There is of course no such thing as a newspaper in town for the good and sufficient reason that with a population of four and a half thousand (approximately) Rumour and its fellow fiend Slander propagate the news more quickly and more cheaply than mere printed word. And unlike the printed word in New Jerusalem they are subject to only the barest of controls by the town's civil and religious powers. If one wishes to be sure that some lengthy message be passed on fairly much intact to the good citizens of the town the normal course of action is to have posters and handbills printed (subject to the approval of the censor) and hire ruffians and urchins to distribute them about town. Altogether not a cheap method of communication.
Thus we have here a review of the more notable events of the year of Our Lord Sixteen hundred and thirty-four...
Most unexpectedly in late April two of the band of ruffians and ne'er-do-wells who call themselves Adventurers purchased a property in the Westgate district and proceeded to have it converted into an inn of reasonably good quality. What no one seems to know is where or when they got the money as they haven't sold any giants' heads - the usual route to financial reward followed by their class eg the other adventurers' inn, the Giant's Head (sic) which opened about two years ago after the sale of such an item.
It seems that responsibility has sobered Klint Torus to respectability as he has godless treasure-seeking to tend to this his business. Regrettably the same cannot be said of his companion Bjorn Gerdson.
Have you detected a new and ghastly tone to the nightly caterwauling? No honest tom it is said but a ghostly grey wraith in feline form which several decent and Christian men and women have described in detail. It haunts the rooftops, backyards and alleyways, its eyes glowing with the fires of Hell. Sightings should be reported as soon as possible to the Calvinists as they hope to seek out the witch with which the whom the dark beast associates, to save his or her soul in their normal inimitable manner.
Mid-August saw a ban on adventuring into the gloomy forest to the north. This was not so much inspired by concern for the souls of those hapless fools who indulge in this dangerous pastime (they are probably all irretrievably damned anyway), but rather rage at losing several hundred Marks worth of gold confiscated from a group of adventurers on the pretext that it was ensorcelled, or catholic, or both. What it had disappeared mysteriously the next morning and two hardened troopers of the Calvinists were fearful, quivering wrecks. Officially of course there had been no admission that the gold had ever been in the possession of the Temple thus sparing them the embarrassment of admitting its loss. But they would like it back, which brings us to...
This is of course the son of our revered High Preacher of the Temple itself, who sought his fortune in the crusades a couple of years ago. Seemingly he has been rewarded for his virtue and industry and rose to the rank of sergeant in Wenderenstadt Calvinists. Since his return he has been promoting the idea of a special squad of that illustrious militant arm of the Church with the mission of dealing with the Devil's works that are, he claims, frequently discovered by those wandering in the wastes. Despite the stated policy of the Council of the Faith their sole concern is for those within the town boundaries this hare-brained scheme is being given serious consideration as someone is of the opinion that the gold mentioned earlier was recovering by its original owners in some manner. And the people to get it back would be such a group of Christian Soldiers of the Lord.
Several adventurers have been heard to comment without Christian charity upon the scheme.
Sirs,
I am a Christian Gentleman once of the Western States, who becoming appalled at the lack of Godliness and toleration of Papists in the World did join the most noble and Holy Armies of the Crusades to do God's Work. After some Years in the Wars I discovered that even so-called "Christian" Soldiers were eventually riddled with the Corruptions and fell Prey to the Temptations of their Occupation, selling their Services, their very Souls yet, to the highest Bidder be he Protestant, Catholic, or even Satan himself.
Sickened by this realisation I fled the Snares laid for me by that One to find a safe Haven amongst Godly Men. After several Years of fruitless searching I find myself in your most hospitable Town, which I perceive as my Resting Place.
This being so I must, like any decent, Godfearing Man, earn an honest Wage for which my years of soldiering in but one Course - the Skills of Arms. Thus I propose to coach Pupils in the Arts of Combat with Rapier, Shortsword, Baton or Bare Hand that they may better defend their rights as Gentlemen in this imperfect World. My rates are but ONE MARK by the HOUR, practice periods may be arranged within.
Christian Fisher
The familiar demon which passes in the shape of a cat is still loose, the Calvinists having proven singularly ineffective at even sighting it. Not so the good citizens! Goodwife Friedoline Kruger of the Riverside district drove it off with fervent prayers and a broom when she spotted it stalking her youngest daughter in the back yard where she was at play. While she was no doubt effective enough in her piety to save her daughter's life and soul, it is a pity that one more learned in Scriptures was not present to have shrivelled its foul flesh from its bones with a well chosen passage. It must be seen as a test of our worthiness, and in good time when He is satisfied the Lord will grant us victory over the fell beast.
