ASoS 3: Arya I

Arya rides north with her best friends, Gendry and Hot Pie.

Arya: Actually, I don’t like Hot Pie that much. He’s just here for the ride.

Hot Pie: HEY!

Arya: I do like Gendry though. *licks lips*

Gendry: *looks back nervously*

Arya: Anyway, if Roose Bolton catches us… we’re DEAD! But you know what? I don’t even care no more. Forget that guy.

As the three ride, they come upon a group of wolves eating a dead stag.

Arya: I bet that’s not supposed to be symbolic at all.

They back away slowly, since while she might be a Stark “wolf” she’s not actually a wolf wolf and wolves don’t really take kindly to people interfering with their meals.

They continue on and find an apple tree.

Arya: I’m so hungry! I’m going to eat one of these apples. YUM!

Hot Pie: Gross Arya! There are dead people hanging from this tree.

Gendry: Yeah, it’s a bit disturbing that you would eat an apple from a tree with lynched people.

Arya: If anything, it makes the apple even tastier.

The two guys look at each other and then look at Arya’s cold, dead eyes and know she’s probably telling the truth. Gendry tries to break up the nervous tension.

Gendry: So where are we heading for again?

Arya: North! Towards Riverrun. We’ll be safe there.

Hot Pie: Why? Why would we be safe at Riverrun?

Gendry: Duh. Because her mom is there. This girl is Ar—

Arya hits him.

Gendry: Ouch! Oh. Is your identity still supposed to be a secret? Damnit. I keep forgetting. Why is it that we haven’t told Hot Pie yet?

Arya: For dramatic effect with a later reveal!

Gendry: How do you know this way is north?

Arya: Duh, you handsome dipshit. Moss grows on the trees on the south side. So the opposite side is north.

Hot Pie: Oh good. I thought for a minute you were about to say we were following some dumb comet in the sky.

And so they keep heading in the direction of Riverrun. Or at least in what Arya HOPES is the direction of Riverrun. That map she stole from Roose Bolton is helpful… but Arya isn’t exactly fucking Magellan here.

Arya: Ugh. So frustrating. We’re going too slow. If we go any slower, Bolton’s men will catch us.  You two need to speed up.

Hot Pie: Oh, well I’m sorry that a blacksmith apprentice and a fat boy who makes pies aren’t exactly expert horse-riders and can’t go as fast as you on Barbaro over there.

Arya: RIP Barbaro.

Despite Arya’s urge to ride ahead and leave these slow-pokes behind, she knows she can’t because she needs them to stay safe. Also, she likes gawking at Gendry.

Finally, they reach a river.

Hot Pie: This must be the Trident! Horray! We’re almost there.

Arya: No way. It will take us DAYS to reach the Trident. This is just one of the little tributaries that connects to it. See? Look! On the map. It’s one of these. We need to cross it to get to the Trident.

Gendry: Yeah… but WHICH one of the rivers is it? If it’s THIS one, then we need to go up the river. But if it’s THAT one, then we need to go down the river.

Arya: Whatever. We’ll figure it out. I’m going to ford the river.

Gendry: Surely we should caulk the wagon and float it across.

Hot Pie: Maybe we should take a ferry across. Or hire an Indian guide. Or wait for conditions to improve.

Arya: Wait… didn’t we already make these jokes earlier?

Everyone shrugs. It’s been a long time since they were last out in the wilderness, trying to cross rivers and shit. Harrenhal was mentally and physically exhausting. Who can blame them for recycling jokes? Besides, if you recycle a joke… you can just claim it’s a witty and intentional running joke. Rather than admitting you’re a lazy writer.

Arya fords the river. The other two follow. They lose 206 bullets and a wagon axle, so all things considered… a pretty good job with no deaths.

They ford another river after that, and Arya just won’t stop.

Gendry: Dude, I’m exhausted! We need to stop and rest!

Arya: No way! Resting is for giant losers who want to be killed by Lord Bolton. We need to keep going! I refuse to rest!

Arya then immediately falls asleep on her horse. The horse, without anyone to steer it, starts to walk in circles.

Minutes later, Arya wakes up.

Arya: AGH! I wasn’t sleeping! Wasn’t sleeping! No… just… resting my eyes. That’s all.

Gendry: Bitch, your horse was going in circles.

Arya: No it wasn’t!

Gendry: The narrator says it was.

Arya: Damnit. Okay. Maybe we can stop for a LITTLE bit and sleep.

They halt the horses and lay down to rest for a while.  Arya falls asleep.

In her dream, she is a wolf.

Wolf Arya: HELL YEAH! I have wolf dreams in the book… just like Bran! Jon Snow does too! All us Starks are wargs in the books. Or at least semi-wargs. I can’t believe they left that out of the show. I wonder if I’m inside of Nymeria right now.  No… wait… that came out wrong.

Nymeria/Arya hunts the Bloody Mummers with her pack of wolves.  The Bloody Mummers think that they are the ones hunting the wolves. But it’s actually quite the opposite.

Iggo, a Blood Mummer / Brave Companion: Man… Lord Bolton wants us to hunt these wolves, but I don’t see any around here anywh—

Nymeria/Arya jumps onto Iggo and tears his arm clean off.

Iggo: AGGHH!!! AGHHH!!!!!!

Nymeria/Arya: THIS FLESH IS SO DELICIOUS!

ASoS 2: Catelyn I

Cat Stark is a prisoner at Riverrun. Her decision to free Jaime Lannister has, needless to say, been criticized by every other human being with a brain and common sense. 

Riverrun's master-at-arms, Ser Desmond Grell, and steward, Utherydes Wayn, have been given the wonderful responsibility for looking after her and making sure she remains confined in her father's rooms. She looks after her ailing dad, Hoster. 

Desmond: Hey, you know I don't like keeping you locked up. But it is what it is.

Cat: Yeah, I get it. If you guys don't punish me, they'll say you were complicit and helped me.

