The Tower of Joy

[Pericles of Athens]

The White Bull led Eddard and company deep within the Red Mountains, alongside him were three riders - bulging and wild The Wull, the young and vital second son of Master Glover, and the scared and grizzled Master at Arms Cassel. The ride had been uneventful since they split from the main body of the Northern host, hot and uneventful. Their destination was a simple round based Tower, nestled between Nightsong and Kingsgrave. The sands stung as the struck upon the face, the small debris settling into and sticking to the numerous beards the Northmen had upon their faces. After days of riding in narrow and winding mountain roads their destination appeared in the distance. Lyanna. Ned muttered, saving his sister had become something of an obsession with the abscence of both his father and brother, he had to save her.

[The Mad Skylord]

A man sat before the small company of riders - between them and the Tower of Joy. His helmet sat on a rock and he sat slowly sharpening his blade - a greatsword that emitted a pale and pure white light. He stroked the whetstone down, down, down, down, down, down, down. The Sword of the Morning looked up quietly as the riders rode towards both him and the Tower.

A flicker of hope was on his face, which quickly died when he saw that it was not Rhaegar but Northerners who had come to this place. His heart fell further as he saw they were led by none other than the White Bull himself. Alas, this can mean but one thing... Ser Arthur Dayne stood and looked upon Eddard Stark and his merry men. The White scale armour, bearing the Targaryen crest, shone in the sun and the pure White Cloak fluttered in the light breeze. Dayne sheathed his blade and set the point of Dawn onto the ground and placed his hands on the crossguard on either side of the hilt. His voice was sad and forlorn - as if he knew what was soon to come.

"Lord Stark. Ser Gerold. I take it from the fact that you are in each other's company means the Prince is dead?"

[Gandalfus]

Gerold raised his hand, indicating that he would speak with Dayne alone. Without looking for Eddard's consent, he dismounted, and trudged towards Dayne with his sword still sheathed. Slowly, he removed his helmet, and held it under his arm.

"Arthur. Rhaegar's dead. Aerys is dead. The last of their line are on Dragonstone, and they've been promised clemency." Hightower sighed. This was all wrong. He should've thrown himself on the sword of Tywin Lannister rather than dishonour himself so. Three hundred years of dragon-kings broken, thanks to the madness of one fool. "Put down your sword, Ser Arthur. Lord Stark has a right to his sister." When he had finished speaking, there was nothing to be heard but the white cloak, fluttering lazily in the breeze. Though it appeared as pure as the Maiden, it was the dirtiest garb of them all. The cloak changed a man.

[Pericles of Athens]

You are correct, Dayne. Eddard replied shortly. The Prince is dead, by Robert's hand. And the King dead as well.. by the hand of your brother Ser Whent. Ned forced the last name out, the King was a foul man who deserved death.. but not by his own oathbound knight. You know why I've come, your Prince took a certain someone.. someone that wasn't his to take, someone dear to me. His hand came to rest on the hilt of unwieldy Ice, his beard and hairc dancing in the wind, as if to some unknown song.

[The Mad Skylord]

Arthur's helmet sat atop his pommel. He ignored Stark but watched Gerold sadly and shook his head slowly. "She bears the Prince's child, Gerold. She is Rhaegar's wife, I swore to defend her."' He regarded his friend sadly. He knew it was time for him to die. "The only way I will allow the Queen to leave is over my corpse, my friend. This is where we must cross blades."

Dayne turned his back on Gerold and walked back towards the Tower. After five paces he stopped and turned, before donning his helm. A single tear ran down his cheek - for the loss of his Brothers, his friends and his Master. He let out a ragged sigh, and drew Dawn slowly. He tossed her scabbard aside. Lifting the Greatsword with ease and skill, he held it ready and allowed Gerold to draw his blade before he dashed forwards and their duel began.

Traits:
+3 Battles
+3 Survival

Dawn
+9 Duels
+2 Survival

Partial Plate
+20 HP
+4 Duels
+2 Survival

Total:
+16 Duels
+7 Survival
40 HP

[Gandalfus]

Gerold put his own helmet back on and drew his own sword, a bastard blade of castle forged make. Inclining his head to Ser Arthur, the White Bull edged forward, ready to meet his opponent head on in a clash of steel.

