View source for Chamberlain Roleplays: The Collected Wisdom of Angus the Lowborn

===Four Rooms===

The house was very grand, Charlotte ran from room to room looking through windows of real glass.  Dorath, the old woman he had paid to care for his daughter, placed their meager possessions in the room with the bed.  How Angus would have loved to show Myrna this place. She had been dead 6 years, but still he missed her.  It was she who had driven him  to become a sell sword and to work to better himself.  Now it all seemed worthwhile.

Dorath busied herself lighting a fire: "These are good rooms Angus.  The Earl must think well of you." The fire crackled merrily to life.  "Four whole rooms for just the three of us, we might not see each other from one end of the day to the other." She grinned her toothless smile and settled into a seat by the fire, tucking foul smelling tobacco into a bone pipe. "An Charlotte could go to be schooled like a lady now."

His daughter was wild, she was brave like her mother, but had the colouring of the East Island where he had been born and raised.  Since beginning his life as a sell sword, he had seen less and less of the girl, and it had been almost six months since he had last been home.  Now aged 8 she had adopted many of Dorath's less endearing habits, smoking a bone pipe and even wearing trousers at times when foraging for roots. She had been mistaken for a boy at times.  A lady's education could only be  a good thing. 

The house had its own small garden and Charlotte had been foraging for roots.  Angus placed the cooking pot on the fire.  "I speared a coney, a coney on my own land Dorath, can you imagine such a thing."  He set to skinning the creature.

"Grand indeed, Angus, grand indeed," the old woman muttered between puffs on her pipe. 

Their  reverie was interrupted by a sharp rap at the door, he knew it had all been too good to be true.  He opened it to find a man in arms with his daughter struggling to pull away from him.

"Are you the gatekeeper?"  the man began "I caught this urchin stealing from your patch."

"You are mistaken, sir, this is my daughter, and this is now our home.  I am Angus Chamberlain."  Wiping the rabbit blood from his hands he extended his hand to the man at arms. The soldier looked aghast.

"Sir Angus, my apologies." He dropped to one knee.  "I did not think to find you in the gatekeepers cottage, Sir, the household have been awaiting your arrival at the manse for many hours."

Dorath's  mouth dropped open and the bone pipe clattered to the floor.

===The Garderobe===

"No, no... I don't follow." Angus muttered perplexed, he looked to Dorath.

The old woman nodded sagely. "In my room, I use it as my smoking closet.  Have a smoke empty the pipe down the hole.  Gets a bit cold mind you.  Young Miss Charlotte uses it for spittin' the black, most unsavory and wasteful when we has so many nice bowls in the house she could use if I would be so bold Sir."

"Just Angus, Dorath."  He eyed the hole suspiciously.  It was stone, round and deep, but too narrow to crawl through. "It drops straight down to the ground, a small man, perhaps a pygmy or gnome could climb through such a hole in the night and attack us all in our beds."

"Gods protect us! Think of Imps weezlebugs and snazzledragons, Sir Angus, my poor dear Granny was had by one of them snazzledragons, bit her on the ladies particulars, and she was never quite the same."  Dorath looked wistfully into the distance. Angus shuddered at the thought.  He had seen many monsters in his life as a sell-sword but was yet to come across Dorath's fabled snazzledragons, he would question their existence, but Dorath's great-uncle had been a sage, so her knowledge of such things went without question.  "Perhaps we could have a light in the hole, then I could do some knittin' while I has a smoke.  And we all know that weezlebugs won't come through a hole when they sees a light." She gummed at the bone pipe thoughtfully.

Angus ushered her from the closet closed the door and placed a chair against it.  "I just don't understand why you would build such a vulnerable thing into so many of the rooms.  It just isn't safe.  I need to speak to Vargas about it." 

