#Nightfire Giant

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Nightfire Giant by Dave Kendall

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: The Sacrifice (Asha III) [Chapter 62]

On the village green, the queen's men built their pyre.

[...]

"You do not want to watch this," Aly Mormont said.

"No, but I will." Asha Greyjoy was the kraken's daughter, not some pampered maiden who could not bear to look at ugliness.

Please reconsider.

+.+.+

It had been a dark, cold, hungry day, like the day before and the day before that. They had spent most of it out on the ice, shivering beside a pair of holes they'd cut in the smaller of the frozen lakes, with fishing lines clutched in mitten-clumsy hands.

Night Lamp things!

Big Night Lamp theory chapter, but we're going to hold off until Theon I TWOW to cover it all.

Long story short, holes will be (have been) cut into the frozen lakes surrounding the crofters' village, making the ice susceptible to breaking when overloaded.

Stannis will lure the approaching Frey army onto the lake using a false beacon (his toy sword or a fire) placed on a wooded island.

+.+.+

Six queen's men were wrestling two enormous pinewood poles into holes six other queen's men had dug out. Asha did not have to ask their purpose. She knew. Stakes. Nightfall would be on them soon, and the red god must be fed. An offering of blood and fire, the queen's men called it, that the Lord of Light may turn his fiery eye upon us and melt these thrice-cursed snows.

The author is making it seem as if Asha is the one being sacrificed.

Six stakes, but only four men will be burned. Peculiar.

+.+.+

"What has your southron god to do with snow?" demanded Artos Flint. His black beard was crusted with ice. "This is the wroth of the old gods come upon us. It is them we should appease."

"Aye," said Big Bucket Wull. "Red Rahloo means nothing here. You will only make the old gods angry. They are watching from their island."

The crofter's village stood between two lakes, the larger dotted with small wooded islands that punched up through the ice like the frozen fists of some drowned giant. From one such island rose a weirwood gnarled and ancient, its bole and branches white as the surrounding snows. Eight days ago Asha had walked out with Aly Mormont to have a closer look at its slitted red eyes and bloody mouth. It is only sap, she'd told herself, the red sap that flows inside these weirwoods. But her eyes were unconvinced; seeing was believing, and what they saw was frozen blood.

Red Rahloo kills me.

There's the weirwood island where the false beacon will go. Once again, Stannis will successfully weaponize a tree.

If he were an enlightened man, he might consider following more than one religion, but we can't all be as forward-thinking as Vicky Greyjoy.

But her eyes were unconvinced; seeing was believing, and what they saw was frozen blood.

Are the mountain clans making secret sacrifices to the tree or is that happening on its own?

(Drowned giant!)

+.+.+

"Good. Good. They will serve. Ser Clayton, bring forth the sacrifice."

Ser Clayton Suggs was Godry's strong right hand. Or should it be his withered arm? Asha did not like Ser Clayton. Where Farring seemed fierce in his devotion to his red god, Suggs was simply cruel. She had seen him at the nightfires, watching, his lips parted and his eyes avid. It is not the god he loves, it is the flames, she concluded. When she asked Ser Justin if Suggs had always been that way, he grimaced. "On Dragonstone he would gamble with the torturers and lend them a hand in the questioning of prisoners, especially if the prisoner were a young woman."

Sounds like Ser Clayton Suggs is in for an especially gruesome death.

Count on Daenerys and Stannis to always surround themselves with the best people.

+.+.+

Asha had been as horrified as the rest when the She-Bear told her that four Peasebury men had been found butchering one of the late Lord Fell's, carving chunks of flesh from his thighs and buttocks as one of his forearms turned upon a spit, but she could not pretend to be surprised. The four were not the first to taste human flesh during this grim march, she would wager—only the first to be discovered.

Peasebury's four would pay for their feast with their lives, by the king's decree … and by burning end the storm, the queen's men claimed. 

I'm going to be real with you guys, I am not above eating a buttocks if I'm starving to death.

+.+.+

Asha was surprised to see how ordinary they appeared. Not monsters, she realized, only men.

The oldest of the four had been their serjeant. He alone remained defiant, spitting venom at the queen's men as they prodded him along with their spears. "Fuck you all, and fuck your red god too," he said. "You hear me, Farring? Giantslayer? I laughed when your fucking cousin died, Godry. We should have eaten him too, he smelled so good when they roasted him. I bet the boy was nice and tender. Juicy." A blow from a spear butt drove the man to his knees but did not silence him. When he rose he spat out a mouthful of blood and broken teeth and went right on. "The cock's the choicest part, all crisped up on the spit. A fat little sausage." Even as they wrapped the chains around him, he raved on. "Corliss Penny, come over here. What sort of name is Penny? Is that how much your mother charged? And you, Suggs, you bleeding bastard, you—"

Ser Clayton never said a word. One quick slash opened the serjeant's throat, sending a wash of blood down his chest.

[...]

"The serjeant was the clever one," Asha said to Aly Mormont. "He goaded Suggs into killing him." She wondered if the same trick might work twice, should her own turn come.

Smart man.

Does that mean the weirwood got a sacrifice too? How close do you have to be?

+.+.+

"Where is the king?" asked Ser Corliss Penny.

Four days ago, one of the king's own squires had succumbed to cold and hunger, a boy named Bryen Farring who'd been kin to Ser Godry. Stannis Baratheon stood grim-faced by the funeral pyre as the lad's body was consigned to the flames. 

Devan Seaworth has been saved!

Let's wait and see if there's a reason for that. Let's wait and see if Devan Seaworth has a higher purpose.

All the same, Devan was not pleased to be here. The lad had taken great pride in serving as a king's squire, and it had wounded him when Stannis commanded him to remain at Castle Black. Like any boy his age, his head was full of dreams of glory; no doubt he had been picturing the prowess he would display at Deepwood Motte. Other boys his age had gone south, to serve as squires to the king's knights and ride into battle at their side. Devan's exclusion must have seemed a rebuke, a punishment for some failure on his part, or perhaps for some failure of his father.

In truth, he was here because Melisandre had asked for him. - Melisandre I, ADWD

+.+.+

Afterward the king had retreated to his watchtower. He had not emerged since … though from time to time His Grace was glimpsed upon the tower roof, outlined against the beacon fire that burned there night and day. Talking to the red god, some said. Calling out for Lady Melisandre, insisted others. Either way, it seemed to Asha Greyjoy, the king was lost and crying out for help.

Or

(dot, dot, dot)

Night Lamp things!

+.+.+

Over his armor of plate and mail Ser Richard wore his quilted doublet, blazoned with three death's-head moths on a field of ash and bone. King Stannis walked beside him. Behind them, struggling to keep pace, Arnolf Karstark came hobbling, leaning on his blackthorn cane. Lord Arnolf had found them eight days past. The northman had brought a son, three grandsons, four hundred spears, two score archers, a dozen mounted lances, a maester, and a cage of ravens … but only enough provisions to sustain his own.

Is that so? Curious.

dot, dot, dot is infallible.

+.+.+

A few white hairs were all that separated him from baldness; his forked beard was equal parts white and grey, but always ragged. Asha thought there was something sour about his smiles. Yet if the talk was true, it was Karstark who would hold Winterfell should they take it.

Reliable narrator Asha Greyjoy.

That's what we call doing a Sansa.

+.+.+

"Lord of Light, accept this sacrifice," a hundred voices echoed. Ser Corliss lit the first pyre with the torch, then thrust it into the wood at the base of the second. A few wisps of smoke began to rise. The captives began to cough. The first flames appeared, shy as maidens, darting and dancing from log to leg. In moments both the stakes were engulfed in fire.

"He was dead," the weeping boy screamed, as the flames licked up his legs. "We found him dead … please … we was hungry …" The fires reached his balls. As the hair around his cock began to burn, his pleading dissolved into one long wordless shriek.

Asha Greyjoy could taste the bile in the back of her throat. On the Iron Islands, she had seen priests of her own people slit the throats of thralls and give their bodies to the sea to honor the Drowned God. Brutal as that was, this was worse.

Hey, remember when Daenerys Targaryen did this to an enslaved woman?

Anyway, Stannis is going to die an ugly death, and I think that's a beautiful thing.

+.+.+

Close your eyes, she told herself. Close your ears. Turn away. You do not need to see this. The queen's men were singing some paean of praise for red R'hllor, but she could not hear the words above the shrieks. The heat of the flames beat against her face, but even so she shivered. The air grew thick with smoke and the stink of burnt flesh, and one of the bodies still twitched against the red-hot chains that bound him to the stake.

Told you.

Asha Greyjoy was the kraken's daughter, not some pampered maiden who could not bear to look at ugliness.

+.+.+

Wordless, King Stannis walked away, back to the solitude of his watchtower. Back to his beacon fire, Asha knew, to search the flames for answers. 

George is getting excessive. Right on schedule.

+.+.+

That was the moment Justin Massey chose to appear. "The king has other plans for his prize captive," he said, with his easy smile. His cheeks were red from the cold.

"The king? Or you?" Suggs snorted his contempt. "Scheme all you like, Massey. She'll still be for the fire, her and her king's blood. There's power in king's blood, the red woman used to say. Power to please our lord."

"Let R'hllor be content with the four we just sent him."

"Four baseborn churls. A beggar's offering. Scum like that will never stop the snow. She might."

It's true. A person with king's blood is like the ribeye of human sacrifice.

Arya's being impersonated, and Mance's child is on the other side of the continent, so if we want these conditions to improve that leaves only Asha or Theon.

And Shireen.

+.+.+

"My champion," Asha said to Justin Massey. He deserved that much, whatever his motives. "Thank you for the rescue, ser."