"Get back, Lord Stark. I'll handle this." Hightower announced calmly, silently muttering a prayer to the Warrior before he went to meet his doom.

Gerold Hightower

Traits: +11 duels +3 battles +3 jousts +9 survival +20 hp

[Poach]

This can be rolled as Dayne vs 5 people. I need Hightower's stats and Stark's stats. Or it can be rolled as a 1v1 if either Hightower or Stark want to be all honourable about it.

[Pericles of Athens]

Don't speak of my sister that way! Ned snapped, anger boiling up for the first time since he saw the Lannisters. Stark reached for Ice, though the words of the White Bull withdrew him. As you wish, but if you can't finish it I will. Ned stood back, gesturing for his men to do the same. He would allow them this, a chance settle matters between themselves.

OOC: Gerold gets a free suit of armor. Should apply that Gandalf.

[Gandalfus]

(I did, don't worry He's wearing partial plate)

[Trot]

Gerold Hightower raises his sword to meet Ser Dayne's first stroke. The two dance around the courtyard it is not initially clear who has the upper hand. Each man was well matched meeting each other stroke for stroke as their swords clashed in perfect unison. Yet it would soon be clear that Gerrold was not a match for the Dornish knight. As Gerrold begins to falter Arthur gains the uperhand landing a powerful stroke on Hightower's shoulder, and only the mans armor saved him from being run through. It was the beginning of the end for poor Gerrold however as he lasts a mere few more strokes before he is at the mercy of Ser Dayne.

ooc the Duel went on for 8 rounds and was fairly close Dayne only pulled ahead by rolling a natural 20 in round 3 and he was still brought down to 7.75 health by the end of the duel.

[Pericles of Athens]

Eddard stepped forward, his voice cold as ice. You had your chance Gerold, now we handle it my way. Ned stepped forward and his sworn men followed. Step aside, or I will make you. He pointed Ice's milky blade at the Dornishmem, while his followers bared axe and sword.

OOC: 4 men vs Dayne, according to Poach?

Eddard:
+5 Survival
+9 Duel
20hp

Others have no traits, nor equipment.

[The Mad Skylord]

A flash of steel. A parry, a blow. Suddenly the Dornish Knight had the upper hand and he used it easily. Knocking Gerold's blade away, he struck him a blow - drawing blood. The duel would end quickly afterwards, with Dayne breaking Gerold's defense and sinking Dawn to her hilt in the White Bull's stomach. He was devastated as he pull Dawn from the wound, and Hightower fell to the floor.

Turning to Stark, the Sword of the Morning felt nothing but terse irritation at the young lord. He readied Dawn and looked quietly around the Northmen. He knew this was likely to be his end. He would not stand down. "Put down your arms, Stark, and leave this place or I will kill you." Dayne was battered and wounded - but still more than capable of killing at least half of the Northerners.

[Pericles of Athens]

You can try. Ned replied, terse, he watched the Dornishmen's movement.. he watched the Knights blood.. his pain. But nothing will keep me from my sister, I'll burn Sunspear to the ground if I must. Ned would end it, he'd end Lyanna's pain too, he'd set them free. The air was still, silent - until a voice like crackling thunder shattered the silence. I'm gonna your corpse! Wull thundered lifting up his two handed axe, as The Wull hooted Cassel charged forward sword and shield in hand.. and the fight was on as others engaged. There was the clang of steel as Eddard moved forward into the fray.

[Gandalfus]

Gerold grunted, feeling the oddly warm metal push through plate, male and flesh. With a crash he landed in the sand and dirt, looking up vacantly at the unfolding battle as he struggled for life. The pain in his gut was searing, and he clawed helplessly for the hilt of his sword that lay next to him. Finally, the bloodied fingers grasped the hilt, and he pulled it towards him, the feeling of it in his hand giving him strength in these final movements. Gerold didn't bother to try and stop the bleeding. He'd come looking for death, and death he had found at the hands of Ser Arthur Dayne.

[Poach]

Dayne was not even warmed up, or had found his second wind, when Stark and his men set upon him. Wull was the first to fall as Dayne effortlessly ducked under the axe blow while swinging his sword in a low arc, cutting the Clansman clean in two. Parrying the opening blow from Cassel, Dayne engaged in a swift fighting retreat as his assailant was joined by Glover, but Dayne was able to parry a high swipe by Cassel and continue the motion, swinging his blade downwards in a crescent that caught the Northman's left shin, cutting it clean off. Cassel fell in a screaming heap, clutching the stump where his lower leg once was.

