Franz Lohner's Chronicle - Gods All Over the Shop

An absent-minded man of mysteries, Franz Lohner relies on his bulging journal to keep track of occurrences, intrigues and arguments around Taal's Horn Keep. Sometimes his notes are even useful, believe it or not. The Franz Lohner Chronicles are extracts from that journal.

Now don’t get excited. It’s not like we’ve had a divine intervention around here. I mean, the way our luck goes it’d only be a bad one, wouldn’t it? Gods have a nasty way of mucking things up even if they don’t mean to … and if the gods themselves don’t muck things up, then their followers gladly step into the breach.

Thing is, I’ve been thinking about Kerillian and how she’s handed the reins of her life over to a decidedly unsavoury set of elf deities. I mean, unsavoury to me, leastways. Elves have a way of seeing things different, after all. Truth is, elves have a big old pantheon of godly folk, each of them with something to offer. And by something to offer, I mean a handing helping of permission to get on with whatever the individual elf damn well pleases.

Want to go hunting? Invoke Kurnous. Want to hunt people? Anatha Raema’s your short-tempered patron. Want revenge? Drakira, Queen of Vengeance will gladly pat you on the head and let you get on with it. Don’t like the outdoors? Hoeth, Lord of Wisdom’s more your fellow, especially if you like a good book. 

All that being equal, it shouldn’t really surprise anyone that Kerillian’s been courting heavenly lasses famous for cruelty, beauty and the unerring ability to proclaim the hour of someone’s death (or at least bring it about if the clock of prophecy’s running a mite slow). Even at her best, she’s always been thus, oh yes indeedy.

But you see, then I start to getting thinking about Saltspyre, and I wonder if our gods - which Kerillian would have you believe are just pale shadows of the elf gods, and I ain’t touching that particular can of face-chewing worms - are exactly the same. Is Sigmar the Empire or the Empire, Sigmar? Do we believe in him because we think he’s going to save us, or because we want a reason to lay about the northlanders just for being different? I mean, yes, they do worship the proper big nasties, but we’ve never shown much restraint elsewhere, have we? I mean, the whole Empire/Bretonnian rivalry really boils down to “winsome lady with a magic cup” versus “shouting beardo with a big hammer” don’t it? Does it reveal a terrible truth about us Imperials? Namely that we’d rather hit strangers in the face than offer them a drink?

Oh dear. I think I’ve gone crossed eyed. Better have a lie down and sleep it off. But when I get up, I might just go and offer a stranger a drink. Won’t disprove the theory, but it’ll make me feel better.