Article in "Spiegel", Jürgen Pander

The Golf is dead, long live the Golf

The VW Golf is a German icon ever since the first ones appeared on the roads in 1975. "Powered" by 50 hp at first the car mirrored its owners and gathered girth and weight over the next decades. From a very simple and spartan beginning rose gems like the first hot hatch, the GTI and the first six cylinder one VR6. During its eight iterations it became much faster, bigger, more comfortable and advanced. A generation of Germans has been called "Generation Golf" as they grew up on the back seats of it. The car spawned several variants before the MQB modular set swallowed the VW lineup. It has occupied the first place in sales ever since its inception. And VW has been very reluctant to mess with success. The Golf may have gathered girth and width, it dropped lower to the road and its sides have acquired stylish creases. Still, somebody from 1976 would immediately recognize the Golf Mk. 8 as a Golf. It has always followed the "front engine, front drive" layout.

This car is now gone.

It makes sense of course. The last Golf still offered Diesel and Gas variants, besides the very popular Natural Gas hybrids and pure electrics. It made sense to retain the hatchback architecture with the bonnet and all. Now that the Mk.9 is all-electric things are very different. The car is very close to a one-box design that resembles the Renault Twingo of old. It offers more interior space than the Passat while being shorter than its predecessor. And it is a near-autonomous car. Press the VW symbol on the rectangular "wheel" for three seconds and it will retract itself into the dashboard. The car will retrieve your destination from your smartphone and as long as things do not get seriously messed up will drive you there while you watch a movie or text to your hearts content.

The base model sends 100KW/136 hp to the rear wheels through a motor for each wheel. This improves turning radius and grip considerably. Of course, there are upscale models which have a lot more power and range can be scaled accordingly. And while the Golf has always been a "reasonable" car it is hard to keep a smile from your face when the GTI plus takes you to 100 kph in 3.5 seconds flat. As always, the list of options is a long and costly one. The "Wolfsburg" package adds the fully autonomous mode and the 19" wheels. There are very nice new seats to be had, the front ones can swivel around when the car drives itself if you order the "family" pack. And then there is the "Mage one" pack with adds the "Rune of Function" or a "Rune of Warding".

All of this makes it a very good car, but for sure it is no longer a "Golf". Wolfsburg lifted the nameplate and pushed another car below, but will that be enough to keep its place at the top of the sales lists? The Opel Ampera III is a very good car and had been introduced to the market last year….

Achaes, Border Kingdoms, at night

The docks were as quiet as they were ever going to be in a busy harbor town like Achaes. Artificial lighting was too expensive so there was no large-scale loading or unloading. Which did not keep lots of hawkers from displaying their wares to the seamen unlucky enough to be on watch or some girls to do the same with their bodies.

"Berenike" had arrived a week ago and she was mostly done here. She had left the quay mooring the day before yesterday and was now anchored at the roadstead, gently swaying around the pole she was tied to. She was an ugly ship, having changed her Latin sails for a Schooner rig a few years ago. It was one of the improvements brought by the Germans and allowed her to be much faster before the wind that before. The same Germans had introduced ships which were marvels, which transported more goods in one trip than "Berenike" would in ten lifetimes. So she was reduced to sailing the lesser routes and to transport things deemed unimportant from places the Germans could hardly name to harbors they could not enter because of their draft. All of that showed, the ship displayed many signs that spoke of ramshackle maintenance. She was not alone in that, there were several similar vessels moored in Achaes presently.

The boat that rowed from it towards the quay was a mirror of its ship, old, driven by forces that were fine a decade before and now seen as dated. The boat had made the trips several times during the last days, it brought the watch below to shore and back. There were several burly sailors who rowed it at their own time. They tied it off at the pier and gave some coins and a hard look at the watch that handled these things. They received a wooden disk with a number for their pains and quickly vanished in the maze that was Achaes` harbor quarter. They were not bothered by the usual pickpockets and hawkers though. They looked like trouble to the most ignorant observer and more than a bit like Norscans to those in the know.