Utherydes: It was all for naught though, Cat. Ser Robin Ryger has been sent after Jaime. He'll catch him!

Cat: Not if Brienne has anything to say about that!

Later, Cat sits by her father's bedside. He wakes up and starts moaning, only semi-lucid.

Hoster: Tansy! Tansy! Oh, forgive me! Blood! Blood! Dead! Forgive me! You'll have other babes. Trueborn.

Cat: OH SHIT! Who the fuck is Tansy? I've never heard that name before. Sounds like some sort of nasty-ass miscarriage story. Is that some girlfriend he once had but never told us about? Is it some nickname for my sister?

Hoster: ...

Cat: Hey, Maester Vyman! Do you know who Tansy is?

Vyman: No clue. There has never been a Tansy at Riverrun.

Cat: Okay, whatever. Any news from my son?

Vyman: Cat, you know I'm not supposed to tell you anything about what's going on. You're sort of a prisoner.

Cat: Pleeeeeaaaaaase! PLEASE!

Vyman: Okay. I mean, I guess I could tell you a little.  Your son has been wounded in battle.

Cat: WHAT?! WHY DIDN'T I KNOW ABOUT THIS SOONER?!

Vyman: Meh.  Whatver. I hear the wound ins't that bad.

Cat: Well tell me more abo--

--Vyman leaves, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it six times. 

Cat: Damnit.

So Cat sits there, alone except for her father in late stage care for dementia. All she can do is brood and think more about Tansy.

Cat: Eh, maybe at the end of the book we'll have some satisfying revelation about Tansy. Or maybe a deeply troubling, horrible revelation that included abortion. I guess we'll see!

I mean you won't, Cat. you'll be dead by the end of the book. 

Cat: What? Who said that?

Nothing. Nevermind.

Hours later, her brother Edmure returns to the castle. He makes her wait two hours before coming to see her. 

Cat: Wow, you look pale and exhausted.

Edmure: Wow, you look like an annoying, imprisoned cunt that let our most important prisoner go.

Cat: Ouch.

Edmure: So anyway. We got word from King's Landing. Stannis got completely jacked d up. The might of Highgarden and Dorne has also joined up with Team Joffrey. So yeah, we're pretty fucked. Especially with that letting Jaime go thing.

Cat: Look Ed, letting Jaime go might help me get my daughters back. He promised.

Edmure: Right, because the Lannisters are oh-so-trustworthy. And promises made by drunk prisoners who think they're about to get murdered are totally valid.

Cat: Well, when you put it like that it does sound dumb to release him.

Edmure: Because it was pretty dumb.

Cat: At the very least, Tyrion will let my daughters go. He seems like a straight-shooting kind of guy.

Edmure: That you accused of trying to kill Bran, imprisoned, and tried to murder. You think he'll be looking out for you?

Cat: Uhhhh.... yes?

Edmure: Well, it doesn't matter anyway. He's probably dead by now.

Cat: WHAT?

Edmure: Yeah, he took an axe to the head in the battle for King's Landing. Last word is that he was unconscious, barely hanging on, and doped up the opium. By the time Jaime gets to Kings Landing -- IF he gets to Kings Landing -- Tyrion will be dead. And Jaime likely won't get far. I've already sent ravens to Lord Bolton, offering a reward for his capture. Dead or al... well... dead is just fine.

Cat: NOOOOOOO!!!

ASoS 1: Jaime I

Jaime Lannister: That's right, bitches. It's book three and I've been upgraded from "that seemingly supporting character who threw Bran out the window" to full-on "Recurring POV Main Character." Everybody is going to have to just deal with it. Either by still hating me or by slowly allowing me to build up a dedicated fan base who thinks I'm the best character.

Brienne of Tarth: SHUT UP, JAIME!

She smacks him in the back of the head. He can't do anything about it, because he's chained up. 

Jaime, Brienne and Ser Cleos Frey float down a boat on the Red Fork River. Jaime has escaped his long captivity at Riverrun, via Cat Stark releasing him as part of a deal to try to free her daughters from Cersei. 

Yeah. That's how we're resolving that cliffhanger. Remember it? Cat lifted up her sword to Jaime as if she was about to kill him? Well, she didn't. She let him go. 

Jaime: Look wench, if you would just release these chains I could help you paddle the boat and everything.

Brienne: My name is not wench, it's Brienne. And I can't trust you, Kingslayer.

Jaime: Oh great. More with this "Kingslayer" shit, huh?

Brienne: Shut up, monster.

Jaime: Monster? Where the fuck did THAT come from? Especially coming from some wench that looks like a cow cosplaying as Joan of Arc.

Brienne: What else do you call a man who violates his own sister, murders his king, and tosses an innocent boy out of a window?

Jaime: Okay, FIRST... I'm not violating Cersei. That whole thing is totally consensual. Except for that one time on the TV show, but I'd rather not talk about that. SECOND... the king was a brutal murderer and tyrant. THIRD... innocent? INNOCENT? That Bran kid? All I was trying to do was get twenty minutes alone with my lady and this little creeper comes in and spies on us. Gross. If you ask me, he deserved that shit.

Cleos: Twenty minutes, huh?

Jaime: Well, more like seven minutes if you know what I mean. Hahaha! Give me a five, Cleos! Who cares if the lady has an orgasm, right? Bros before hos!

Cleos: I can't high five you. You're chained up.

Jaime: Oh. Right.

And so the boat continues down the river. Jaime contemplates life. He made those oaths to Cat Stark. But do oaths count when you're shitfaced drunk and chained up in a dungeon? Probably not. Still, Cat Stark likely hoped that Tyrion would be decent enough to live up to the oaths if not him.  Jaime also thinks more about the Bran thing. Especially the catspaw assassin sent to kill Bran. Jaime had nothing to do with that. Did Cersei? Nah, probably not. She wouldn't have sent a clumsy assassin. She would have just told him to finish the job. 

