Grid of Thrones: If F1 and the World of Ice and Fire Collided

In the Grid of Thrones, you win or you finish a bit lower… From Grand Maester Newey to the extinct House Tyrrell and back to the tourney of Hungary, we take you through a World of ICE and Tyres.

The Watchers on the Pit-Wall: The condemned Brothers of the Nights Watch remain the only defence between The Realm and The Iceman, a silent, formidable foe on a conquest to bring The Long Night with his army of the dead. Does the Iceman bring the cold? Or does the cold bring him? *BrrrrrrrrrWOAH*.

Axed Team Principles and rejected drivers are the meagre defenders of the Pit-Wall from the Iceman. Dolorous Esteban Gutierrez and the aged Maester Aecclestone (strategically blind) are key characters on the pit-wall, protecting thrones of all sizes.

House Mercedes-Stark

Image Source: www.tim-holmes.com

Words: Winning is Coming

Residence: Winnerfell

Sigil: A silver arrow on a chequered field

Key Members:

Ser Hamilton – Winner of Three Championship tourneys, rides into battle alongside two diredogs, Roscoe and Coco.

Ser Bottas – Traitor to House Williams-Frey, but tourney contender for the title of the long summer. A winter child, possibly related to the Iceman beyond the Pit-Wall…

Wolff, King in the North – Prone to thumping tables at feasts.

Sell-out-sword Rosberg – A free rider who won a Championship tourney and then emigrated to the free city of Braavosaco.

House Ferrari-Lannister

Image Source: www.tim-holmes.com

Words: Hear me rev

Residence: Maranello Rock

Sigil: A red stallion

Key Members:

Vettelfinger: A cunning, dangerous individual obsessed with power. A protagonist in the current tourney of the long summer, longs for thrones.

Massa the Imp: Small in stature, undermined constantly when allied with House Ferrari-Lannister, he has since moved onto other things. Little interest in thrones.

Maester Marchionne: Rarely attends tourneys, but regularly undermines the House he oversees by spouting judgement to various little birds and the master of media whispers.

House Red Bullgaryen

Image Source: www.tim-holmes.com

Words: Fire and blood and millennial marketing campaigns

Residence: Bullstone

Sigil: A three-headed, winged bull

Key Members:

Danny Riccairyen: Believes he is the rightful heir to the Iron Title, but his house, once a ruler for many seasons, has been away for a long time…

Max Viserystappen: Quick tempered yet talented. Equally, demands the Iron Title, but has been plagued with a faulty ride in the tourney of the long summer so far…

Hornys, Master of Whispers: Claims to serve the realm of Formula One, but his interests have always waned towards House Red Bullgaryen.

Grand Maester Adrian Newey: Spends more time on Bullstone these days rather than attending tourneys. A widely respected man of knowledge.

***EXCLUSIVE*** An excerpt from the upcoming Grid of Thrones novel: The Wings of Winter-Testing has been released: 

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ADRIAN

The Grand Maester awoke to the sound of leathery wings flapping over the tower. It was still dark, and dreams from the recess of a black, underground dwelling clung to his mind as he stirred. The sudden gust caused his latest drawings to dance across the sleeping quarters, one paper drifted lazily into his chamber pot. Cursing the seven, he recovered the crude drawing of a secondary nostril and cleared the night soil from his work. They were back already? Had it been a week? 

He hadn’t even time to break his fast before the knock at his door. “Enter”, he said as Hornys welcomed himself in, slithering. The master of whispers looked travelled, he squinted around the room at the drawings before settling his glare onto the wizened Maester. “Hornys, I hadn’t expected you so soon, how did we fare in the Tourney of Hungary?” The Whisperer was unreadable for a moment, Adrian had become accustomed to taking responsibilities for the failings of the house of late, but this seemed different, almost revertive. Hornys avoided the question slyly. “One of the more amiable cities of Essos, Hungary. The finest wines and whorehouses that side of the Narrow Sea. The paddock put on an unrivalled show and the heat! By Jorah the heat! Magister Brawn was in attendance I’ll have you know, he asked for you.” The avoidance of his question made Adrian sense the worst. “Tell me Hornys. Just tell me.” The master of whispers lingered feebly at the door, his eyes fixed on anywhere else. “Max took Danny out. Lanced him in the most unsavoury fashion, I’m afraid. The vehicle was… wounded Grand Maester. Tensions are high, we were unable to beat the Tifosi, and the damnable Silver Arrows may have been in our crosshairs this time too.” He spat.  

The tourney of the long summer was up, they would lose to the greater houses, and wouldn’t get another chance until the Long Winter passed, which could be the longest in living memory if rumours were to be believed. He moved over to the window and saw his drivers. Danny and Max were sitting atop their giant, winged bulls, squabbling. Frustration filled him, he couldn’t wait any longer, it would be fruitless to wait out an endless winter after all. They would have to use his secret weapon now, or else fall foul of getting caught up in a lowly battle for Fourth with those damnable free riders at Force India. He approached Hornys, who hinted at a flinch, and whispered, “I have something to show you, come.”

It was a still day on Bullstone and the base of the cliffs were thankfully vacant. He led Hornys to the opening that he’d discovered whilst the team had been away on the Essos-leg of the season. It was dark beyond the craggy entrance, he ignited a torch and led Hornys deep into the underground dwelling. The flames licked the walls and illuminated a slick-looking substance that refracted the light into a giant honeycomb. The pattern bounced off of Hornys’ widened eyes, his mouth gaping. “Adrian, what is this, what in seven hells have you found?”. The Grand Maester studied the textures, running his hand down a vein of ore blacker than death. “It’s carbon fibre, Hornys, more than we could ever need, and we’ve been sitting on it all this time. A mine of it. This composite, its use was lost in the doom…But I’ve figured it out Hornys. It doesn’t just mean we can win the Iron Title, but keep it in the darkest night, when the Iceman comes. Get the drivers, we must tell them of this at once.”

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