Royal camp Close to Castle Artois, at night

A full bladder woke up Graspar de Dubois. Even the thin, sour wine he had endured yesterday wanted out. The little light that shone through the cloth of his tent made it clear it was far from the time when revile would be called so he did not dress and just made his way towards the pail that was there for the purpose. While he did his business, his mind went to his cousin Robert. What had the little rascal done to be allowed to drink from the Grail? And where was he, a Grail Knight should strengthen the army in times of war, not creep around the forest like some poacher. He was still fastening his breeches when the screaming started. Something was off and he needed a few seconds to realize there was some alarm about. He grabbed his sword and stepped out of the tent.

The Royal camp around him was in an uproar. Men were shouting orders nobody heard and followed, knights and their Men-at-Arms were running here and there and chaos was the only rule. He ordered his aide to assemble the men and dived back into the tent. When he was back outside at least some armor covered him and he wore trousers and boots. His men assembled in the small square his tens formed and his squire held his charger`s reigns. He went up on the horse and gained a bit of a view. He did not like any of it.

There were flickering flames here and there, there men running through the rows of tents who threw bottles about which spewed flames everywhere. Tents caught fire, the hay used to feed the horses and was often used to improve sleeping went up in furious flames and worst of all human torches ran around screaming their final breaths. Through all of that Graspar saw fleeting figures which seemed to proceed the terror. And then they made a mistake when they paused s second too long and another conflagration illuminated them clearly. Graspar`s breath caught when he recognized their clothing. The arsonists that attacked the Lady`s forces were serfs and Men-at-Arms who should serve the Lady. He had suspected their loyalty since this rebellion begun and now he had proof that his fears were not baseless. And another group of them was running his way, screaming and having weapons in hand, at least some of them. He laid about him as only a well-trained knight of the Lady could. Ten minutes into the fight there was an explosion that gave him a pause. When nothing more from that corner happened he hunkered down and sent a messenger to the Baron Lesac to ask for orders. The serf never came back. He and his men held their own against all comers during the next hellish hours, no traitor escaped their wrath.

Outside of Royal camp

Walter Theodoric St. Helier stood in the hatch of "Golden Hinde", the one and only Land Rover in the Rebel`s employ. He doubted that the lads in Souihull would recognize their work anymore as tubes, wire mesh and armor plate had replaced the duraluminum chassis. It would fit better in a Mad Max film than some farm these days but it served Walter well enough. Before him was one of the few Mitraleuse machine guns the Rebels had, but he did not touch it. Instead he fumbled with a NVG of Soviet manufacture and swore whenever it flickered again. What they showed could not be better though. The Royal palisade had indeed been demolished on time and now his infiltrators emerged from them singly or in small groups. So far there was no pursuit that he could see, so his task was mainly making sure that the Rebels did not shoot his people. Any night operation increased the potential for a clusterfuck, this time his people were out of what went for uniform for the Rebels. Instead they were clad in the gear taken from the serfs and Men-at-Arms nabbed during their last raids on supply caravans.

St. Helier was distraught when he counted the heads of those who came back. They had all been volunteers and all that, but the best result those still in the enemy camp could hope for was a quick death. He was consoled by the fact that the fight inside the Royal camp lasted for two more hours after the last of his infiltrators had escaped.

"School of Philosophy", Achaes, at night.

The watchman was bored out of his skull. This was the dead of night and nobody was doing anything but sleep away somewhere. Well, maybe not the old doters that were in the building behind him. He heard occasional sounds he could not place from inside the old building. They paid him a bit though and combined with his Vigiles` pension it was enough. There was a scraping sound behind him and he half turned when his world went black.