Vargas had been the head of the household guard at the manse for many years.  Before Sir Angus it had lain unoccupied, but Vargas had taken pride in preservation of the house.  He had hoped that the arrival of someone highborn would have elevated both himself and the Manse.  He was sadly disappointed by Sir Angus. Dorath ushered him into the room.  Angus was perched on the seat he had placed against the closet door, sword in hand, ready. Dorath bobbed her version of a curtsey as she returned: "I brung Mr Vargas, Sir" She laughed coquettishly as she looked at the older man then went to stand beside Angus.

He tapped the door of the closet with his sword: "What's this about then Mr Vargas.  It seems most unsatisfying to me have a hole a pygmy assassin..."

"Or an imp!" Dorath interjected.

"Yes or an imp could climb through in my bedroom.  If I want fresh air I could leave the door open." Angus finished.

"The garderobe, Sir?" the older man asked.

Angus rolled his eyes in disbelief: "You wouldn't need a guard on that closet if it weren't for that ruddy great hole."

"No, no Sir, you misunderstand." With a sigh Vargas explained the purpose of the garderobe to his Lord. When he finished:

"And I pays someone to shovel it up?" Angus asked incredulously.  Looking down at the small trowel he had looped to his belt, as all well brought up men had he shook his head.  "That's just not natural."


===Why Nobles Have Fat Arses===

Angus sat using his blade to furrow the dirt from behind his nails.  Was this why he had worked so hard to improve himself? - To sit idly in a region, governing a group of men who sat equally idly.  No wonder so many men of breeding were fat.

Perhaps he would get a dog, something he could walk or train when he had so little to do - Would that he could go back to his old ways, he would be hunting the region, fighting the monsters who disturbed the peoples sleep at night.  Angus had known solitude, he had known hardship, he had known what it was to be battered bloody by a group of monsters, know he was learning what it was to be bored witless. - But at least he had clean nails.


===In Tolhuar===

Angus unrolled the parchment and studied it's blankness for several ponderous minutes.  Finally dipping pen in ink, he painstakingly began to write:
{| align="center" border="1" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse" width="90%"
| width="100%" bgcolor="#BFDAFF" |
Dear Dorath,

Many thanks for the socks you knitted for me and the boys, we are all wearing them in most regular fashion, it being so bloody cold up here.  Young Tom says he hasn't never seen such a lovely pair of socks since his old mum got the pocks and stopped seeing so well.  It is good also to hear that the Lady Charlotte has finally given up the chewing tobacco and will be going to school as a true young lady should.  I am sending with this letter a hat what I found in a great market in Azzal.  It is a most fine hat and has feathers upon it from some bird or other.  I am also sending you a bottle of fine scent what Tom says the ladies  he met by the docks wears.  I know how you likes the sea...
|}

The nib of the quill split sending dark splodges of ink across the page.  Angus dabbed at them with his blotter and found a new quill.

{| align="center" border="1" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse" width="90%"
| width="100%" bgcolor="#BFDAFF" |
Things has been changing somewhat a lot nower-days Dorath.  Happens that we has lots of new nobles in the lands what  are fond of being quite rude to one another.  Even the ladies can be a bit forward which as your nan always said is not the croquettish way to behave if you wants to get a good highborn husband. It seems Sir Miskel Sir, don't get on over well as like with a lots of these new people and there is more argy bargy than at the 'Fat Cock' on a payday.  And some of the language can be pretty choice too.
|}     

He chewed the feather thoughtfully:

"You a'right down there boy?" He asked the scribe.

"Sir, if you wanted to write a letter I would happily take notes from you." The boy replied straightening stiffly.

