Wolves crash everybody

You can boast all you want, you lion and kraken fans
But, it is known, you will all be peeing in your pants
When the wolves regain
Their long held terrain
The North remembers and you’ll stand no chance!


Sorry Bucky The Peacemaker, but it had to be said!

By MrsManderly

There is no sting to our words
There as soft as lemon curd

Although it has to be said
Iron is stronger than lead.
Lead is the metal that drags Lannisters down
If i’m honest i hope they all drown

For i was baptized in iron and salt
I wont change and that’s my fault

By Hornblower

Bringer of peace wants to end the battling …

What do I see?
This can not be!
A fight in the Rhymes
means the end of all times!
Now all shake your hands
and make amends,
if you want a fight
go to GeneralChat!

By Buckwheat

A sworn brother?
To what, I ask
A sister, I believe
Sworn to a task

Salt and smoke
Are no armour
A man of iron
Has no honour

Tremble to hear
The lion’s roar
It’s nothing that you
Have heard before

A typo and psycho I am not
Are you asking to get shot?

By Dracarya

What kind of psycho,
has her name as a typo?

Brothers of iron
shall beat down the lion.
Through bonds of salt and smoke,
no sword shall poke.

So to become my sword brother (or sister)
Say among one another
'I'm your brother (or sister) for all time
Together we shall rhyme’

By Hornblower

Lions are unbeatable!

No man of iron
Can defeat the lion
The lion of Lannister

No man alive
Will be left to thrive
When the lion brings winter

By Dracarya

I handle my words better than most,
some vainly swing sword at post
but that’s not how I train,
I prefer to sing and reign.

When i look at this liar,
I don’t see one who fights with fire.
I see a partner in crime,
or should that be rhyme?

So i say join me,
we shall make them see,
Brothers in iron,
Can defeat the largest lion.

By Hornblower

Liar responds to the attack …

Is that horn that you hold made of snow?
Or fire and blood, should I bow?
With riddles and rhymes
I will bring your demise
And it won’t be a horn what you’ll blow

By Liar

MrsManderly fought with fire,
it only served to light her pyre.
Everyone Knows,
a Krackens water hose
Pisses all over a Liar

By Hornblower

Battle horns among the bards …

All Bards large and small,
to you I give the call.
The kracken will rise,
and eat out your eyes

Everyone shall to die,
and be put in Rats Pie,
to be eaten at lords dinner high.

If you find me too harsh
then fuck off to Qarth
Go far away,
and there you should stay.

Fellow bards i’m ashamed,
my pride had been maimed.
To insult all my friends,
my shame shall not end.

By Hornblower

A Mourning for Joy

The sun broke in with a newborn’s cry
Great waves charged rock once more to die
Great waves of seabirds against the sky
And men were in the valley

Grey horses, grey eyes, grey faces drawn
Come south to chase the dragon spawn
Slowly dismounting on green lawn
To turn and face the rally.

Legends of wisdom, valor and brawn
In brilliant white those men came on
The Bull, The Bat, the Knight of Dawn
The Cradle Guard did sally

Around the white the grey wave spread
Upon the white the grey men bled
Beneath the white the grey lay dead
Five grey to three the tally

By James Arryn

The Whispering Woods

The silent watchers in the trees,
Observe their prey akin to beasts,
While a mother stands alone and sees,
The gods of death begin their feasts.

For like the wind, the wolves do strike,
Upon their prey, caught off guard,
With claws of steel, sword and pike,
They aim to kill, swift and hard.

The Kingslayer and Young Wolf meet,
With nameless faces in between,
Till one is thrown at the others feet,
Bereft of sword, the edge still keen.

A first victory for the Northern King,
Though at great cost to closest friends,
Where armour, sword and shield ring,
And echo until the battle ends.

The Wolf, he stands above his prize,
The Lion, bound, chained in defeat,
Glaring up with baleful eyes,
Still mighty, lying at his feet.

A mother cries tears of relief,
To see her pup, dark and grim,
Yet worries as she sees his grief,
For those who fell defending him.

The Wood stands silent,still, watchful once more,
But for the wind, he who paves,
His way through the trees, empty save for,
The lonely plot of unmarked graves. 

by Jcooper