"It will not win you friends amongst the queen's men," said the She-Bear. "Have you lost your faith in red R'hllor?"

"I have lost faith in more than that," Massey said, his breath a pale mist in the air, "but I still believe in supper. Will you join me, my ladies?"

Looks like Ser Justin Massey might survive this story.

He's currently escorting Jeyne to the Wall, with plans to accompany Tycho Nestoris back to Braavos.

+.+.+

Aly Mormont shook her head. "I have no appetite."

"Nor I. But you had best choke down some horsemeat all the same, or you may soon wish you had. We had eight hundred horses when we marched from Deepwood Motte. Last night the count was sixty-four."

LMAO.

I'm sorry.

+.+.+

Almost all of their big destriers had failed, including Massey's own. Most of their palfreys were gone as well. Even the garrons of the northmen were faltering for want of fodder.

Nooo! I take it back, it's not funny anymore.

+.+.+

The southerners looked a sorry lot, Asha thought—gaunt and hollow-cheeked, some pale and sick, others with red and wind-scoured faces. By contrast the northmen seemed hale and healthy, big ruddy men with beards as thick as bushes, clad in fur and iron. They might be cold and hungry too, but the marching had gone easier for them, with their garrons and their bear-paws.

Gee golly, I'm starting to think ice problems are best solved by ice people.

+.+.+

Down the table, Will Foxglove was telling the men around him that Stannis would resume his march on Winterfell three days hence. He'd had it from the lips of one of the grooms who tended the king's horses. "His Grace has seen victory in his fires," Foxglove said, "a victory that will be sung of for a thousand years in lord's castle and peasant's hut alike."

Are you sure he's seeing the future and not the past?

The beacons that burned along the shores of the Three Sisters were supposed to warn of shoals and reefs and rocks and lead the way to safety, but on stormy nights and foggy ones, some Sistermen would use false lights to draw unwary captains to their doom.

[...]

As for your King Stannis, when he was Robert's master of ships he sent a fleet into my port without my leave and made me hang a dozen fine friends. Men like you. He went so far as to threaten to hang me if it should happen that some ship went aground because the Night Lamp had gone black. - Davos I, ADWD

+.+.+

"We will die by the thousands if we stay here," said Ser Humfrey Clifton. "Press on or die, I say."

"Press on and die, I answer. And if we reach Winterfell, what then? How do we take it? Half our men are so weak they can scarce put one foot before another. Will you set them to scaling walls? Building siege towers?"

Ser Justin Massey, designated voice of reason.

+.+.+

"Here at least we have some shelter," Wylde was insisting, "and there are fish in the lakes."

"Too few fish and too many fishermen," Lord Peasebury said gloomily. He had good reason for gloom; it was his men Ser Godry had just burned, and there were some in this very hall who had been heard to say that Peasebury himself surely knew what they were doing and might even have shared in their feasts.

In northern crofters' village, peas eat you.

Thank @aegor-bamfsteel for that one. Lol

+.+.+

"He's not wrong," grumbled Ned Woods, one of the scouts from Deepwood. Noseless Ned, he was called; frostbite had claimed the tip of his nose two winters past. Woods knew the wolfwood as well as any man alive. Even the king's proudest lords had learned to listen when he spoke. "I know them lakes. You been on them like maggots on a corpse, hundreds o' you. Cut so many holes in the ice it's a bloody wonder more haven't fallen through. Out by the island, there's places look like a cheese the rats been at." He shook his head. "Lakes are done. You fished them out."

👏 Night 👏 Lamp 👏 Things! 👏

+.+.+

"You will not take Winterfell!"

"Aye, we will," came a cackle from the high table, where Arnolf Karstark sat with his son Arthor and three grandsons. Lord Arnolf shoved himself up, a vulture rising from its prey. One spotted hand clutched at his son's shoulder for support. "We'll take it for the Ned and for his daughter. Aye, and for the Young Wolf too, him who was so cruelly slaughtered. Me and mine will show the way, if need be. I've said as much to His Good Grace the king. March, I said, and before the moon can turn, we'll all be bathing in the blood of Freys and Boltons."

Men began to stamp their feet, to pound their fists against the tabletop. Almost all were northmen, Asha noted. Across the fire trench, the southron lords sat silent on the benches.

Arnolf Karstark encouraging them all to march is all the evidence we need that they should not.

+.+.+

Justin Massey waited until the uproar had died away. Then he said, "Your courage is admirable, Lord Karstark, but courage will not breach the walls of Winterfell. How do you mean to take the castle, pray? With snowballs?"

One of Lord Arnolf's grandsons gave answer. "We'll cut down trees for rams to break the gates."

"And die."

Another grandson made himself heard. "We'll make ladders, scale the walls."

"And die."

Up spoke Arthor Karstark, Lord Arnolf's younger son. "We'll raise siege towers."

"And die, and die, and die." Ser Justin rolled his eyes. "Gods be good, are all you Karstarks mad?"

Sounds like we're going to need a reckless impulsive son to agree to meet an opposing army in an open field where the Vale can get at them.

+.+.+

"Gods?" said Richard Horpe. "You forget yourself, Justin. We have but one god here. Speak not of demons in this company. Only the Lord of Light can save us now. Wouldn't you agree?" He put his hand upon the hilt of his sword, as if for emphasis, but his eyes never left the face of Justin Massey.

It feels like Richard Horpe and Justin Massey have had a bizarre rivalry since they've been introduced.

+.+.+

Broken quick as that, thought Asha. My champion is made of suet. Even so, Ser Justin was one of the few who might object should the queen's men try to burn her. So she rose to her feet, donned her own cloak, and followed him out into the blizzard.

She was lost before she had gone ten yards. Asha could see the beacon fire burning atop the watchtower, a faint orange glow floating in the air. Elsewise the village was gone. She was alone in a white world of snow and silence, plowing through snowdrifts as high as her thighs. 

+.+.+

She blundered back onto the village green unknowing. The pinewood stakes still stood, charred and scorched but not burned through. The chains about the dead had cooled by now, she saw, but still held the corpses fast in their iron embrace. A raven was perched atop one, pulling at the tatters of burned flesh that clung to its blackened skull. The blowing snow had covered the ashes at the base of the pyre and crept up the dead man's leg as far as his ankle. The old gods mean to bury him, Asha thought. This was no work of theirs.

Hello Bran.

+.+.+

There's that horse again. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"A horse. No, horses. More than one." She turned her head, listening. The snow did queer things to sound. It was hard to know which direction it had come from.

Highlighting in case that becomes relevant later.

+.+.+

"Run, you stupid cunt," Ser Clayton shouted. "Run warn the king. Lord Bolton is upon us." A brute he might have been, but Suggs did not want for courage. Sword in hand, he strode through the snow, putting himself between the riders and the king's tower, its beacon glimmering behind him like the orange eye of some strange god. "Who goes there? Halt! Halt!"

The lead rider reined up before him. Behind were others, perhaps as many as a score. Asha had no time to count them.

Alright George, we get it, you can stop now.

The image of one man standing alone before oncoming riders is very Battle of the Bastards Jon Snow. Probably a coincidence, that was nonsensical.

+.+.+

They are too many to be scouts and too few to make a vanguard. And two were all in black. Night's Watch, she realized suddenly. "Who are you?" she called.

"Friends," a half-familiar voice replied. "We looked for you at Winterfell, but found only Crowfood Umber beating drums and blowing horns. It took some time to find you." The rider vaulted from his saddle, pulled back his hood, and bowed. So thick was his beard, and so crusted with ice, that for a moment Asha did not know him. Then it came. "Tris?" she said.

"My lady." Tristifer Botley took a knee. "The Maid is here as well. Roggon, Grimtongue, Fingers, Rook … six of us, all those fit enough to ride. Cromm died of his wounds."

[...]

The speaker came forward on his garron. He was very tall, very thin, so long-legged that it was a wonder his feet did not drag along the ground. "I had need of a strong escort to see me safely to the king, and Lady Sybelle had need of fewer mouths to feed." A scarf concealed the tall man's features, but atop his head was perched the queerest hat Asha had seen since the last time she had sailed to Tyrosh, a brimless tower of some soft fabric, like three cylinders stacked one atop the other. "I was given to understand that I might find King Stannis here. It is most urgent that I speak with him at once."

"And who in seven stinking hells are you?"

The tall man slid gracefully from his garron, removed his peculiar hat, and bowed. "I have the honor to be Tycho Nestoris, a humble servant of the Iron Bank of Braavos."

Of all the strange things that might have come riding out of the night, the last one Asha Greyjoy would ever have expected was a Braavosi banker. It was too absurd. She had to laugh. 

No kidding.

Let's talk about how absurd it is.

✨ MAP ✨

Tycho Nestoris has apparently entered the speed force.

He travels from Castle Black through the mountains to Deepwood Motte, progresses through the wolfswood in the same storm that's impeding Stannis, apparently passes Stannis (??) on his way to Winterfell where he picks up Jeyne and Theon, then tracks back to the crofters' village where Stannis is still stuck.

If the author is willing to bend space, time, and logic like this, maybe we worry too much about timeline.

+.+.+

The Braavosi smiled. "We've brought a gift for you." He beckoned to the men behind him. "We had expected to find the king at Winterfell. This same blizzard has engulfed the castle, alas. Beneath its walls we found Mors Umber with a troop of raw green boys, waiting for the king's coming. He gave us this."

A girl and an old man, thought Asha, as the two were dumped rudely in the snow before her. The girl was shivering violently, even in her furs. If she had not been so frightened, she might even have been pretty, though the tip of her nose was black with frostbite. The old man … no one would ever think him comely. She had seen scarecrows with more flesh. His face was a skull with skin, his hair bone-white and filthy. And he stank. Just the sight of him filled Asha with revulsion.

