PWD Write better than G. R. R. Martin

[Wariowokecancel]

* Just continue the thread, seperate your comments from text

So many tales, so many truths, so many lies.

As I sit at the end of my days, my jester laughing at me, I think about what happened, what didn't happen and what should have happened.

Some call me king. Some call me emperor. Some call me tyrant.

Still forget who I once was.

Memories blurred. Too much time passed. Too much war, love, death, journeys, children, queens, courtesans, dancers and mead.

Was I born a warrior? A diplomat? A noble? A slave? A gladiator? A ceaser? A peasant?

I remember reading works of logic, a dialetic method with scholars methodically eviscerating me until I could reverse the dscourse.

I remember wrestling with pythons until my biceps were thicker than them.

The minotaur that came at me... I threw him over the south wall when I was a lieutenant of the watch. I still see him growling at me. We became allies but I will never forget his words and they came to pass...

The first man I killed. He came at me at a frenzy. Wild eyed, long hair, thick beard almost as he was was rolling onto me, I speared him and shouted, "You will not break the shield wall!"

My father slapped me proudly, "You're not the runt I thought you were." as the next wave came on.

They came and they came. For hours and I stabbed, jabbed and killed. Father just said, "They fight for money, this is their job. They job to die. We fight for our homes." He was wrong and he died that day. I was born for that day.

 

[BotchMan]

Those damn Jobbers knew they would not make it past the wall, day by day we would kill thousands and thousands more would soon follow.

They were led astray by a false prophet, who promised them security, only a Hogan could overcome that wall, and only he knew how to get over it, brother.

That false prophet was backed by a Million Dollar Man, man. He would take the jobbers minds before he took their bodies into a war they knew would never be won, the buzzards became jobbers, and they followed one another to an endless Barrage all for their own little jobbers to be fed to their false prophet.

With each armband I threw, the more the blood began to pool, good thing merch here is so professional.