As Jaime thinks, she stares at his reflection in the river. 

Jaime: Hey! Hey! You know that even though Lady Stark freed me, we're probably going to be in a lot of trouble if we get caught. And I'm super famous and handsome. Everybody knows me as having super amazing blonde hair and a clean-shaven face. But I've grown out this huge beard while I was in prison. If we shave off my head, I'll look NOTHING LIKE Jaime Lannister. And then we can more easily make our getaway!

Cleos: Yeah, sure. I mean I guess that makes sense.

So Cleos helps Jaime shave off his head. He looks at himself again in the river reflection, almost unable to recognize himself. 

Jaime: Almost. I mean if I just wasn't still so goddamn sexy, I wouldn't be able to tell. Plus I look less like Cersei when I'm like this. She'll probably hate that, hehehe.

Cleos: Dude, gross. We all know you fuck your sister and that you and your sister look very similar. We don't need you to specifically call out the fact that one of the reasons you enjoy having sex with one another is because you look like each other and it's like having sex with yourself. That's just NOT necessary. As your cousin, I got to be honest with you about these kinds of things.

Just then, Brienne steers the boat to a shore and grounds it. 

Jaime: WTF?

Brienne: There! Look. Three women, hanging from a tree.

Jaime: Yep. They're dead. That sucks for them. What does it have to do with us and why are we stopping in the middle of a warzone?

Brienne: We must cut them down and give them proper burials. It's the honorable thing to do.

Jaime: Or we could... you know... NOT DO THAT. And just keep going.

Brienne: Nope. We're stopping. You filthy Lannister scum go around murdering all the innocent people in the country side. Someone has to be respectful.

As they approach, they see a note pinned up by the murdered women. Brienne reads it. 

This is a warning to all stupid whores who service Lannister men... you will die! LOLZ! Sincerely, Team Bolton.

Jaime: OH WELL LOOK AT THAT! Do you know who murdered these women? Why it looks like it was YOUR SIDE that did that. Not mine.

Brienne is in disbelief. Mainly because she's a fucking simpleton who doesn't understand how the world works and has insane, unrealistic ideas of "good" and "evil" that don't line up with the fact that atrocities are generally committed by all sides in war.

Jaime: Well. At least I'm not going to help dig any holes. Because, you know, the chains and everything.

But no hole digging occurs at all. In the distance, another boat appears on the river. 

Cleos: Shit. We gotta get out of here.

Jaime: No kidding. If it's a Lannister boat... they'll probably kill us. If it's a Stark boat... they'll probably kill us. NOW! Let's go! Let's go, people!

And so they hop back on the boat and try to escape. But the other boat is just too fast and soon comes up on them. 

Ser Robin Ryger: HALT THERE! I am Ser Robin Ryger, sent by Edmure Tully to return the Kingslayer to Riverrun! I demand your surrender at once!

Jaime: What? Kingslayer? There is no Kingslayer here! You must be thinking of someone else. Look, I have a bald head and a beard. That Kingslayer guy has a clean-shaven face and beautiful, locks of golden hair like a goddess.

Ryder: Dude, I know it's you. Stop. I recognize the other two people in the boat too. How many 6'5" brickhouse women dressed up as knights do you think there are in the Seven Kingdoms? One. Just one. Brienne of Tarth and she's right there.  And Cleos Frey... I clearly recognize you too. In the last book it was me who brought you to the Great Hall of Riverrun to hear Robb Stark's terms for your release and peace between the King in the North and House Baratheon.

Cleos: Oh wow, was that you? Because when the writer of this blog wrote up Chapter 7 of A Clash of Kings, he didn't think you were an important enough character to mention and just left you out.

Ryger: GRRR! I'm important, damnit! Surrender the Kingslayer now or we will attack you!

Brienne then jumps out of the boat and climbs up a nearby cliff. 

Ryger: WTF did Tarzan Lady just do that for?

Jaime: I dunno. She's probably running away like a little scared bitch. What you SHOULD BE ASKING YOURSELF is whether or not you can go toe-to-toe with Jaime Lannister? I challenge you to a dual, man! Just take these manacles off me and we can fight like men.

Ryger: What? No. Why would I do that?

Jaime: I mean, you probably wouldn't. I'm just trying to distract you.

Ryger: Distract me from what?

Brienne stands on top of the cliff and throws a giant boulder into Ser Ryger's boat. The men on the boat run out of the way. The boulder creates a giant hole in the ship, and it sinks right down to the bottom of the river. 

Ryger: GRRRR! You haven't seen the last of Ser Robin Ryger! I swear that to you, Kingslayer!

Jaime: I believe you! You'll probably be one of the forces that has to surrender Riverrun to me in the future, and you'll volunteer to take up the black.

Ryger: Say what now?

Brienne dives into the river and swims back to the boat. For a minute, Jaime thinks of trying to grab an oar and smashing her head in with it. But he just shrugs and lets her hop back on the boat. They sail away. 

Jaime: Hahaha, that was the best. Horray for teamwork. Give me a high five!

Brienne: I can't give you a high five. You're in chains.

Jaime: Oh. Right.

A Storm of Swords: Prologue

Chett drives around in a circle in his orange 1969 Dodge Charger with a Confederate Flag painted on the top. 

Chett: YEEEE-HAWWWWWW!!!!  Let's catch us up a bear, y'all!!!!

Lark the Sisterman: Stop spinning that car around! You're going to scare the bears away with all that noise.


Small Paul: I wish I had a pet birdie. I love birdies!

Chett: Well, I reckon y'all ain't fixin' to help me catch no bear with my dogs. Cuz my dogs gone and done got all starved. So I'mma hunt with good ol' General Lee here!

He blasts the horn and it plays "Dixie."

Lark: Uhh... wait a minute... who's POV chapter is this?

Then Chett suddenly realizes...