Angus chuckled to himself: "Don't be silly boy, if you was taking the notes what would I have to lean on?  Now bend over so's I can finish making my writing."  The scribe crouched before Sir Angus and the knight spread the parchment once more across the boys back, this was not what he had expected when he had been trained at the monastery to be a scribe.
{| align="center" border="1" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse" width="90%"
| width="100%" bgcolor="#BFDAFF" |
Me an the Brothers is now in a place called Tolhuar.  I didn't visit Darka so much in the past on account of their judge shipping me back to Talerium and threatening me person if I returned.  It is a nice enough place but ruddy cold on account of the great big wall of ice that can be seen to the north.  I must say as I have never seen so much ice before, it must be 50 feet high and has moved over the lands of the North and basically squashed 'em.  Worse again is the plagues of Ice trolls and demons that comes off the wall.  They are nasty great buggers, (pardon my language) looking to cause mischief.  Sir Miskel Sir, led us as what is in Tolhuar into battle and the Brothers did well felling many of the beasts.  But now I am in my tent and planning to stay here as it seems there is some custom of pouring drinks on men who perform well in battle.  As you well know I took a bath last month and such an act against my person would be most unwelcome. 

Tomorrow I has decided to use my second best weapons so's that they don't feel the need to throw their drinks at me.

Anyways, I must be off as I need the privy and in the battle I lost my  best trowel, so I shall have to find another one quick smart.

Give Charlotte a kiss from her Dad and say 'Hello' to Vargas and the other servants for me.

Angus.

|}
     

He rolled the parchment and the scribe stood achingly.  Angus passed the gifts and the letter to the boy.

"Now if you'd just lend me your trowel, I would like some time to myself."

===From the Tourney===

He summoned Tom to his tent.

"Bend over lad" the boy groaned at his masters request.

"Please, Sir Angus, that's not what you pay me for... I had my training in the monasteries of Massilon... please allow me to..."

"I pays you to do as your told, lad, now bend over whilst I prepares myself."

Tom reluctantly bent over placing his hands around his shins:  "But you aren't using my skills... I'm developing kyphosis, and I'm only 14..."

"Can't say I rightly know what that is but it sounds nasty... I'll give you a penny and you can go see about that."

Tom huffed in irritation:  "Sir, you don't need a scribe you just need a table"

"Now lad, I think well more of you than a table.  A table can't help me make my spellings or help me with fine words like kyphosis, whatever that is.  All gentlemen have a scribe to help them make their writing.  And a better scribe I could not wish for.  Now bend over while I make this letter to Dorath."

{| align="center" border="1" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse" width="90%"
| width="100%" bgcolor="#BFDAFF" |
Dear Dorath,

Just thought I would say hello. "Hello".  And let you know I has reached the tournament grounds safe and well.  It is most grand and I have been invited by many of the high born to join them for drinks.  Now Dorath you and I both knows that I am happy to be drinking a small beer at the end of a good days rabbiting or such the like, but these lot is drinking from dusk till dawn then back again.  I have even seen some women drinking to excesses and I don't mean a small port and radish. 

Anyways when they arentn't drinking many of these fine and good try to show off their skills.  It is most amusing at times and I have had occasion to laugh at the way they dally like Aunt Daisy with a sword.  Of course I may be proved very wrong but a lots of these high borners seems to think fancy dancy with their swords makes em great with them.  Now I am not one to criticises as you well know Dorath as many a time I have heard you say: "Angus you are not one to criticise" and I know I agreee that I am not. But I would worry greatly for them should they come on a horned weeve-rat or some undead harpy or other as I do not think their sword play would save their skins.  As like as not those who is truly the best with their blades does not show such displays before the true fighting of the tournament begins.  No doubt I shall be forced to eat my words when I am knocked on my unmentionable by one of these dandys.

Anyways I digresses from my point.  I has done something a wee little bit silly and entered the jousting tournament as well as the sword-fighting. Seems as like as not that I should need to ride upon a horse for this jousting, while wearing my armour and trying to knock another man, (or woman!) off their horse with a great long stick.  I remembers hearing about such things when I lived with my Aunt Mayim, but I can't says I have seen such a display.  And as you knows I am not one for horses.  I would prefer a donkey but happens I will need to use a horse on the day.  I am going to practice my riding by getting Tom to carry me on his back while I try to balance a ruddy great stick on his head.  I know all gentlemen have scribes, but I pays him 3 pennies a week so's I can write on his back and he can carry my letters.  To be perfectly honest I was always happy carrying my own letters in the past, and a table would not wriggle quite as much as Tom when I am trying to make my writing.  But I supposes this is the highborn way.