By now Eddard had joined the frey, as he and Glover broke off for a moment and the three faced each other down. Dayne had already dispatched the mighty Gerold Hightower, and then with seemingly no effort dispatched two more in rapid succession. The two remaining Northmen were wary as a result.

They attempted to circle the man, force him to decide which way to face, opening his back to the other. Dayne was having none of it, however, and charged Eddard immediately. Dawn met Ice as two great swords held by two experienced swordsmen danced about each other, piercing clangs of metal and arm-juddering blows parried. Glover himself charged in, attempting to distract Dayne and give his lord an opening, but a swift pivot and well-placed thrust saw the man of the Wolfswood impaled upon Dawn, and then crumpled to a heap on the floor as Arthur pushed the dead man off his sword.

Turning to face Ned, it was now the two alone. Dayne had dispatched 4 men alone, but was now visibly tired and had taken several minor wounds from his many assailants. Alone they were trifling, but together he had lost a good deal of blood. Ned stayed on the defensive, hoping to further tire Dayne who himself knew that time had become his enemy now. The dance slowed, with Dayne making increasingly weary assaults on Ned's defences, with Ned trading space and potential openings in Dayne's posture for time.

Eventually, however, Ned took his chance and counter-attacked just as Arthur was launching himself forward, catching the Sword of the Morning off-guard. Ned rained blows down upon the tired Dayne, opting for quantity over quality, and it was telling. One got through, then another, then another, until the final one embedded Ice through Arthur's belly. A fifth man fell, at last.

[Pericles of Athens]

Ned pulled Ice from Dayne belly with a watery splash, it's milky surface covered in thick clumpy crimson that spilled out on the red sands. Ned didn't know much about the sword, he wasn't Brandon.. he wasn't Rickard either, nor Robert, but the rage of the wolf's blood had come upon him, the same rage Brandon had, the rage that got Brandon and Rickard killed. He panted heavily from the exertion, particularly in this intense heat. He had seen what had happened, the fight had been a flurry of steel, gore and sweat.. as he came to and his eyes adjusted to the sting he could see the carnage. His friend The Wull was cut in two, brave Cassel's screams were no more as his lifeless body still gripped the stump where his leg once was, and Glover.. the man who saved Ned, was pushed to the ground in a broken heap, guts spilled out on the sand. Away from them sat Gerold, gripping his sword. He turned his cold gray eyes to Dayne, the living legend that was soon to pass into myth - he stalked toward him. He had to make sure the knight was dead before he made his way into the Tower, he hefted Ice up - ready to deal a final blow. You've any last words, Dayne?

[Pericles of Athens]

Once Dayne was dealt with Ned shuffled up toward the Tower of Joy, that's what Gerold had called it.. said Rhaegar named it that because of the Joy Lyanna gave him. He could hear screaming coming from within, the screaming of his beloved sister, the sound grew more powerful as he pushed the flimsy wooden door open and made his way inside the Tower. He made his way up the spiraled stairs. The screaming stopped as he approached the room atop the tower, he could hear nothing as he pushed open the door with a long creaking sound. Upon a bed of silks he could see Lyanna, blood stained the sheets and she held a child tightly in her arms. Ned? She questioned weakly.

OOC: If the mods could give a roll to see if Lyanna lives or dies, weighted toward death, since she's got no medical attention and a shattered heart.

[Pericles of Athens]

Once Dayne was dealt with Ned shuffled up toward the Tower of Joy, that's what Gerold had called it.. said Rhaegar named it that because of the Joy Lyanna gave him. He could hear screaming coming from within, the screaming of his beloved sister, the sound grew more powerful as he pushed the flimsy wooden door open and made his way inside the Tower. He made his way up the spiraled stairs. The screaming stopped as he approached the room atop the tower, he could hear nothing as he pushed open the door with a long creaking sound. Upon a bed of silks he could see Lyanna, blood stained the sheets and she held a child tightly in her arms. Ned? She questioned weakly.

OOC: If the mods could give a roll to see if Lyanna lives or dies, weighted toward death, since she's got no medical attention and a shattered heart.

