|Hate to break it to you, Mr. Man... but they get bigger.|
Let’s get right to the chase—you are a deviant! Instead of traditional—acceptable—positions for screwing around with a castle, you like to go straight for its brown eye: you like to plow its walls with your heavy, thick, bombard! …dirty you!
For you simpletons, a bombard is a cannon. The earliest of such cannons were made out of either copper or brass, but as the centuries went on, and people wanted ever larger tools to crew around with, the preferred method of manufacture for large cannons were “iron longitudinal strips or iron sheets forged into tubes and with hoops heat-shrunk over them.” Sexy! Some even had removable breech chambers, talk about playing it safe.
But as with any enviable tool, it can be difficult to transport; with some bombards weighing as much as ten-thousand pounds, such weapons would need to be mounted on wooden tillers pulled by several horses. The thongs, ropes, wires, and iron bands for such carriages, called ‘ribaudequins,’ would need to be replaced every few days—warfare, as in sexy time, remember, demands fresh protection for every encounter.
Though such massive 10k bombards were not uncommon, there was several sizes smaller as well; the ‘crappuadine,’ for instance, was a mere four to eight feet long. So although it had a bit of a masculinity crisis compared to its big brother, some folks demand skill rather than sheer size, so it works out. But with mortars having appeared at the end of the 14th century, it seems that size weren’t being seen as important as practicality. Shame! For imagine all of the lords out there fretting over their girth…
But, I suppose it all depends on what you are shooting. So for guns, what you would shoot would have been small balls or bolts called ‘garrots.’ “[U]sually made from oak and fitted with iron heads and fletchings of iron, steel, or brass,” they weighed anywhere from 15-200 pounds and could punch a wallop, until they were gradually phased out in favor of gun stones (but that is the measure of progress: you’re up on high one day, screwing everybody and everything, then you are down low, with yourself).
So now that you have this information, go—go and claim that castle and find your destiny in its hallowed halls as you discharge stone after stone against its hard surface; claim it as your own and don’t stop until you fucked it real good!