Warlord Wednesday: Top Ten

Since issue #51 of Warlord was a reprint of issue #1, I thought I’d take this installment of Warlord Wednesday to look back over the series so far and pick my favorite issues. Here are my top ten, in chronological, rather than rank order:

First Issue Special #8: Where it all began. Maybe not the best story, but it establishes the essential Edgar Rice Burroughs elements: a fighting man from our world transported to another, and a beautiful princess to be won. I might also add, a figure of religion as a baddie in the form of Deimos.

 #3: Lizard Men cargo-cults, a ruined city of a more technologically advanced civilization, and a giant snake creature, make for great pulp adventure. And Machiste--tragically underused once he gets paired off with Mariah--in here in his prime.

 #10: A battle of the sexes with Morgan and Machiste versus Mariah in a race to the top of tower to win a magical artifact.

 #21: The culmination of a three-parter that is itself the culmination of the Second Deimos Saga that began in issue #15. Father against son with a tragic ending that will reverberate through the series until its very end in the most recent volume.

#22: Warlord playing Sword & Sorcery hero, drowning his sorrows in drink, and taking on a werebeast in a tower, where all is not as it seems.

#25: Still in Sword & Sorcery mode, Morgan turns mercenary, battles snow giants, and spars (with sword and quip) with Ashir, the second best thief in Skartaris.

 #38: Morgan’s daughter, Jennifer, comes to Skartaris. Not the most action-packed issue, but gives some insights into Morgan’s character and past.

#46: Morgan goes to the realm of death to save the soul of Shakira!

#48: Morgan and Shakira have one of their usual arguments, and Shakira’s proven right as Morgan attempts to play hero and stop a human sacrifice where all is not as it first appears.  Includes one of the series most clever reminders of the relationship between Skartaris and the Outer Earth.

 #50: The entire supporting cast appears for a “final” showdown with Deimos. It could be subtitled “revenge is a dish best served cold.”

Curiosities and Eccentric Diseases

Internet browsing yesterday revealed that Jeff VanderMeer has edited a new collection bearing the name of the obscure scholar Thackery T. Lambshead--The Thackery T. Lambshead Cabinet of Curiosities--which is to be released in June. This is VanderMeer’s second involvement with a Lambshead work, the first being 2005’s The Thackery T. Lambshead Pocket Guide to Eccentric & Discredited Diseases, Complete with Illuminating Illustrations. This first work, and no doubt the upcoming one, should be of interest to aficionados of the weird and to gamemasters wishing to add a bit of weirdness to their game.

The diseases described are a diverse lot.  Michael Moorcock describes Samoan Giant Rat Bite Fever in a Victorian idiom. Alan Moore elucidates Fuseli’s Disease--a skin ailment occurring (and spreading) in dreams. Jay Lake discusses Mongolian Death Worm Infestation. One of the best is VanderMeer’s own article on Tian-Shan Gobi Assimilation--a creepy and Lovecraftian disorder of involving fungus (calling to mind VanderMeer’s Ambergris novels).

Maybe they all should have heeded the implicit warning of Neil Gaiman’s entry--Diseasemaker’s Croup.

Obviously, a good bit of fun is had by all--which includes (in addition to those above) Cory Doctorow, K.J. Bishop, China Mieville, and Rachel Pollack--and many more. I expect the same sort of good things from the new book which promises an even longer list of writers and illustrators.

Check ‘em out, so next time you’re feeling hypochondriacal you can think you have something really interesting.

Using Your Head

The Havatu tribe in the jungles of Asciana are infamous as headhunters. Usually, the heads they take (and shrink) are battle trophies, but at least once, a Havatu shaman seems to have coaxed powerful spirits into a group of shrunken heads and created magical artifacts. These were stolen by adventurers decades ago, and may now be encountered anywhere. There are five heads, each with a different power. The heads are intelligent, understand any language spoken to them, and reply in the native tongue of the person they are speaking with (though their breathless voices and sewn lips sometimes make them difficult to understand). A reaction role determines how helpful they are. The heads may answer as many specific questions about their area of expertise as they are inclined to. The heads' knowledge doesn’t extend to other planes or planets.

• Bomju: Sees all things they transpire by day not hidden by magic.
• Gomdala: Sees all things that transpire by night not hidden by magic.
• Trukmak: Hears all things that occur underground, but tends to be most interested in the movements of borrowing animals, and must be redirected.
• Moromo: Knows the location of all lost things, but it may take her d100 hours to remember.
• Naapau: Knows an antidote for all poisons and toxins, but must taste the poison to identify it.
• Ap-Oora: Knows things of magic, and can reveal the basic properties of magical creautres and objects, but will usally demand  to be close enough to "smell" the thing analyzed (though this really isn't neccessary).

Black Gold, Crude Death

Eight years ago, rural life in eastern Freedonia changed forever with the coming of an oil boom. The discovery of a large oil field at previously unreachable depths, has caused rigs to sprout like weeds, and drawn drillers, wildcatters, and speculators in droves.

Oil drilling is a risky proposition in a number of ways, not the least of which are the paraelementals that dwell in the oil. The exact mixing of the primal elements that leads to the creation of the petroleum or crude oil elementals is unknown, but it seems to occur only under intense heat and pressure, and in the presence of the numerous fossilized remains of algae and other microscopic sea life. Having there origins in mass death, may play a role in the petroleum elementals hostile disposition--they’re infused with malign, anti-life energies from the Negative Energy Plane.

When roused petroleum elementals can break drills, or destroy rigging, and sometimes rise from the wells to kill. Some large oil company operations hire thaumaturgists to protect their wells and hopefully prevent such events. Smaller operations rely on the dubious accumulated wisdom of roughneck superstition--simple charms, crude sigils, and unthinking ritual--for what protection they can give.