Chett: Why... it's... it's MINE! YESSIREE! CHETT HAS A POV CHAPTER! YOWIEEE!!! I knew I'd be a main character. Why, I tell ya! That Jon Snow and that fat piggy Samwell Tarly... I'll get my revenge on them for taking away my sweet, comfortable job as Maester Aemon's steward! And now that I'm a POV character, I'm going to rise to the top! Oh yes I will!

Lark: But I was just thinking... every character that has so far started off the books with a POV chapter has died.

Chett: W-what?

Small Paul: Yeah. A Game of Thrones began with Will. He died.

Lark: Right. And then A Clash of Kings began with that foolish old Maester of Dragonstone, Cressen, drinking his own poison.

Chett: But... I... uhh... I mean... what? Really? Every POV chapter guy dies?

Lark: I mean so far.

Chett: NO WAY! This is your chapter now, Lark! Take it!

Lark: Nope. Too late. All yours, Chett.

Inconsolable, Chett drinks a bunch of his moonshine that he was initially fixin' to smuggle across the Hazzard County line to avoid taxation. 

Chett: Well. Maybe I won't die. Maybe this time it will be different! Why, I have a great plan to make sure I stay alive. And that's to hunt a DIFFERENT type of bear now. The Old Bear, Mormont!

And so Chett explains his plot to murder Lord Commander Mormont. He, Lark, Small Paul, and about a dozen other co-conspirators will commit the murder TONIGHT! 

Lark: And he's not the only one! We're also gonna a whole LOT of people!

Chett: That's right. I'm actually starving my dogs on purpose. I want them hungry so that they can attack the horses.  We also kill Blane from the Shadow Tower,  Grubbs and Aethan because they've   drawn the watch tonight, Ser Piggy to make sure he can't send out the ravens and because I hate him in general.

Lark: Also, Powell will kill Secretary of State William H. Seward and Atzerodt will go after Vice President Johnson. Remember not to pussy out, Atzerodt!

Chett: I want to gut that piggy Sam myself! Boy, I really hate this trip. 300 of us going against a massive army of thousands of Wildlings coming down from the Milkwater? Forget that nonsense!  We kill the people leading this expedition, and then we peace out.

The plotters then head back to the Fist of the First Men, and along the way they discuss what they'll do after they escape. 

Chett: I'm going to kill Kraster, take his Keep, and marry all his daughters for myself! And I'm going to make them dress all sexy like Daisy Duke in them short blue jean shorts!

Lark: Gross. Isn't Daisy your cousin?

Chett: What's wrong with that?

Lark: *shivers* Anyway, what about you Paul?

Small Paul: I don't care. I just want a pet birdie! After we kill Mormont, I can have his raven, right? The one that talks. Me and him can be best friends and he can talk to me!

Chett: Uhh, sure. Whatever.

They then run into Dolorous Edd and Grenn back at Camp, who are teaching Sam some archery. 

Sam: So... loose the arrow like this?

*THWANG* 

Guy Super Far Away and in Completely Opposite Direction from Target: AGHHHH!!!!!!!

Sam: SORRY!

Edd: Way to go, Katniss.

Sam: Shut up, Edd. Oh hey look, it's that shitty redneck and his friends.

Chett: SHUT UP, PIGGY! I'll show you! I'll get my revenge for you taking my nice job, you'll see! I'll be the character that everybody sympathizes with from now on! I'm the good guy here! I'm the victim!

Edd: Really? Because aren't you in the Night's Watch because you brutally murdered a girl that you had a crush on after she rejected you for being ugly?

Chett: FUUUCKKK YOOUUUU!!!!

Chett, being too much of a pussy to fight Edd, instead kicks one of his dogs and walks away, sulking. 

That night, it gets super cold and everyone is called by the Lord Commander to gather around the central fire at the camp at the Fist. 

Mormont: Okay, hey look everyone. By now you'll have noticed all the wildlife has vanished so we're running out of food. It's just too cold. And with our scouts not returning yet, I think it's time to head out. We ride at dawn to attack the Wildlings.

There is a murmur around the camp. 

Random Guy: That's suicide! We'll all die!

Mormont: Aye, maybe we will all die. Or maybe just the unimportant and irrelevant characters will die, and more important characters will continue to live on. But that's the plan. Get your things ready because we leave at dawn.

Well, this plan to leave at dawn has just proven to Chett and his conspirators that they indeed DO need to attack tonight. The plan can wait no longer or it will be too late.  All they have to do is kill everyone just like they planned, and then make a nice getaway, completely undetected. 

Small Paul: Oooh look! SNOW! Paul likes snow! Yaaaaay! Snow! Fun!

Chett: OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT! NOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Small Paul: What's wrong? You no like snow?

Chett: This is going to RUIN EVERYTHING! How are we going to escape if it snows? The plan is that we quietly kill a select few people and make our escape! But if it's snowing then there will be snow on the ground. And there is snow on the ground then we'll leave footprints in the snow. And if we leave footprints in the snow... then we'll be TRACKED!

Small Paul: Oh.

Chett: THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT CAN POSSIBLY HAPPEN! I can't imagine anything worse than this.

Sam: Hey there, Chett. What are you talking about?

Chett: Hrm. Fat Piggy. Well, at least I can kill you.

Sam: Say what now?

Chett begins to go for his dagger when--

*HORN BLOWS*

Sam: Oh wow! A horn is blowing! If it's just one blow that means Rangers are coming back. But if it's two blows, that means it's the Free Folk attacking. Let's listen to hear which it is.

They nervously stand there, waiting for a few seconds. 

*HORN BLOWS*

Chett: OH SNAP! Two horn blows! Wildlings are attacking! NOW?!

Sam: Wow! Scary! I'm a coward and I hate battles. This is awful. I can't imagine anything worse than this.

Chett: Oh, I can. I can imagine my whole plan being ruined by--

*HORN BLOWS*

The horn blows a third time. Everyone in the camp stops dead in their tracks. Not just Sam and Chett. Everyone. Every. Fucking. Body. 