He raised his eyes. "Sister. See. This time I knew you."

Asha's heart skipped a beat. "Theon?"

His lips skinned back in what might have been a grin. Half his teeth were gone, and half of those still left him were broken and splintered. "Theon," he repeated. "My name is Theon. You have to know your name."

As far as brother-sister reunions go, I give this a 1/10. Their previous reunion was a 0/10, so this is actually an improvement.

Let's have two other siblings show them how it's done.

Final thoughts:

I've said it a million times.

If your prediction can't be supported by an excessive amount of text, it's a bad theory.

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[a-room-of-my-own]

Most of you, I suspect, will be unfamiliar with the work of self-professed ‘horror author’ and trans woman Gretchen Felker-Martin.

Latterly a little-known film and culture writer, Felker-Martin’s name reached wider circulation this week following the recent release of a debut novel — although not, it must be said, for the quality of the writing.

Called Manhunt, the book is set in a post-apocalyptic future in which a deadly virus wreaks havoc and turns people into zombies.

So far so mainstream — if you like that sort of thing.

Yet delve a little deeper, and Felker-Martin’s work is highly disturbing for reasons that go much further than the characters and plot, which centres on two transgender women hunting down and killing ‘TERFs’ in a battle for survival.

TERF is shorthand for ‘trans-exclusionary radical feminists’ — the highly derogatory term used by trans rights activists for anyone, but almost exclusively women — who insists that biological sex is real.

I am among them, while the term is also repeatedly used against Harry Potter author JK Rowling for her passionate defence of this fundamental principle.

Now, Felker-Martin has apparently seen fit to exact a deeply unpleasant fictional revenge, depicting the successful writer’s gruesome death after being crushed by a burnt-down castle.

I will not dignify Felker-Martin’s underwhelming prose with any further detailed description, save to say that it is full of misogynistic bile of which you can get a flavour via one of many enthusiastic promotional tweets put out on social media.

‘Try my novel Manhunt. Trans dykes fall in love and f*** and murder TERFs, feral men maraud in the wilderness, JK Rowling dies, etc,’ she has proclaimed.

So here we are, arrived in a place where a mainstream publisher — Manhunt is published by Tor Nightfire, an offshoot of publishing giant Macmillan — sees fit to release a novel featuring aggressive and violent fantasies about a living, breathing woman.

Sadly, I can’t say I am surprised. In some ways it is a natural extension of the world in which we now live, where women (and it is nearly always women) are routinely threatened, physically harassed and attacked for their views.

A world where self-styled ‘activists’ can call for their rape and murder and do so standing outside the house where they live with their children, as they have done to JK Rowling.

All while maintaining that they are the victims and we the oppressors.

Now it is being set down and marketed as ‘entertainment’ — and this makes me sick to my stomach. Let us pause for a minute to contemplate the outcry if a female author dared to depict a real-life trans person being crushed to death, the fate that befalls JK Rowling in Felker-Martin’s novel.

In fact, we can do more than imagine. Last year, JK Rowling published Troubled Blood, one of her Cormoran Strike series, which she writes under the pseudonym Robert Galbraith and was immediately accused of transphobia. She had employed the simple fictional trope of allowing her killer, on occasion, to disguise himself as a woman to commit his crimes.

Never mind that he is not the main villain of the book, nor is he ever portrayed as trans or even called a ‘transvestite’: the howls of outrage and victimisation were immediate, along with calls to boycott Rowling’s work and for bookshops to withdraw it from the shelves.

Where are these bleeding hearts now, when depictions of grotesque violence against women are being glorified by another author and her acolytes?

But then I know first-hand the hypocrisy of publishing houses, who seem to have no problem selling books by everyone from drug dealers to murderers — and indeed delightedly basking in the promotional opportunities they afford — but who draw a line at female authors who have done nothing more than speak out in support of women’s sex- based rights.

Two years ago, having produced a proposal as well as a sample chapter of my book on modern feminism, I was wooed by three separate publishing houses, wined and dined by their representatives and told that they were desperate to be the ones to take it to market.

Yet when they subsequently took it to their acquisitions department, all were each told the same thing by the virtue-signalling hipsters with beards and their blue-fringed colleagues: that they would leave their jobs in protest if they dared to publish a book by ‘transphobic’ Julie Bindel.

They all caved in, leaving me to sink into a deep depression from which I struggled to emerge. After years of being ‘de-platformed’ at university debates, disinvited from events at the last minute and often requiring a police escort at those I am ‘allowed’ to attend, this felt like the final nail in the coffin of free speech, reason and women’s rights.

In fact, my story had a happy ending. My agent was then contacted by a male publisher at Little, Brown, which published the book last year. It has since sold extremely well, vindicating their decision.

Many other female writers, among them children’s author Rachel Rooney, have not been so lucky — hounded for doing little more than tweeting in support of sex-based rights and, in Rachel’s case, choosing to leave the world of publishing.

It is a chilling depiction of the double standards — and doublethink — our society now finds itself in. One in which feminists are labelled oppressors in clear contradiction to the evidence that is around us.

I have spent 40 years campaigning for the rights of women, and I know now, as I have always known, that our morgues, our rape crisis centres, and our domestic violence shelters all tell the real story about who are the perpetrators of violence and who are the victims.

The truth is that you don’t hear reports of trans activists being attacked by women, feminists or otherwise.

Far from it. All of us, including JK Rowling, have spoken out in support of gender non-conforming people.

[fedonciadale]

I was reading one of your metas and I got surprised because people read this as jonerys foreshadowing: Sometimes she would close her eyes and dream of him, but it was never Jorah Mormont she dreamed of; her lover was always younger and more comely, though his face remained a shifting shadow.

I’ve always read this thinking that dany was dreaming about having a cute man and someone who isn’t old like Jorah and Drogo, especially because later when she uses Irri for sex (again) she pictures Daario’s face so I’ve never put much thoughts on it. I guess I just let it pass because jon is really associated with shadows, but anyway is not good as some people think it is. Great meta btw.

Hi there!

Thanks for the compliment.

Yes, the “shifting shadow” is possible Jonerys foreshadowing, but not in a good way, or rather it is foreshadowing that Jon will be the death of Dany.

The shifting shadows made the stone figures seem to stir as the living passed by. (AGOT, Eddard I).

This is about the Stark statues in the crypts. The dead Starks, just like Jon is dead right now.

And this is corroborated by this scene:

Lady Dustin's serjeant raised the lantern. Shadows slid and shifted. A small light in a great darkness. Theon had never felt comfortable in the crypts. (ADWD, The Turncloak)

Then we have a telling scene in Catelyn’s PoV:

She thought she glimpsed movement, but when she turned her head, it was only the king's shadow shifting against the silken walls. She heard Renly begin a jest, his shadow moving, lifting its sword, black on green, candles guttering, shivering, something was queer, wrong, and then she saw Renly's sword still in its scabbard, sheathed still, but the shadowsword . . .     (ACOK, Catelyn IV)

That is about Stannis’ shadowbaby killing Renly, an act of kinslaying.

King Stannis pointed a finger. "There you err, Onion Knight. Some lights cast more than one shadow. Stand before the nightfire and you'll see for yourself. The flames shift and dance, never still. The shadows grow tall and short, and every man casts a dozen. Some are fainter than others, that's all. Well, men cast their shadows across the future as well. One shadow or many. Melisandre sees them all."     (ACOK, Davos II)

This is also rather ominous in general, if you ask me.

As well as this:

The nightfire burned against the gathering dark, a great bright beast whose shifting orange light threw shadows twenty feet tall across the yard. All along the walls of Dragonstone the army of gargoyles and grotesques seemed to stir and shift.     (ASOS, Davos VI)

The shifting shadows are connected to Rh’llor and Melisandre, a power/powers that probably will partly be responsible for resurrecting Jon Snow.

She told the Myrish woman all that had occurred beneath the shifting shadow of the Iron Throne. (AFFC, Cersei VII)

This might point towards the fact that the Iron Throne is Dany’s true love.

This also doesn’t seem to bode well:

The way the shadows shifted made it seem as if the walls were moving too. Bran saw great white snakes slithering in and out of the earth around him, and his heart thumped in fear. He wondered if they had blundered into a nest of milk snakes or giant grave worms, soft and pale and squishy. Grave worms have teeth.     (ADWD, Bran II)

There again is a connection to the dead.

As is this quote:

Griff was on the second man the instant he shambled down off the cabin roof. With a sword in his right hand and a torch in his left, he drove the creature backwards. As the current swept the Shy Maid beneath the bridge, their shifting shadows danced upon the mossy walls. (ADWD, Tyrion V)

So all in all, shifting shadows should not be read as a promise for Dany, but a deadly threat.

No, why is this scene even seen as Jonerys foreshadowing? Because of this quote in Melisandre’s PoV where Jon is the shadow:

The flames crackled softly, and in their crackling she heard the whispered name Jon Snow. His long face floated before her, limned in tongues of red and orange, appearing and disappearing again, a shadow half-seen behind a fluttering curtain. Now he was a man, now a wolf, now a man again. But the skulls were here as well, the skulls were all around him. Melisandre had seen his danger before, had tried to warn the boy of it. Enemies all around him, daggers in the dark. He would not listen.     (ADWD, Melisandre I)

As you can see, Melisandre’s vision connects the theme of the shifting shadow quite well to Jon and to the other quotes. So, yes Jon is the shifting shadow, the dead man brought back by Rh’llor and his orange flames, the man who is also a beast, a wolf, surrounded by skulls, harbringer of death for Dany.