Some thaumaturgical scholars worry about the sheer amount of negative energy present in oil. The undead hatred of life from so many organisms, no matter how lowly, has power. Will there be a price to pay one day for drawing it from the depths, and releasing it into the air?

PETROLEUM ELEMENTAL
Number: 1
AC: 3
Move: 6”
HD: 8, 12, or 16
Attacks: 2d8 (constriction)
Special: +1 or better needed to hit, flammable

Four-Color Cross Sections for the Crawling

My post of the Krypton maps went over so well last week, I thought I'd offer a few more maps from the pages of comics this week (plus it allows me to squeeze in a little more Weird Adventures writing time).  This time, here's something for the fans of cross sectional maps like in the Holmes basic set. 

If you're thinking about taking somebody's stuff, what better dungeon to raid than the one belonging to the guy with "those wonderful toys":

That's nice, but lacking some cool details--so to reall blow your delvers' minds combine it with this isomorphic map:

The batcaves all well and good, but maybe you want a whole under-mountain of exploration.  The Challengers of the Unknown's secret base has you covered:

Hey, Risus Monkey...How about these as geomorph fodder? ;)

Every Picture Tells a Story

More pictures (and more stories) from the world of the City...

Make one crazy wildcatter sell his claim? Yeah, It seemed like easy money. Nobody mentioned the golem.

"Come now, that’s unfair! You must appreciate that I have devoted my life to the study of thaumatobotany. And now, the change to cultivate and study such a rare specimen...Well, surely you would agree that in the pursuit of knowledge sacrifices must be made."

Chair horrors are another one of those products of an obviously deranged wizard’s imagination. They're incredibly tenacious and patient killers.  This is the one that got Tussman. It must have got his scent in a ski lodge five years ago, but finally killed him in the trophy room of the hunter's club in the last week.

Specimen 223.  It’s no ordinary simian skull--that was certain from the beginning. There’s the intermittent glow, of course. That’s what got it into the museum. The lascivious atavism it seems to induce in those in its proximity for extended periods was what got it confiscated--but not before some racy headlines were made.

Warlord Wednesday: By Ice and Fire (part 2)

Continuing with the 50th issue, let's re-enter the lost world with my issue by issue examination of DC Comic's Warlord, the earlier installments of which can be found here...

"By Ice and Fire"

Warlord (vol. 1) #50 (October 1981)

Written and Illustrated by Mike Grell; inked by Bob Smith

Synopsis: When we last left Skartaris, Deimos had just opened a portal for an audience with the Evil One of the Age of Wizard Kings. Deimos begs a boon of the diabolic appearing sorcerer. The Evil One wants to know what’s in it for him. Deimos tells him he’ll give him anything if he’ll restore his body, alive and whole. A deal is stuick, and Deimos is restored.

At that moment, Mungo, Mairah, and Machiste rush in to confront the Evil One. The Evil One, still new to his powers, feels himself slipping in the face of Mungo sorcerous onslaught, so:

After taking Deimos’ power as per the deal, he banishes the former demon priest so he can focus on the fight. Now that Sarrgon is freed and joining his power to Mungo’s, the Evil One quickly decides it might be better to stage a strategic retreat, and flies out of the castle.

Deimos arrives back in the Skartarian present, bemoaning the cruel trick played upon him.  The Evil One's mocking laughter (somehow) fills his ears. Ashiya, also getting her jabs in, shows him the Warlord and his band approaching in his crystal ball. Deimos, ever smooth, tries to get Ashiya to help him in exchange for making her a queen. Ashiya just laughs at his transparent change of heart, and tells him the truth--she spirited away Morgan’s real son. It was the clone he killed. Then she disappears, leaving him to his fate.

Deimos isn’t defeated yet. He still holds Jennifer, and he has his Atlantean technology. When Morgan and his friends ride boldly into the castle, they’re unaware Deimos has them in his gun sights--until he blasts Aton out of the saddle.

Deimos (dressed like some sort of space viking) has them pinned down with his energy rifle--all except Morgan, who draws his own pistol and goes for him, dodging and weaving between what cover he can find. When he gets close enough for a showdown, he finds Deimos has another surprise. The priest has Jennifer!

He demands Morgan step out into the open, and Morgan does so. Before he can kill him, Faaldren attacks, trying to save Jennifer who he has come to see as a friend. Deimos blasts Faaldren, but the distraction gives Morgan an opening, and he fires:

Deimos is blasted off the parapet, but he recovers quickly. He snatches a horse from Shakira and rides out of the castle.

Morgan runs down to check on his friends. Tara is only shaken, but loyal Aton lies dead. Morgan tells his mate he’s going after Deimos. Shakira wants to go with him, but Morgan tells her to stay behind and look after Jennifer (who’s still catatonic) and Tara. Morgan leaps astride his horse:

Morgan rides north toward the arctic, and into the cold wastes. He’s so driven in his purpose that he pushes his horse to death. Undeterred, he continues on foot, until he finds Deimos set upon by a pack of wolves. With a cry of denial, he rushes to his foe’s aid and either kills or drives off the wolves.

Unwilling to let Deimos die by any hand but his own, Morgan drags him to an old ship half-buried in the snows. He builds a fire, wraps Deimos in blankets and waits. Outside, the wolf pack reforms, and waits, as well.

When Deimos’ eyes open, Morgan’s harden. He stands:

Deimos shrinks away in fear. Behind Morgan, a wolf enters the ship. Morgan smiles. He holsters his gun, then waves good-bye to Deimos. He pauses only to kick the fire out before walking out into the night. Behind him, the wolf pack sets upon Deimos. Morgan doesn’t look back.

Things to Notice:

• The last three pages are "silent"--without dialogue or sound effects.
• Morgan and Tara never have any idea of the involvement of their time-lost friends Mariah and Machiste in events.
• In lieu of a letter column, this issue featured short synopses of every issue of Warlord up to this point.