Random Watch Guy: Uhm... I'm sorry. What does three blasts mean? I've never actually heard three before.

Chett: It means... The Others!

Chett then bursts into insane nervous laughter and pees himself. Because he's probably going to die very, very soon. 

Random Watch Guy: How the hell did the White Walkers find us?

Other Random Watch Guy: I heard some asshole spinning circles his Dodger Charger earlier. That probably got their attention. 

Chett: WHATEVER. BUT I MADE IT OUT OF THIS POV INTRO CHAPTER ALIVE!

For now.

ACoK 69: Bran VII

Bran, who is very much alive and is not dead like the miller's children, has warged into Summer's body again. And Summer is doing typical wolf shit.

Bran/Summer: I'm just running around. Chasing my tail. Fighting over eating the corpse of a dead horse. Playing with my brother, Shaggydog. Watching Winterfell burn to the ground. You know, typical wolf stuuuuuhhhh.... WAIT A MINUTE. Watching Winterfell burn to the ground?!

Yep.

Voice: Wake up! Bran! Wake up!

Bran: AGH! Damnit! Why did you bring me back down here to the dungeons catacombs below Winterfell. I want to be running around free. Not a cripple in a crypt.

Jojen: Yo Bran, maaaan. You need to eat, maaan. You've been out for three days, bro. Like, whoa. Even a mega-hit of the sativa doesn't knock me out for that long. I think, like, if you keep going into Summer's dreams for that long... one day you'll never come out!

Bran: I don't need to eat. I was already eating that dead horse. I could taste its delicious horse blood in my mouth. Yum! Horse!

Jojen: That's Summer eating the horse, Bran. Not you. You can't get nourishment from your dreams, man. Unless, like, you can. Whoa. That's deep.

Meera: No, I just want to confirm that you CANNOT GET nourishment from your dreams. You do need to eat, Bran. Also, I want to point out that Rickon, Osha, and Hodor are all also here as well.

Osha: Yep. We are. We never left Winterfell. We were hiding in the catacombs the whole time. We only let the dogs loose and then hid out here.

Bran: Oh, and by the way. I saw Winterfell completely on fire out there. And abandoned.

Meera: WHAT?!

Bran: Yeah, it looks like it's been like that for a while. Some big battle. Now Winterfell is totally destroyed. When I was Summer I didn't see anyone. We should probably go out and see what happened.

Osha: That's not a good idea. But then again... we are almost completely out of food. I wonder if it's day or night.

Bran: It's day. I saw that when I was Summer.

Rickon: Oh goodie! Are we leaving then? Are we finally getting out of here? I can't wait to see Shaggydog! He's my best friend!

And so they gather their limited number of things up, and begin to head out of the catacombs for the surface.

Osha: Although we'll need some weapons. Just in case. YOINK!

Osha grabs the sword from Ned Stark's tomb.

Bran: HEY! Way to desecrate my father's grave!

Osha: Shut up. He's not even buried here. Last we know of, his bones were still in the process of being shipped from Riverrun. And this is just some ceremonial sword that was going to decorate a grave. Better we be armed in case Theon or any of his bitch-ass Iron Men are still around.

Bran: Fair point. Let's all steal weapons from graves!!!

Meera takes a sword from Rickard Stark's grave, and Bran takes one from his own uncle Brandon. The others grab swords too, but this isn't a chapter about sword distribution... so we'll just move the story along. I mean it's not like these missing swords will come up multiple books later in a Theon POV chapter taking Lady Dustin through the crypts.

Bran: Look at me now. A cripple with a sword. I bet everyone will be so scared!

Meera: Stop being a mopey little bitch.

And so they head to the passage to exit the catacombs and get out, only to find...

Osha: Nope. It's blocked. Some SUPER HEAVY object is wedged against the door. We'd need a giant, strong, horse-man to be able to open it. If only we had someone matching that exact description with us right now.

Everyone turns to Hodor.

Hodor: Ah, salutations my dearest compatriots. For I was indeed quizzical with regard to when I, Hodor, would actually have some dialogue within this chapter. It is especially lamentable that it took this long for me to speak, as my interlocution skills are second-to-none!

Osha: Shut the fuck up and open the door.

Hodor: Right-o.

Hodor uses all his strength and eventually pushes the door open. They come out in the First Keep,  which is now a burnt ruin of waste and sadness.

Summer and Shaggydog are waiting there though. They've got that psychic connection with the Stark boys, so that's convenient. After a bunch of hugs and kisses and face-licking...

Jojen: We should, like, go, maaaan. Before OTHER wolves show up. You know, the less friendly kind. Or pigs! I hate the pigs! Always trying to take my weed.

Osha: I agree. With the "getting out of here" part. But let's find some food first since we were starving down there for the last few days.

They go scrambling around and find some spam, mixed nuts, a frozen pepperoni pizza, a half-eaten bag of sour gummy worms, buffalo chicken taquitos, a six pack of mountain dew, and a bunch of the Winterfell 7-Eleven's "Big Bite" hot dogs that have been rolling back and forth on that rolling heater thingie for way too long. 

Jojen: Good, that's enough food for me. I've got the munchies. Not sure what everyone else is going to eat though. *tokes*

Meera: This is for everyone, asshat! Come on!

And so they carefully sneak out of the ruins of Winterfell. Summer runs ahead, towards the godswood, and howls back at them. 

Summer: *HOWL* [Translation: This way, you slow ass mofos].

Bran looks around and sees the ruins of the home he grew up in. Destroyed buildings. Dead bodies. Lots of dead bodies. 

Bran: Oh, this is odd. This dead guy has the symbol of the Dreadfort on him. I wonder how HE got here.

Osha: Don't worry about it. They're dead bodies now, so how they got here doesn't matter. Just watch your step and don't trip over any of these--*OOOF*

Osha trips over a dead body. 