How is everything going with the move,  I bets Mr Vargas was pleased as punch when I managed to convince Sir Frosty Sir to allows him to come with us to Ixcan.  I am quite sure he has a soft spot for you Dorath, he was certainly making eyes at you when you wore that lovely new dress you had made with all those fancy birds, farm animals and fruit on it, and that straw hat with the vegetables - that was indeed a fine hat.  Not much in the way of gifts to be found round here Dorath, but I have managed to find you this nice dancing lady playing a lute, with a skirt all made of green grass.  The peddler says you puts it on your cart and whiles you is driving along the lady dances and looks like she is actually playing the lute.  I am sure many would pay to see such an item.  How is the Lady Charlotte?  Has you managed to convince her that it would not be altogether seemly as like as not to takes her pet goat with her to the young ladies academy.  Miss Pryatt was quite insistent about it.  As like as not the other ladies would be jealous to see her riding on her very own goat.

Anyways I must get to me jousting practicing, though I fully expect to be knocked on me unmentionable, it is best to try and make the bests of a situation.

Give Charlotte a kiss from her dad, and tell Mr Vargas hello from me.

All the best,

Angus
|}

He leaned back folding the paper and sealing it with wax.  Tom straightened painfully:  "I'll take your letter and the... gift, now then sir?" the boy made move to leave: "Unless there is anything else sir?"

Angus took a broom from the bucket at the side of his tent.  "Actually boy there is one more thing you could do... if you'd just bend over"

===Redheads===

Angus had developped a deep black stain in the right hand corner of his mouth.  Young Tom had left some weeks ago, having developed such a curve in his spine he was well able to see his own fat behind and had joined a speciality circus... whatever that meant.  Angus hadn't bothered with another scribe.  Tom had complained so much in the last weeks of his job Angus heartily resented paying 3 pennies to such an ingrate.  He'd decided to get his squire to help make his writing, but the scale armour on his hauberk made his words all bumpy so he'd soon given that up too.  Instead he would sit at  table and make his own words as was intended for a man.

Spelling was a problem, he had chewed through many an inked quill while trying to find the rights or wrongs of a word and so the stain at his mouth became almost indelible.

He carefully rolled out the parchment and placed stones on the corners.  Dipping his quill he began to write:

{| align="center" border="1" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse" width="90%"
| width="100%" bgcolor="#BFDAFF" |
    
Dear Dorath,

I hope you are keeping well and that your wedding plans are proceeding as is proper.  I am still most surprised that Mr Vargas treated you as he did and that he managed to give a woman of your vintage a bun in the oven.  My Aunt always tol' me that most women stops their blossoming in her 40's and heres you notching your seventieth and Mr Vargas has made you ripe.  Tis a good thing that the man has agreed to make honest on his debauchery.  I am only pleased the Lady Charlotte doesn't know of these happeningses as she would like as not have gelded him most severely. 

How is my little sweet Lady,  I hears that Miss Pryatt was not overly impressed as like that she had gone rattin in the young ladies academy grounds.  I wroted to Miss Pryatt and saids to her that should she find it more ladylike, she should have given  Lady Charlotte a crossbow rather than her having to use a sling.  Myrna was always good with a sling, she could hit a rat at 40 paces even when she'd had a small beer or two.  And theres was noone could roast a rat like Myrna neither.  Miss Pryatts cook seems as like as not been unable to cook up the rats an I was wonderin would you sends her some recipes from Myrna's old books so's not to waste young Charlotte's efforts in the future.

