As he stands near the roaster, he carefully watches as the temperature begins to ascend. The pale moon overhead gives just enough light to see the beans begin to turn from a cold green to a toasty brown. As he listens to first crack he chants an other worldly incantation. Passing 2nd crack an odd thing happens, clouds cover the moon, the coffee wolves howl, and the 3rd crack takes over. With a wicked smirk, the old Roastmaster lets the beans drop. From vials as old as time he adds pinches of unknown ancestry. As the grains fall on the warm beans they quickly evaporate, releasing their magic. On his face is the look of both good and evil, of love and hate.