Swords in Space!: Iron-Wolf

In 1973, in the seventh issue of DC Comic's Weird Worlds, readers were told that the title would no longer feature Edgar Rice Burroughs adaptations. Instead, the next issue would debut a new creation from Howard (then Howie) Chaykin--Iron-Wolf. Chaykin said his intentions with Iron-Wolf were to "combine elements of those magnificent swashbuckling films--Sea Hawk, Captain Blood, Robin Hood--in a cosmic setting." The result was a space opera adventure like a mix of Dune and Flash Gordon--three years before Star Wars.

The saga begins in the 61st Century with Lord Iron-Wolf defying Empress Erika Klein-Hernandez of the Empire Galaktika. He's angry because she's selling the secret of human space travel--an anti-gravity wood grown on his homeworld of Illium--to barbaric aliens. Iron-Wolf turns rebel--and pirate. Along the way he crosses swords and exchanges blaster fire with the ogrish aliens, and his traitorous brother. At that's only in his first appearance!

The following issues feature disguise as Shakespearean actors, clashes with the Empress' vampiric Blood Legion (all of whom we see, interestingly, are black), and disillusionment as the democratic rebels Iron-Wolf joins prove to be involved in the trafficking of a dangerous drug. And...that was it. Unfortunately, Weird Worlds was on life-support when Iron-Wolf strode into its pages. It expired with issue 10, just three issues later.

Luckily, wooden spaceships and vampire legions proved too cool to stay in comics limbo forever. In 1992, writers Chaykin and John Francis Moore, with the artistic dream-team of Mike Mignola and P. Craig Russell returned to the character with Ironwolf: Fires of Revolution.

The graphic novel reworks some of the conceptual elements. The so-called Empire Galaktika is now a small, "backwater" entity. The characters' fashions move from hippie-meets-disco to sampling a bit of both the Victorian and Restoration eras. The technology is a little bit less space opera and a little bit more steampunk. The story's different, too--a little less adventurous, and taking a darker, more cynical tone as it's fit into Chaykin's retconning of DC's science fiction characters in the Twilight limited series. Still, it gives Iron-Wolf's saga an ending, and has really gorgeous art.

Toward A Hard-boiled Fantasy Sandbox

"Walk down the right back alley...and you can find anything."
- Sin City (2005)

Folks of a poetical inclination have called the City "unnamed."  Truth is, the City has too many monikers for anybody to know them all. But you say "the City," and everybody from yokels up in the Smaragdine Mountains, to the newsie on the corner knows where you mean. There was a city here before it became the City, you know?  Then some swell got himself itch to be an emperor and brought the five baronies together. So here we are, and that swell got his empire, but maybe it didn't turn out the way he thought. The City doesn't need soldiers or armies when it's got commerce and style.

Alright, maybe they've got all the movie stars--and most of the sunshine--out there in Hesperia, but all the other culture's right here. Ships come into this harbor from all over the world--bringing stuff to sell, bringing people. And a lot of the decide to stay.  You go to the right neighborhood and you'll swear you got dropped into some foreign country. And the nightlife? This town jumps, friend. From low-class gin-dives to tony swing-clubs, it roars.  I'd steer clear of the hinky alchemical liquors, though.  Word to the wise.

Now, those joints I was talking about are full of would-be toughs and hard-cases come here to make a name for themselves. They go ransack the ruins the Old Ones, left all over the countryside, then they come to the City to sell their haul and hit the town. City-folk are happy to separate a rube from his money. Gin, jazz, janes--you know, whatever. Guys can make money too, if they know were to look. The gang bosses that run the streets always got a need for muscle, or a little cheap wizardry. Sometimes the ghouls from Undertown get kind of rowdy, and the coppers start looking for guys to deputize, too. Or maybe the rail-yards are looking for bulls to crack a few goblin skulls. Then of course there are bounties on monsters that need killing.  What, you think there's only gold down in those ruins? Anyway, you get the idea. There's dough to be had, and plenty.

So welcome to the City.  Have a good visit--but watch yourself, pal, things can get rough.

You Meet in A Tavern...

Ah...but which one?

Here are a couple of answers to that question from the streets of Terminus, city on the River Fflish, in the south of Arn.

The Green Griffin Inn
The Griffin is a sometimes rough, always busy inn and tavern favored by adventurers new to town. There is a 50% chance of a fight of some sort erupting on any given evening. The lower level holds a common room with several tables, a bar, and a kitchen in the back. The upper floor holds a small number of rooms. The laconic barkeep is named Azgull, but called Az. He's a black-haired and moustached man of middle-years, often with a severe expression and wary eyes. He's also a former adventure (Fighter 4). He'll answer reasonable questions about what he's seen or heard (in as few words as possible), but when he's done, he's done, and no amount of charm will cajole more. Coin occasionally will.

There are usually 1-2 serving wenches working at all but the latest hours. They sometimes make extra money from prostitution, or by selling-out hiding lawbreakers to the City Watch. There's a 30% change that one of the barmaids on duty at any given time is Not What She Seems.

The proprietor of the Griffin is Gelsh Zem, called "Gelsh the Whiner" (behind his back). Gelsh is a smallish, balding man, with eyes that dart like spooked birds, and a bobbing Adam's apple. His anxiety is no doubt increased by the fact that the previous owner (his uncle) was slain by a drunken Kael barbarian a few months ago. Gelsh speaks in an overly officious manner, and is obsequious to the those he from whom he has something to gain, and rude to those he views as beneath him.

The Lion's Den Alehouse
Located near public baths catering to soldiers, and former soldiers, the Lion's Den tends to attract a warrior clientele, though its not exclusive. There are rarely any fights in the Lion's Den. It's the best protected tavern in the city--though this does not mean on duty watchmen are welcome.  The structure is a long hall, popularly believed to have been the mead-hall of a Kael chieftain when Terminus was only a village, called Meln. Long tables with benches run down the center of the room, with small, round tables in the more private periphery. All of the wall decorations have a martial theme. 

The proprietress of the Den is called Deela. She is handsome, well-muscled woman with mannishly short, blonde hair. She's friendly, but no nonsense, as those that cross her discover. Though she only ever speaks of her past obliquely, she is an Arnian peasant girl turned camp-follower of a mercenary company, then mercenary, and finally, mercenary captain. She respects skill and arms, but also artistic talent--a former lover, for whom she still carries a torch, was an actress and musician. The Den is run with military precision by a former sergeant (Fighter 5) of her company, Bernal Obrek, a ruddy-complected, bear of a man, with a bald head and thick moustache. Bernal is a fine cook--and deadly with an iron-banded cudgel or, should the need arise, a warhammer. If Bernal takes to a visitor, he will point them in the direction of the patrons who are likely to be the highest paying employers.

At any given time, the Lion's Den will be patronized by mercenaries looking for work, or captains looking to hire fighting-men. Protecting caravans from Kael banditry, or pacifying rebels or bandits (the two typically being one in the same) in the Dharwood. There is a 30% chance that there will be a Llysan filibuster or their agents present to recruit the gullible or desperate for conquest and glory.  They promise pay, and ultimately, land in the conquered territory to any man who will follow.