Game of Thrones - Dialogue - Septon Meribald
Description
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Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
British (England - Yorkshire & Humber) British (General) British (Received Pronunciation - RP, BBC)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Sir, My Lady, said Patrick. It's a broken man, an outlaw, More or less, Brianne answered septum. Mira Bold, disagreed. More less than more. There are many shorts of our laws, just as there are many sorts of birds, a sand piper and a sea eagle, both of wings. But they are not the same. The singer's love to sing of good men forced to go outside the law to fight some wicked lord. But most outlaws are more like this raven in hound than they are the light In Lord. They are evil men, driven by greed, showered 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 a 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 around to take them off to war, poorly showed and poorly clad, their march away beneath his banners, off times with no better arms than a sickle. What a sharpened hole or a mall they made themselves by lashing a stone to a stick with strips of Hyde Brothers march with brothers, sons with fathers, friends with friends. There were these songs and storeys, so they go off with the eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders. They'll see off the wealth and glory they'll 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 test is enough to break him. All those go on for years until they lose count of all the battles they fought in, I believe in a manner which survived 100 fights. Khun Break in his 101st brothers Watch Brothers Die Father's lose. Their son's friends see their friends trying to old their entrails in after they've bean got ID by an axe. They see the Lord who led them there, cut down, and some of the Lord shouts that there is now. They take a wound, and when that still are field, they take another. There is never enough to each. Their shoes fall to pieces from the march in their clothes and so on and rotting, and our, for them are ******** in their breeches. They want new boots for a warmer clock. Or maybe a rusty die in our film. They need to take them from a corpse, and before long they're stealing from the living, too. From the small for those 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 George's, too. And then one day they look around and realise all their friends and kin I got. They are fighting beside strangers beneath the banner that they are hardly recognised. They don't know where they are or how to get back home on 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 this beers and size and sharpened halls 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 after over the corpses of the slain or steals away in the black of night, and he finds some place to hide a ll thought of home is gone by then and kings and lords and gods I mean less to him than a haunch of spoiled meat that will let them live another day or a skin of bad wine that might drown is fear. But for a few hours, the broken man lives from day today from meal to meal, more beast than man. Lady Brienne is no wrong. In times like these, the travel almost beware of broken men on DH fear them. But he should pity them as well. When Merah Bold was finished, a profound silence fell upon their little band. Brienne could hear the wind rustling through a clump of ***** willows and father off the faint cry of a loon. She could hear dog panting softly as he Loped along beside the septum and his donkey tongue lolling from his mouth. The quiet stretched and stretched until finally she said, How old were you when they marched us off to war? Why no older than your boy Merah? Bolt replied, too young for searching truth. But my brothers were all going on. I would not be left behind, Williams said. I could be his Squire. The Will was no night on ly a pot boy armed with a kitchen knife. It's stolen from the inn. He died upon the step stones on never struck a blow. It was fever did for him. I'm from my brother Robin. Oh, in died from a mace. That split is at a part. And his friend John Pox was hanged for rape. The War of the Nine Penny kings. Ask tile hunt. So they called it Don't. I never saw the king. Nora and Penny. It was a war zone. Yeah, that's it. What? No. Yeah.