WolfNut of Red Larch

The following is a parody Werewolves of London by Warren Zevon. The lyrics are inspired by Acquisitions Incorporated: The C-Team. For best results, sing loudly while accompanied by a classic piano with an occasional guitar solo.

I saw WolfNut with a Draconic menu in her hand
walking through the streets of Red Larch in the rain.
She was looking for a place called the Yum Yum Hut.
Gonna get big plate of beef and romaine.

Hawooo! WolfNut of Red Larch

Hawooo! WolfNut of Red Larch

See her howling round your dungeon door,
better not let her in!
Tiny little goblin got mutilated late last night.
WolfNut of Red Larch again!

Hawooo! WolfNut of Red Larch

Hawooo! WolfNut of Red Larch

She’s that hairy handed creature
who ran amok in Nemezir.
Lately she’s been overheard in Neverwinter.
Better stay away from her:
she’ll rip your lungs out, sir!
Heh, I’d like to meet her armorer.

Hawooo! WolfNut of Red Larch

Hawooo! WolfNut of Red Larch

I saw Jim Darkmagic Walking with Omin Dran
dancing the WolfNut of Red Larch.
I saw Jim Darkmagic’s clone walking with Omin Dran
dancing the WolfNut of Red Larch.
I saw WolfNut drinking an ale at the Dran and Courtier.
Her hair was perfect.

Hawooo! WolfNut of Red Larch

Hawooo! WolfNut of Red Larch

Heh, draw blood!

Hawooo! WolfNut of Red Larch

A Dance at the End of the World

Take up your lyre and strike up the band.
Dance all you want, for the end’s close at hand.

The world that we know will soon be no more.
Its refuse and debris shall wash up on the shore

of a darkly lit island at the end of all things,
where the Lord of the Void and the Judge of True Kings

will tally our faults, our sins and our crimes,
and weigh them against our more innocent times.

They will judge if we’re fit to dwell in the sky
or to be ground into dust and finally die.

So although we can’t know our ultimate fate,
let’s take pleasure from life before it’s too late!


A quick poem for national poetry day. If you liked it, you can support me on Patreon and get access to exclusive stories and previews of RPG content.


I started liking Dinosaurs when I was a kid.
I read books, watched The Land Before Time,
and played with little plastic dinos.
I wanted to grow up to be a paleontologist.
Instead, I became a writer.

Some people don’t like the revelation that dinosaurs had feathers.
They want the dinosaurs from their youth:
towering, reptilian predators,
that roamed the Earth without equal.

But isn’t learning about the prehistoric past
part of the fund of dinosaurs?
It was for me, anyway.
Other kids pretended to be T-Rex,
stomping, roaring,
chasing other kids around the playground,
while I sat in the sandbox
burying all my plastic dinos
and then digging them up again,
brushing them off with an old paintbrush,
the way a paleontologist would.

Nostalgia and science:
they aren’t enemies.
Or, at least, they shouldn’t be.

And besides, I can’t be the only one,
who saw a picture of a feathered velociraptor
and immediately wanted to pet it.

A quick little poem for World Poetry Day, about dinosaurs, which are awesome. Especially with feathers.

Depression Sonnet

There is a darkness lurking in my mind
that whispers lies and falsehoods in my ear.
It says that I am never going to find
the love and safety that we hold so dear.

And though I know that these are lies it speaks,
they cut my soul and chill me to the bone.
They steal my strength and make me feel so weak
that I begin to think I am alone.

But I am not alone in this old fight.
My allies are the people that I love.
They keep me close and hold my hands so tight
and lift me to a clear blue sky above.

So if you have a darkness such as mine
then stand with those you love and hold the line.


Today is World Mental Health Day, so I wrote a poem about fighting depression, something that’s a big part of my life. If you suffer from a mental illness please remember that you are important and that your mental health matters. If you can, talk to someone about your experiences, and if you are comfortable with it, share you story with the world to help others who suffer not feel so alone.


English Weather

It starts with a grey sky.
This goes unnoticed because you are in England;
The sky is always grey.

Then there is the faintest of sounds,
a sort of plopping noise
as if something wet is hitting the ground.
Plop. Plop. Plop.
This too goes unnoticed because
the neighbor’s dog is barking
and there are motorcycles coming down the street
and life is just noisy in general.