"Dead Body:" *oof*

Bran: AGHHH!!!! THE DEAD BODY SAID "OOF!"

Maester Luwin: I'm not dead yet, you dipshit, Bran.

Bran: LUWIN! Holy crap! You're still alive!

Luwin: *cough* Not for much longer.

Bran: Oh yeah, good point. Whenever someone coughs that means they are going to die. Everybody knows that.

Luwin lay there, mortally wounded from earlier. Barely able to move.  He smiles. 

Luwin: Bran and Rickon. I knew you two were alive! I just knew it! That Theon is such a lying shit.

Bran: You've got to come with us, Luwin!

Luwin: No. I'm not long for this world. And what you boys need to do is separate yourselves. If you're caught together... the north is doomed! Robb's heirs must be apart. And your chances are better if you split.

Bran: Yeah, good idea. Nobody really likes Rickon anyway.

Osha: I agree. We do need to split up.

Bran: DIBS ON GOING WITH MEERA!

Meera: Okay. If you insist. And I guess my brother comes with me too. And we need Hodor too. To carry you, Bran.

Osha: Wait... so that leaves ME with Rickon? Damnit. Well, I bet neither of us are ever going to be seen again. Where should we go?

Luwin: I don't know. The Ironmen are to the west. The Bastard of Bolton, Ramsay, to the east. War is in every direction. Winter... is... coming.

Bran: HEY! That's my dad's line. Stop that.

Luwin: And before I die, I ask one last favor of Osha.

Osha: *sigh*... Okay. *starts stripping* 

Luwin: No, no! Not that. Here, I need you to "fetch me some water." *wink*

Osha: The wink. I don't get it. So you DO want me to strip down?

Luwin: Send the boys away!

Osha: Right. So I'm assuming you want me on top, given your condition.

Luwin: No. I need to you kill me and put me out of my misery. But I don't want the boys to hear me say that.

Osha: Ah, right. Right. Bran, Rickon... pretend you didn't hear that. Go over there and wait for me. I'll be fetchin Luwin some delicious, quenching water.

Osha pulls out a large knife.

Bran: Why are you pulling out a knife then?

Osha: Uhh... this is a water knife!

Five minutes later... Osha rejoins the rest of the group, covered in blood. 

Osha: So, okay... check this out. So me, Rickon and Shaggydog will go east on the kingsroad. Hodor and the Reeds will stay with Bran. And you can go... you know... whatever way you want, so long as it's not also east. In fact, it's better that you don't tell me what way you're going at all so I don't know. Adios, bitches!


A Clash of Kings was published 20 years ago in 1998. Osha and Rickon have not appeared since then. 

Bran: Wait... before we leave. Should we check around and look in the trees to perhaps see if there is someone spying on us? Someone like, oh, I don't know... Theon's mute squire, Wex Pyke.

Everyone shakes their heads, "no," indicating that it is highly unlikely that Theon's mute squire, Wex Pyke, is an important enough character to pay attention to and/or watch out for. So they all head separate ways without even looking to see if Wex Pyke is hiding in a tree and watching them.

Wex Pyke: Hehehe, it's funny because I AM here, and I'm going to follow Osha and Rickon.

NO! STOP THAT, WEX PYKE! You're Mute and not allowed to talk! STOP!

Bran: Okay, so what way are we going then, Jojen? Perhaps down to Greywater Watch to visit your father, Howland Reed?

Jojen: No, Bran. We need to go NORTH! To the Three-Eyed Crow!

Bran: OH SHIT, EXCITING!!!!

~FIN~

ACoK 68: Jon VIII

Jon and Qhorin Halfhand are the last two left of Team Skirling Pass: Scouting Party.

Jon: Wait... is this another one of those starting in media res chapters? What happened to the other characters? I mean it was already strongly implied in my last chapter that Squire Dalbridge was performing a suicide mission. But what happened to Ebben? What happened to Stonesnake?

Qhorin: We sent Ebben ahead to see if he could reach the other rangers. And Stonesnake's horse broke a leg so he stayed behind to buy us more time. So he pretty much committed suicide just like Dalbridge.

Jon: Wow. Sad. Guess we better press on then.

Qhorin: Nope. Let's stop and make a fire.

Jon: Stop and make a fire? But then we'll be instantly spotted! We're doomed if we do that.

Qhorin: We're doomed anyway. Look above. That warg eagle has been following us the whole time. No way are we going to get out of its sights.

Jon: Well, that's depressing. So we're totally doomed, huh?

Qhorin: Probably. Although I have an idea.

Jon: Well, I'm a main character so not being doomed and dying makes sense. Go on and explain it to me.

Qhorin: No. Not directly, I mean. I'd rather be vague and cryptic and ask you if you remember your oath.

Jon: Of COURSE I remember my oath!

Qhorin: Recite it for me, boy.

Jon: This seems like space-filler for a short chapter, but okay. *ahem*...

Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. Like if I get stabbed and die but am somehow magically brought back to life then it's okay for me to leave because I technically died. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. But that doesn't mean that I can't have sex with Wildling girls. I just won't marry them or have kids with them. It's a technicality. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. Probably. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. Maybe metaphorically a sword or maybe more literally like the living personification of Lightbringer or something like that. But probably just metaphorically. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the sand in the hourglass, the spoon that stirs the honey in the hot tea, the man who put the Bomp in the Bomp Ba Bomp Ba Bomp and who put the Ram in the Ramma Lamma Ding Dong, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all nights to come. O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. Play ball.

Qhorin: Good, boy. Now if you are captured... you must yield!

Jon: What? Yield? NEVER!

Qhorin: No, you must. Because I have a new SUPER DUPER TOP SECRET MISSION for you.

Jon: Top Secret Mission? AWESOME! Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!