Where It Comes From:
The title of this issue brings to mind the place of Deimos' death, but also might refer to the state of Morgan's emotions as he hunts his hated foe, only to leave him to fate rather than kill him himself.

This issue feels like the culmination, both plotwise and thematically, of many things going on in Warlord for sometime.  Morgan and Tara return to the place of their last struggle (at least as a couple) with Deimos.  Again they come to save one of their children--though they're unaware of that.  This time, there's a possiblity that Morgan will have his family restored rather than losing it.  However, the final image of him walking alone in the night snows doesn't seem particularly hopeful.

Another funny parallel is that canines again play a role again in Deimos' demise. 

Lands of Dream and Death

This continues my examination of the Astral Plane in a way that’s a bit more in keeping with real world beliefs--but mainly more weird in the way I’d like it to be. As I mentioned last time, there are “sub-realms” in the Astral. Two of the largest and nearest (to the material plane) of these are the land of Dreams and the Underworld. These two are about as stable as anything can be in a place defined by mutability.

Dreams
I’ve talked about Dreamland or Slumberland before, but I’ll summarize here. Dreams, balloons of astral-stuff, float up through the material plane, until they find their level in the Astral. Here they merge into the realm of the mirror-masked Dream Lord. He and his subordinates, the gnome-like Sandmen, monitor the onieric flows for signs of trouble.  These flows are the “canary in the coal mine” of the health of the whole collective unconscious. The Dream Lord and his men strive to ensure virulent nightmares don't infect other dreams, and that idle fantasies don't spoil and bloat to become perverse obsessions.

The Dream Lord also tends a garden of mortal dreamworlds. The imaginings of some mortal minds imprint themselves on the astral substance and become something more than dreams and something less than full astral sub-realms. These worlds often feel complete when one is inside, but experienced dreamers may exploit there relatively simple structure. There are often “wormholes” or “back doors” from dreamworlds into the Astral, though Sandmen work assiduously to patch these whenever they’re found.

Death
It is true that there are a number of noumenal planes that answer to the vague description of Heaven and Hell; it's also true that arrival in these planes of ultimate reward takes a while. How long “a while” is in a place outside the dimension of time, is a metaphysical debate I won’t get into here. Suffice it to say, only the very worst or very best of souls travel to their final afterlife destination quickly. The rest wait in the Astral, their subtle bodies staying stuck to their souls. At some point, the bored dead got tired of waiting and constructed there own afterlife of sorts in the featureless gray fog.  And this is the Underworld. It’s a sprawling city, full of shabby stand-ins for various afterlifes, giving the whole place a theme park sort of feel.

The dead wait in this ramshackle city to get their transit papers so they can move on. Some dead are in such denial that they simply sing hymns in their constructed heavens, or loudly demand punishment from imagery devils (or Hell Syndicate functionaries on a holiday) in their constructed hells, and deny the existence of the transit papers, byt they will one day get them, all the same.

Transit papers are deliver by the Gray Men, bland functionaries in gray suits, whose visits are accompanied by the faint sound of wings. The dead person’s subtle body then dissolves and their soul rises into the outer planes.

Until that time they wait. Some work jobs, or hang out in bars, or try to evangelize. Others get seduced by necromancers into returning to the Material Plane as undead. Some even get so used to the underworld, they start trying to find ways to avoid their eventual reward.

There are rumors that a few have managed to escape. It’s said they dug out of the Underworld and into the open Astral. Whether this is true, or just afterlife rumor, no one seems to know.

Ad Astral (Plane)

After tackling the Etheric Plane, and the two energy planes, it’s time to move beyond the material and into the astral. I’m going to differ with the standard D&D presentation conceptually, if not mechanically. It largely treats the Astral Plane as something of an exotic “outer space” (which is fine, in its own right, of course), but I’d like to suggest that the Astral is the “idea-space” surrounding the material world--a place of thought and emotion rather than matter. It’s an ocean with one shore being the phenomenal world (the material plane) and the other the noumenal (the outer planes).

In my previous discussion, I mentioned the astral body possessed by all intelligent beings. In a sense, they’re always there whether they know it or not. Their thoughts and dreams are given malleable form. Also, it’s the first place souls, swathed in their astral body, “rise” to upon death. Some of them stay there a long time, as I’ll discuss further later.

Astral Traveling
The near astral is a strange expressionistic or dreamscape overlay on the physical world. What places mean affect their astral appearance as much as their material appearance does. This zone is constantly disrupted, or rippled, by rising dreams and daydreams, and movements of creatures with astral presence. The deep astral is a surrealistic realm where all spatial dimensions are relative--distances may vary on different occasions and for different travelers. The distances between things are influenced by conceptual association--similar colors, elements, moods, etc., as much as anything else.

Certain inanimate objects have astral shadows. These are things that have been invested with a great deal of psychic, emotional, or magical energy. The planets, for instance, exist in the Astral, as do certain magical and ritual items.

There are cities, fortresses, and the like in the Astral. These are the sub-creations of extraplanar powers, or powerful sorcerers, or aborted fragments of the same. Physical law in these realms is more stable, having been established by the creator. The seedy astral metropolis of Interzone in the world of the City is such a place.

Other than where it would conflict with the above, the mechanics of the original and 3e Manual of Planes, work pretty well--the key is to make them a bit less mechanistic and a bit more malleable.

Tomorrow, exploration of the Astral continues with realms of death and dream.

The Scent of Fear

Phantom Gassers or Phantom Anesthetists are mysterious beings who make sporadic attacks on towns and villages by use of gas, and the widespread panic these apparently random and motiveless attacks cause.

The Gassers are human-like, though thin and androgynous, but their movements are strange, parsimonious almost to the point of mechanicalness. They dress completely in black and wear stylized gas masks over their faces. They have never been known to speak.