Usually Jonerys shippers connect this to this quote:

Beneath her coverlets she tossed and turned, dreaming that Hizdahr was kissing her … but his lips were blue and bruised, and when he thrust himself inside her, his manhood was cold as ice. She sat up with her hair disheveled and the bedclothes atangle. Her captain slept beside her, yet she was alone. (ADWD, Daenerys VII)

They say the shifting shadow and the manhood cold as ice is Jon. And that Dany feels like she sleeps alone, just like Jon felt when he lay beside Ygritte.

I must admit, that I see the foreshadowing, but I don’t see how this can be positive.

Thanks for the ask!

[ironclawallosaur]

So in news at Cindercone Clan in Exile: Nightfire Outpost has been destroyed by a giant horde of Serthis. No fatalities, but some injuries and a couple of dragons have gotten lost. Most of the others have made their way over to the Rogue’s Camp, where they are sheepishly wondering how to be a bunch of weirdo mercenaries and rogues.

There’s no greater ramifications of this (i.e. no big war with the Serthis or Evil Serthis Warlords On The Rise), I just wanted to consolidate the clanlets and spur some action.

Other updates: Caution got mutated into a wildclaw and continues to rock at the Coli; I got a Veilspun named Moonglow who is also a Coli boss despite not having an elemental slash or eliminate whoops, Vermouth is about to bring about the culmination of his raging jackassery, and we have an adorable new nocling. Oh, and the Veilspun came for Taxus too.

[canon-notcanon-warriorcats]

OC Thursday still on? If so, I'd like to tell you about our lord and savior Darkshine. She's a giant butch that sometimes doesn't know her own strength and she's like everybody's muscle-headed sister. She's got 3 baby sibs that she adopted, Nightfire Goosewing and Pikefin, who are all way too small and hide behind her all the time. She kinda looks like Tigerstar but she acts like the party paladin. She's almost died multiple times but just refuses to let the reaper take her without a fight

oh look a not edgy or evil dark- character

[tatticstudio55]

Why Jon “had” to die

Jon is a very guilt-driven character.

Why? Maybe it started with him wanting Winterfell and knowing that it couldn’t be his unless all his siblings died. Maybe there’s some subconscious guilt related to the death of his mother. Maybe it has to do with the way Cat treated him. Maybe all the above. Guilt is so deeply rooted within him that his whole life orchestrates itself around a never-ending atonement: he forbids himself from any sexual intimacy with a girl (like... the guy’s 14 in the book ffs). He wears “the black”, a color first and foremost synonymous of grief and sorrow. This is a lifetime long mourning vow that he’s taken at 14. Is he mourning his mother? Repenting for his “crimes”? Both?

“Iron Emmett was a long, lanky young ranger whose endurance, strength, and swordsmanship were the pride of Eastwatch. Jon always came away from their sessions stiff and sore, and woke the next day covered with bruises, which was just the way he wanted it. […] He had hardly slept last night, and after an hour of restless tossing he had given up even the attempt, dressed, and walked the top of the Wall till the sun came up, wrestling with Stannis Baratheon's offer. The lack of sleep was catching up with him now, and Emmett was hammering him mercilessly across the yard […]

That morning he called it first. "I'm Lord of Winterfell!" he cried, as he had a hundred times before. Only this time, this time, Robb had answered, "You can't be Lord of Winterfell, you're bastard-born. My lady mother says you can't ever be the Lord of Winterfell."

I thought I had forgotten that. Jon could taste blood in his mouth, from the blow he'd taken.

In the end Halder and Horse had to pull him away from Iron Emmett, one man on either arm. The ranger sat on the ground dazed, his shield half in splinters, the visor of his helm knocked askew, and his sword six yards away. "Jon, enough," Halder was shouting, "he's down, you disarmed him. Enough!"

No. Not enough. Never enough. Jon let his sword drop. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "Emmett, are you hurt?" – Jon, ASOS

The scene unfolds in such a way that it almost seems like Jon is seeking punishment, wanting to be beaten up, and at the same time, making himself deserve it.

The thing is, Jon isn’t guilty of... anything, really. His role as a black sheep is to suffer for a wrong that either 1) isn’t his fault, or 2) isn’t anyone’s fault. Jon’s long internalized guilt (sorry for sounding like a psychologist here) is projected to/for the readers in scenes where Jon’s “wrongs” are purposely left ambiguous – if not in the reader’s mind, at least in Jon’s: when he kills Qhorin Halfhand. When he finds Ygritte dying at the feet of the Lord Commander’s tower (double guilt symbolism here, since we know that Jon will become Lord Commander very soon), from an arrow that isn’t his, “but felt as if it were” (Jon – ASOS). Janos Slynt’s unjust accusations at Jon (he’s a deserter, a murderer of his own kin, an oathbreaker, etc) serves as a foil to this: we know Jon is being wrongly accused. We know Slynt is just a scum. Jon himself knows he’s not guilty of the crimes Slynt accuses him off; yet a part of him still believes so: he feels guilty for what happened with Ygritte. He feels guilty for sleeping with her. He feels guilty for leaving her (Jon, ASOS). The death of so many wildlings on the Wall weights heavily on him:

“He found Quort dead, and Stone Thumbs dying. He found some dead and dying Thenns he had never truly known. He found Big Boil, weak from all the blood he'd lost but still alive. He found Ygritte sprawled across a patch of old snow beneath the Lord Commander's Tower, with an arrow between her breasts.” – Jon, ASOS

And I do believe that Jon’s Winterfell’s crypt dreams, following Ygritte’s death, was meant to blur the lines between his guilt for what happened with her, and the death of his mother Lyanna, at least subconsciously. (See Jonerys subtext in ASOS).

All this comes to a culminating point when the giant Wun Wun (who stays at Castle Black on Jon’s authorization) attacks and kill ser Patrek at Castleblack:

“The giant was bleeding himself, with sword cuts on his belly and his arm. He swung the dead knight against the grey stone of the tower, again and again and again, until the man's head was red and pulpy as a summer melon. The knight's cloak flapped in the cold air. Of white wool it had been, bordered in cloth-of-silver and patterned with blue stars. Blood and bone were flying everywhere. Men poured from the surrounding keeps and towers. Northmen, free folk, queen's men ... "Form a line," Jon Snow commanded them. "Keep them back. Everyone, but especially the queen's men." The dead man was Ser Patrek of King's Mountain; his head was largely gone, but his heraldry was as distinctive as his face.” – Jon, ADWD

It’s interesting to look at the similarities this scene shares with Dany’s ADWD scene where she runs to Drogon in the fighting pit: the dragon and the giant both receives the first blows; both rip off an arm of their aggressor, Jon and Dany both take their “sides” over the “human” side:

“Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun howled again and gave Ser Patrek's other arm a twist and pull. It tore loose from his shoulder with a spray of bright red blood. Like a child pulling petals off a daisy, thought Jon. "Leathers, talk to him, calm him. The Old Tongue, he understands the Old Tongue. Keep back, the rest of you. Put away your steel, we're scaring him."

Couldn't they see the giant had been cut? Jon had to put an end to this or more men would die. They had no idea of Wun Wun's strength. A horn, I need a horn. He saw the glint of steel, turned toward it. "No blades! " he screamed. "Wick, put that knife ..." – Jon, ADWD

 “The hero leapt onto his back and drove the iron spearpoint down at the base of the dragon's long scaled neck.

Dany and Drogon screamed as one.

The hero leaned into his spear, using his weight to twist the point in deeper. Drogon arched upward with a hiss of pain. His tail lashed sideways. She watched his head crane around at the end of that long serpentine neck, saw his black wings unfold. The dragonslayer lost his footing and went tumbling to the sand. He was trying to struggle back to his feet when the dragon's teeth closed hard around his forearm. "No" was all the man had time to shout. Drogon wrenched his arm from his shoulder and tossed it aside as a dog might toss a rodent in a rat pit.

"Kill it," Hizdahr zo Loraq shouted to the other spearmen. "Kill the beast! "

Ser Barristan held her tightly. "Look away, Your Grace."

"Let me go!" Dany twisted from his grasp. The world seemed to slow as she cleared the parapet. When she landed in the pit she lost a sandal. Running, she could feel the sand between her toes, hot and rough.” – Dany, ADWD

But I digress. Right after Jon yells at his men to put away their blades, they turn around and kill him.

“... away, he meant to say. When Wick Whittlestick slashed at his throat, the word turned into a grunt. Jon twisted from the knife, just enough so it barely grazed his skin. He cut me. When he put his hand to the side of his neck, blood welled between his fingers. "Why? "

"For the Watch." Wick slashed at him again. This time Jon caught his wrist and bent his arm back until he dropped the dagger. The gangling steward backed away, his hands upraised as if to say, Not me, it was not me. Men were screaming. Jon reached for Longclaw, but his fingers had grown stiff and clumsy. Somehow he could not seem to get the sword free of its scabbard.

Then Bowen Marsh stood there before him, tears running down his cheeks. "For the Watch." He punched Jon in the belly. When he pulled his hand away, the dagger stayed where he had buried it.

 Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold ...” – Jon, ADWD

Curiously enough, that scene might’ve been foreshadowed in ASOS, when Jon went on the other side of the Wall to take a good look at himself and gather on his feelings about being named Lord of Winterfell:

“He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade. A hunger . . .” – Jon, ASOS

Jon’s following reunion with Ghost allows him to see clearly about who he is and what he needs to do, but if I may, the meaning of this scene goes beyond that. Suddenly, it’s as if… well, as if all the guilt’s weights had been lifted off his shoulders:

“When he reached Jon he leapt, and they wrestled amidst brown grass and long shadows as the stars came out above them. "Gods, wolf, where have you been?" Jon said when Ghost stopped worrying at his forearm. […] he licked Jon's face with a tongue like a wet rasp, and his eyes caught the last light and shone like two great red suns.