Lyanna? Ned questioned, almost a whisper - eyes wide in awe. He'd fought so long and so hard to find her, it hardly seemed real now that he had. Oh Ned.. She seeped softly, as Lord Stark rushed to her side. It's all my fault, all of it.. Tears gently streamed down Ned's face, his cold gray eyes softening for a moment. I don't care. He whispered into her hair. I'm just happy I got here in time. A strange chuckle rose up from his gut, one of equal parts relief and confusion. After a few minutes Ned rose back up to his feet, eyeing the small child. So is it true? Ned questioned, he knew his sister would know what he was talking about. Yes.. all of it. She replied weakly. But no one must ever know. She added. You have to promise me Ned. No one must never know what I did. Ned stood a moment, no words escaped his lips. After some time he reached down and took the boy. No one will ever know, sweet sister, I will raise.. Jon, at Winterfell where a Stark belongs. Ned turned his back, looking out a window at the carnage he'd only narrowly escaped - all for honor, for his house, for his sister. We'll rest here a few days, until you've recovered some strength.. I've a promise to keep besides.

With that Ned brought Lyanna food and water, before leaving to tend to the fallen. He pulled the lifeless corpses of Dayne and Hightower so they lied together, forever looking north to the place where their Prince died. He removed their swords, wrapping each in lamb skin for transport. Ice was properly cleaned and sheathed. After that he took off their helms, and piled stone upon their white cloak bodies. Once their cairns were complete Eddard capped each with the respective knights helmet. They had killed his friends, they had served a madman.. but they were good men, honest and . He wrapped his own sworn men in silken sheets and exotic carpeting from inside the Tower, before hefting the over their respective horses, it would be a treacherous ride down.

After a a few weeks had passed Lyanna had made a miraculous discovery, it was decided that they would move for Kingslanding. It was a long winding path, and Ned had to lead four riderless horses from his in the front, on top of that Lyanna clung to him - to weak to ride her own horse, while Ned carried the Royal Prince - who was now a bastard of Winterfell. What strange webs the gods weave. Ned thought, as red mountains passed them by.

[The Mad Skylord]

He fell to his knees, grunting in shock. It was hard to believe. His belly pierced by this young Northman. He had been so close, so close. He could taste blood in his mouth as it ran down his chin. His legs and body ached from the dance with death. The brilliant white cloak and armour was now splattered freely with blood. Gerold's, the Northmen's, Eddard's and his own. It came as a surprise to him - truthfully - that he was dying. A small part of him had always though he could never be killed. How wrong that small part of him had been, for he could feel the terrible pain from his shredded innards. Even as he sat there, dying, he analyzed the ferocious moments of a combat that would no doubt be sung of for generations to come. It was amusing to think, that even at the doors of death, he cared about his mistakes. He should, of course, for it was those mistakes that had seen him killed. He looked blankly at Stark as he spoke - he had forgotten he was there - and again the shock of it hit him. He let out a low chuckle, but quickly stopped from the agony it caused. It was hard to believe.

"Lady Lyanna dwells at the top of the Tower. It is there you shall find her." He took a ragged breath before he continued. A tear ran down his face. "Bury us here. Gerold and I, side by side. Build our cairns from the Tower that our Prince raised for the love of his life." Another, followed by another and another. He wept not for himself, but for the death of his Sworn Brothers and his Friends. For the death of his Prince. If only Rhaegar had not left him here. "Return Dawn to House Dayne. It is where she rightfully belongs, until another is worthy of wielding her." He took his final ragged breath and looked Stark calmly in the eye. The pain was passing now, followed by a strange warmth as his vision began to fade. "You were lucky, Lord Stark. I was not there when Rhaegar was slain. Woe to the Usurper had I been......." His final words came out like a whisper, but it could be heard easily in the eerie silence of the Tower's surroundings. The last of his breath left him with a sigh and he toppled backwards into the red sand, stained red with blood. Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, Mightiest of the Kingsguard and Greatest Friend of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, was dead.....

[Pericles of Athens]

Dawn will find its home, worry not - you need not worry about anything anymore. Ice came crashing down in one swoop, severing the Dornishmen's head. Find peace in the embrace of the gods, Dayne. He gave his last piece of advice, and with that he turned toward the Tower.. the Tower Rhaegar had raised for his love.