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di AryaSnow
creato il 20 ottobre 2014


AryaSnow
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AryaSnow
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Inviato il 20 settembre 2017 10:09 Autore

UP :D

 

Allora... pareri?



Maya
GdN in the Sky with Diamonds
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Maya
GdN in the Sky with Diamonds



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7210 messaggi
Inviato il 26 settembre 2017 13:49

Se da un lato è piuttosto comune che un esercito mercenario sia piuttosto variopinto - e questo per via delle caratteristiche di reclutamento -, dall'altro non è nella definizione stessa di "esercito mercenario" che sia così. Possiamo dire che nella quasi totalità dei casi sia così, ma non è implicito e non è detto che non possa esserci un esercito mercenario più "selettivo" per ragioni che non riesco ad ipotizzare. In conclusione, è quel tipo di informazione che definirei scontata, ma non ridondante. 

 

Se abbiamo occasione di citare in un elenco di componenti di questo gruppo qualche personaggio o etnia lo farei, più che altro per avere ulteriori link di rimbalzo all'interno della wiki.


"Il peccato più sciocco del diavolo è la vanità" (La ragazza nella nebbia - Donato Carrisi)

 

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Lord Beric
Custode dei Corvi Messaggeri
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Lord Beric
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Inviato il 28 settembre 2017 17:08

Ma almeno a livello di ACOK, oltre ai Dothraki abbiamo indicazioni in merito?


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Lord dei Pan di Stelle - Lord Comandante dei Peluche

The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real... for a moment at least... that long magic moment before we wake.
Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab.
Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end.
Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot.
Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines.
Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?
We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.
They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to Middle-earth.

 

[George R. R. Martin]


AryaSnow
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AryaSnow
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Inviato il 16 ottobre 2017 9:47 Autore

Questa è la descrizione:

 

Arya did not know who Bloody Mummers were until a fortnight later, when the queerest company of men she’d ever seen arrived at Harrenhal. Beneath the standard of a black goat with bloody horns rode copper men with bells in their braids; lancers astride striped black-and-white horses; bowmen with powdered cheeks; squat hairy men with shaggy shields; brown-skinned men in feathered cloaks; a wispy fool in green-and-pink motley; swordsmen with fantastic forked beards dyed green and purple and silver; spearmen with colored scars that covered their cheeks; a slender man in septon’s robes, a fatherly one in maester’s grey, and a sickly one whose leather cloak was fringed with long blond hair.   At their head was a man stick-thin and very tall, with a drawn emaciated face made even longer by the ropy black beard that grew from his pointed chin nearly to his waist. The helm that hung from his saddle horn was black steel, fashioned in the shape of a goat’s head. About his neck he wore a chain made of linked coins of many different sizes, shapes, and metals, and his horse was one of the strange black-and-white ones. 



Lord Beric
Custode dei Corvi Messaggeri
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Lord Beric
Custode dei Corvi Messaggeri



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Inviato il 17 ottobre 2017 9:25

Boh dai, mettiamolo, amen. Resta aperto il tema della fonte della frase sulla tecnica della corruzione, poi per me possiamo uppare.


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Lord dei Pan di Stelle - Lord Comandante dei Peluche

The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real... for a moment at least... that long magic moment before we wake.
Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab.
Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end.
Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot.
Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines.
Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?
We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.
They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to Middle-earth.

 

[George R. R. Martin]


Erin la Spezzata
Guardiana dei Metalupi
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Erin la Spezzata
Guardiana dei Metalupi



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Inviato il 17 ottobre 2017 11:15

Riguardo la tecnica di corruzione, in ACOK64 c'è questa frase:

The Brave Companions did most of the foraging for Harrenhal, and Roose Bolton had given them the task of rooting out Lannisters. Vargo Hoat had divided them into four bands, to visit as many villages as possible. He led the largest group himself, and gave the others to his most trusted captains. She had heard Rorge laughing over Lord Vargo’s way of finding traitors. All he did was return to places he had visited before under Lord Tywin’s banner and seize those who had helped him. Many had been bought with Lannister silver, so the Mummers often returned with bags of coin as well as baskets of heads.



Lord Beric
Custode dei Corvi Messaggeri
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Lord Beric
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Inviato il 18 ottobre 2017 13:18

Fatto.


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Lord dei Pan di Stelle - Lord Comandante dei Peluche

The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real... for a moment at least... that long magic moment before we wake.
Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab.
Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end.
Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smokestacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot.
Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest Airlines.
Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?
We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the songs the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.
They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to Middle-earth.

 

[George R. R. Martin]

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