The weapon was mostly a leather sack filled with sand. It had hit just above the guard`s ear and knocked him out cold. Phillipe watched approvingly as the guard was drawn behind a pillar and placed on the ground without any sound. He approached the temple`s entrance without any sound and pulled a leather sack from beneath his shirt. He did not pull the crystal inside completely from it, it shone with multicolored light even so. Why was this place so well warded after all? He had another look at the entrance before making his way into the deeper shadow provided by the pillars.

"At least three different kinds of wards and and at least one alarm. I am not sure if I can disable the alarm, the wards are not my job."
"Understood. Kreuger?"
"Get a Celestial next time if you want to get so many Wards removed. I say we make a hole and go in."
"Can we use the roof?"
"Better, much better."
"Lets do it then."

Phillipe had scouted a way across the roofs of several warehouses before, it did not take him long to lead his patron there. He watched the Druchii whisper with his team, his job was mostly done now. A plank was pushed from this roof to the temple and several dark shapes made their way across. He helped remove some tiles as soundlessly as possible and then stepped aside. The first to jump into the hole was the huge guy who frightened him.

Inside the "School of Philosophy"

Werner Harkon had been an Imperial Knight, one. He had been an esteemed member of a venerable Knightly Order, once. He had defended his people and they had cherished him for it. That was before his father entered their fortress-monastery, before he had challenged and killed him. Before he had been revived as a monster. Now he was a Blood Knight, living for the challenge and the thrill of combat. Now he would fight for whomever promised sufficient coin of who looked like being able to give a good fight. That had been his fate, but now there was a chance of salvation. Walter Harkon, former knight and Blood Knight would do nearly everything to end the hunger and achieve peace.

He was in plate armor and wielded a sword made for his kind. It shrieked where he shouted his challenge and both dropped through the thin panels that made the attics floor to the room below. He landed with an almighty crash and only his kind could endure such a landing without injury. When he came up his gaze fell on the old men that made up the School of Philosophers. Just that they did no longer look harmless, and even "man" might be off.

They were clad in robes of of colors Werner could not describe and formed a semicircle before an altar. If one looked closely one could still see the doters, but it was not easy. Where they had been bent and infirm outside, now they stood erect. Where eyes had been cloudy, half-closed and nearly blind now they were clear, saw things hidden from most mortals and most of them had more than two. Not all eyes looked like they should belong to a human. He had stepped in the middle of a ritual it seemed, as most were looking at an altar at one end of the room. The altar was made up by three circles and showed things that Werner tried to forget as soon as he saw them. So the elf and that little shit were right, these doters were a bloody Tzeentch cult. And some of them started to make gestures.

He still used his order`s old war cry. "Up and at them." His former comrades would not have understood. He was no longer human, he had different shapes and needs now. Long fangs, very different lungs, an unending hunger and overwhelming emotions made it the cry of an apex predator, one which instilled fear in all lesser beings. His cry still echoed from the walls when he charged. A human would not be able to jump the meters between him and the mages in full plate armor, he had not been human for centuries. He closed the range to the nearest mage in a heartbeat and his sword went through cloth, flesh and bone with equal ease. His mailed fist hammered a nose back into the face that bore it while his weapon pierced another chest. Werner barely registered that the others had joined the party as well. The Elf was fast, nearly as fast as him, even if he lacked the strength. Against such enemies it did not matter much, they did not wear armor, they were not very tough and a cut throat would kill as well as a head flying away from its owner.

The Norscans were the polar opposite, they were really strong for humans but only of average speed. They laid about with axes and swords, a trail of blood followed them. Vampire, Elf or Marauder, they were all in a race. As long as the enemy was surprised they were able to slay them with ease. If the mages got they shit sorted things could get very ugly very fast. He felt the strain on the fabric of reality that strained under the efforts of the mages. He looked for any of them that were in a position to do something that needed concentration when his mind and his ears agreed on a sensation, a loud "pop". He and the others had been too slow.