Phantom Gassers seldom operate in groups larger than three. They attack homes with relatively few people in them (no more than five) and introduce their gas with spray nozzles, through whatever means available--open windows, under doors, or the like.

The gas is colorless, but has a peculiar, sickly sweet odor. It functions similar to stinking cloud (lasting 2d6 minutes), except that all those who fail their saving throw must make a second saving throw or be feebleminded (as per spell) for 1d10 additional rounds. Even those who make the first saving throw are sickened (-2 to rolls) until they can leave the area, or the cloud disperses.

Few suffer any long term effects of the attack, but when word gets out in the community, everyone who hears the tale responds as if they’ve entered an aura of fear, and will react as per the fear spell if they encounter anything suggestive of another phantom gasser attack.

It may be that this fear is the true motive of the gasser’s attacks.

PHANTOM GASSER

No.: 1-3

AC: 8

HD: 2+1

Move: 12”
Attacks: 1 (gas, as above)

Special: If killed, a phantom gasser explodes in a blinding flash that is effectively a 3 dice fireball.

Krypton is for Adventurers

Krypton (the planet that is, not the element) is mostly known for blowing up--that and giving us the baby that would grow up to be Superman. But in Superman #239 (1971) E. Nelson Bridwell designed maps of Krypton appeared, revealing it to be one hell of a place to adventure.

Let’s take it by hemisphere. Here’s the “Old World” first:

1 Striped River: Simply a two-toned river? Surely not! I bet these are two different fluids with two different dangerous ecosystems. Swim away from a purple water shark, right into the jaws of a magenta river shark.
2 Erkol: “Oldest City on Krypton”--which means of course, ruins...and treasure.
3 Fungus Caverns: Yes, please.
5 Ruins of the Ancient City of Xan: See (2) above, except this city looks even more ruinous.
6 Mt. Mundru: The highest peak on Krypton probably has some monastery at the top where monks are waiting to teach their martial arts skills--and esoteric wisdom, but mostly the skills. Or maybe there are just Kryptonian yetis.
7 The Glass Forest: Where even mundane flora and fuana become dangerous thanks to their razor-sharp glass edges, and their habit of turning into a shower of shards when destroyed.
8 Jerat: “The Ghost City” offers two intriguing possibilities. It could be a city inhabited by ghosts, or the ghost of a city, whichever fits your challenge rating, or whatever the kids call it.
9 Vathlo Island: This “highly developed black race” is probably like elves crossed with Parliament. Or maybe like the super-scientist Globetrotters on Futurama. Whatever, so long as their key features are “black” and “highly developed.”

The “New World” Hemisphere starts off with a bit of a let down, because...

1 Kandor: isn’t there anymore because its in a jar at Braniac’s place. Maybe the dungeon’s beneath Kandor are still there, though.
4 Fort Rozz: is probably run by an AI which will go crazy, and turn the installation into a trap-filled Fort of Horrors.
5 Atomic Town: seems to be shaped like a pentagram, so is probably a gigantic sigil for summoning a nuclear horror. Probably Azathoth.
6 Jewel Mountains and 8 Gold Mountain: Sort of “Monty Haul,” but that was Bridwell, I guess.
7 Rainbow Canyon: An idyllic land of freedom from care--or one constant Prismatic Spray?
13 Bokos: The island of independent thieves--which suggests this is a guild-free shop. Maybe its like the city of thieves from Adventure Time and everybody who enters the city eventually becomes a thief?
14 Magnetic Mountains: In other words, you’re gonna regret getting the full plate.

Games of Chance

The lights of Faro City beckon. It’s a place were fortunes are made, and a man can go from loser to ruler in the course of a night, if his luck holds. Of course, he can also lose everything just as quickly if it doesn’t.

Faro City lies to the south on a barrier island in the Meropic Ocean. It’s a beach resort for the City and places further north, famous for the hotels and attractions along its boardwalk. It’s infamous for its gambling and its means of government--it’s an aleatocracy, that’s rulers are decided by the outcomes in its gambling establishments.

Win at the tables, and you’re unknowingly entered in a secret game. Win in that game and you'll found yourself congratulated by the smiling men of the Gaming Commission, given expensive accommodations, the run of the town--and a silver chip.  Winners are expected to officiate at certain civic events, and to make public appearances.  So long as they don’t seriously disrupt the peace, silver level high rollers live like royalty until their winnings dry up, or another high roller is chosen. Typically, this about a week--sometimes a little more, others a little less. Departing high rollers get a draw from an ancient and mysterious card deck. The smiling men insist upon it. Those who refuse disappear. Those who draw--well, you hear stories, both fantastic and macabre. 

Some High Rollers have long winning streaks, and at some point the smiling men of the Gaming Commission return and give them a gold chip. Gold level high rollers keep living the high life, and can make decrees with the force of law--so long as they don’t disrupt the prosperity or customs of Faro City. They're obligated to act as magistrates, resolving minor disputes brought to them by citizens and visitors alike.  Most stay at the gold level a lunar month, and then they're offered their choice of abdication (and a draw from the ancient and mysterious deck) or a chance at an exclusive, high stakes game.

About this last game, there are only rumors. Some say its stud poker, on a demi-plane where time doesn’t pass, at a table with cardsharps representing Heaven, Hell, and lesser outer planar concerns.  Others say the game is a simple one card draw from a deck held by a veiled woman. The exact states are neve specified even in rumor, but everyone is sure it's an unimaginably big score.

Note: Other rumors concern the smiling men of the Gaming Commission.  Some say they're alien fortunavores--luck eaters--drawing sustenance from the high rollers and eventual-losers they've trapped in their big beachside honeypot.  Others suggest they're probability sorcerers, harnessing the power of the ancient and mysterious deck for some purpose, and the games in Faro City are their recruiting tool.  I'd hesitate to put odds on either theory.

