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Home > The Hound Soundboard (Ser Gregor...
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The Hound Soundboard (Ser Gregor Clegane)

The Hound Soundboard (Ser Gregor Clegane)

The first sound is a deep, guttural, menacing growl that sends shivers down your spine as you hear the sheer power and ferocity behind it. You can almost feel the heat of flames crackling as the hound speaks the words, "Is that it?". It's a sound that demands attention and respect, leaving no room for doubt that this is a force to be reckoned with.

The next sound transports you to a place that isn't burning, a serene and peaceful sanctuary far from the chaos and destruction that seems to follow the hound wherever he goes. You can almost hear the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant sounds of nature as he mutters the word "Someplace that isn't burning."

But just as quickly as the calm settles in, it is shattered by a sharp, cutting sound that pierces the air like a knife. The hound's voice drips with contempt and disdain as he spits out the word "Cunts." It's a sound that lets you know exactly where you stand in his eyes, and it's not a comfortable place to be.

Then, there is the sound of a challenge, a defiance that cuts through the tension like a blade. "Bring me one of those chickens," the hound demands, his voice low and dangerous. It's a sound that brooks no argument, no hesitation, just a cold, hard expectation of compliance.

The sound of King's Landing echoes in your ears, a cacophony of chaos and corruption that seems to seep into every word the hound speaks. "King's Landing," he sneers, the words laced with bitterness and contempt. It's a sound that speaks of betrayal and bloodshed, of power and politics gone awry.

"You're still here?" The hound's voice is tinged with surprise and disbelief, as if he can't quite fathom why anyone would willingly stay in such a place of danger and deceit. It's a sound that carries a warning, a reminder that no rewards are worth the trouble that comes with lingering in such a treacherous city.

The pain in the hound's voice is palpable as he speaks of the torment he has endured. "The pain was bad," he admits, his words heavy with the weight of suffering. It's a sound that speaks of resilience and endurance, of a man who has weathered more than his fair share of trials and tribulations.

"Think I'll take 2 chickens." The hound's voice is gruff and matter-of-fact, as if he's simply stating a fact rather than making a request. It's a sound that speaks of a pragmatism and practicality that belies the violence and unpredictability of his actions.

"I'm used to it," the hound says with a resigned sigh, his voice weary and defeated. It's a sound that speaks of a lifetime of hardship and heartache, of a man who has grown accustomed to the harsh realities of life in a world where no good deed goes unpunished.

"No elders built by killers." The hound's words are a stark reminder of the darkness that lies within him, a cold and chilling sound that sends a shiver down your spine. It's a sound that speaks of a history steeped in bloodshed and brutality, of a man who has known only violence and death.

"Look at that face." The hound's voice is filled with scorn and derision, as he mocks the weakness and fear that he sees in others. It's a sound that cuts like a knife, exposing the vulnerabilities and insecurities that lie just beneath the surface of those who dare to challenge him.

"The fuck you doing?" The hound's voice is harsh and angry, his words dripping with contempt and impatience. It's a sound that brooks no argument, no excuse, just a demand for answers and accountability.

"Right." The hound's voice is firm and decisive, his words carrying an air of finality that leaves no room for debate. It's a sound that signals the end of discussion, a command to move forward with no hesitation or delay.

"Of the." The hound's voice is clipped and sharp, the words truncated and devoid of emotion. It's a sound that leaves you hanging, waiting for the rest of the sentence that never comes.

"No." The hound's voice is cold and dismissive, the word falling like a hammer blow. It's a sound that closes the door on any hope or possibility, a final declaration of refusal and rejection.

"Lots of." The hound's voice is low and rumbling, filled with a sense of foreboding and warning. It's a sound that speaks of danger and uncertainty, of a threat that looms large on the horizon.

"Fucking whore." The hound's voice is filled with rage and hatred, the words dripping with venom and spite. It's a sound that cuts to the bone, exposing the ugliness and brutality that lurks within him.

