Roderick Dustin
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Alias | Roddy the Ruin[1] | |||
Title | Lord of Barrowton[1] | |||
Allegiances | ||||
Culture | Northmen | |||
Died |
130 AC[1] Tumbleton[1] | |||
Books |
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Roderick Dustin, known as Roddy the Ruin, was the Lord of Barrowton and the head of House Dustin during the Targaryen civil war known as the Dance of the Dragons.[1]
Appearance and Character
By the start of the Dance of the Dragons, Roderick was an old and hoary warrior known as "Roddy the Ruin".[1] Despite his advanced age, he was still considered a savage combatant on the battlefield.[1]
Lord Dustin wore a shield, a helm, and warhorn in battle.[1]
History
The north supported the blacks during the Dance of the Dragons. Roderick led two thousand northern soldiers, known as the Winter Wolves, south of the Neck to support the claim of Rhaenyra Targaryen. They marched first to the Twins, where they met Lady Sabitha Frey, the wife of Lord Forrest Frey.[1]
In the Battle by the Lakeshore along the western Gods Eye, Lord Dustin's Winter Wolves led the attack and charged at Lannister spearmen five times, with more than two-thirds of the northern force killed or wounded in their victory. Lord Frey was also slain in the battle. Roderick was scarred in the fighting against the Lannisters.[1]
After the Kingmaker, Ser Criston Cole, was slain by archers, Roddy the Ruin sounded the charge which began the Butcher's Ball.[1]
Roderick died during the First Battle of Tumbleton while leading his remaining Winter Wolves against Lord Ormund Hightower. Although Ser Bryndon Hightower chopped off Roderick's shield arm, the frenzied Lord Dustin was able to slay both Hightowers before dying himself.[1]
Quotes
We have come to die for the dragon queen.[1]
—Roderick to Sabitha Frey
—Roderick prior to the Battle by the Lakeshore
Criston: If there is to be battle here, many of your own will die as well.
Roderick: That's why we come. Winter's here. Time for us to go. No better way to die than sword in hand.[1]—Criston Cole and Roderick
As the singers tell it, Lord Roderick was blood from head to heel as he came on, with splintered shield and cracked helm, yet so drunk with battle that he did not even seem to feel his wounds.[1]
—Gyldayn writing of the First Battle of Tumbleton