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Post by Lord Oswyn Baratheon on Sept 15, 2013 18:36:02 GMT -5
Storm's End is surrounded by a massive outer wall one hundred feet high, composed of inner and outer layers of massive stone blocks and an inner core of sand and smaller, rough-hewn rock. The wall is no less than forty feet thick at any point, making the gate through it more akin to a tunnel, and it is a massive eighty feet thick on its entire seaward side facing Shipbreaker Bay. This wall is a curved and reinforced masterwork of stonemasonry, smooth and unbroken by arrow slits, secondary gates, or towers. Even after centuries of tempests and battles, the outer wall lacks even cracks that the winds of the maritime storms can enter. From within the wall, the thunderous sound of waves breaking on the rocks below Storm's End is barely audible.
Spells are rumored to have been worked into the walls of Storm's End, preventing any magic from being used against it. In the long history of the fortress, stretching back thousands of years, Storm's End has never fallen to siege, taken damage from storm, or been overthrown in battle.
Arrivals and departures should be posted here.
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Post by Sam on Sept 21, 2013 8:23:42 GMT -5
After the capitulation of Volantis and Tyrosh, the Army of Storms as they were sometimes called sailed east, pausing at each of Lord Baratheon's new keeps to drop off fifty men who would serve as their garrisons. The greater bulk of them landed at Stonehelm on the Sea of Dorne, and with Lord Baratheon at their head they marched north to Storm's End. Seven hundred footmen and 150 knights passed through the gates nearly a decade after they had left. Lord Oswyn was carried in a litter
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Post by Sam on Sept 22, 2013 11:15:59 GMT -5
"Lady Amelia," Lord Baratheon said, getting down off his horse and passing the reins off to a groom. "You have my thanks, for seeing to the household in my absence. Home is a most welcome sight, and your beauty has only enhanced it. My son spoke of little else, when we were at sea, but his words do not compare to the sight."
He looked down at his grandson; not the first, but the one who would one day rule Storm's End. "Come to welcome your lord father home, eh lad?" he asked in a kind voice, bending a little so he did not tower quite so high over the child. "I am sure he would like to see you, over in the litter, and you should be very proud of him for he was the bravest knight on the field."
Lord Baratheon straightened, and put a hand on Amelia's shoulder, drawing her aside slightly. "He was wounded taking Riswell Keep. The Maesters say he will heal fully in time, but for now he cannot walk. The pain is more in his heart, than in his body, and he will require support in the coming days."
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Post by Sam on Sept 22, 2013 12:05:53 GMT -5
Lord Sammael nodded. "If you would organize the servants to do so, I would hold a feast for my knights who have returned with me, as well as a meal for the common men. Not in the Great Hall with us, of course, but even they deserve a good meal from the kitchens after campaigning so long. It shall be brought to them in their camp in the courtyard, and will perhaps lighten the news that I do not yet mean to release them to their homes and families. That is for another time, however, and you must be anxious to see my son again, after so long. I'll not stand in your way," he added with a smile.
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Post by Sam on Sept 22, 2013 12:27:10 GMT -5
"You are truly a treasure, my lady, and my son is lucky to have found such a devoted wife. If you will excuse me, we have ridden far today and I will retire to my chambers," he said with a small bow, before heading up to the castle itself. [OOC: Great minds think alike ]
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Post by Lord Oswyn Baratheon on Sept 22, 2013 20:06:30 GMT -5
Through the curtains of his litter, Oswyn could see the great curtain wall and tower of Storm's End looming in the distance. It was not the view he had expected for him homecoming, an invalid on his back carried by others into his future seat. Not the entrance of a proud conqueror, but of a broken man. The looks he received would be ones of pity, rather than admiration. He became sullen at the realization that his wife and son would be seeing him for the first time in six years in such a state. Oswyn sat in silence as he heard his father speak with the pair, dread heavy in his gut. Oswyn breathed in deeply to steady himself as he heard small footsteps approaching his litter. As the curtain was pulled aside, revealing his son Theodore, some of the apprehension slipped away. His boy strong, and healthy; all a father could truly hope of the Gods. What sort of man he became at this point was in his hands and that gave him some strength. He sat up as high as straight as he could and offered his most reassuring smile. "Hello Theodore. I have been wishing to meet you for some time." Oswyn turned his cobalt eyes to his wife as she approached, his smile widening at the effort she had taken to prepare for his return. "Even more sbeautiful than the day I left." he said warmly, reaching for her hand. "I am sorry that I could not accomplish the same feat." "You are truly a treasure, my lady, and my son is lucky to have found such a devoted wife. If you will excuse me, we have ridden far today and I will retire to my chambers," he said with a small bow, before heading up to the castle itself. As Lord Sammael entered, Ser Arthur Connington fell in at his side, informing him of the incident that had taken place during his absence.
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Post by Lord Oswyn Baratheon on Sept 22, 2013 20:54:20 GMT -5
"Not too much rest, I hope." he said, looking between his wife and son, knowing it was their future that was worth fighting for. "Someone has to make sure Ser Arthur has taught you to hold a sword properly."
He returned her kiss, feeling the weight of his dour thoughts lift from his shoulders ever so slightly.
Oswyn answered her words with a smile and a nod, hoping for the truth in her words and reassured by new woman before him.
"I hope you have made yourself comfortable in your new home in my absence." he said. as two attendants helped him from the litter to aid him in entering the keep. Hid legs ertr weak and shriveled from the muscle dystrophy inherent in the paraplegia. Splints had been placed along them to prevent muscle contractures and aid in the rehabilitation.
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