One of the mages had opened a small gate into the Empyrean and its denizens were in his employ. They were pink blobs, caricatures of lifeforms with far too much claws and teeth to be useful but for killing. They crackled with laughter and senseless babble like malignant overgrown children He managed to kill one more of the mages before he had to defend against one of them. A pale blue flame passed over his head by seemingly no distance at all. Claws grabbed for him, intending to pull him into the gaping mouth. The claws dropped to the ground when the limb they were attached to was severed from the body. And unearthly screech filled Werner`s head while he thrust the sword`s tip right between the horror`s eyes. The creature dissolved into a spinning mass of ectoplasm just to form again as two smaller blue blobs. An armored boot and a sword handle crushed both before they could do more than annoy. When he looked around he saw more than a few of the Pink Horrors. Ripples in the air, akin to heat waves, showed where reality was strained to the breaking point to allow more of the them. The Elf and the Norscans were pushed back, towards his position and enemies surrounded them on all sides. Behind the Horrors he could see mages mouthing words of powers and making gestures that left glowing traces in the air. That was when he started to burn.

He hated that, he could not stand it for one minute. Flames engulfed his entire body, but for his head, fire raced along his sword`s blade and his footsteps left flickering embers. Fire was one of the few things that could end him and one that frightened him even if this particular one was to aid him. He channeled this hate and this fear into a charge that was as furious as it was unstoppable. He was much more powerful than any man and armor, flaming body and fiery blade made their way through the enemy. His sword went through a Pink Horror from top to bottom and the resulting fire consumed the smaller creatures that tried to form. Another enemy was roughly pushed aside by his shoulder when he charged through and then he was among the mages. His armored fist held onto a face that melted below the burning fingers while his sword went through a tentacle that replaced an arm on the other. He was not alone, the Elf sent burning bolts from his crossbow and the Norscans went through their opponents with burning axes. A fireball made its way through them and exploded between the last Tzeentch mages, taking them out in flame.

And then the flames that engulfed Werner ceased as suddenly as they had started. The Cascading Cloak of Fire never lasted long even when he hated every second of it. Master Kreuger, their Fire Mage was its master and its use had been spot on. He`d still be damned before he thanked the mage for it.

They did not have the time for it anyway, the flames of their fight had ignited the old structure to the point where it would not last long. Even worse the air inside quickly heated to the point where it would kill by simply breathing. Supporting the Norscan who had taken two wounds the team left the burning temple as quickly as they had come, leaving utter ruin in their wake.

Nordcon, Beim Pachthof, Hamburg

The blade came down from the right shoulder and would hit the joint of neck and shoulder. Before that could happen, a similar blade pushed it to the side and when both weapons had finished their arcs one pointed at the ground while the other was lined up with a face.

"Stop. Now you two have got it, well nearly so. You, make sure that your hand it a bit higher, you want to protect your face. And you should not make such a big step forward, you open yourself too much to the riposte. That is not good."

Hermann von Bruns smiled as did his students. This was all good fun, neither did his students really wanted to learn fencing with the long sword and neither did he want to teach them. Well, not here and not now. He thought a few of those who visited his workshop would book a course at the salle he had opened last year. If the Reiksguard no longer needed so many fencing trainers there were more than a few Germans who wanted to learn just for fun. And giving free lessons here could easily be the best advertising he had yet tried.

Why so many Germans would clothe themselves like Imperials, Tileans or Asur he had no idea, but they seemed to enjoy themselves. Truth to be told, so did he.
From what he had heard this "Nordcon" was a local convention for all those interested in games depicting fantastic worlds. He had a hard time imagining anything more fantastic than this Germany and his marvels, but who cared. It seemed the convention had not been held for a year or two after the "Weltensprung", now it was back with a vengeance. It was said it changed a bit…

Excerts from the "Nordcon" Program:

"Elven conversation for writers and role play", Aedil of Aurelius
"What NOT to do when playing a mage in LARP." von Mathias Thule
"Orkish Wrestling" Geerorg (discontinued after first day)