Warlord Wednesday: By Ice and Fire -- Issue 50!

Let's re-enter the lost world with another installment of my issue by issue examination of DC Comic's Warlord, the earlier installments of which can be found here...

"By Ice and Fire"

Warlord (vol. 1) #50 (October 1981)

Written and Illustrated by Mike Grell; inked by Bob Smith

Synopsis: On a sunlight peak above the shadowed Terminator, Morgan and Shakira look down at Castles Deimos. Morgan alludes to the bitter memories it holds for him. He’s interrupted in his painful reminiscence by the sound of approaching hoofbeats.

Minutes later, he and Shakira leap from ambush on to Tara and Aton! It takes a few moments for recognition to dawn, and Morgan has to break up Tara and Shakira’s scuffle--with predictable results:

All that settled, Tara explains that she was able to find Morgan because she knew he’d come to Castle Deimos. Morgan concedes that point--it is the place where he believes he was forced to kill their son. He says he has to go in and somehow put the ghosts of the past to rest. Then, he can move on and find Jennifer, his daughter.

Tara takes his hand and says they’ll do it together.

In the Age of the Wizard Kings, the desperate message sent via bat by Sarrgon Fire-Eye has made its way to Mungo Ironhand. Mungo helpful recaps Craetur’s transformation into the Evil One via the Necronomicon, and his subsequent usurption of Sarrgon’s castle for Mariah and Machiste. Machiste thinks Sarrgon got what he deserved, but Mungo suggests that an ancient prophecy warns of the Evil One and they must join up with Sarrgon and defeat him before he reaches his full power.

Back in the Skartarian era, in his castle, Deimos (what little is left of him) has Faaldren bring a now apparently catatonic Jennifer to him. Faaldren doesn’t want to hurt her, but Deimos commands him to silence as he continues to prepare his sorcerous ritual. In his pentacle he summons the witch Ashiya. She’s surprised to see him alive...and in the shape he's in:

Deimos reminds her of the Mask of Life (which she helped him acquire) which has left him undead and unable to die. Ashiya asks who the girl is, and Deimos replies its the Warlord’s daughter--and his future consort. This news doesn’t please Ashiya, who had her eye on that role.

Deimos can’t clone himself a new body as he has no living cells to use. Thinking of clones makes him ask after the clone they made of Morgan’s son. Ashiya lies and says she doesn’t know what happened to him. She also doesn’t let on that she switched the clone for the real boy.

Deimos knows she’s hiding something, but he’s got other things on his mind at the moment. He needs Ashiya’s help to perform a ritual so he can make a pact with the Evil One to get his body restored. The two quickly cast the spell, and Deimos finds himself facing the Evil One--who takes a jab at his appearance...

TO BE CONTINUED...Same Warlord Time, Same Warlord Channel!

Things to Notice:

• Ok, majority of issues rules: Zarrgon's name is actually Sarrgon.
• The Evil One talks in a more modern way, like the wizards of the Age of Wizard Kings, but unlike most denizens of Skartaris (and unlike his speech patterns as Craetur).
• Mariah and Machiste return after after being absent from the series since issue #41.

Where It Comes From:
This issue is the culmination of a number of plot elements.  We're still getting the origin of the Evil One, who issue #31 suggested might have precipitated the end of the Age of Wizard Kings. 

I'll save the rest of my comments for my review of the issue's second half.

Five Sinister Sorcerers

From the world of the City, here are five wielders of magic to challenge any party of adventurers:

The Algophilist: He’s older than current civilization, and he wants to make you hurt. His mistress is a goddess of pain, dead since the sinking of Meropis. Every tear evoked by her devoted servant, every scream and anguished cry he draws forth from his victims, brings his goddess incrementally closer to raising. Having learned (and suffered) at his goddess’ several hands for seven times seven years, the Algophilist knows numerous and varied ways to get his sacrifices. He can be met anywhere where the shadows make it easier for him to find victims, but he’s discovered a “backdoor” in and out of the alien city that overlaps with Hoborxen and often strikes from there, taking whoever mets his fancy to his sadist’s dungeon demiplane.

Hieronymus Gaunt: Lich and bon vivant (bon mourant?) currently on a world tour of debauchery and mayhem with a gang of followers in a stolen elephant-shaped hotel. In addition to his own sorcery, he's got a store of stolen magic items from all over the world.

Cheroot: Croaker (medicine man) and mugwump of a large hobogoblin tribe in the Steel League. He holds court in a large dump outside of Sunderland where he nightly incites the ‘goblins to ever greater crimes against humans. He wears a worn tophat which has the power to animate anything it is set upon (as long as it stays on it)--and Cheroot can command the animate to his service. The trash heap where he makes his throne is actually a garbage golem which will rise and fight for the shaman if needed.

Tsan Chan: Yianese nobleman, and leader of the Five-Headed Dragon Society crime cult. He rules from the shadows of San Tiburon’s Yiantown, commanding hundreds of axe-weilding soldier-fanatics willing to die at his command. For those who have particularly earned his displeasure, he sends his pet shadow dragon, who swims silently out of the night and drains foes of their very life.

The Unpleasant Woman in the Basement: What she lacks in looks, she doubly lacks in personality.  She squats like a gigantic toad amid the packages, correspondence, and pneumatic tubes in the basement mailroom of a midtown office building in the City. She's been there for fifty years and three building owners.  Those who displease her die in bizarre accidents or by suicide.  Nightgaunts fly at her whim. Scorpions will grow from her shed blood.

Nonfiction of the Apes

Can’t get enough of "Simian Saturday" over at the Green Skeleton Gaming Guild? Or perhaps your gearing up for a game of Terra Primate (somebody should be), or a some other post-apocalyptic game where now beasts rule?

Well I’ve got some nonfiction for you.

