[When Eren calls it a farce, Jon nods. So many people have refused to believe in what's coming. They prefer to hang on to their old hatreds and their territorial disputes and their wars waged over a throne that will mean nothing if all of its subjects are dead.]
They're cold. They come from the Lands of Always Winter -- the far north -- and they seem to bring winter with them. We call their leader The Night King, although I can't say what his name might truly be. I've seen him raise the dead, hundreds of them all at once with a gesture. I've seen him kill a dragon in the sky with a bolt of ice. I don't know how he can be killed... whether it's a simple matter of reaching him, or something more.
[He suspects the latter.]
The White Walkers are his lieutenants. They look like shriveled frozen corpses. Each one seems to control a certain number of wights -- I'll get to those in a minute. They are strong and ferocious fighters, and hard to kill... dragonglass will do it, Valyrian steel will do it, but there isn't much of the steel around anymore. Their cold shatters ordinary weapons.
If they were only a small band, they would be a fearsome enemy, but I would like our chances. They're an army. Whoever they kill joins their ranks unless the body is burned. Those are the wights, and it takes fire or dragonglass to kill them. Or the death of the White Walker controlling them, but we only just learned that.
[He shakes his head in dismay: this has been a problem mounting for a very long time.]
I've done what I can, but they're so hard to kill, and it's so easy for them to replenish their numbers.
no subject
They're cold. They come from the Lands of Always Winter -- the far north -- and they seem to bring winter with them. We call their leader The Night King, although I can't say what his name might truly be. I've seen him raise the dead, hundreds of them all at once with a gesture. I've seen him kill a dragon in the sky with a bolt of ice. I don't know how he can be killed... whether it's a simple matter of reaching him, or something more.
[He suspects the latter.]
The White Walkers are his lieutenants. They look like shriveled frozen corpses. Each one seems to control a certain number of wights -- I'll get to those in a minute. They are strong and ferocious fighters, and hard to kill... dragonglass will do it, Valyrian steel will do it, but there isn't much of the steel around anymore. Their cold shatters ordinary weapons.
If they were only a small band, they would be a fearsome enemy, but I would like our chances. They're an army. Whoever they kill joins their ranks unless the body is burned. Those are the wights, and it takes fire or dragonglass to kill them. Or the death of the White Walker controlling them, but we only just learned that.
[He shakes his head in dismay: this has been a problem mounting for a very long time.]
I've done what I can, but they're so hard to kill, and it's so easy for them to replenish their numbers.