Coffee, Code, and Chronicles

The fire had begun to earn its keep by the time Josef reappeared with bread and bowls of something dark and thick. Jost had claimed the hearth without asking permission. His boots were off, his cloak steamed, and he had added three logs to the coals before anyone could object. Beside him, Janderke shifted his weight, his eyes tracking the innkeeper as if chewing on a question. “Herr Haarig," Janderke finally said, when Josef set the bowls down. “The men said there's a prisoner here. Some outlaw?" Josef's whole posture changed at the question. He straightened, wiping his hands on his apron with the particular pride of a man who'd been waiting all evening to be asked. “That's right. Heinz Gerber himself, locked up out back near the privy. A bounty hunter brought him in. Lars, he calls himself. Been raiding this stretch of the Stir the better part of four months, that one." He glanced between them. “Roadwardens come in two days to see him hanged proper....

The River Stir in Spring. The color of manure, swollen from rain and runoff, an odor of rotten vegetation, and thick with heavy debris floating on it or just beneath the brown-green water. Jost convinced his young friend, Janderke, to go fishing. Janderke owned a small row boat and often took it out on the River Stir for a small fee. Many locals in Tauer on the river would hand over a few pennies for time fishing. Janderke stood a half head taller than his elder Jost. Besides fishing, the both of them had something in common: formerly rich, and dead, relatives. But Jost had made his living fishing for more years than he cared to count and a small inheritance just made what accounted for his small vices more accessible. The day was cloudy and the dark clouds to the east suggested a lot of rain upstream. Thunder could be distantly heard. Janderke rowed the boat out to “ trunks," a collection of just above the surface rotting tree trunks downstream of the docks of Tauer. The “trunks...

I am currently editing the prologue for a new adventure serial here on the blog. This piece serves as a prelude to my upcoming guest post for the AtoZ Challenge in September. While that guest post is already drafted, I realized it would benefit from a practical demonstration of a creative process driven by the friction of randomness using Tabletop RPG (TTRPG) mechanics. While this method is not new, I hope to introduce it to writers looking to leverage externalized prompts to resolve story outcomes. Set in the grim “Old World" of Warhammer, the prologue introduces Jost Oberholtzer, a fatherly fisherman, and Janderke “Jan" Steuben, a young boatman. Jan owns a small rowboat on the River Stir, frequently taking Jost to well-known watering holes near Tauer, their small village on the border of Talabecland and Stirland. When severe weather forces them on a week-long journey nearly 100 miles from home, Jost must guide and mentor Jan as the young man is thrust into the cutthroat, da...

Quentin is the crank, kook, quack, eccentric, and inventive craftsman of the Institute. Quentin's gadgets are largely useless, but make a big show, and the show often results in an unmitigated disaster in the moment, but an equally unparalleled success that makes for Quentin's impeccable reputation. Recent devices included: The “Throat-Singer’s Deceiver" A stiff leather collar with a hidden reed-and-bellows mechanism tucked under the chin. The agent twists a small knob to activate it. It’s supposed to perfectly mimic any voice the wearer has heard that day; ideal for impersonating a guard captain or seductive noblewoman during a whispered conversation at a feast. How it actually works is the first twist makes the collar emit a loud, wet QUACK like a startled goose. Every subsequent word the agent tries to speak comes out as a ridiculous, warbling mix of their own voice and farm-animal sounds. The “Nightwalker’s Deception" Soft-soled leather boots with a heel-mounted c...

Knob. Poor Knob. Faithful Knob. Earnest Knob. Knob the squire. Knob the flea. Knob the load. Throughout the Empire, there are zealots of every sanctioned and outlawed cult. Always a sight to behold, and sometimes fear, these zealots can be mere street barkers, sign bearers, or the celibate and poor faithful priests serving their cult. On the other extreme are the fanatics, the flagellants, and the gangs of screaming men (and women) throwing themselves on the shield walls of greenskin, zombie, or mutant armies in far flung parts of the Old World. Knob is closer to the former than the latter. He is an Sigmar anchorite, and a very bad one as he will often find himself much like a hermit, wandering from place to place, alone, only to begin troubling some faithful for company. Knob is often encountered in fervent prayer atop a forgotten pier in a harbor or fallen tree or tree stump in a river. Awakened by a ship's bell or the sounds of men shouting on a passing vessel, Knob will begin e...