Qhorin: Infiltration. You must pretend to abandon the Night's Watch and join the Wildlings. You will live among them. You will make friends with them. You will do as they say. You will act like a Wildling. But the whole time, you will secretly still be in the Night's Watch. Take note of their movement and plans. You will be a spy. When you've acquired all the information we need, you will then make your escape and report it all back to Lord Mormont.

Jon: What if they ask me to do a whole bunch of things that make me break my oath?

Qhorin: Then you must do them anyway. For that is the only way to truly be loyal and serve the Night's Watch now.

Jon: So wait... let me get this straight. You're telling me the only way to NOT break my oath is to break my oath?

Qhorin: Yeah, it's kind of like if you're an undercover agent in a cartel and they ask you to do drugs to prove you're not a cop. You sort of HAVE TO take the drugs if you want the mission to be successful.  Or if you're an undercover vice cop investigating a escort ring. You sort of HAVE TO sleep with at least 15-20 girls in order to collect enough evidence to get to the big pimps running the whole enterprise.

Jon: I'm pretty sure that's not how vice cops actually operate.

Qhorin: Whatever.

Jon: And how will I convince then that I'm truly a turncoat?

Qhorin: I've got an idea.

Jon: Well?

Qhorin: I'm not going to tell you.

Jon: WHY NOT?

Qhorin: For dramatic story purposes, the chapter is more compelling and surprising if I don't give it away.

Jon: Damnit.

And so they ride on. 

Jon: Ride on? I thought we were staying here by this fire!

Qhorin: No, that was a decoy. We're really going to a passageway hidden behind a waterfall, which leads through the heart of this mountain over here.

Jon: Oh.

And so they go to the passageway, and decide to rest for the night. There, Ghost meets up with them. 

Ghost: *woof* [Translation: Hey.]

After resting, they go through the tunnel and come out the other side. But on the other side they see...

Eagle: *squawk* [Translation: OH HAI THAR, IT'S ME!]

Jon: We've been spotted!

Qhorin: Well, there is nowhere to go now. We must make our final stand here. Jon, make sure Ghost is ready! *winks*

Jon: Ready for what? What are you talking about, Halfhand? And didn't you say that we were going to yield and play turn cloak?

Jon suddenly sees that they are surrounded by 14 Wildlings, including a leader whose entire suit of armor is covered in human bones. 

Qhorin: There he is, the Lord of Bones, AKA Rattleshirt. But don't call him Rattleshirt. He hates that and gets furiously angry with anyone who calls him that.

Jon: Okay, I won't call him that then. Especially if we're trying to convince him that we're on his side.

Qhorin: OH HEY THERE, RATTLESHIRT! You smell just like the tip of my dick after I fucked your mother in her ass!

Jon: DUDE! WHAT THE HELL?!

Lord O' Bones: Qhorin Fuckin' Halfhand? YOU?! AGH! DAMNIT! I HATE YOU! Oh... and here, we found your friend.

One of Rattleshirt's Wildling buddies pulls a head out of a bag and throws it at them. It's Ebben's head. 

Jon: Damn. So I guess it really is just us two, huh?

Lord O' Bones:  Two? It's about to be NONE! Archers!!!!! Kill them, NOW!

Qhorin winks at Jon and gives him a little elbow bump. 

Jon: Oh... right... now?  *AHEM*... I YIELD! I YIELD!

Qhorin: What? YOU YIELD? YOU COWARDLY LITTLE SHIT! HOW DARE YOU!

Jon: Huh?... but wait... you said...

Qhorin: WHY, I OUGHT TO KILL YOU WHERE YOU STAND, JON SNOW! You've probably been plotting to abandon us and join the Wildlings this WHOLE TIME.

Jon: Oh wait, I get it now.

Lord O' Bones: Who cares? We don't need a craven to join our side! KILL THEM BOTH!

Wildling: No, stop!

The Wildling pulls off their furs...

Ygritte: -HEY! It's me!

Jon: Oh, heeeey guuurl.

Ygritte: *winks* He saved me, we should let him yield. Prove that he's loyal to us.

Lord O' Bones: What? Why? NO!

Eagle: *squawk* [Translation: Yeah, fuck Jon Snow! I hate him!]

Ygritte: That eagle doesn't like you that much.

Jon: Why? What did I ever do to him?

Ygritte: Remember one of those guys you killed up by Skirling Pass? Well, that was our warg guy. So he's dead, but part of him still lives on inside of the Eagle.

Jon: Cryptic. Although I guess if one day I temporarily die, only to be brought back later, then I know my soul could be resting inside of Ghost. Which gives him a purpose which actually matches his name.

Ygritte: Yes. That would be a good plot device. To use Ghost as the vessel for your soul, as we are explicitly setting up that plot device here by stating that you have warg powers to go into Ghost. And, as you also say, if your "ghost" is inside of "Ghost" then his name is extremely apt.

Qhorin: I agree. That sounds like a good way to handle any Jon Snow dying thing. You know what would be a shitty way to handle it? To just have Melissandre bring him back with some spell.

Jon: Indeed. That would be a terrible and emotionally unsatisfying way to bring me back. You know, if I were to die at some time in the future.

Lord O' Bones: Well, if you don't want to die RIGHT NOW, then you're going to have to prove that you're one of us. And I got an idea of how you can do that. KILL THE HALFHAND!

Jon: What? Kill my friend Qhorin? Why I could nev--

Qhorin: --SHUT UP, JON! You're not my friend! You're a yielding traitor! DIE, SCUM!!!

Qhorin charges at Jon and pretends to fight him. He's clearly only fighting at about 50% or something though.

Jon: *whispering* Damn, dude. This is pretty messed up. You're pretending to fight me so that they'll think that I'm on their side. How exactly is this fight supposed to end?

Qhorin: Oh, you know.

Jon: Damnit, Qhorin.

Ghost sees Jon and Qhorin fighting. Ghost is confused as hell because he though that Qhorin was Jon's buddy. But Jon and Ghost are linked all, like, spiritually and shit. So Ghost can't help but defend his buddy. 