[…]

They ran together for the gate, circling wide around the nightfire, where reaching flames clawed at the black belly of the night.” – Jon, ASOS

What finally washed away Jon’s guilt? Notice how Ghost’s reappearance is “announced” by Jon’s sudden hunger for blood: “It was food he needed, prey, a red deer that stank of fear or a great elk proud and defiant. He needed to kill and fill his belly with fresh meat and hot dark blood. His mouth began to water with the thought.” (Jon, ASOS)

If we just switch the words a bit, we get “he needed to be killed”. That’s the atonement – the only atonement – who’ll allow him to move on. The fact that Jon had to cross the Wall to realize it is telling in and of itself, since “beyond the Wall” becomes a metaphor for “the land of the dead.” Worse, even, the need to kill and “fill his belly” is echoed in some twisted way in ADWD when Bowen Marsh thrust his knife in Jon’s belly (“He punched Jon in the belly. When he pulled his hand away, the dagger stayed where he had buried it”)

The scene with the giant, ser Patrek’s death and Jon’s murder offers an interesting take on guilt, responsibility, and the avoidance of responsibility as well. The first guy to stab Jon has “his hands upraised as if to say, Not me, it was not me” (like… yes it was you). They can’t even face their own part of responsibility in this mess (“Couldn't they see the giant had been cut?”) These men aren’t strong enough to take on the giant, so they attack Jon instead, even though Jon had nothing to do with Patrek’s death – that’s the definition of a “black sheep”. And overall, it really wraps up Jon’s atonement narrative: he takes upon himself the responsibilities for so many “wrongs” that in the end, the only way for him to be “washed” of it all is to die. 

[lockerhunter994]

Simpsons Road Rage Action Replay Codes

Cheat codes and cheat code devices for DS, Wii, PS2, XBOX, XBOX360, DS, PSP. View Cart 0 Products $0.00. Action Replay MAX; Road Trip. The Simpsons Road Rage Playstation2; The Simpsons. Simpsons, The - Road Rage (NTSC-U) Languages Size CRC32. Info (M) Must Be On by InterAct. Info Action Replay v1 / Gameshark v1 0E3C7DF2 1853E59E. If The Simpsons and Grand Theft Auto had a love child, the result would most likely be The Simpsons: Hit & Run. Surprisingly, the end result is a pretty solid clone and what many consider to be the best Simpsons game. Not only that, but there's a lot of interesting unused content lurking inside, and we're not kidding when we say a lot.

GameCube (U.K.) » Action ReplayTM Codes

Simpsons Road Rage For Pc

Simpsons Road Rage Action Replay Codes Free

Game NameCodesUpdated007: Agent Under Fire704/10/2005007: Nightfire (James Bond)204/10/20051080: Avalanche1504/10/200518 Wheeler304/10/2005Ace Golf1204/10/2005Aggressive Inline504/10/2005BMX XXX404/10/2005Baldur's Gate: Dark Alliance504/10/2005Batman: Rise of Sin Tzu704/10/2005Beyblade V-Force3404/10/2005Beyond Good & Evil (PAL)1304/10/2005Beyond Good And Evil (DE)104/10/2005Billy Hatcher And The Giant Egg1204/10/2005Black And Bruised404/10/2005Blood Omen 2604/10/2005Bloodrayne504/10/2005Bomberman Generation8604/10/2005Buffy The Vampire Slayer: Chaos Bleeds1304/10/2005Burnout 21004/10/2005Burnout804/10/2005Capcom Vs SNK704/10/2005Catwoman404/10/2005Cel Damage904/10/2005Charlie's Angels604/10/2005Conflict - Desert Storm304/10/2005Conflict Desert Storm 2804/10/2005Crash Bandicoot WOT404/10/2005Crash Nitro Kart204/10/2005Crazy Taxi604/10/2005Dead To Rights1104/10/2005Def Jam Vendetta2504/10/2005Die Hard Vendetta1804/10/2005Disney Sports Football204/10/2005Disney's Party504/10/2005Donald Duck - Quack Attack204/10/2005Doshin The Giant604/10/2005Dragonball Z Budokai (French)2804/10/2005Dragonball Z: Budokai1404/10/2005Driven204/10/2005Eggo Mania1104/10/2005Enter The Matrix1204/10/2005Eternal Darkness1704/10/2005Extreme-G 3604/10/2005F-Zero GX1704/10/2005F1 2002504/10/2005FIFA 2002 World Cup604/10/2005FIFA 2003 (DE)704/10/2005FIFA 2003704/10/2005FIFA 2004804/10/2005Final Fantasy277204/10/2005Finding Nemo604/10/2005Fireblade504/10/2005Freedom Fighters1104/10/2005Freekstyle304/10/2005Gauntlet: Dark Legacy1304/10/2005Gladius704/10/2005Goblin Commander604/10/2005Godzilla: Destroy All Monsters904/10/2005Harry Potter - Quidditch304/10/2005Harry Potter And The Chamber of Secrets (Euro)1004/10/2005Harry Potter And The Chamber of Secrets1004/10/2005Harry Potter And The Philosopher's Stone904/10/2005Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban1304/10/2005Harvest Moon - A Wonderful Life2704/10/2005Hitman 2604/10/2005Hobbit, The1604/10/2005Hulk, The904/10/2005Hunter The Reckoning3404/10/2005ISS 3804/10/2005Ikaruga804/10/2005International Superstar Soccer 2504/10/2005James Bond 007: Everything Or Nothing25404/10/2005Jeremy McGrath Supercross World1604/10/2005Judge Dredd: Dredd Vs. 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[asoiafnerd]

Prologue of my fanfic

Bowen Marsh, first steward of Castle Black closed his eyes as the black brothers swept over him.

He could hear the giant roaring. Wick Wittlestick was cursing as their brothers disarmed him. He felt his sword being taken away. The sword his father had made for him when he came to the wall! The sword that had saved him on the Bridge of Skulls, but otherwise had not seen much use! The sword he would not use on his own lord commander!

As his legs were swept from under him by a kick, he remembered the words of his vows. Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. People were shouting all about him, trampling him. But he never opened his eyes. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. His death was close now, he could hear it in the voices of his brothers. I am the sword in the darkness. 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 shield that guards the realms of men. Someone was trying to help him up, but there was a shout, and the hand was wretched away. I pledge my life and honor to the Night’s Watch, for this night and all the nights to come. And then he remembered hearing them from the mouth of young Jon Snow. The boy was going against his vows, Bowen thought as some held him up. He had promised to take no hand in the matters of the seven kingdoms. Had sworn to set aside his past loyalties when he took the black. Had sworn to protect the realms of men from the horrors from beyond the wall. Bowen began to weep, for deep down somewhere, he knew that all this had not pushed him over the edge, but it had been the fear that the boy was going to bring the ire of the house Bolton on the Night’s Watch. He did not even care about the steel that was tearing at his chest.

When he came to, he was being roughly shaken by a mailed hand. He opened his eyes, slowly getting his bearings together. Ser Axell Florent was bearing down on him, fury etched in every line of his face, ordering him to get up, telling him that he was in the presence of the queen. When Bowen got to his feet, he found himself in the king’s tower, surrounded by the queens knights, no not the queen, he thought, the widow!

The queen was there, with her daughter Shireen, the red priestess Melisandre, the fool Patchface, and now that got a good look around, it seemed that all of the prominent queen’s men and even some black cloaks were here.

Ser Axell still had a grip on him, and was shaking him as he spoke to the queen “We should offer this traitor to the black brothers” he was saying, “That should show them that we stand by their side, and not Tormund Giantsbane’s.”

“And what side would that be uncle?” the queen’s voice was a whiplash, the result of fury and fear at her husband’s death, “The black brothers do not take any sides, and you just saw what happens to those of them who try, I think the Night’s Watch has made it clear that it will not take up steel against the Boltons Ser.”

Weakly, Bowen made himself speak, “what do you mean, offer me to my brothers?”

Ser Axell looked at him angrily, “they are gathered outside the tower demanding that we leave their hospitality, such as it was.”

A Black Brother Spoke to the queen, “your king has lost his war Your Grace”, on squinting at him, Bowen recognized him as Leathers. His head was still spinning from the wound in his ribs, “That accursed letter spoke of Boltons coming down on Castle Black if we do not hand you over to them. The least you could do is leave on your own accord.”

“Do we know this for certain?” Selyse turned to Melisandre, “my lady, please tell me, is Stannis…?” she trailed off, clearly not wanting to say the word.

Melisandre had been looking at Bowen till now, “The lord has not blessed me with the answer to that question your grace, every time I look for Stannis, I see only snow. But I have seen the wildlings amassing under our banners. Tormund is where you shall find an ally Your Grace, not the black brothers.”

“King Stannis left the wildlings here; he knew that they could not fight for shit. You saw that at the battle beneath the wall.” Ser Axell replied, “We should make our peace with the black brothers, and persuade…”

“I will make peace with the black brothers, no more. You heard Lady Melisandre uncle...”

“Yes I heard her” Ser Axell exploded, “Yes I heard her. Just like I heard her telling of stone dragons and heroes long dead. And now your husband has joined them!” He took a knee before Selyse “I no longer know whether Stannis is Azor Ahai or not, but I know that I will not let my niece and her daughter go the same way. I am not proposing to ask the Night’s Watch to take up arms against the Boltons, I just want a promise of safe passage to the Eastwatch and then a ship to Braavos.”