Hasslein Books (named, presumably for Dr. Otto Hasslein, originator of the Hasslein Curve) has produced two books of interest to the Planet of the Apes fan. The first is From Aldo to Zira: Lexicon of the Planet of the Apes which is an encyclopedia of everything in the POTA universe--and I do mean everything. Like there’s Apeslayer--which is to say the Marvel Comics UK version of Killraven where Wells' Martians get replaced by simian space invaders (but they’ve still got tripods). That’s only one obscurity to be fond in this near phonebook-sized tome.

The same author, Rich Handley, brings us the Timeline of the Planet of the Apes. This weaves (or perhaps stuffs might be a better word) the original film series, all the comic books, various novels, and even Burton’s 2001 re-imagining into a coherent--if not seamless--chronology. In addition to all this history there’s a cover gallery and index of resources.

While there have been some good critical works on POTA and its cultural impact, or on the making of the films, these are the only books chonricling the universe itself out there. The author takes a more inclusive view of other media than I might, but that certainly in no way diminishes the entertainment or game fodder value of the works.

Tales from the Graveyard

Barrow Island lies close to Empire Island in the Wyrd River. It’s the location of the City’s sprawling potter’s field, but its association with the dead goes back much farther. There are stately Dwergen cemeteries dating from the earliest days of colonization, and even unmarked Native burial grounds.

The only living inhabitants on the island are those that tend the graveyards. Over a hundred and fifty years ago, all the entire population of the island’s only village--some 700 souls--were found dead (and subsequently buried in a mass grave nearby). No further attempts at settlement were made. Still, the size of grounds to maintain and protect, and the large number of interments, necessitates a fairly large staff.

The graveyard staff (barrow men) are a clan of several interrelated families--”Keeper,” “Graves,” and “Digger” are among of the most common surnames. They’re usually a people of “unique” (one might say hideous) appearance, though their are exceptions particularly among the women. Whether this is from inbreeding, intermixing with their bitter enemies, the ghouls, or the dark influence of the island itself, is uncertain. Whatever the reason for their appearance, the barrow men are unperturbed by it--in fact, they seem to delight in the revulsion it sometimes causes in others.

The barrow men love a good tale, the more macabre the better--particularly if injected with a bit of gallows humor. They collect them, and swap them; the number known and their novelty are a measure of status among them. Any visitor to the island will almost surely be regaled with one or more depending on the length of their stay.

BARROW MEN (RACE)
Ability Modifiers: CON +1, CHA -1
Classes: All
Languages: Ghoulish
Racial Traits:

• +2 to savings throws vs. poison, disease, or contagion.
• horrify: If given time and opportunity (i.e. not in combat or other extremely active situation) a barrow man may enrapt listeners with a tale of horror. This works similar to the bardic fascinate abilty. After the tale is complete, a failed saving throw leaves the listener shaken with a -2 to all attack rolls and other checks for 1d4 rounds.

Random Queen Encounter Table

In 5837, on the fiftieth anniversary of Queen Victoriana’s acession to the throne of Grand Lludd, a plan was unveiled which was to assure that her reign and the glory that had accompanied it would never come to an end. The most trusted and skilled alchemists of the empire set about to great several clones of the queen, which were to be grown to adulthood in alchemical vats in a hidden underground complex--the Preserved Queen, she and her duplicates would be called. In the panic and chaos of the Great War, various factions of the government took it upon themselves to open vats prematurely, and perhaps some were damaged by the Staarkish bombardment and opened on their own. The result is that multiple iterations of the Queen may be encountered in the Lluddish Isles.

Given that various versions of the Queen are more likely to be encountered in certain places, this is really more of a random adventure table, than just one for a random encounter (roll d6):

1 - Queen Victoriana, Prima, born of woman: now over a hundred years old, but augmented with anagathics and magical artifice. She rides a spider-limbed walking throne, and bears a powerful eye and hand brought back from the astral by agents of the crown. She is not amused by the young copies vying for her throne. She occupies the royal residence in the countryside.

2.- Victoriana Le Fay (Seconda): corrupted by fae blood (or perhaps a darker lineage) in the formative stages, she has hair of a most unnatural red, and ram’s horns--and perhaps a devil’s tail. She occupies an abandon priory (surrounded by savage, living topiaries) from which she stages elaborate, drug-fueled orgies. She has little interest in controlling more than her dissipated followers, but she will not bow to a copy of herself.

3 - Victory (Tertia): an attractive woman in her twenties, she commands in the fog-choked, and morlock-haunted, capital of Lugdun. She personally (and recklessly) leads bands to rescue survivors and bring them to the hermetically sealed shelters, and also to retrieve supplies from roof-top airship drops. She is seldom far from her fashionable gasmask (the only defense against the poison, mutagenic fog) and her wonderbuss.

4 - Vee (Quarta) macrocephalic, and bodily atrophied, this clone was damaged in the war, and scheduled for culling, but was rescued by a cult of mutated, and mentally damaged civil servants. Her vat has been enshrined at the Science Museum, and attached to an analytical engine, through which she may deliver her pronouncements and prophecies through binary code.

5 - The Dread Queen (Quinta) - A ghost haunting the palace, feeding off the life-force of the living. She appears the same age as living Prima, but her clone body succumbed to old age after exposure to Staarkish toxic gas. She hunts for this body, and will torture any who fall into her hands to find it, but it has already been incinerated.

6 - The Darkling Child (Sexta) - Created in desperation by thaumaturgists willing to see the empire continue at any cost, this youngest queen is a girl of around seven, walled away and warded in a secret playroom. She does not eat or sleep--she is as much of the Outer Dark, as she is royal blood. She waits, and her power grows.

