Our nights are filled with alliances made and bro­ken. I’ve nev­er been par­tic­u­lar­ly good at nego­ti­a­tion or betray­al, and that’s prob­a­bly why my house is usu­al­ly the first to go in the Game of Thrones. I’ve become that guy who sucks and con­se­quent­ly pos­es no threat at the thing every­one is into, but still plays cause it’s always worth see­ing the bluffs and calls, the bold alpha strikes, and the devel­op­ment of grudges.

I’ve nev­er got­ten along with the caf­feinat­ed, shaky, social­ly awk­ward guys who fre­quent the rare binders at the com­ic book store, per­haps cause they remind me too much of an ado­les­cent ver­sion of myself. But this is our own ver­sion of geek­ery, with our own rit­u­als, and the com­pa­ny is nev­er any­thing less than enter­tain­ing.

Armed with Valyrian steel blade and mes­sen­ger raven, for con­trol of the fief­doms and the king’s court.