Shocked silence followed that ouburst. Bowen himself was shocked. He knew Axell Florant to be the leader of the queen’s men, the foremost of the men worshipping the red priestess. And now he saw the same uncertainty on his fellow comrades, all save the queen herself!

Selyse’s face was stone, “Flee?” she spat the word. “Flee? Is that your counsel uncle?”

“Think of your daughter!” There were tears in the stout man’s eyes.

“You think of her, Ser” Melisandre stepped forward, “If Stannis is indeed dead, she, as his heir, is the queen of the realm. By rights, it is your duty to see her seated on the iron throne.”

“If Stannis is dead, then according to you, the world will be consumed by darkness” Ser Axell snarled at her, probably for the first time in his life. “Then what does it matter who sits the iron throne.”

“It matters, for even if King Stannis is dead, we are not. I took you for a brave man Ser Axell, a brave man fights to the last breath.”

“Aye, for a cause he believes in, for something achievable. Stannis may have had a chance to take the throne, and I stood up for him, but Shireen is not Stannis, and this is not a war we can win anymore.”

“And what of our true enemy, or have you lost hope there as well?”

“That is a battle for the Night’s Watch, or are you suggesting that we all take the black now?”

“No, but I will have you help the Night’s Watch, as King Stannis did. Tormund Giantsbane has taken his people and fled, probably to Oakenshield. The Boltons will not trouble them there, as that letter said, but the Black Brothers will not be so indifferent. They will want them gone, and the only source of food for Tormund is Castle Black, surely you see that fighting is eminent Ser”

“So what are you saying, if we ask Tormund to take up sword against Roose Bolton instead of the Night’s Watch, he will comply?”

“Yes”

Ser Axell could only stare at her.

“I do not know why, but I know he will.” Melisandre said and took a deep breath. She moved to the centre of the hall. “The red god has shown me this. I know that your faith is wavering good sers. There is no shame in that. Even the bravest and the truest may falter in a storm. All such men need is a sign, and I shall give it to you. Come, we must light the nightfire.” And she left the hall, leaving them no choice but to follow.

When they came out, the fresh air was a relief to Bowen. But he could smell the tensions here as well. Melisandre was ahead, talking to the men of the Night’s Watch, to the men that had been his brothers mere hours ago. To the men that were averting their eyes from his or looking at him with accusation.

By the time the stakes were planted, Bowen Marsh knew he was going to be burned.

Fear rose up his gullet along with vomit. He fell to his knees. Hands grabbed him, as if they were afraid he might run. But he wouldn’t. He may not be able to contain his vomit, but he was not such a coward that he would run.

When they were strapping him to the stake, he noticed the body of Jon Snow being brought in front of the stake. Melisandre and her queen’s men were chanting but Bowen had eyes only for the young lord commander he had killed. Murdered. Then he felt the flames licking at his feet.

He started screaming when his breeches began to burn.

The fire had not come above his knees yet, and still it felt to Bowen that there was no other pain greater in the world. He could feel his flesh cooking, sloughing off. The smell of burning hair was heavy in his nostrils.

But even as he screamed in agony, Melisandre brought a torch near him and held it there until it caught fire. Bowen felt as if his whole body was burning. He struggled to keep his eyes open. Through a haze of smoke and tears, he saw the black brothers gathered in front of him. I shall live and die at my post. He hoped against hope that one of his brothers will put an end to this, at least the way Jon Snow had put an end to Mance Rayder's burning. But no one was moving. The fire that brings the dawn. They were all watching the red women as she put the newly burning torch to her lips and sucked all the flames in her mouth.

He did not know if he was hallucinating or not. With all the rest of the Night's Watch looking on, the red women knelt over the dead body of Jon Snow and kissed it on the lips. Bowen's beard had caught fire now, but still he struggled to look, and as his eyes burst in their sockets from the heat, the last sight Bowen Marsh ever saw was the corpse in front of him coming alive, shuddering, and then start moving.

To know what happens next, go to my fic at

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12382028/1/The-Winds-of-Winter

or

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12521064/chapters/28510508

[mrs-ignis-ffxv]

@ignoctweek​ - DAY 5: Constellations

Title: Nightfire Solstice Rating: Teen & Up Warnings: None SUMMARY: It has been three thousand years since the “King of the Stone” ascended restoring the light to the world. The legend of the tragic king who left his dearest love behind lives on in a folk tale for the New Lucis festival of Nightfire Solstice. (Inspired by the mythology behind the Korean Chilseok Festival and the Chinese Qixi Festival)

Also read on Ao3 at: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11711898

Once a year the constellation Caelum and constellation Sagefire meet and a dazzling meteor shower is seen by all the good people of New Lucis.

Once a year the good people of New Lucis come together to celebrate the Nightfire Solstice, a summer solstice festival celebrating the day with the longest period of sunlight. This is the story that has been told and passed down through the generations...

Before New Lucis, there was once a kingdom of Lucis. In an ancient age of monarchy, combustion engines and primitive technology, the Immortal King Noctis lived in a castle that housed the great Stone of Light.

Legends say a great evil harbored over the world desiring nothing more than to swallow all of Eos into eternal darkness.

The Immortal King was ordained to stand against the great evil. However the Immortal King was in love with a mortal: one of his loyal knights; his chamberlain.

Sir Ignis, ever the dutiful servant, believed in the prophecy; the day his king would ascend and bring peace to the world. He was wise, gentle in nature, but strong in might and spirit. He was ready to lay down his life for his king. No other servant was able to match such devotion, because, in his heart, he, too, loved his king. But being a mere mortal he felt unworthy of such a love.

The king’s deep love for a servant caused him to forswear his ordinance.

King Noctis and Sir Ignis ran away, exploring the country, working as hunters and camping like peasants. King Noctis loved his new life away from his responsibilities.

But Sir Ignis knew this excursion was for naught.

As much as his mortal heart delighted in their adventure, he loved the king too much to let him give up his obligation. For what good is this love if there is no world to live in?

Sir Ignis advised his king to rethink his destiny.

But it was too late. Kingdoms all over the world came under attack by the great evil. As punishment, the great evil blinded Sir Ignis.

King Noctis had a choice: Remain at his beloved’s side or fight?

King Noctis bid his beloved farewell and gave up his life for the sake of the future.

The great evil was banished and the Immortal King finally ascended restoring the light.

The masterless servant blindly roamed the lands. He felt the warm sun on his body but he was unable to see the brilliance of the new light.

King Noctis made a great plea to The Goddess to consider his servant’s influence on him.

But a mortal was forbidden to enter the great chambers of the Astrals.

But she heard Sir Ignis’ pains and the adjuration of the Astrals.

She allowed the mortal to ascend into the upper skies and become one with the stars that guard over Lucis, for it was his guardianship over the king that allowed for him to ascend.

When King Noctis and Sir Ignis reunited in the spheres, the sunlight of Lucis shined brighter and longer than any day known in history.

Their joy was so great the stars burst about them sending showers of light across the night sky hoping the day would not end.

Today on this solstice, we see the brightest constellation, Caelum, and the nearest constellation to Eos, Sagefire, crossing paths before the scheduled meteor shower.

Today is the day children rejoice in the extra bits of sunlight to play. Today is the day lovers come together watching the shooting stars. Today is the day all the people of New Lucis celebrate the age of the new dawn.

3000 Years Ago

“Hey Ignis. What’s for dinner?” Noct shouted from across the stream.

“Beans.” Ignis shouted.

“Beans!” Noct grunted.

“If you want to eat something else you are going to have to come over here and help.”

“Can’t we have fish or something? I can catch one here in this stream.” Noct readied his hand for his fishing rod.

“We are having beans and that is final.” Ignis looked across the stream at the young man; the man destined to bear a great burden.

Ignis held on to the can of beans and looked up. “Maybe we can have trout.”

Ignis saw Noct’s blue eyes beam wide.

“But you are to help me descale and wash--”

Before Ignis could finish Noct warped across the stream and into Ignis, wrestling him to the ground and knocking the wind out of him.

Ignis landed hard but his blazer provided enough padding. “Noct!”

Noct kissed Ignis on the forehead. Ignis paused. “What was that for?”

“You’re always there for me.” Noct smiled down on him.

Ignis chuckled. “Asking you to eat right and help me cook is the least...”

Ignis paused. Ever since the four friends set out from Insomnia there was hardly a moment he and Noctis spent alone together. The last thing he wanted to discuss was his Ascension.

Noct helped him up. Ignis gazed up into the night sky and saw out of the corner of his eye a shooting star.

“Noct! Look!” Ignis pointed.

“Whoa, a comet!” Noct shouted. “So that’s what they look like!”

“Quick, make a wish!”

“You don’t believe in all that stuff, do you?”

“We fought against a giant man holding a meteor and a mountain tortoise.”

“Good point,” Noct nodded. “But what about you? No wish for you?”

“Go on, Highness,” Ignis smiled. “Before the moment passes.”

Noct closed his eyes.

Ignis watched him. His dear prince was right by his side and yet he felt a million miles apart.

“Goddess keep you safe.” Ignis prayed silently. The number of stars above him were limitless. He knew the eyes of heaven were watching down on them at that moment.

Ignis then felt Noct’s hand hold his. Ignis smiled, flushing a little.

“Noct...”

“Ignis. Having you here with me has been the only thing keeping me going. Wherever we go, whatever happens, I hope we’ll do it together.”

“I am ever at your service,” Ignis whispered.

Noctis looked down with a look that read as disappointment.

Ignis reached over and lifted his chin, kissing him gently.

“And I am ever yours.”

[mtgbracket]

Round of 8192 - Batch 9

You can now vote in Batch 9!

Currently open batches:

Batch 9 Batch 8 Batch 7 Batch 6 Batch 5 Batch 4 Batch 3

Batch 2 results will be up shortly.

