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[3man75]

being smaller doesn't mean he can't make a good fighter and more importantly a good leader...napoleon has proved that to an extent.

Napoleon was actually 5' 7" (1.70 m), which was about average for a Frenchman of the time. The myth that he was quite short comes from the British newspapers failing to convert his height from French to English feet. Since this myth became a rather useful piece of propaganda about their enemy, nobody bothered to correct it, and it stuck.

And actually, in this time period, leaders were almost always expected to be great warriors. Maybe if he's very clever he can make up for it in other ways, but if he can't fight, it will be a constant problem for him.

However, with the right training, small men can still make decent enough fighters. He'll need to learn a different fighting form than what Luther probably teaches, though!

He could lead our police and ankle bite anyone who breaks our laws that would certainly be a strong detterant against crime.

[Gotdamnmiracle]

being smaller doesn't mean he can't make a good fighter and more importantly a good leader...napoleon has proved that to an extent.

Napoleon was actually 5' 7" (1.70 m), which was about average for a Frenchman of the time. The myth that he was quite short comes from the British newspapers failing to convert his height from French to English feet. Since this myth became a rather useful piece of propaganda about their enemy, nobody bothered to correct it, and it stuck.

And actually, in this time period, leaders were almost always expected to be great warriors. Maybe if he's very clever he can make up for it in other ways, but if he can't fight, it will be a constant problem for him.

However, with the right training, small men can still make decent enough fighters. He'll need to learn a different fighting form than what Luther probably teaches, though!

He could lead our police and ankle bite anyone who breaks our laws that would certainly be a strong detterant against crime.

We are all counting our chickens.

[Gervassen]

Vignette II -- Quis Custodiet

"Halt, who goes there!"

"It is I, Alban of Brenthown, Guildmaster of the Cheesemaker's Guild. I bear an exquisite masterpiece from the renown cheesemaking virtuoso..."

"You may pass, Abban... Alban of Brenthown." Alban bows deeply and simpers, "Thank you, Milord."

It has been two weeks since the birth of William, and well-wishers have come and gone in an steady out-pouring of gifts and congratulations. An onerous duty for the young new Chamber Guard, but girt with your wooden sword, you have ably held up under the rigours of the profession. As Lady Marna recovers from childbirth in the Lord's Bedchamber, very few courtiers come to wait upon the Countess that do not first announce themselves and their intentions to you. You learn a few important things, the first of which is that guards are positioned to learn lots of things, the second of which is that Mother's courtiers are a dreadfully boring procession of minor officials, advocates for local nobles and trade concerns, and other people adept at uttering long words. The second revelation does much to restrain your enthusiasm for the first.

Nevertheless, you do gain a general impression. Marna's recovery has trimmed down her court from over twenty hangers-on to only the most notable handful: Lord Thomas Scale the Chancellor seems to speak for Mother when advocates call upon her--his overhanging bushy black eyebrows and cold blue eyes do much to shorten their demands, and likewise he alone passes by your guard post unchallenged; pudgy and perfumed John Bergamot the Chamberlain always argues with ascetic Barachiel Lope the Treasurer over his expenses on servants, furniture, and the upkeep of the rooms; finally, there's Symeon Daffinois, holding the minor office of Lord Chandler and whose salient feature is his exceptional mediocrity in all things but wit. During the most heated debates over coin or storage, laws or land divisions, Symeon usually manages to agree with everyone and drop a few inoffensive wordplays that lighten the mood.

A servant hauls inside a sculpture of a mother lovingly holding a baby, remarkable in that it has been molded entirely from various cheeses. Normally, you'd be impressed, but after standing guard over your mother and baby brother for two weeks, you have witnessed a dozen renderings of the same maternal theme in the mediums of stone, wood, candlewax, pastries, and so on; by now you have written off the mother-and-child theme as extremely overused and lacking in creativity. Your little mind scours to find a proper word for that, but fails. Standing guard over courtiers has made you much more aware of language and your shortcomings in using it. You feel your speech has lately improved.

From within the chamber, the courtesies of the visit play out. "Stunning, Master Alban, simply stunning. I shouldn't ever think of eating it." The guildmaster affected hurt despair, "That would wound me most deeply, Milady, for the flavour of it is second to none, yet the sight of it, and of all other things, must pale next to you." Lord Symeon cuts in. "Quite the contrary, good master, for Milady Countess shall never be outdone in fairness of her skin, nor in fairness of her rule." After a pause, he resumes around a mouthful. "Quite flavourful. My compliments." Polite laughter ripples around the room.

A few days later, the trickle of visitors has stopped entirely, and in the growing quiet of your post, you wonder why Grandpa Erran has not yet brought your little brother a fascinating new toy from Torchester. You ask Mother where Grandpa is, and her eyes start to glisten. "Oh, my sweet, it was a horrible day for us, and for the Kingdom. Daddy and Grandpa went to heaven together. I thought you knew..."

You are still fighting back the tears, when a young woman with a rather pendulous set of attributes sways into view and approaches. "Halt. Who goes there?"

Nanna briskly comes up behind the woman. "This is Jenny Milch, the wet nurse, young Lord Stone. We are here to take baby William to the nursery. Your mother is a very busy woman with a County to rule. We can't all play at waving wooden sticks around from dawn to dusk!"

A response to the suggestion that Isaac should be protective of William. It also gives me an excuse to show a little of the court and where William will spend his time from now on. I'd venture to say he's safer with Nanna than in the middle of the barracks.