Anyways, I digresses again.  I'm at another tournament don't you know.  There's near enough 90 of the great and goods this time, though currently most of em seem to be preferring the drinking to the training.  The young ladies makes me feel quite the old man.  They is forward and approaching men flicking their curly wot-nots and showing their unecessaries.  One such woman spent many a merry hour tossing about her bright red hair, (a colour most un-natural if you was arsking me) and laughing too loudly at the words of any man who seems to look at her, even good Sir Sven seems to has been sharing space with her if you gets my meanings.  I have done my best not to look at her too long as it may cause me to meet some mischief or flame haired beguileyness.  

I am yet to face a woman at these tournaments, and to be honest I am not sure what I would do if I dids.  I never raised a hand to Myrna, and appart from the odd clip I has never beaten Lady Charlotte neithers.  I has decided to pretends they are all men with make ups and such, a bit like your cousin Albert.  It would not do to not fight them, but it just seems wrong as like as not that I will.

Anyways we'll see what comes in the morning.

I am sending you this rather marvelous thing what I found in the marketplaces here.  It is a fantastic orb with a pottery snow demon insides it.  When you shakes it it looks like what its snowing, just like it does in the North.  Anyways I thought you'd like it.  

Give Charlotte a kiss from her Dad and say "Hello" to Mr Vargas.

Angus
|}


He carefully folded the letter and sealed the papers with wax.  Looking up he saw the red haired woman laughing loudly with another man.  He quickly turned his eyes to his glass in case she saw him.

===Coconuts===

Angus chewed at the end of his quill absently.

{| align="center" border="1" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" style="border-collapse: collapse" width="90%"
| width="100%" bgcolor="#BFDAFF" |

Dear Dorath,

I hopes you are well and that your being ripe and what not is not causing you too much bother. 

Well, seems I am once again at a tournament, this time in the city of Ash'rily.  I hadn't heard of the place if I am honest, it being set out in the farthest Eastern sea, but it is a grand place and I am sures you would be having a right old time if you was here, which of course you aren'tent.  Anyways, this must be the biggest tournament I have seen so far, as like as not there are near to 100 of us high borns and low this time.  You would be most tickled that I has been told to pitch my tent in the champions area amongst the greats and goods whose been winners in the past and such like.  Looking around I thinks I shall need to buy a bigger tent nows I'm championing from the last meeting.  It does not show well for my realm that my tent is justest for sleeping and what not when the other champions seems as like as not to have tents as big as some of the houses in Ixcan.

I shall keep myself to myself though as you know well that I am not one for hobnobbing with the high borns too much.  I would not like to show myself up and such.

I has been to a most uncommon market in this city and found a treat for you which I am sending with this message.  As you can see, I gots it from a fruit stall though I am sure you'll agrees it is looking like a large brown turd with hair on it.  I larfed when the peddler old me you eats it, personally I finds it a most unappealing article but I am looking forward to seeing just whats you make of it.

Anyways I am pleased to say I brung my donkey with me to the tournament this time as I has been told it will not just be swords but also jousting what is going on.  I has practiced very little since I let young Tom leave follow his dreams of becoming a traveling player.

I should gets back to some training I suppose, maybe I should try some hobnobbing at some stage, seems there is another low born trying to makes his name, Melot they calls him, I can't says I remember him from my days as a sell sword but I sawed him fight and he mades me smile as it was like watching myself.

Anyways give the Lady Charlotte a kiss and a hello from her Dad, and tell Mr Vargas that I am looking forward to your nuptials,

All the best,

Angus
|}

He sealed the letter with wax and laid it beside the round parcel containing the coconut.

Putting his fingers in his mouth he let out a shrill whistle.  The donkey ambled over under the canopy where Angus sat.  Smiling he patted her grey flank.  Pulling himself up, he stretched his taught shoulders, he would sooner spend all day with a sword in his hand, than the meticulous hours he would spend hunched over a letter.  Reaching for his broom, he fed the donkey a green apple.

"Well Pedro," he sighed "I suppose we best strat some training for jousting..."