The understanding of heresy in the Old World varies across the population. Some may say that heresy is rare; others may say it is too common. And still others may argue that everyone is guilty of heresy, therefore the topic is moot and there can be no heretics. The latter belief is, of course, heresy, and to give voice to this insane understanding is to be a heretic. Heresy takes many forms in Old World. The greatest is to worship the Ruinous Powers and give aid to the cults or participate in their foul rituals. The Ruinous Powers corrupt, physically and mentally, and often seek to kill, maim, poison, or bring plague upon Elves, Dwarves, Humans, and Halflings alike. Physical mutation—which forms are too great to count—is a sure sign of heresy manifest and, while often hidden in public, mutation is, to the heretic, an honor. In all cults, such mutation is sign the heretic has been touched by their patron. Mental corruption for some Ruinous Powers results in actions taken on behalf of a ...

The hordes of Beastmen that populate the dark forests of the Old World are filled with Gors. Gors present with great variation in form, but always a humanoid with the head and cloven hooves of a Goat and arms and torso of a human. Great pairs of horns are always present and in the Beastman herds can mark Gors for greatness. Gors lacking any horns are the lowest in the herds and often the subject of never ending “hazing," bullying, and fodder for the pikes, axes, and swords of Imperial armies and their allies. Size matters in Gor herds. The largest Gors are commonly referred to by scholars of these creatures as Bestigors. Minotaurs may tower above the greatest Bestigors, but are not thought just to be a larger form of Gor or Bestigor. Minotaurs are often fearsome leaders of great hordes of Beastman. Gors have been known to wield powerful shaman like magic. Magic that can bend the mind of its targets in ways that lead to despair on the battlefield: visions of comrades dead or terrai...

Zentrem and his wife, Suella, and daughter, Malora run a sweetshop in Nulb, a dirty, “ramshackle," village on the Imredys Run, a small river that is deep enough for trade traffic. Zentrem is a retired busker and carries himself with a jolly, round, and bearded grin that matches his profession of baking “cookies, pastries, and sweet cakes." This profession has contributed to the family's portly first impressions. Zentrem sells to any customer, but a great deal of his product is sold to the Waterside Hotel. Zentrem is also an accomplished poisoner. This skill is in demand by the management of the Waterside Hotel. Zentrem's skill has a reputation beyond Nulb with his poisoned sweetcakes rumored to be used in the heart of Greyhawk in Verbobonc and even in Dyvers, many hundreds of leagues away. His poison of choice is a Sleeping poison made from local berries. The management of the Waterside Hotel often uses his cakes to rob patrons. Zentrem's skill has deadly results ...

Religious scholars quietly hold debate on the nature of the gods. Sometimes these debates are written down and collected, immediately becoming heretical texts that can find those possessing them in some very serious extra judicial trouble. One such work that circulated in history studies on Bretonnia is On the Viydagg and The Lady of the Lake, look at daemons of law in Bretonnia  by Merovech De Boutellier. Unlike some “heretical" texts, passages of this work are rumored to have been read to the Emperor, who allegedly said of the kingdom to the west after the reading, “It is a silly place." The book, religious in tone, is understood  in the Empire  to be a critical work on Bretonnia's ruling class of Knights. To possess a copy in Bretonnia however is to be fed alive to the truffle hounds. The Viydagg is said to be a daemon of light, created by the gods, and sometimes called a “Life Elemental." The Viydagg appears as a beautiful maiden standing 10 feet tall in flowing ...

So many minor, backwater gods. This author could not begin to name them all. Most are tolerated by all the cults. As all the sanctioned cults acknowledge the other gods, and by all accounts most upstanding citizens will pay respects to them all in due course. Minor gods are also commonly called the “penny gods." These minor gods may  earn a penny saved in their evocation and are, by most religious scholars, nothing more than a peasant's superstition given embodiment in the mind of the evoker. Certain zealots might see this as heresy, but these same peasants are always shown under interrogation to be true to Sigmar and the other gods. Tahrveg is also known as the The Keen Arrow. Honored by archers of the Empire's armies, Tahrveg is one minor god that may earn an archer court martial. And as most peasants are conscripted, court-martial can mean serious punishment. What act would earn such harsh punishment? A blood sacrifice. Some archers have been known to cut their last fi...