[GreatWyrmGold]

being smaller doesn't mean he can't make a good fighter and more importantly a good leader...napoleon has proved that to an extent.

Napoleon was actually 5' 7" (1.70 m), which was about average for a Frenchman of the time. The myth that he was quite short comes from the British newspapers failing to convert his height from French to English feet. Since this myth became a rather useful piece of propaganda about their enemy, nobody bothered to correct it, and it stuck.
And actually, in this time period, leaders were almost always expected to be great warriors. Maybe if he's very clever he can make up for it in other ways, but if he can't fight, it will be a constant problem for him.
However, with the right training, small men can still make decent enough fighters. He'll need to learn a different fighting form than what Luther probably teaches, though!

He could lead our police and ankle bite anyone who breaks our laws that would certainly be a strong detterant against crime.

We are all counting our chickens.

I think it's more "counting our dragons before the chicken eggs hatch".

And yeah, "guarding" Mother is probably safer than hanging out in the barracks.

[escaped lurker]

Actually, I am somewhat adverse to limit ourselves to "courtly pursuits". We should visit the barracks every now and then, because it will also come in handy. Suppose 1/3 barracks, 2/3 court would do the trick? And do not forget that we do endear ourselves to "the public" a bit, with going to the barracks. The recruits will spread word of the young lord, and thus our "prominence / visibility" will increase. At least thats how I see it.


Edit: Explore Castle it is, then!
We already have shown with asking Marna to tell us stories about "father" that we care about him. I think we have done this point justice, at least from the point of a 5-year old boy. Exploring the castle ought to further his growth - or at least put a new twist on it. And we all love twists, as far as I would be concerned. (Well, mostly only the good ones, but hey...)

[Gervassen]

Turn is almost over, anyway. It's coming up on winter, and Isaac turns 6 in March when it thaws. We can do "visit grave" or "explore castle" roleplays for our last action of Year 1. 3man and Gotdamn at one vote each.

[Maldevious]

From a pragmatic gaming standpoint, I say we hold off on the "visit grave" roleplay until we are older and can have more complex thoughts related to our father's passing and our upcoming responsibilities. We're a bit young to express anything but sadness, I'd say.

So I vote "explore castle," as that seems much more like a five-year-old type activity and apt to be much more fun to play at this point.

[Plato Play-Doh]

From a pragmatic gaming standpoint, I say we hold off on the "visit grave" roleplay until we are older and can have more complex thoughts related to our father's passing and our upcoming responsibilities. We're a bit young to express anything but sadness, I'd say.

So I vote "explore castle," as that seems much more like a five-year-old type activity and apt to be much more fun to play at this point.

+1.

[LordSlowpoke]

how the seven blasted hells haven't i done this yet

PTW!

[Plato Play-Doh]

how the seven blasted hells haven't i done this yet

PTW!

Slowpoke?

Oh, the irony!

[3man75]

I change vote to explore castle...and cause intriguing mischief.

[Gotdamnmiracle]

Damn! Missed that the duke had died as well. That's what I get for falling out of lurking as much. I wonder who took his position? Nevermind.

I think it would be beneficial to, within our courtly acts, learn to read and write as well as the spoken word, since obviously we have taken an interest in it.

I would like this kid to at some point read Sir Samuel Stone's book. That way we have some ammunition for when we do eventually visit our fathers grave.

[Gervassen]

Yeah, I didn't outright say Erran had died in the second update, but I heavily implied it. Sam Stone needed some respectable company into the afterlife--being the bad dude that he was, he wouldn't be the only one dying that day.

So, today I am fairly well rested and caffeinated, going to try to hang with the westerners during their peaks and finish the last RP. This one is going to be more game-like, with more die-rolls, because I can't just have you walk into a room and a wall falls down revealing a hidden passage. That'd be... cheesy. In fact, this whole roleplay might end with nothing much happening, but even if you fail at all other rolls, there's one sure discovery for you. You can call it the booby prize, and while it won't be immediately interesting to a 5 year old... hey, knowledge is power.

This RP is going to have two parts, and the first is optional. You don't have to participate. Don't feel obligated. Nothing to lose, though.

[Gervassen]

Roleplay II -- Ghost of a Chance

Piercing blasts of cold autumn wind blow swirls of red and orange leaves across the empty courtyard outside, having already blown all the castle's children inside the warmth of the Keep. Nanna has taken baby William to the nursery, and Mother has recovered enough to spend most of her time in the council chamber again. At first you attempt to continue guarding William at the nursery, but Nanna seems to have developed an irrational hatred for your wooden sword these days and quickly makes it clear that your services are no longer required. Denied gainful employment, you find yourself milling about in the Great Hall aimlessly with the other little children. They have an indistinct notion that you are special, but remain far less impressed of you than the courtiers--who lately take great pains to step aside and bow to you when you approach.

"Let's play a game!" proposes Hammy Cook, a fat boy who clearly has unfettered access to his father's kitchen. He smacks his fat fist into the other hand decisively. "Hide-and-go-seek. Whoever is the last to be found, wins. I'll get a meat pie from my father's rack for the winner!"

There's a general buzz of anticipation, with skinny little Jack Scamp expressing the most excitement. His big blue eyes light up at the mention of a meat pie and he gleefully declares, "Hah! I know just the place! You'll never find me!" In all, approximately ten children are up to the challenge.

Hammy faces the wall and begins to count... shall the young Lord Stone partake of this childish diversion?

[Maldevious]

Certainly we know the castle better than little Jack Scamp! We shall rise to the occasion.