stay put. I'll follow the smoke and pic you two up" You and Zeb look at each other knowingly, as he stretches for a second round, you steal a gun from a fallen trooper, ready to fight again. the lasat rebel stretches his bo rifle like an electric baton saying defiantly "We'll be here".

[theredpharaoah]

Personally, I’ve always thought the main inspiration for the Singers(Children of The Forest) was Mesoamerica. Westeros itself - the landmass - is North America. The Coming of the First Men is like when the Vikings arrived in North America. The Andal invasion is the conquest. But then the political and social world of Westerosi culture is based off of Europe.

The Singers originate from the Forest of The Ifequevron in the Grasslands(Dothraki Sea). The Arm of Dorne is like the Land Bridge. The First Men would later follow the Singers over to Westeros. I can’t really come up with a reason why they would do this. Maybe after the fall of the Fisher Queens. The Grasslands are based off of Mesopotamia, Egypt, and maybe other parts of Africa. The Sarnori are based off Zaueces of Ancisnt Libya

The Ghiscari seem to be mostly based off of Egypt and Persia. Valyria is Mycenaean Greece, Macedonia, and Rome. Rhoyne is Minoan Crete, Phoenicia, Hittites, and the Indus Valley Civilization. It was thought for a while that Hittites developed iron working which makes me want to say they’re a Rhoynish influence(as they taught Andals how to work iron).

Sothoryos is based mostly off of Mesoamerica and maybe Australia. I’ve never thought Sothoryos was inspired by Africa. Because Europe knew of and traded with Africa since forever. They had a huge gold trade with West Africa - especially Mali. But I want to say Ulthos is inspired by Australia. I personally think the “Brindled Men” are just tattooed or practice ritual scarring. The stuff about the women not being able to mate with men from Essos and Westeros is probably a lie. If it’s true then it’s caused by something else. If they really couldn’t mate with these men, I’d think they’d be unable to get pregnant at all. Yeen is Teotihuacan.

Bone Mountains might be Pamir Mountains. The Hyrkoon Warrior Women could be inspired by Mino of Dahomey, commonly known as the Dahomey amazons. Alternatively, they could be representative of pre-Islamic Persian women and the Achaemenid Empire(one person said they had concubines who doubled as bodyguards. The Jogos Nhai are based off of the Alchon Huns, and I’d say the Moonsingers are largely based off of Deborah from Judges of pre-monarchic Israel(actual historical Israel, not Zionist Israhell). Jogos Nhai see gender as a behavior; not physiologically defined or bound. Males and Females can be Men or Woman in their culture - they just have to behave like whichever gender. Because the Alchon Huns are from Bactria(Ancient Iranian Civilization) the best I can come up with for this are either the Gala of Inanna, the later Galli of Cybele, and/or mukhannath of Islam. But the culture around Mukhannath - to my knowledge - don’t allow for females to become men. This makes me want to say it comes from various West African cultures who had boy-wives and female-husbands. But most likely it’s just a naïve idea of GRRM’s.

The Free Cities are based off of Italian City States and Ancient Greek City States(Lys and Lais of Corinth). The Rhoyne seems to share the Ancient Greek city state inspo.

Dragonstone and Targaryen-ruled Westeros is Eastern Roman Empire or Byzantium mixed with misconceptions about the “dark ages”.

Dorne reminds me of Moorish Spain. Nymera reminds me of Onomaris.

Summer Islands are Africa and The Caribbean.

