My Review of Game of Thrones Distressed Greyjoy Sigil T-Shirt

Originally submitted at HBO

The oversized beast that is the Game of Thrones House Greyjoy sigil covers this t-shirt with a tasteful and interesting use of space. Slightly distressed, the wraparound look of this shirt can be taken to work, too. Lacking in any other marks or advertising, the logo of Greyjoy is left alone to be ...

Game of Thrones Distressed Greyjoy Sigil T-Shirt

Big Squid

By Pickel from Cleveland, TN on 7/27/2012

 

5out of 5

Fit: Feels true to size

Length: Feels true to length

Pros: Quality materials, Good design

Best Uses: Special Occasions, Game night, Casual Wear

Describe Yourself: Casual, Geek

Was this a gift?: No

The color doesn't clash, the design is great. I love the giant squid. I get comments all the time. It's was a hit on game night playing Game of Thrones.

(legalese)

The Last Year

The past year has been very good to me, no one tried to kill me, except for that one wench in Falstagrad, funny she didn't look dwarvish when I made that comment about stunties. I meant no malice, dwarves have been some of my best mates. At any rate I made captain in the spring, the good Duke passed in his sleep, apparently he had a breathing disorder, HONEST!!! He snored something terrible up until that night, we just thought the alchohol and spicy foods had opened him up to breath right, wasn't until the next morning we realized he wasn't just sleeping it off. There was no drawing of lots, or a vote, the mate just asked "what next Cap'n?" They just call me Captain, no name, not even in port. I was still hiding from the Red Wizards, forgot my own name some time ago hoping that they would too. Not the first sign of them in the past year, so that was another thing that made it good. Ship seems to be holding up well, no repairs, no bad weather to speak of, and it seems to move faster without Duke. Profit's are up, the crew is happy. We finished out the year with a trip to the inner sea. Took a young Tianman and his crew, several of them Stunties to an undisclosed location. Reminded me of Company business. No names, no real port as a destination, just a clearing along the shore and the smell of trouble in the air. Reminded me of my friends and the old days. We took our pay and set out to spend that merchant gold in the nearest port, celebrate the coming of the new year. Year of the dragon to the Tian's I was told.

I woke up in a new year, same port, same crew, but a new feeling. Dread.

I wasn't sure why, so I rolled out of the bunk and went to check the watch, only to find him sleeping. There were wet footprints on the deck, and small jar with what appeared to be teeth in it sitting on the rail. Just sitting there. It was a message, the Red Wizards had found me and wanted me to know they had found another as well. I couldn't tell from the teeth who, but they looked dwarven to me. That would figure, the dwarves were less likely to run from a fight and more likely to try and face what was coming. Obviously what was coming came and now it had come for me.

Maybe it was the thought of my friends being hunted down one by one, or maybe it was the memories stirred up by the Tian and his friends, or maybe I was just tired of running. One thing I knew for sure was that I was done with that, a new day had dawned and with it a new plan. Since they knew where I was, no point in hiding it anymore. I went ashore and commissioned seamstress to make me a new flag drew her a picture of the company seal, picked up some tar and went back to the ship. I had the new name on the back before the watchman woke. The crew didn't quite understand the ramifications, but they seemed proud when they saw the name, even prouder when we flew the new colors. I made them all take the oath before we set out to sea. Too niave or too foolish to realize what they were getting into, they all seemed a little taller after taking the oath. Only the first mate seemed a bit worried, but then with age comes wisdom. We set sail under the seal of the Company in a boat named The Black Hand.

The Red Wizards sent me a message, and I sent one right back. For one of us, this was going to be the Last Year.

Nearly 3 years gone by

The company almost disbanded. I guess the core leadership still kept in touch, but Gavrillo platoon went its seperate ways. What else do you do when the Red Wizards put a price on your head? You go to ground and assume a new identity, break ties with the old and hope that no thread is still connected as you set out into the bush.

I chose the river. That winding stream so many others had set out upon with sword or torch in hand, finding neither fortune or fame, but instead a slow death, like malaria. You toil and sweat fighting the river upstream and fighting mosquito's and other fortune seekers downstream. I would call them pirates, but that is what we all are really, should the opportunity arise. It is really just a matter of circumstance.