Feature cards: Bye cards Mind Twist and The Abyss

Full list of matchups:

Rhox Faithmender vs Vitalizing Wind Jade Statue vs Spiritual Visit Furnace Dragon vs Green Sun's Zenith Knucklebone Witch vs Symbiotic Wurm Gauntlets of Chaos vs Gilded Drake Armada Wurm vs Braids, Conjurer Adept Archangel of Thune vs Nephalia Moondrakes Valakut Fireboar vs Gonti, Lord of Luxury Smuggler Captain vs Wild Nacatl Goblin Ruinblaster vs Hobble Last Chance vs Bedlam Contraband Kingpin vs Dreampod Druid Sliver Hivelord vs Trait Doctoring Mindwrack Demon vs Sudden Reclamation Ricochet Trap vs Kithkin Daggerdare Thalia, Heretic Cathar vs Grovetender Druids Gruul Charm vs Heart Sliver Impulse vs Nightfire Giant Tar Snare vs Mask of the Mimic Reassembling Skeleton vs Lightning Greaves Mind Twist vs Strongarm Tactics Manacles of Decay vs Infernal Contract Imperial Hellkite vs Ritual of the Returned Lumengrid Augur vs The Abyss Carom vs Renegade Krasis Psychatog vs Eater of Hope Starfield of Nyx vs Celestial Archon Unravel the Aether vs Evil Twin Canopy Vista vs Abolish Hand of the Praetors vs Curse of Predation Go for the Throat vs Fortress Cyclops Pack's Disdain vs Dawn Elemental

[alternativewesteros]

                                                       The Mastiff

The Mage was a man of learning, but he was also a restless man, and he preferred the swaying decks of ships to the stony halls of the Citadel. He had barely made it to the quay where the Cinnamon Wind was being loaded with cargo, bound for Slaver’s Bay and the Dragon Queen. Once he had settled into his modest cabin with his books, the Marwyn had spent considerable time pondering all that he had heard, read and seen, searching for the best way to piece the information together. Sarella had brought him the fat boy from the Wall, who had seen, and apparently slain, an Other. Marwyn did not believe him until he described their cold pale skin, ice blue eyes, and undead mounts. Maester Harmune said as much of the Others in his tome ‘Watchers on the Wall’. The fat boy’s recollection of slaying the Other also matched Harmune’s passages, which briefly described the Battle for the Dawn and the obsidian daggers and arrowheads given to the armies of the First Men and the giants to defeat the Others. The Others used the undead for their armies, called wights, and fire served to snuff out whatever dark magic reanimated them. The fat boy also said the Others brought the snows with them.

     Marwyn set aside Harmune’s tome. It was not of much use to him, being chiefly concerned with the history of the Night’s Watch, and, like his black brothers, Harmune had forgotten the true purpose of the Wall and the Night’s Watch. Another grey sheep, thought Marwyn bitterly. Archmaester Marwyn was acutely aware of his reputation, and nicknames, in Oldtown. “Marwyn the Mage” “The Mastiff”. It did not help that Marwyn was thick of neck and strong of jaw, with the barrel chest of his Crakehall ancestors. As he stalked the port cities of the known world, Archmaester Marwyn truly did resemble a mastiff on the hunt for arcane knowledge, and his hunting had obviously not been in vain, since his ring, rod, and staff were made of Valyrian steel, the metal of higher mysteries. It was said that he kept the company of hedge witches and warlocks, and studied with shadowbinders in Asshai. Marwyn denied none of it, excepting the tale of him beating a man to death with his fists. The thief had died days later, from the Butterfly Fever that only the Naathi and Archmaester Marwyn were known to be immune to.

     Being away from the Citadel did much to improve Marwyn’s mood, as well as his mental faculties. In his last letter before setting sail from Eastwatch, Maester Aemon had suggested to Marwyn that he revisit the ‘Jade Compendium’, Colloquo Votar’s collection of his travels on the Jade Sea. Aemon was particularly interested in the sword Lightbringer and the Bloodstone Emperor. The two tales seemed unrelated at first, but the Azor Ahai of Asshai sounded similar to Hyrkoon the Hero, the legendary warrior of the Patriarchy, who also carried a sword of flame. In Westeros, the North told tales of the “last hero”, who sought out the Children of the Forest for their knowledge, and obsidian weapons, to defeat the Others and bring an end to the Long Night. Marwyn scratched his chin. To the best of his knowledge, and the combined knowledge of the Citadel, the First Men had never made contact with the people of Asshai or the peoples east of the Bone Mountains of Essos. Why then, were all these stories so similar? And what did these stories have to do with the Bloodstone Emperor?

    Marwyn sighed and rubbed his eyes. He needed a new Myrish lens and more candles. Candles. The shadowbinder had made herself known to Marwyn a fortnight ago, urging him, in her cryptic way, to seek out the Dragon Queen. Marwyn had needed tinctures and potions to fall asleep ever since. According to the shadowbinder, the Dragon Queen was surrounded by enemies, with more on their way. Maester Aemon had set sail from the Wall with the fat boy to seek her out and give her guidance, but the old man had died during the voyage, as was to be expected of a man who had seen over one hundred name days. Targaryens may have had longer than average lifespans for men, but they were far from immortal. And now she is the last. Marwyn turned to his ‘Book of Lost Books’ and found the tale of the Bloodstone Emperor. According to Yi Tish legend, the Bloodstone Emperor had murdered his sister, the Amethyst Princess, and abandoned the gods of his empire to worship an oily black stone that fell from the sky. He practiced necromancy and cannibalism and took a tiger-woman for his queen, and his sins were so great that the Maiden-of-Light turned her face from the world and ushered in the Lion-of-Night, who prowled the world, feasting on darkness and human flesh. Like the tales of Azor Ahai, the last hero, and Hyrkoon the Hero, the hero of the Empire of the Dawn wielded a flaming sword and led an army of men to slay the Bloodstone Emperor and bring an end to the Long Night. It was commonly believed that the Bloodstone Emperor was the first High Priest of the Church of Starry Wisdom, a cult with temples in many port cities, including Oldtown. The Church had a sinister reputation, due to their ritual sacrifices upon the Stone. The priests would bring forth a flaming sword, and shove it through the heart of a willing maiden, much like the tale of Azor Ahai and how he tempered Lightbringer by stabbing the sword through the heart of his wife Nissa Nissa. But where the red priests of R’hllor cast slaves into their nightfires, voices whispering “the night is dark, and full of terrors, but the fire burns them all away…” , and prayed for Azor Ahai to be reborn and slay the Great Other, the priests of the Church of Starry Wisdom lifted their voices to the night sky, praying for the return of the Lion-of-Night, who would bring about the Eternal Night...

    At long last, his candle gave out and Marwyn sat in silence in his cabin. The likeliest conclusion was that the Long Night had engulfed the known world, and whoever the hero had been, his tales of valor had been passed down through the ages and had taken on various names. Marwyn grunted. “All this, Aemon could have surmised himself.” Marwyn was much more interested in the Dragon Queen. Every ship at port in Oldtown spoke of the silver-haired Queen and her fierce khalasar, as well as her dragons who now slept atop the pyramids of Meereen, where the Harpy had once stood. The Dragon Queen and her “children” had made as many enemies as admirers on their travels. Marwyn had chance met one, a warlock of Qarth calling himself Pyat Pree, while swilling ale and asking after Rosey the tavern girl. The warlock sat in the corner of the Quill and Tankard, conspiring with two other hooded figures. Marwyn took note of his blue lips and shriveled hands, and wondered what a warlock was doing so far from the House of the Undying. He sat himself upon a bench close by, to better hear their conversation. “She must die, but the dragons must not! The dragons are the key to our rebirth!” Dragons. This must be about the Targaryen princess. The warlock continued. “The dragons have awakened, and with them, magic has come back into the world! We must have them!” Marwyn waited until the warlocks had left the inn, and followed them to a seemingly discarded hovel in the Thieves’ Market. Times are hard for the Undying. Later that night, in the hour of the wolf, Marwyn lit his glass candle and spoke a name. “Crow’s Eye”. The twisted obsidian candle glowed with an ethereal light, and a black eye, shining with malice, appeared before the Archmaester. “You called, my dear mentor?” the voice said, mocking and cocksure. Marwyn’s mouth fixed itself into a grim line, making him look all the more a mastiff. “Listen well, you roguish reaver. A warlock of Qarth is in Oldtown. He is of no use to me, but may be of some use to you…” The eye glistened with delight, and a rusty laugh echoed through the blackened night...

[fruitbatwalton]

Click here for the Ralph's Life website

Tracks from the Top Ten Blogged Bands are played 

every Sunday 5-7pm on Radio KC as part of 

Ralph's Indie Show.

LISTEN TO LAST WEEK'S TOP 10 HERE

AS PLAYED ON RADIO KC - 7.5.17

RALPH'S BRAND NEW TOP 10 CHART 

Published 13.5.17 and as played on  RALPH'S INDIE SHOW on RADIO KC - 14.5.17

No 1: Katalina Kicks 

Katalina Kicks profess to playing simple and direct heavy garage rock’n’roll: power chords and pummelling rhythms, fuzzy guitar and throbbing bass, big riffs and shouted choruses, pin-balling between grunge, punk and heavy blues. 

In Ian George Katalina Kicks also have a songwriter who can’t help but use his band as a platform to air his anxieties about the world around him. 

No 2: The Jackobins

After a very successful 2016 playing dozens of festivals such as Sound City, Y Not Festival, Dot to Dot etc. and a rather drastic lineup change, fast rising Scouse act The Jackobins are back with an anthemic new single called Nightfire.