You don’t notice the smell, either.
If you did you’d swear you were at a fish market
or by a dock.
You don’t notice, because as it happens,
you are holding your dinner:
a fish.

But when a fish falls out of the sky
and lands squarely between your feet
you notice.
Oh yes, you notice.
But only for a moment.
After all, this is England.
The weather will sort itself out.

At last, I breathe life into this blog once more! Sorry for the absence. A long bout of depression caused by losing my job has kept me from writing. But I plan on writing myself out of this depression and starting the blog back up for real. I’ll elaborate on a blog post.

This poem was inspired by this comic by my friend Shane Sheenan, whom I’ve talked about before. If you like the idea of a cloud dropping fish on people, you should check out his adoption page and snatch up English Weather before anyone else can get their hands on the little jerk.

The Song of Old Gerald

They say that Old Gerald, he liked to play Tak
for coin in the tavern at night.
But Old Gerald cheated and often his games
would end in a hideous fight.

He’d pulverize men and bloody their noses
for calling him out on his tricks,
and when he was done, he’d take all their coin
and give them a few extra kicks.

Then one day a man with fire-red hair
and a six string-ed lute on his back
walked into the tavern and pulled up a seat
right where that old cheater played Tak.

He watched Gerald cheat and swindle his way
through game after game after game,
and when he had had his full of deceit
he stood up and called Gerald’s name.

“Gerald,” he said, “you’ve bullied these men
and taken from purse after purse,
but if you do not return what you took
I swear that your fate will be worse!”

Then Old Gerald laughed and drew his sharp steel,
for he had far more bravery than wits,
and Kvothe the Arcane called fire and lightning
and blew poor Old Gerald to bits.

Now some say that Kvothe is gone from this world,
but the two of you may yet cross paths,
so if you should try to cheat me at Tak
remember the Kingkiller’s wrath!

Yet another song inspired by the Kingkiller Chronicles by Patrick Rothfuss as well as Tak, the game Rothfuss created with James Ernst that comes from the world of the books.  The Kickstarter for Tak is still going on, so you still have time to pledge and get your hands on this wonderful game.

A Demon Went Down to Tarbean

Well a demon went down to Tarbean. He was looking for a soul to steal.
He was in a bind, ’cause he was way behind. He was willing to make a deal
when he came across a young man carving a capstone down by the docks
and the demon jumped upon a wooden pillar and said, “Boy, let me tell you what:”

“I bet you didn’t know it, but I’m a Tak player, too
and if you care to to take a dare I’ll make a bet with you.
Now you’ve got a mighty fine capstone, boy, but give a demon his due.
I’ll bet a capstone of gold against your soul ’cause I think I’m better than you.”

The boy said, “My name’s Daerwick and it might be a sin,
but I’ll take your bet, and you’re gonna regret
’cause I’m the best there’s ever been!”

Daerwick, polish up your board and gather up your stones,
’cause a demon’s loose in Tarbean and he’s cornered you alone.
And if you win you get this shiny capstone made of gold,
but if you lose, the demon gets your soul!

The demon drew a board with fire and said “I’ll start this show!”
and sparks flew from his fingertips as he gathered up his stones.
When he placed a stone upon the board it glowed with evil light,
like a putrid sea of sewage lit by the moon at night.

As the game went on, Daerwick said, “Well you’re pretty good, old son,
but sit down in that chair right there and let me show you how it’s done.”

Dragon in the valley, run boys, run!
Tehlu’s in the light of the midday sun.
Six-string wore a ring that was made of bone.
Taborlin the Great called the name of stone.

The demon bowed his head because he knew that he’d been beat,
and he laid the golden capstone on the ground at Daerwick’s feet.
Daerwick said, “Demon, come on back if you ever want to try again.
I’ve told you once, you son of a bitch, I’m the best that’s ever been!”

Sorry for the lack of updates, everybody. I went through a bout of depression related to work. I’m doing a lot better now, though!

Anyway, I wrote this parody as way to calm down and start writing again, and also to promote the Kickstarter for Tak, a game from the world of The Name in the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. The Name of the Wind is one of my favorite books, and if you’re a fan of fantasy you should definitely check it out. Please also check out the Kickstarter for Tak, because Tak is an amazing game.