Sepulchral Choirboys

photo by mathyld Δ pyramids

A sepulchral choir, or spectral chorus, is an incorporeal manifestation summoned to drive a victim to madness and perhaps suicide. The choir is an apparition of skeletons of small children, only visible to the victim (unless the choir wishes otherwise) without the use of magic. Their beautiful, and intensely unnerving, singing is likewise heard by the victim alone--in fact, it specifically relates to the them, referencing their deepest fears, and darkest secrets.

The choir visitations will come mostly at night, but might also occur in the day when the victim is alone, even for a brief period. The haunting will so distract the victim they will suffer a -2 to all attack rolls and saving throws for a period of an hour after experiencing one, unless they make a saving throw. The psychic and emotional assault causes a progressive -1 per day to Wisdom, and an inability to get restful sleep or concentrate. The end result is insanity (as the options given in the confusion spell) or suicide. The choir may be turned (though this is only temporary), or banished by a remove curse.

Only one complete copy of the ritual needed to create a sepulchral choir is known to exist. It was found in the City, scrawled on the back of a handbill and left inside a hymnal in the Our Ladies of Sorrows Church.

Sepulchral Choir
Number: 1 with 1d4+2 in the choir
AC: 0
HD: (1+2)x number of choir members
Attacks: 1 (haunting singing, see above)
Special: have typical traits of incoporeal undead

Warlord Wednesday: Something Evil

Wednesday again.  Time to re-enter the lost world with another installment of my issue by issue examination of DC Comic's Warlord, the earlier installments of which can be found here...

"Something Evil"

Warlord (vol. 1) #49 (September 1981)

Writing and art by Mike Grell; inks by Vince Colletta

Synopsis: Resting by a creek, watching Morgan clean his pistol, Shakira suggests that some of his brashness comes from knowing he can rely on the gun to save him. She proposes a wager: she bets he can’t go from where they are to the next camp without using the gun to get get himself out of trouble. Morgan takes the bet.

As if on cue, Shakira notices an ancient structure peeking over the forest behind him. Upon investigation, they find the massive structure covered with inscriptions. Most have been worn away, but what Shakira can make out is a warning: this place is sacred to the Evil One, whoever that might be. As they look into the entrance and find an impaled skeleton, it’s clear that whoever he was, he wasn't hospitalble to visitors.

Paralleling the story of Morgan and Shakira’s exploration, we get a tale of the Age of Wizard Kings. It begins in the Great Fire Mountain, where the lowly Craetur has secreted away the Necronomicon. He opens the tome and reads a spell, leading to him being consumed in hellfire and raising as the diabolic-appearing Evil One.

The Evil One subjugates Zarrgon Fire-Eye, his former master, and takes control of his castle. Desperate, Zarrgon secretly sends a message by bat to Mungo Ironhand and his friends---a message that is to affect the outcome of a battle fought thousands of years in the future.

In the Skartarian present, Shakira and Morgan make their way past traps, some already sprung on some would-be looters, and some still waiting. They press on, as Morgan’s sure there must be something here of value, given the number of people who've tried to get in. They’re unaware that their being stalked by a hungry leopard that entered the temple behind them.

They reach the main room where another skeletal treasure-hunter died at an altar with a crescent moon medallion in hand. Morgan places the golden crescent in the altar niche that fits it. A vibration begins in a large wall panel. Morgan barely has time to push Shakira out of the way before it explodes, to reveal:

The giant mummy attacks. Morgan dodges its blows, and cuts its arm with his sword, revealing the mummy’s insides are nothing but copious dust. Sword in one hand, dagger in the other, Morgan slashes furiously at the bandages holding the thing together until it collapses in a cloud of fifteen thousand year-old dust.

After pointing out to Shakira that he didn’t use his pistol, Morgan says its time to go. Shakira asks about all the treasure, but Morgan’s only interest is finding his daughter.

At that moment, the leopard leaps from the shadows. In one swift motion, Morgan turns and shoots. The beast falls dead. Shakira compliments his shot--and tells him he lost the bet. Morgan reminds her they never decided on the stakes, but Shakira replies, “Let’s just say you owe me one.”

Elsewhere, in Castle Deimos, Jennifer Morgan lies sleeping. Suddenly, she awakens.  Her eyes are wide with horror as she sees:

Things to Notice:

• This issue repeats the parallel story gimmick of issue #17.
• Zarrgon's name is misspelled Sarrgon this issue (as it was in his second appearance as well--so maybe his first appearance is wrong and his name is Sarrgon?)

Where It Comes From:

This issue's Age of the Wizard Kings story is a sequel to the back-up story in issues 40-41.  If Craetur was Gollum inspired, the Evil One is more of a Dark Lord like Sauron, though in appearance he resembles classic representations of the Devil. 

The Evil One of the Age of Wizard Kings was first mentioned in issue #31, which featured another booby-trapped tomb full of treasure.  A similar altar with niches for metal shapes appeared in issue #26.

Two Monster Tuesday

Vivisector
Vivisectors are members of a phylum of alien automata known as physickers. They are believed to have been created by a now extinct race for whom the constructs performed medical functions. Sometime in the ages since, they’re programming was corrupted, and they began stripping every world their swarm arrives at of life. The model called vivisectors, or scalpel-bugs, look something like a cross between a mantis and a firefly sculpted in brass, and about the size of a mouse. Their forelegs are razor-sharp surgical blades which they put to clinically precise, and deadly, purpose. Vivisectors will generally be encounter in a swarm.

Vivisector Swarm
AC: 2
HD: 4
Attacks: Swarm (3d6)
Save: MU4
Move: fly 120’(40’)
Special: would have most of the construct and swarm trait abilities.
Individual Vivisectors only have 1d4 HP, and do 1d2 points of damage.

Dungeon Chicken!

Amidst all the usual junk mail yesterday, I was suprised and pleased to received a The Hungry Bulette postcard from blogging compatriot, ze bulette.  It contained the stats for the dread dungeon chicken.  I got a laugh out of it, and I also have an old school monster card.  Thanks Bulette!