"But the worst thing was that it was my brother who did it." The hound's voice is filled with anguish and betrayal, the words heavy with sorrow and regret. It's a sound that speaks of a wound that may never fully heal, of a betrayal that cuts deeper than any sword.

"Those are your last words. Fuck you. Come on, you can do better." The hound's voice is filled with scorn and mockery, his words laced with contempt and derision. It's a sound that belies the seriousness of the situation, a reminder that even in the face of death, he has no time for weakness or cowardice.

"Is that what he told you?" The hound's voice is cold and calculating, his words sharp and cutting. It's a sound that reveals the depths of deception and manipulation that lie at the heart of his character, a reminder that nothing is ever as it seems.

"All right, that's what I'm doing." The hound's voice is filled with resignation and acceptance, his words heavy with the weight of duty and obligation. It's a sound that speaks of a man who has seen too much and done too much to turn back now.

"Someday it'll get you killed." The hound's voice is filled with foreboding and warning, his words a somber reminder of the dangers that lurk around every corner. It's a sound that carries the weight of experience and wisdom, a caution against complacency and arrogance.

"Winterfell." The hound's voice is filled with menace and malice, the word a grim harbinger of doom and destruction. It's a sound that speaks of a dark shadow that looms over the once-proud stronghold, a reminder of the violence and bloodshed that stains its history.

"Ned Stark is dead." The hound's voice is cold and indifferent, the words tinged with a hint of satisfaction. It's a sound that speaks of a long-standing grudge finally being satisfied, of a debt that has been repaid in blood.

"Given what he wants." The hound's voice is flat and emotionless, the words devoid of passion or conviction. It's a sound that speaks of a man who has lost his sense of purpose and direction, a soul adrift in a sea of darkness and despair.

"The Blackwater's on fire." The hound's voice is filled with grim satisfaction, the words tinged with the thrill of destruction and chaos. It's a sound that speaks of a man who revels in the chaos and carnage that he leaves in his wake.

"So you're sad because you didn't get to kill Joffrey yourself, is that it?" The hound's voice is mocking and cruel, the words dripping with contempt and derision. It's a sound that exposes the true nature of his motives and desires, a reminder that there is no room for sentimentality or mercy in his world.

"I'll keep you safe." The hound's voice is filled with solemn promise, the words a rare glimpse of vulnerability and tenderness. It's a sound that speaks of a man who is capable of kindness and compassion, even in the midst of so much darkness and violence.

"Get on with it." The hound's voice is filled with impatience and annoyance, the words a sharp command to hurry up and make a decision. It's a sound that brooks no delay or hesitation, a demand for action and resolution.

"Told everyone my batting caught fire." The hound's voice is filled with dark humor and irony, the words a sardonic commentary on the absurdity and chaos of life in Westeros. It's a sound that reveals a glimmer of wit and intelligence beneath the hound's rough exterior.

"Aria Stark." The hound's voice is filled with a curious mixture of fondness and disdain, the words a reminder of the complex and shifting dynamics between the two characters. It's a sound that speaks of a grudging respect and admiration, even as old wounds and grievances linger.

"You want to cut my throat? Get on with it." The hound's voice is filled with defiance and challenge, the words a stark reminder of the violence and brutality that lies just beneath the surface. It's a sound that dares you to take action, to make a choice that will irrevocably alter the course of your fate.

"You got any ale?" The hound's voice is gruff and rough, the words a simple request for comfort and solace. It's a sound that speaks of a man who seeks refuge in the simple pleasures of life, even as the world around him crumbles and burns.

"He lied." The hound's voice is filled with anger and betrayal, the words a bitter condemnation of a deception that has shattered trust and loyalty. It's a sound that speaks of a man who has been wronged and wounded, a soul torn apart by the lies and deceit of those he once trusted.