I've been working as spotter for Black Duke. He's a captian of a slow boat that runs rum up the river and herbs down. He was Captain Black Duke, but that was too long so he shortened it. He is neither black nor a duke, it's not even his name. He just liked the sound of it. Guess if you have a boat you can name it and yourself whatever you want. I'm not so sure he evens owns the boat himself, it's sort of a loan. I keep biding my time, maybe one day my eyes won't be so sharp and the dear captain will catch a spear from the shoreline. A present from a native jealous of our mobility. The mate is old and its doubtful he would make a bid to be captain, I'm the only one on the boat with combat experience outside of bar rooms so it would only take the suggestion for them to look on me as the new captian. But, I'm not so sure I want to even be captian.

The one thing I do know is that the longer I sit on this boat the stronger the Red Wizards become and the weaker my attachment to Company. I have to get back to the Company, have to warn them that while our memories are short the Red Wizards memories are long. Our problem won't just go away, we have to deal with it ourselves. Go to the heart of the problem, the heart of darkness.

The mate on this old boat has one rule, and he lives by it "never get off the boat" he says. Well, my friends, I am about to break that rule. If I am going to live, I have to get off this boat. But, that may be the death of me.

Rumble in the Jungles Belly

Surviving Chrisness is what this should have been called. Lovejoy took a level of rangering and then took control of our best ranger. I don't know what sick magic he used to persuade her but jungle love is in the air. Appearantly after her death (not near) experience Filariel's tastes have changed. What I once thought was elvish hautiness has turned into cold contempt for the entire party, save one, Lovejoy. I can only imagine what spurred this aboriginal love affair, but I for once am not down with the swirl. I have had to take point while she crushes on the indian in the back of the platoon. Not that I want to ride in the back, but please ninja. Speaking of ninja's I had to go smack one up all alone, ranger style. Where were my woodland kin? Holding up the rear, or at least holding it. HHhhhhhuuhh, maybe its just jealousy speaking, but I ain't puttin up with this much longer. Yesterday I nearly bit it, I was looking down my shaft at a short stout sniper, no jokes, and next thing I am buried up to my Handy Haversack in rubble... 6 feet underwater. Where were my ranged combat expert cousins? Courtyard, holding hands. I spent nearly 2 full minutes underwater, half killed that dwarf that was aiming for me, saw a water elemental fart, nearly lost my head to skiff of gnolls, finally when I pulled myself out of the water, rushed through the back door of the keep, and I had to drop a dragon skeleton with one shot to keep it from killing half the party. (Saved the party AGAIN, I have no idea what they were up to the whole time I was gone) And again, where were Failariel and Lovejoy? Hugged up against a wall next to the lieu. Well you can slap me in a coffin and call me Ishmael, but Thar she blows. When I get back to the Captain I am filing a proppa complaint. That will be the last time Fillairiel and Lovejoy get to play bringing up the rear. At least while we are on a mission.

Jungle Fever

Gammon reporting from the front. It has been a long time since I last writ in the annals, and there is much to tell. The predictions surrounding Iron Hens demise came true. He drank deep of a lightning bolt and left naught but a bluddy stump behind for his mates to lament. Ibella likewise met an untimely demise, at the claws of an unstuffed crab.

Lovejoy proved to be a misnomer as he proceeded to lay ruin to a local brothel, getting the Gavrillo platoon drawn up on charges and drawn onto wanted posters around town. We hastily retreated to the jungle in order to further our mission and avoid prosecution.

Now we are deep in the jungle perhaps even in another plane altogether. Befriended by a treant and surrounded by fiendish gnolls. The Red Wizards are here with some ninja assassins to boot. So needless to say our lives are interesting, if not long.

Perhaps this weekend will shed some light on our futures, if not at least I have caught us up to the present in the annals. Be well and pray to Gaea for us.

Death of a Ranger

Gammon is getting drunk and singing into the Handy Haver Sack where
we stuffed Failariel's body.

