>>> Second, that line from Scenario #5 reminded me of one of Vlad Taltos' proverbs -
Oh, you just had to go there.
I still wonder just how I got manuvered into being stuck with this. I'd like to say I know nothing about raising kids, but that's not true: hell, dispite being an assasin for most of my adult life, I probably had a more sensable childhood than, say, Morrolan E' Drien.
Not that this is saying much, Morrolan is a Dragonlord. Probably spent his formative years learning how to slaughter a dozen people at a sitting for kicks, raised out of the empire or no.
So, anyway, this guy shows up with a kid just old enough to have hair and says, 'He's got a destiny' and dumps him on Morrolan to train, and by Morrolan, appearently, he means us, us meaning Aleira, Sethra Lavode, and me.
Vlad Taltos. Adoptive father. I tried to imagine it for a second - white picket fences, schoolyard games, domestic bliss.
Then I came to my senses. My kind of domestic bliss involves knowing where you keep your Morganti Knives, and if the kid was going to be trained by me he was going to learn all the important things - stealth, seduction, swordplay, assasination, sorcery, witchcraft, the works.
And I sure as hell wasn't going to leave him to be raised by Sethra Lavode and Morrolan, Vampire and Elvish nobleman responsable for burning a number of otherwise innocent villages in sacrifice to his gods, respectively.
The first thing I did after hearing of the whole situation was go and talk to my grandfather.
Noish-pa was singularily unhelpfull.
"Vladimir." He said in that excessively patient voice he only uses when it's clear (to him) that I'm being an idiot, "To raise a child, you will need the help of your wife."
I didn't want to bring up (again) that the last time we met she'd almost tried to kill me - again. I was pretty sure grandfater wasn't in a mood to listen to my marital problems.
Oh, you just had to go there.
I still wonder just how I got manuvered into being stuck with this. I'd like to say I know nothing about raising kids, but that's not true: hell, dispite being an assasin for most of my adult life, I probably had a more sensable childhood than, say, Morrolan E' Drien.
Not that this is saying much, Morrolan is a Dragonlord. Probably spent his formative years learning how to slaughter a dozen people at a sitting for kicks, raised out of the empire or no.
So, anyway, this guy shows up with a kid just old enough to have hair and says, 'He's got a destiny' and dumps him on Morrolan to train, and by Morrolan, appearently, he means us, us meaning Aleira, Sethra Lavode, and me.
Vlad Taltos. Adoptive father. I tried to imagine it for a second - white picket fences, schoolyard games, domestic bliss.
Then I came to my senses. My kind of domestic bliss involves knowing where you keep your Morganti Knives, and if the kid was going to be trained by me he was going to learn all the important things - stealth, seduction, swordplay, assasination, sorcery, witchcraft, the works.
And I sure as hell wasn't going to leave him to be raised by Sethra Lavode and Morrolan, Vampire and Elvish nobleman responsable for burning a number of otherwise innocent villages in sacrifice to his gods, respectively.
The first thing I did after hearing of the whole situation was go and talk to my grandfather.
Noish-pa was singularily unhelpfull.
"Vladimir." He said in that excessively patient voice he only uses when it's clear (to him) that I'm being an idiot, "To raise a child, you will need the help of your wife."
I didn't want to bring up (again) that the last time we met she'd almost tried to kill me - again. I was pretty sure grandfater wasn't in a mood to listen to my marital problems.