The Dragon's Claw is the new name of the adventurers' inn. At the time it was established it was called by the outlandish name of 'The Napier' which the (then) owners claimed to be the name of some philosopher or similar sorcerous heretic. The name was apparently chosen by Klint Torus and thus it is no surprise to hear that he was suddenly arrested by the Calvinist Guard for questioning. He was eventually released and returned to the Inn but within 24 hours had sold up his share to Bungo Belter, a notorious adventurer, and left to rejoin his family. The Calvinists as usual will not comment on investigations which do not come to trial, Bungo and Bjorn Gerdson (the remaining original partner) describe the changes as being a private business deal and say no more, while Klint is only ever seen hobbling to and from church as the remarks of his questioning heal.
More is the pity, that ban on the craze of adventuring instead of having been extended from the northern wastes to total discontinuation on pain of heresy enquiry, has been lifted!
Such is the interpretation put upon events of the last few days by several "lay-experts" and Church-watchers, after Herbert Asche came striding as cool as you figuratively please, out of the northern forest a few days ago, bowed under the weight of a huge sack clanking against his armour. The field guards arrested him and he was escorted immediately to the Temple to answer for his impious violation and presumed deliberate imperilling of his immortal soul which charge would at very least have him sitting on a disciplinary stool at the front of the church. Instead he walks free within the hour looking not the least bit repentant and, as you will have guessed, without the sack.
Since then there has been at least a double guard troop on duty at the temple, and fully half the Calvinists stand night watch, while there have been rumours within the Temple of a continuous prayer vigil being held in an underground chapel. It is a terrible thing to see the church valuing gold above men's souls.
Following the last story it will no doubt be a relief for those concerned with the souls of their fellow man to learn that the Council of Faith will not be ordering the formation of a special squad of the Calvinist Guard with responsibility for performing the Lord's work outside the town. It would be a sad thing to see such righteous men as the Calvinists lost (spiritually, if not actually in body) in the unholy wilderness when there is so much work for them here.
Ursel Muller was burnt on the 6th October for the practice of witchcraft. She was discovered by her daughter who overheard her muttering a spell against the man the daughter was to marry later this month. Put to the Question by the Calvinists she admitted to having signed the Pact with Satan's Chief Minister, Beelzebub and sealing it with the Kiss of Infamy, that as proof of her loyalty to the dark one she had killed her husband by witchcraft, and that she had intended the death of her daughter's intended to preserve her purity that she might be sacrificed at the dark festival of Halloween when next her coven met.
She was carried to the stake bound and gagged that she might not invoke a dying curse on those engaged in thus saving her soul.
Towards the end of October there are some strange goings-on upon the banks of the Jordan. The infamous adventurers Herbert Asche and Bungo Belter were seen to arrive one day with a large pile of wood and lengths of rope from which they proceeded to build a raft. It transpired that they had recently purchased a load of cloth and supplies for a long journey so it was little surprise to learn that they intended to explore a trading route down the river to the civilised lands. The main reason for the lack of surprise was the general opinion that one can't expect people who spend long periods outwith the town limits to behave in a reasonable, sane, and godfearing manner. And who else would attempt to travel on as unstable a surface as water with sundry demons and abominations lurking below the surface ready to drag a victim to a watery grave at a moment's notice from their Infernal Master.
The opinions of the wise and righteous not withstanding, on the morn of the 27th, carrying enough armour and weapons to arm the Town Guard twice over, the two 'bold explorers', as their friends and cronies were referring to them, set out well attended by a crowd of the idle and vulgarly curious, passing beyond the ken of decent men in a matter of minutes.
They returned about ten days later, afoot, without raft, cloth or supplies. Just what happened to them is unclear, Asche being his normal tight-mouthed self, while Bungo Belter babbles out a different story with every fresh jack of ale as he slumps in his cups at the Dragon's Claw Inn (of which he is part owner). The stories being passed about by those idle enough to have time to gossip range from their raft being swallowed by a river monster, whole, or being sunk and lost at rapids, or even that they reached their destination safely having sold their souls to the Horned One who then flew them back in a single night. That this latter story is widely regarded as being fabulous, despite the unsavoury characters of the subjects, is evidenced by the fact that the Calvinists have not taken them for Questioning.
Once the snow and ice closed in people turned their attentions from the fields to the domestic chores of the season, covering themselves with goose fat, and being sewn into their clothes the better to resist the cold whilst studying scriptures and tracts and digging a path through the snow to church.