Names have power. It is said that Daemonologists pay great costs of earthly and spiritual forms to learn the true name of the foul spirits they summon. To learn the true name of a summoned, often a foul bargain may be struck with another spirit. These rituals are not known to the author and only speculation. The cults of the Empire, save the Verenans, believe that names carry power over the named. Many miracles, hermetic magics, and the rituals of the same must use the name of the receiver for effectiveness, demonstrating the power in a name. Save the Venenans, as mentioned lest forgotten, cults bestow upon their priesthood sacred names . These names may not be secret, but may often be used in ceremony or in correspondence. To the acquaintances of the priests, the use of the name may create confusion. As many cults will bestow a new sacred name  with each higher appointment—the first given as an Initiate to a cult—the same acquaintances, accustomed to one sacred name, must learn an...

Magic in the Old World is dangerous. For those targeted and for those wielding the power of the Winds. Especially for those wielding the power.  T his errant or intentional use of the Winds may produce Rotwyrms.  Rotwyrms seem to be reported by  wizards of the Jade and Amethyst winds. Some reports say that those wielding magic dealing with flesh, such as dark wizards of the Ruinous god Slaanesh or necromancers summon Rotwyrms as a counter spell . Empire wizards employed on the battlefield have encountered Rotwyrms emerging from the bodies of dead allies or enemies due to a faulty casting. In all reports, it may simply be the  presence of dead flesh. Rotwyrms are not of this world. They possess the ability to pass through shield or armor, consuming metal, wood, and cloth with a singular goal: to consume the living flesh of their summoner. Wizards encountering Rotwyrms may suddenly turn from the battlefield in terror. Allies near a battlefield wizard have testified in ...

From a letter written by Heineman Weber to his friend, Hellenbrecht Dorfbacher, and presented at their trials for heresy.      The gods of the Old World, and speaking strictly from a scholarly position, have many aspects. There are some heretics that believe there are only the gods and all other gods, be they Elven, Dwarven, Human, or other, are the same gods. These heretics point to the Nehekhara gods described in the ruins of found littered throughout the "Border Princes."      Phakth is one of several Nehekhara gods that lets these heresies find root in the Empire. Described by scholars that read the dead language say that Verena, the goddess of Learning, Knowledge, and Justice, and through the Azyr , the blue wind of majick of the Astromancers, is an aspect of the wind itself. Heresy indeed, and written strictly to you as commentary on these heresies. To say that the gods themselves are simply expressions of the Winds of Magic is a sign of corrupti...

In the Empire, and beyond its borders throughout the Old World, a traveler will encounter vagabonds, thieves, beggars, anchorites, hermits, and many more broken men and women. Some by choice, such as the hermit or anchorite, and it is often that a Killer of the Dead is mistaken for either, or both. Like the hermit or anchorite, to chose the path of a Killer of the Dead often begins with being broken by the horrors that prowl the nights of the Old World. Often survivors of a life of Vampire hunting or broken by an event as a Grave Warden, the Killer of the Dead outwardly may appear to be a loner or outlaw and often resorts to theft to continue a life pursuing the relentless, uncountable hordes of undead. Killers of the Dead sleep during the day, knowing that the day is anathema to the Vampire or to the undead. A crawl space or basement, more often a cave in the hillside overlooking a graveyard—Morr's Garden—near a prominent temple to Morr or a large cemetery in a city or town. Some ...

Always standing against the opportunistic grave robber is the Grave Warden. Employed by the smallest village—often a stipend to the head of the village militia or inn keep—and largest city, the Grave Warden's singular task is to assist the priests of Morr* in burying the dead properly: “six feet deep in the cold, hard ground." But Grave Wardens have a second and equally important role: watch over the graves of the recently buried. The Grave Warden has a singular nemesis: the grave robber. The grave robber can be anyone. They can be other members of the militia, friends of the Grave Warden!, or just common thieves. All often arrive to secure the body of the recently dead to fulfill a contract from unsavory barber-chirurgeons, mad scholars, even dark wizards collecting bodies for foul experiments or fodder in growing armies of undead. A Grave Warden is charged by the Cult of Morr to use any force necessary to protect those that have been laid to rest. This means that grave robbe...