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A dog doesn't need courage to chase off rats.
All right, that's what I'm doing.
And hungry.
Aria Stark.
Aye.
Barrick and Darian.
Brave.
Bring me a chicken (drinking) pt5
Bring me one of those chickens.
But if I live, I'll break both your hands.
But killing killing's the thing you love.
But the worst thing was that it was my brother who did it.
Could be.
Cunts.
Dead rats don't squeak.
Do it.
Do you want to go home?
Fuck the city.
Fuck the King.
Fucking whore.
Get on with it.
Given what he wants.
Gives me joy to kill people.
Go on, hit me. Hit me hard.
Have had better.
He can die just fine on his own.
He lied.
He was begging for mercy. Please, Sir, please don't kill me. Please, Please.
How can a man not keep airlines home?
I always wanted some Valerian steel.
I can take you with me.
I could ask the same of you.
I cut down your butcher's boy, the ginger.
I just understand the way things are, how many stars they got to behead before you figure it out.
I lost half my men.
I thought I stole one of his toys. I didn't steal and I was just playing with it.
I understand that if any more words come pouring out your cunt mouth. I'm going to have to eat every fucking chicken in this room.
I won't hurt you.
I'd skin your life for wine.
I'll keep you safe.
I'll still take that chicken.
I'm going.
I'm not a knight.
I'm not going to King's Landing.
I'm not, Sir.
I'm used to it.
I'm your father.
If that's what the King does when you tell him to fuck off.
Is that it?
Is that what he told you?
Jajaja.
Just one.
Kill me and you're free.
Kill me.
Killing's the sweetest thing there is.
King's Landing.
Ladies starting to panic.
LED all over my horse, said Ostunker, butcher's boy for weeks.
Listening to talkers makes me thirsty.
Look at me.
Look at that face.
Look inside Your Grace.
Lots of.
My brother gave me this.
My father who protected him?
Ned Stark is dead.
Net stock.
No elders built by killers.
No little bird.
No point in trying to hide behind that face. I know fear when I see it.
No rewards worth this much trouble.
No.
No.
None taken.
North.
Not a penny.
Not here for long.
Nothing makes you happy.
Of the.
Only smaller.
Others women on the ground. I put some there myself.
Plenty worse than me.
Press me to the fire like I was a nice juicy mutton chop.
Right.
Sander Clegane.
Save yourself some pain, girl.
Seen it a lot.
Shut up about it.
Singing.
So do I.
So have you.
So you better get used to looking at them.
So you're sad because you didn't get to kill Joffrey yourself, is that it?
Someday it'll get you killed.
Someone is.
Someplace that isn't burning.
Stannis is a killer.
Take you to Winterfell.
Tell me.
Tell me.
Tell me.
The Blackwater's on fire.
The Bloody Hound Sander Clegane.
The Bloody Hound.
The fuck you doing?
The king has asked you a question.
The Lannisters are killers.
The pain was bad.
They're frightening so much, girl.
Think I'll take 2 chickens.
Those are your last words. Fuck you. Come on, you can do better.
Through it.
Told everyone my batting caught fire.
Valerian steel.
Was. Was.
We should never laid eyes on you.
What are you doing up here?
What do you want?
What's your name?
Where the fuck's that?
Where's the other one, the one with the Yellow Cloak?
Who do you think sent me?
Why do you care?
Winterfell.
Wolf.
You didn't know me back in my time. You don't know the things I've done. If the gods are real, why am they punished me?
You dumb bitch.
You got any ale?
You here for the bounty on me?
You paid by the Lannisters?
You think you're a hard man?
You want to cut my throat? Get on with it.
You won't last a day out there.
You'll be glad of the hateful things I do someday when your queen and I'm all that stands between you and your beloved king.
You'll have to beg him.
You're a talker.
You're just like me.
You're learning.
You're like fucking and drinking and singing.
You're not a good listener.
You're still here?
You're very kind.
Your brother is a killer.
Your father was a killer.
Your Lord imp's going to miss you.
Your sister. Your pretty sister. I should have taken her that night. The black water burned. I should have fucked her bloody. At least I'd have one happy memory.
Your sons will be killer someday.

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