Naath gives me Madagascar

[hariki-maru]

afghan hound!!🐾

the afghan hound is a sighthound (hunting dog used to track prey mostly using sight) originating from the cold mountains of afghanistan, distinguished by its gorgeous thick, silky coat! the akc describes the breed as, "aloof and dignified aristocrat of sublime beauty" despite this description though, they are still very silly and loyal!!

history

although the afghan is an ancient breed, there is no pictorial record of the afghans. there is a drawing done in 1813 depicting an afghan soldier with a dog that looks similar to the afghan hound of today, indicating that the breed hasn't changed much in appearance even after 200 years! (・o・) the afghan hound was brought to britain by military men as a living souvenir from the exotic lands of where they were posted (kinda messed up)

there were a few dogs imported to the uk during the late 1800s-early 1900s like "shahzada", a cream dog whose body was preserved by the british museum and "zardin" who had many characteristics prized in the breed even today such as his “snowshoe” feet and the visible saddle on his back. he was so awesome ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) that he became the model for the first afghan hound breed standard, written in 1910-1920.

in the 1920s the importation of afghans rose. the first afghan hound kennel in the uk had desert (also called steppe or bell murray) type dogs which had sparse, silky and light coats. by contrast, the mountain (also called ghazni) type dogs had heavier coats and greater angulation. a ghazni type dog named "sirdar" became very popular as he looked much like zardin, the previous headline maker. eventually both types were crossbred with each other, creating the afghan hounds we have today!!

appearance

afghan hounds generally weigh about 23-27 kg (50-60 lbs) with a height of about 64-69 cm (25-27 in) with a life expectancy of about 12-18 years. it has a thick, silky, flowing coat which is long in length ☆ the saddle hair, or the hair along the back, is short, close and coarser than the rest of the coat and should (by breed standard) have a smooth appearance.

afghan hounds also have a long, silky topknot and a hood of long hair may form from the top of the neck and flow into the shoulders and withers. the hair on their muzzle and cheeks is very short and fine and the hair on their neck may be almost bare of long hair and become an extension of the saddle.

following the breed standard, a LOT of colours are accepted. accepted colours are black, black and tan, black and silver, blue, cream, blue and cream, red, silver and white. accepted markings are black masks, brindles, brindle and black masks, dominos and brindle and dominos!

temperament

afghan hounds are independent, dignified, and aloof but are affectionate and extremely loyal to the humans they have bonded with! ᡣ𐭩 this loyalty can make it difficult for an adult afghan to adjust to a new home though, but it can make them fairly easy to housetrain because they want to please their owners ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ )

grooming

afghan hound pups have short, fuzzy coats that require little maintenance. it doesnt stay that way though ૮◞ ﻌ ◟ა as the long, silky coat of an adult afghan requires regular grooming. HOURS of brushing per week (not daily; phew!) is needed to maintain a smooth coat free of debris, mats and tangles. regular bathing, with shampoo and conditioner, is also required to keep its hair soft and silky. what a diva! (っ- ‸ - ς)

health

afghan hounds are prone to developing hypothyroidism (condition causing decrease in thyroid hormone production), necrotic myelopathy (loss of myelin from the spinal cord, can result in paralysis), sensitivity to anaesthesia and cortisone (vets will help guide afghan owners towards the most appropriate anaesthesia options), gastric dilatation volvulus (gdv; often known as ‘bloat’, a condition where the stomach twists, trapping the contents and gases), panosteitis (a painful, inflammatory bone disease) and laryngeal paralysis (a progressive paralysis of the larynx).

they may also develop eye problems and hip dysplasia, which, by responsible breeders, are conditions tested for along with a thyroid evaluation.

exercise

afghans are sighthounds, bred to hunt and chase prey by sight, so they have a strong instinct to run off in pursuit of anything perceived as prey, causing walking off leash to be not advisable. short walks do not provide enough exercise for this athletic breed so ideally, an afghan hound should have the opportunity to run several times a week for at least two hours in a large, enclosed area. afghans are tall, lean, and strong, which makes them excellent jumpers, so their exercise area must have a high, secure fence! ∩^ω^∩

training

as stated earlier they are very loyal to their owners and are eager to please them and are quite easy to house train. teaching afghans general commands is sufficient training, although no amount of training will overcome the breeds hunting instinct to break off on a high-speed chase unfortunately ʅ (◞‿◟) ʃ

fun fact: the afghan hounds long fur was originally developed to protect them from the harsh climate of the mountainous regions of afghanistan, acting as insulation!! ૮ • ﻌ - ა

sources:

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