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Games of Thrones Unsullied thread


elizium

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Just now, Throat said:

Cersei would rank high among all idiots in Westeros. Arya occasionally makes mistakes, but I wouldn't put her on that list. To be so stupid in this instance would seem out of character.

I generally think show Cersei is better than book Cersei based on Lena Headey's performance, my least favorite thing about her is that she is too stupid.  In the books, it is clear that she is closer to insane than stupid, and once you get her point of view you have a much better appreciation for the decisions she makes.  Her decisions are ill-advised, but she honestly and totally believes what she is doing will protect her children.  Her stupidity is a byproduct of her obsessive compulsiveness about her children's safety, not a lack of intelligence. 

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14 hours ago, TheVileOne said:

No one caring about someone being beaten in the streets seems quite common in the world of Game of Thrones.  

That's common in a lot of places too. I've seen video on Worldstar of people getting robbed and shit and everyone else is just walking around like nothing happened.

Also, Arya is still alive because she was JUST stabbed ten seconds prior to when she's struggling to walk down the street. We don't know what happens after that yet or if that was even her. Plus, I read some people say that her coin pouch got in the way of the blade, I haven't gone back and watched it that closely.

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Either way, that scene put a damper on an otherwise excellent episode. This season really is a return to form after last year's unevenness. She dies and that sucks because her carelessness doesn't befit her character or the situation. She survives and it's due to lame circumstances very likely. 

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I got the impression Waif sorta let her live. In the recap before the episode they made sure to include the part where Jaqen gave the kill order but added "Make sure she doesn't suffer." We've always been given the impression Waif hates Arya for whatever reason. So I think she purposely stabbed her in a manner that ensured a painful drawn out death. The draw-back being, obviously, there's time for somebody to save Arya. My bet's on the theater troupe.

Now why Arya was wandering around without a care in the world and didn't run in terror when a strange woman called her over when she knew the Faceless Men would be coming for her is remains the most completely inexplicable part of that scene.

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Or how she's doing parkour in the preview for next week, when it's hard enough to run when you've been punched in the belly, let alone stabbed and twisted.

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Don't you guys know anything?  The first thing you should do after being stabbed in the gut is to jump in a dirty ass canal in a world that most likely doesn't understand it is a bad idea to shit in the water supply.

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28 minutes ago, supremebve said:

Don't you guys know anything?  The first thing you should do after being stabbed in the gut is to jump in a dirty ass canal in a world that most likely doesn't understand it is a bad idea to shit in the water supply.

Leave Florida out of this.

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Shit if this all leads to Arya v. The Waif Exploding barbed Wire then I'm in. Moreso if Arya cuts an unintelligible Onita-esque promo afterwards and is played out to "Wild Thing" on a lute!

James

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I was assuming that that had to be Arya b/c you can only put on a different face if the original owner of the face is dead and you've sliced it off their corpse.  Is that not the case?  If not, why do they slice the faces off?  Just to please the MFG?

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If you recall, the Faceless man who killed himself in front of Arya last season was wearing Arya's face underneath "Jaqen's" face.  So there seem to be some other ways to do it.

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And now, I steal Marcos' "This is how the book did it better" gimmick. The book equivalent of McShane's throat-slitting speech is this:

 

"Ser? My lady?" said Podrick. "Is a broken man an outlaw?"
"More or less," Brienne answered.

Septon Meribald disagreed. "More less than more. There are many sorts of outlaws, just as there are many sorts of birds. A sandpiper and a sea eagle both have wings, but they are not the same. The singers love to sing of good men forced to go outside the law to fight some wicked lord, but most outlaws are more like this ravening Hound than they are the lightning lord. They are evil men, driven by greed, soured by malice, despising the gods and caring only for themselves. Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been more than a mile from the house where they were born until the day some lord came round to take them off to war. Poorly shod and poorly clad, they march away beneath his banners, ofttimes with no better arms than a sickle or a sharpened hoe, or a maul they made themselves by lashing a stone to a stick with strips of hide. Brothers march with brothers, sons with fathers, friends with friends. They've heard the songs and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will see, of the wealth and glory they will win. War seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.
"Then they get a taste of battle.
"For some, that one taste is enough to break them. Others go on for years, until they lose count of all the battles they have fought in, but even a man who has survived a hundred fights can break in his hundred-and-first. Brothers watch their brothers die, fathers lose their sons, friends see their friends trying to hold their entrails in after they've been gutted by an axe.
"They see the lord who led them there cut down, and some other lord shouts that they are his now. They take a wound, and when that's still half-healed they take another. There is never enough to eat, their shoes fall to pieces from the marching, their clothes are torn and rotting, and half of them are shitting in their breeches from drinking bad water.
"If they want new boots or a warmer cloak or maybe a rusted iron halfhelm, they need to take them from a corpse, and before long they are stealing from the living too, from the smallfolk whose lands they're fighting in, men very like the men they used to be. They slaughter their sheep and steal their chickens, and from there it's just a short step to carrying off their daughters too. And one day they look around and realize all their friends and kin are gone, that they are fighting beside strangers beneath a banner that they hardly recognize. They don't know where they are or how to get back home and the lord they're fighting for does not know their names, yet here he comes, shouting for them to form up, to make a line with their spears and scythes and sharpened hoes, to stand their ground. And the knights come down on them, faceless men clad all in steel, and the iron thunder of their charge seems to fill the world . . .
"And the man breaks.
"He turns and runs, or crawls off afterward over the corpses of the slain, or steals away in the black of night, and he finds someplace to hide. All thought of home is gone by then, and kings and lords and gods mean less to him than a haunch of spoiled meat that will let him live another day, or a skin of bad wine that might drown his fear for a few hours. The broken man lives from day to day, from meal to meal, more beast than man. Lady Brienne is not wrong. In times like these, the traveler must beware of broken men, and fear them . . . but he should pity them as well."
When Meribald was finished a profound silence fell upon their little band. Brienne could hear the wind rustling through a clump of pussywillows, and farther off the faint cry of a loon. She could hear Dog panting softly as he loped along beside the septon and his donkey, tongue lolling from his mouth. The quiet stretched and stretched, until finally she said, "How old were you when they marched you off to war?"
"Why, no older than your boy," Meribald replied. "Too young for such, in truth, but my brothers were all going, and I would not be left behind. Willam said I could be his squire, though Will was no knight, only a potboy armed with a kitchen knife he'd stolen from the inn. He died upon the Stepstones, and never struck a blow. It was fever did for him, and for my brother Robin. Owen died from a mace that split his head apart, and his friend Jon Pox was hanged for rape."
"The War of the Ninepenny Kings?" asked Hyle Hunt.
"So they called it, though I never saw a king, nor earned a penny. It was a war, though. That it was."

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