When we rangers ride the trail / In sunshine, wind or snow or hail
We're always ready / We're true and steady.
There's a friendly laugh, a joke, / We're cheery until we see an orc,
And then we'll fight, sir, / To get it right, sir.
We never leave a fight till no ork is to be seen;
Our job's to guard the lame, and to keep our linen clean.

chorus:
We're all pals together, /Comrades, birds of a feather
Rootin' pals, tootin' pals, / Ridin' pals, fightin' pals.
In rain or sunshine.
Pals! Say there brother, / Pull for each other --
Always play the game, fight the for the lame
For we all belong to the order of the Rangers

A Word on Role Playing

I will post this ala Chris - or should I say Alpheus Winterborn. And let the discussion begin.
Failarial you go girl, be as angry as you like. And that goes for the brownies too.
_______________________________________________________________

A Geek Girl's Guide to Character Conflict

Geek Girl #14 I’ve determined that I get way too into my roleplaying characters. Consider Exhibit A: A few weeks ago I was playing in my Orpheus campaign. My friend Mandy’s character and I were having a little rivalry, and my character was getting quite angry. So, in character, I acted angry. A few hours into the session, Mandy turned to me. “I’m worried that you’re getting mad at me,” she said. I looked at her. “Like, me-character mad or me-player mad?” “You player mad.” I considered for a moment. I was at the time feeling emotions that could be described as anger. But in no way was I (as in me, player) actually upset with her (Mandy, player). I think I’m something of a method actress. That’s probably half the problem. So I said, “No, I’m fine,” and smiled at her. She said, “Okay,” and I went back to acting angry with her. I didn’t really think much of this at the time, until something similar happened at my Iron Kingdom’s campaign. [Sidenote: I have reached new pinnacles of geekdom. I am now currently in three campaigns, one of which I am running. Holy time commitments, Batman.] Ahem. Consider Exhibit B: My Iron Kingdoms group and I tend to butt heads. A lot. Much of this I think is caused by the fact that I’m playing a lawful good (albeit quirky) character in a campaign full of chaotic neutral characters. So my character spends a lot of time shouting “Don’t! Stop! You fools!” And so naturally, I, player, end up yelling these same things. Because I’m the one playing the character. Seems logical to me. Unfortunately, not everyone seems to have followed the leap. A few weeks back, the same week as the previously mentioned anger incident, my fellow players were concocting one of their completely outlandish, dangerous, and disrespectful schemes. Under normal circumstances, I would have protested. But this particular scheme was not only outlandish, but brilliant and amusing to no end. So I did something I don’t like to do. I stepped out of character and told them so. “That’s awesome,” I said. Heads turned. Jaws dropped. Turns out that all this time, everyone’s thought that my protests were actually me-player talking, rather than just me-character. This was occasionally the case, but only about 10% of the time. The rest of the time I was roleplaying. I mean, that’s what we’re there for, isn’t it? I’ve since re-rolled a character that better fits in with the group. I figure if people aren’t going to be able to tell the difference between me and my character, I might as well have a character that people like. After all, things go better when we all get along. [cue warm fuzzies]

Dead Pool

Sturm has sent in his Dead Pool for submission. I expect everyone will have their own version of this. For your pleasure, or displeasure, here are Gammon and Sturm's Dead Pool's. From first to die to last man or woman standing.

Sturm ----Gammon
Iron Hen--- Gree
Sendak -----Willow
Sturm ------Sturm
Gammon ---Nissia
Kannor -----Iron Hen
Failarial ----Gammon
Nissia ------Sendak
Ibella------ Lovejoy
Willow
Gree
Lovejoy

On Gammon's list you will note that Kannor, Ibella and Failarial never die. Ibella becomes very careful and evil after the death of Nissia and works on becoming immortal, Failarial is just a killing machine (death will not take his mistress), and Kannor's diety will eventually make him immortal for his great deeds.

Calling all Annalists

I am looking for a few good annalists (as usual). Anyone wanting to step up and take over the post of head poster for the blog can apply. I am sure someone has more free time to spend coming up with clever topics and biting commentary on the state of Role Playing in Cleveland. Apply here now. You will be graded on originality and grammar.