Needless to say Ralph will be giving the track a spin on the Radio KC Indie Show and that will be coming up on May 14th from 5-7pm.

No 3: Fat Goth

Ralph has been a Fat Goth fan since first writing about them nearly five years ago (where does the time go) after catching them via the good offices of A Badge Of Friendship and hearing them via Vic Galloway on't radio. 

A year later and Fat Goth donated their track Creepy Lounge from their album STUD to the Ralph's Life CD to raise funds and awareness for the mental health charity Rethink (still available, just click here).

No 4: Field Of Giants

If you like your rock heavy then Oxford-based, masked hard rockers, Field of Giants have the very thing for you, with the release of their second independent album In Arcadia dropping in June.

After a string of local shows to test their new material, Field of Giants are well prepared for the release of their follow-up on the music buying public.

No 5: Luna Rosa

Ralph's been looking at all the bands and artistes playing at this year's Blackthorn Festival in July and featured them all in one big blog, but there's a few which we'll be taking a closer look at over the next few weeks.

One such band is Luna Rosa who hail from Corby in Northampton-shire. Formed in 2014 Luna Rosa have played up and down the UK racking up over 200 gigs in just over two years, including headline and festival slots.

No 6: Motions

Motions are an alternative rock band based in Dublin formed by Tom Daly and Dave Nulty in late 2015.

With powerful vocals accompanied by minimalist textures and driving guitars, Motions sound ranges from shimmering soundscapes to anthemic rock.

Last year saw the release of their well received debut single Back To Where I Begun and the band have; unsurprisingly, been drawing attention worldwide with major industry interest in the UK & US alike.

No 7: The Phantom Sound

The Phantom Sound aka Marisa Schlussel is exclusively premiering her new song which is called, Voices here on Ralph's Life. It's from her upcoming second album currently being recorded with Ken Stringfellow, who is producing once again. 

The album will feature Dale Crover of The Melvins and Nirvana (Bleach), and Brian Viglione of The Dresden Dolls and Scarlet Sails on drums. 

No 8 The Moods

Ralph has been featuring the Blackthorn Festival on the blog recently due to the fact that it's near Manchester and probably the best value for money small festival in the UK.

We've also been singling out a few Manchester bands for some special attention and today it's The Moods turn.

No 9: Liam Oragh

Dublin based alternative singer-songwriter Liam Oragh has recently released a new album which is interestingly titled, The Arguments Against Insanity and is the follow up to his award-winning debut album, Only 2 Late If Ur Dead.

It contains songs about madness, songs about life, love, getting older, and cryogenically cheating death.

No 10: Feral Five

It's hard to believe that it was as far back as 2013 when Ralph first came across Feral Five and they donated a track to the Ralph's Life CD for the mental health charity Rethink. 

Nearly four years down the line, Feral Five have produced another 'banger' of a CD and March 31st sees the official release of Man Cat Doll Machine.

[mtgbracket]

Round of 8192 - Batch 9 results

1,087 Bracketeers voted in Batch 9, and 8.29m votes have now been cast.

Visual results are here and today’s results are:

Thalia, Heretic Cathar defeats Grovetender Druids with 96.06% of the vote Archangel of Thune defeats Nephalia Moondrakes with 95.26% of the vote Mind Twist defeats Strongarm Tactics with 91.71% of the vote Gilded Drake defeats Gauntlets of Chaos with 90.88% of the vote

Green Sun's Zenith defeats Furnace Dragon with 90.75% of the vote Gonti, Lord of Luxury defeats Valakut Fireboar with 90.29% of the vote Go for the Throat defeats Fortress Cyclops with 90.23% of the vote Sliver Hivelord defeats Trait Doctoring with 87.71% of the vote

Renegade Krasis defeats Carom with 87.23% of the vote Evil Twin defeats Unravel the Aether with 85.12% of the vote Wild Nacatl defeats Smuggler Captain with 84.13% of the vote The Abyss defeats Lumengrid Augur with 84.04% of the vote

Psychatog defeats Eater of Hope with 83.95% of the vote Mindwrack Demon defeats Sudden Reclamation with 83.38% of the vote Impulse defeats Nightfire Giant with 82.89% of the vote Starfield of Nyx defeats Celestial Archon with 82.40% of the vote

Rhox Faithmender defeats Vitalizing Wind with 82.28% of the vote Ricochet Trap defeats Kithkin Daggerdare with 81.44% of the vote Infernal Contract defeats Manacles of Decay with 80.49% of the vote Lightning Greaves defeats Reassembling Skeleton with 80.28% of the vote

Goblin Ruinblaster defeats Hobble with 76.79% of the vote Symbiotic Wurm defeats Knucklebone Witch with 71.39% of the vote Last Chance defeats Bedlam with 70.05% of the vote Hand of the Praetors defeats Curse of Predation with 69.33% of the vote

Dawn Elemental defeats Pack's Disdain with 68.68% of the vote Contraband Kingpin defeats Dreampod Druid with 68.11% of the vote Canopy Vista defeats Abolish with 67.33% of the vote Mask of the Mimic defeats Tar Snare with 64.82% of the vote

Imperial Hellkite defeats Ritual of the Returned with 59.51% of the vote Gruul Charm defeats Heart Sliver with 59.01% of the vote Spiritual Visit defeats Jade Statue with 55.15% of the vote Braids, Conjurer Adept defeats Armada Wurm with 51.52% of the vote

Full results to date can be seen here.

[mtgbracket]

Round of 16384 - Batch 78 results

924 Bracketeers voted in Batch 78, and 3.83m votes have now been cast.

Visual results can be seen here and today’s results are:

Lich's Mirror defeats Rise from the Tides with 58.31% of the vote Hornet Nest defeats Gelid Shackles with 87.91% of the vote Elephant Ambush defeats Firestorm Hellkite with 76.55% of the vote Repel Intruders defeats Avalanche with 82.62% of the vote

Golgari Brownscale defeats Howling Gale with 76.20% of the vote Quicksilver Amulet defeats Steamcore Weird with 76.36% of the vote Stalking Yeti defeats Ballynock Cohort with 51.54% of the vote Nightfire Giant defeats Wild Hunger with 66.38% of the vote

Captain's Call defeats Thelonite Druid with 56.30% of the vote Suppression Bonds defeats Scavenger Folk with 63.17% of the vote Villagers of Estwald defeats Talas Warrior with 64.67% of the vote Steelclad Serpent defeats Takeno's Cavalry with 60.58% of the vote

Soul Separator defeats Gloomwidow with 75.28% of the vote Goryo's Vengeance defeats Season's Beatings with 66.41% of the vote Dominus of Fealty defeats Scalding Salamander with 89.66% of the vote Memoricide defeats Lady Sun with 55.93% of the vote

Wasteland defeats Walking Dream with 91.29% of the vote Dragonlord Kolaghan defeats Floodbringer with 90.84% of the vote Ancestral Tribute defeats Omega Myr with 58.90% of the vote Sidar Kondo of Jamuraa defeats Jungle Weaver with 78.92% of the vote

Chronatog Totem defeats Gruul Guildgate with 70.82% of the vote Nantuko Cultivator defeats Riverfall Mimic with 57.22% of the vote Shallow Grave defeats Forsaken Sanctuary with 77.79% of the vote Once More with Feeling defeats Boggart Sprite-Chaser with 51.81% of the vote

Garbage Fire defeats Skywing Aven with 77.87% of the vote Gempalm Incinerator defeats Skycloud Expanse with 67.08% of the vote Part Water defeats Whitesun's Passage with 55.78% of the vote Scarblade Elite defeats Thriving Turtle with 65.08% of the vote

Blood Clock defeats Defensive Maneuvers with 87.77% of the vote Mirror Mockery defeats Landbind Ritual with 90.91% of the vote Thallid Germinator defeats Unspeakable Symbol with 51.70% of the vote Myr Galvanizer defeats Stormwatch Eagle with 92.58% of the vote

Full results to date can be seen here.

[mtgbracket]

Round of 16384 - Batch 78

Batch 78 voting is now open.  The following polls are currently open:

Batch 78 Batch 77 Batch 76 Batch 75 Batch 74 Batch 73 Batch 72

Batch 71 results will be up soon.

The full list of matchups for today is:

Rise from the Tides vs Lich's Mirror Hornet Nest vs Gelid Shackles Firestorm Hellkite vs Elephant Ambush Avalanche vs Repel Intruders Howling Gale vs Golgari Brownscale Quicksilver Amulet vs Steamcore Weird Stalking Yeti vs Ballynock Cohort Nightfire Giant vs Wild Hunger Captain's Call vs Thelonite Druid Suppression Bonds vs Scavenger Folk Talas Warrior vs Villagers of Estwald Steelclad Serpent vs Takeno's Cavalry Gloomwidow vs Soul Separator Season's Beatings vs Goryo's Vengeance Scalding Salamander vs Dominus of Fealty Lady Sun vs Memoricide Walking Dream vs Wasteland Floodbringer vs Dragonlord Kolaghan Omega Myr vs Ancestral Tribute Jungle Weaver vs Sidar Kondo of Jamuraa Gruul Guildgate vs Chronatog Totem Riverfall Mimic vs Nantuko Cultivator Forsaken Sanctuary vs Shallow Grave Boggart Sprite-Chaser vs Once More with Feeling Garbage Fire vs Skywing Aven Skycloud Expanse vs Gempalm Incinerator Whitesun's Passage vs Part Water Scarblade Elite vs Thriving Turtle Defensive Maneuvers vs Blood Clock Mirror Mockery vs Landbind Ritual Unspeakable Symbol vs Thallid Germinator Myr Galvanizer vs Stormwatch Eagle