My Favorite Setting Book

In my early high school years, in the peak of my AD&D heyday, my favorite setting book wasn’t even a role-playing game supplement--or actually a book, I guess.  It was The Official Handbook of the Conan Universe. Marvel published this thirty-six page gem in 1986 as a reference to its various Conan comics. At the time, I thought it was just about perfect, and reconsidering it today in the light of the recent discussion of how to present setting material, I still think it’s pretty good.

Mostly it covered the various countries of the Hyborian Age, but it also had articles on Conan and other prominent characters, the gods and religion, magic, and (a bit unexpectedly) arms and armor. Of course, being a comic reference, it was well illustrated by John Buscema, and Michael Kaluta among others. The articles were short, amd to the point--most were half a page, and only a couple were two page spreads. Also, each featured a related quote from Howard’s work to give “the feel.” Here’s a typical example:

And another:

Since I wasn’t going to play in the actual Hyborian Age, but instead cribe for it for my own Howard/Leiber/Burroughs inspired setting, I found these to be nice bits of inspiration. I also found this presentation style really worked for my own setting write-ups (I had tried. but never quite been able to fit, the World of Greyhawk model--I couldn't come up with those imports and exports, and population percentages). Looking back at it now, I still think it would be useful for running a Conan campaign, at least if one was already pretty familiar with Howard’s stories.

Beyond the Wall

In 5880, prior to visiting Staark, writer and Great War veteran, Geoffersen Turck, stopped in the Lluddish Isles. What follows is adapted from Turck’s journals...

Around midnight, a soldier shakes me awake and points out over the parapet. The sluagh are massing; there are at least a hundred, maybe more. They moan wordlessly and stagger like drunks, but they move with purpose toward this old, stone wall we stand on. It’s seventy miles long, twenty feet tall, and about fifteen feet thick, and its the only thing holding back the hordes of reanimated dead ridden by alien creatures out destroy the world.

Some of the Queen’s Albanish soldiers have captured one of the slaugh so I can see what they’re up against. It’s a man--or was. They restrain it, and tell me to watch. When it's decapitated, and the body's stopped writhing, something even stranger happens. The thing’s jaw moves like its pushed open from the inside.  First there's a shimmering like heat haze, then it resolves into a fat, crawling thing that might be a toad, if toads were translucent to the point of near invisibility, and their bodies and organs were trace with red neon.

The army wizard, wearing gauntlets of cold iron, scoops it up awkwardly like he's wrestling with angry jam, and stuffs it, squirming, into a thick-walled glass jar inscribed with runes. He fusses over the jar, whispering harsh syllables that seem to vibrate in the night air like a taut metal line, plucked. The thing's the size of a bowling ball, but just like it fit inside the dead man’s skull, it fits in the jar, and stares at us with vacant malevolence.

The wizard says it's a soldier, too, one of thousands, part of an advanced force from a plane of unformed chaos. They’re irritable things, affronted by the constraints of physical laws, and appalled by the solidity of physical matter.  They've been here for a while, waging a guerilla war against reality, inciting witches and would-be diabolists, exchanging inhuman knowledge for transgression.  The thinning of the walls between worlds caused by the Great War allowed them to bring over a larger force. “They all volunteered for a suicide mission,” the wizard says. “They had to take form to come here, now they can never go home.  They're only chance is to break down the whole material plane and return everything to primal formlessness.”

I think they sound pretty unified for a bunch devoted to pure chaos, and say so.  The wizard just scowls, and tells me it's getting late.  I decide he's right, and so I go to bed, secure in the knowledge that the material world will be here in the morning.

BUFONOIDS FROM BEYOND (low caste)
HD 3 AC 6 Attacks: 1 (bite 1d4 plus save or be paralyzed for 1d4 rounds); Save: M4 Special: Meld: may enter and animate dead bodies, which will function as zombies. May also enter the bodies of living humans. Humans so invaded must save or be dominated. They seldom stay in living humans long.). The bufonoid has knowledge of spells equivalent to a 4th level magic-user, but likely has access to specific spells not generally available.

Sucker Punch Reviewed

I saw Sucker Punch last night with a group of friends. I had read a number of reviews before hand which were mostly negative--though some of the them were so hyperbolic and shrill it actually made me intrigued as to what had gotten their dander so up.

My advice: be not too dissuaded by the reviews--if it looks interesting to you go see it. I thought it was good, as did most of my friends. Even the ones who were cooler towards it found it compelling in many aspects and though it offered a lot to think about.  It's far from perfect, and Snyder's reach likely exceeded his grasp, but its also far from vapid.

The good: there are great visuals--things you really haven’t seen done before to this degree (particularly in the robot fight scene), there's good music, and sumptuous production design. There's a straight forward but serviceable plot that doesn't flinch from the likely unpleasant outcomes of certain realities, but doesn't wallow in them either.  The ultimate meaning of events is ambiguous, and the relationship of reality to dream in the film, offers things to think about and discuss, you like to think about and discuss film. Despite what some people would have you believe this is indeed a film where things are going on--and it isn’t necessarily killing dragons and shooting down zeppelins (though there is that).

You should see it if: you don’t mind a large wallop of artifice in your film (so you can groove with something like Moulin Rouge, 300, or Speed Racer--In fact, it might be helpful to think of it as a musical where the songs have replaced by fantasy action sequences), and if you like visual style-heavy, thematic, but not big on character exploration, media like many Heavy Metal-style euro-comic stories, films like El Topo, or some anime.

You probably shouldn’t see it if: somewhat “downer” material really bothers you (things like snakepit mental institutions, lobotomies, or women forced to work in brothels), if anything that seems similar to a video game incenses you, or purposeful anachronisms bug you, or club-ish covers of rock tunes are anathema, or if the things described in paragraph above this one sounded awful.