The Friendly Rat is a tavern in a small village at the edge of the Empire. The village's name is not recorded in the journal of Luther Wuppert. The journal was found tossed in a ditch along an Empire road, detritus of a robbery or murder. Most bandits won't find value in such a thing: they can't read. It had not rained in some time and the leather bound journal was recovered by Odmar Ruhgsdorf, a priest of Verena, in a fortuitous need to relive himself on the side of the road. Verenan's are scholars, lawyers, notaries, and scribes. The journal was soon be lost in a temple's basement stacks when Odmar got to town sufficiently large enough to have a temple to Verena. Odmar copied the following entry in his own diary, recounting Herr Wuppert's description of the Friendly Rat: “The date was illegible. If there was a place, Herr Wuppert never stated it. He wrote: “The Friendly Rat was a indeed living up to its name. A raucous crowd of travelers had already taken up a...

I asked the Grok, a generative AI, the following: Imagine a couple of outrageous and humorous medieval methods of removing a curse that might involve nakedness, mud, or animals. All generative AI is non-determinative and largely a sophisticated random number machine. I was pleased with the “absurd and comical medieval" methods of curse breaking. Enjoy. The Naked Mud-Wallowing Goat Dance To lift a curse, the afflicted soul must strip bare under a full moon, slather themselves head to toe in thick, stinking bog mud, and then chase a particularly ornery goat around a village square. The trick? You’ve got to wrestle the goat into the mud with you, roll around together three times, and bleat loudly to “confuse the curse spirits" into fleeing. The villagers would probably gather with torches, half to cheer, half to laugh, as you and the goat emerge looking like swamp monsters—curse hopefully gone, dignity definitely lost. The Bare-Bottomed Chicken Smack Picture this: the cursed i...

One's bad luck can often be tied directly to the curse of the Evil Eye. Any unfortunate occurrence can be directly tied to the sinister glare, whether the accursed is aware of the individual that bestowed the Evil Eye or not. A bad card game in the tavern. Tripping on the curb and spoiling a mark as you pick his belt pocket. Spilling your ale. Each may be the Evil Eye at work. Evil Eyes are thought to be commonly the act of the bitter old crone slighted in the street as she lifts her arthritic finger in your direction. But the curse can be scratched into door thresholds or the dirt of the path to the privy. The act of observing the curse transfers its effects. Once cursed, only the most fraught undertakings can lift an Evil Eye. Old Worlders will undertake the most outrageous efforts to remove an Evil Eye. The Naked Mud-Wallowing Goat Dance or The Bare-Bottomed Chicken Smack are two cited methods in the works of the heretic cunning woman Ingrun Frolich. Both so popular as to b...

D&D. Dungeons and Dragons. A game of Dungeons. And Dragons. The game has something of a history that most published modules—scenarios— didn't feature a lot of dragons, but a lot of dungeons. There is some credit to the story that the property of Dragonlance  was created in response to this lack of representation. But this is about dungeons.  Jason Cone released Philotomy's Musings,  a free “collection of interpretations, house rulings, expansions, and general pontification on the nature of the Original Dungeons & Dragons rules by Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson" in 2007. I stumbled on this PDF probably on the blog Grognardia  in 2008. Grognardia  is a play on the word  grognard , something of a slur in the Napoleon army for “grumbler" and an affectation used to describe D&D players of a certain age. In Philotomy's Musings Jason offers the idea of the dungeon “as a mythic underworld." I have always loved this idea. It sticks with me. Not merely ...

 Niklos Kaunitz Tales and the Game Mechanics The Tail and The Bridge is a narrative crafted from the events of a recent game of Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay, fourth edition (WFRP4e). Niklos Kaunitz is my player-character, PC for short. The in-game narrative around Niklos is much more than just this first tale. We've been playing for more than a year. WFRP is built around a fantasy, pseudo-Germanic, 15th-16th century world populated by Elves, Dwarves, Men, Halflings, Magic, Gods, and a menagerie  beasts and humanoids. The game is almost as old as Dungeons and Dragons, but its world is largely a singular narrative cf.  D&D's multiverse. The game is billed as A Grim World of Perilous Adventure . It's not low fantasy nor is it high fantasy. It is "mud and blood" to borrow a phrase from my favorite WFRP "actual play" podcast of the same name . WFRP's character mechanics are built on "careers." It is the stand out difference from many other Rol...