Ghost jumps into the fight too and starts savagely tearing apart the flesh from Qhorin's legs.

Qhorin: AGHH!!!!!

Jon: I... I can't do this!

Qhorin: Just get it over with quickly, boy. For the Watch!

Jon: Damnit.

Jon stabs Qhorin. He dies.

Lord O' Bones: Hahaha, that was awesome to watch. Now let's kill Jon Snow anyway.

Ygritte: WHAT? NO! He just proved himself to us!

Lord O' Bones: Who cares? He's a warg and a crow. Let's gut him and I'll add his bones to my armor.

Ygritte: No!

She stands in the way. Some of the other Wildlings join her.

Lord O' Bones: *sigh* Damnit, okay. So the boy can live. FOR NOW. We'll take him back to Mance and HE CAN DECIDE.

Jon: Sweet. So we're going to Mance, huh? Does that mean we're turning around and going back to Skirling Pass?

Ygritte: Hahaha, no. Mance's army is way past Skirling Pass now. By now he's probably well down the Milkwater and marching on the Wall.

Jon: Marching on the Wall?! DUNN DUNN DUNNNNNNN!!!!!!!

And so they burn Qhorin's body like some sort of Jedi night. The Lord O' Bones grabs Qhorin's bones and adds them to his collection. And we all wait for this ominous "marching on the wall" cliffhanger to resolve itself. But not until the next book.

ACoK 67: Tyrion XV

Tyrion is dreaming of battle. The men who fought along him and died. The men he killed. Mandy Moore trying to kill him.  It sort of smells like poop and pee in this dream too. 

Tyrion: Oh no wait, that's because I'm laying in my own filth.

He wakes up. Then goes to sleep again. 

He dreams of Cersei, Tywin, Varys and Littlefinger standing over him.

Tyrion: Yeah, this MUST be a dream because Tywin and Littlefinger aren't even in King's Landing. Wait. No. Unless we won the battle. Did we win the battle?

He falls asleep again. When he wakes up, Podrick Payne is standing over him.

Pod: A thank you for saving your life would be cool.

Tyrion: What?

A maester walks up. 

Maester Ballabar: Rest! Rest! You must rest, Tyrion. You have a grave injury. Here. Some more milk of the poppy.

Tyrion slowly feels his face. It's covered entirely in plaster and bandages. His face is throbbing in pain. He takes the milk and passes out. 

He dreams of a great victory feast. Jaime is there and he knights him. Shae is there too. But then Shae turns into his first love, Tysha. We then have an extended dream sequence about how that whole Tysha thing went down. Long story short: poorly.

He wakes again.

Tyrion: What the hell? Where am I? Is this some sort of hospice care? This isn't the Tower of the Hand!

Pod: Well, you're not the Hand of the King anymore.

Tyrion: Huh?


Maester Ballabar: Looks like someone needs more milk of the poppy.

The Maester goes to put it on Tyrion's lips. But Tyrion knocks it out of the way. 

Tyrion: NO! Stop that! Stop giving me milk of the poppy! How long have I been asleep for?

Maester Ballabar: A bit.

Tyrion: Adn get this plaster off of my head! I want it removed at once.

Maester Ballabar: That doesn't sound like a good idea. Remember the last character in this book series to be annoyed by his plaster? He thought it was all itchy and so he ripped it off. That was Drogo. Remember what happened to Drogo?

Tyrion: I SAID TAKE IT OFF!

Maester Ballabar: *sigh* Okay, whatever. But you're not going to like what you see.

Ballabar begins to slowly remove the bandages. He washes Tyrion's face and cleans the wounds as he does so. 

Maester Ballabar: Oh wow, the wounds are actually pretty clean. No festering or infection. That's pretty miraculous. Maybe you won't die after all.

Tyrion: MIRROR! GIVE ME A MIRROR!

Maester Ballabar: I have a feeling that this is going to be a lot like that scene in the first Tim Burton Batman movie, when Jack Napier looks at his face in the mirror for the first time after falling into the acid.

Tyrion: No. It won't be like that at all.

Maester Ballabar: If you say so.

Tyrion grabs the mirror and looks. He has a giant gash across his face and he's missing most of his nose. 

Tyrion starts laughing maniacally and then smashes the mirror. 

Maester Ballabar: I TOLD YOU it would be just like Batman.

Tyrion: I bet Mandy Moore must have been paid by Cersei! She wanted to make sure I never returned from the battlefield alive!

Pod: Oh... are we still doing this "speculating Mandy Moore's motives" thing? Because, as previously noted, it's pretty fruitless since GRRM never actually provides a definitive answer.

Tyrion: Damnit. So what happened to Mandy?

Pod: Drowned.

Tyrion: Ah. And where am I again?

Maester Ballabar: A room in Maegor's Holdfast.

Tyrion: And why exactly am I not in the Hand's Tower?

Pod: Dude, I told you. You're not the Hand of the King anymore.

Maester Ballabar: It's true. Lord Tywin is the Hand of the King. He, Lord Tyrell and Littlefinger returned just in time to turn the tide of the battle. They saved the city!

Tyrion: Wow. Really? Those guys saved the city?

Maester Ballabar: Yes. And maybe also Renly's ghost.

Tyrion: Say what now? This is all messed up. I need to go back to sleep.

Maester Ballabar: More milk of the poppy then?

Tyrion: NO! STOP IT! No more damn milk of the poppy. Get out of here!

Maester Ballabar: Whatevs.

Maester Ballabar leaves. 

Tyrion: Pod, make me some dreamwine. I'd rather have wine than more damn opiates. And fetch Bronn.

Pod: It's actually "Ser Bronn" now.

Tyrion: Really? Holy shit I missed a lot. Oh, and also get me Maester Frenken. I don't trust this Maester. He's probably one of Cersei's men.

Pod: Cool beans.