Warlord Wednesday: The Beast in the Tower

It's 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...

"The Beast in the Tower"

Warlord (vol. 1) #22 (June 1979)

Written and Pencilled by Mike Grell; Inked by Vince Colletta

Synopsis: In a dive in one of the outposts along the Terminator, Travis Morgan tries to drink away his pain. He’s approached by an old man who offers to tell his fortune for a few coins. Morgan replies he doesn’t need anyone to tell him about his life; if the old man could manage to see beyond the bloodstains he’d see fire and steel, death and destruction, and loss. As the old man turns away, he offers that there is one more thing: destiny.

Later that night, Morgan is waylaid by four thieves. They find the warrior is not as drunk as they imagined. Morgan’s battle-instincts overcome his night of drinking, and he makes short work of three of them, but he doesn’t detect the fourth sneaking up behind him.

Before the last bravo can strike, he goes down with a crossbow bolt in his back. Morgan looks up to see his rescuer is a beautiful young woman. They lock eyes for a moment, and he is surprised to see something "nameless and unspeakable" there. Abruptly, the girl runs off.

Morgan notices that the crossbow bolt is solid silver. This makes him even more curious and he decides to pursue the girl.

He hasn't gotten far before he hears her scream. He rounds the corner and finds the girl being pulled into a tower by a group of soldiers. Two of them take her into the tower, while two stay to take care of Morgan. That proves to be a tactical error, and Morgan is soon using his pistol to shoot the lock so he can kick in the tower door.

He finds discovers the place to be larger on the inside than the outside, and full of crazily twisting stairways. And the door he came in is suddenly gone.

Then, there’s the large snake that comes slithering at him. It tries to squeeze the life from him.  Morgan stabs it through the skull, but its not dead yet. He snatches up a nearby brazier and shoves it’s contents down the serpent’s throat. Morgan’s left with what feels like a couple of cracked ribs, but he’s alive.

Morgan continues up into the tower along the surreal stair. As he notices the fire from the brazier beginning to spread, he thinks about turning back. Then he hears a scream, and that spurs him on.

At the end of a twisting catwalk he catches up to the other two soliders outside a door in the mouth of a giant skull. They don’t last any longer than their compatriots. Morgan kicks in the door...

And finds himself face to snarling face with a man-beast! It springs at him, catching him off guard. In an instant, he’s own his back striving to keep slavering jaws from his face. He’s dropped his sword, but he remembers the silver quarrel. In an act of desperation, he stabs it into the creatures side.

Before his eyes, the creature transforms into the girl he saw before. He realizes that she was a werewolf. The old man from the tavern is suddenly behind him, and adds that the girl was also his daughter. The old man apologizes for his deception.  This has all been a charade with the purpose of getting Morgan to kill his daughter to free her from her curse. He thanks Morgan and bids him goodbye.

Morgan worries the fire will soon consume them, but the old man replies he has no desire to leave, but Morgan must go to his destiny. In the space of a heartbeat, Morgan finds himself standing safely outside the tower as it goes up in flames.

He recalls the girl’s face which, in death, seemed to be smiling.

Things to Notice:

• Morgan gets his Sword & Sorcery dialogue on in his fight with the thieves.

Where It Comes From:
This issue is very much a classic Sword & Sorcery story--the hero goes into a magic tower and fights a monster for the sake of a beauty.  It even has a big snake.

The basic plot bears a good deal of similarity to that of "Mai-Kulala" by Charles Saunders, one of his Imaro short-stories appearing in the anthology Swords Against Darkness IV (1979).  While the settings are very different, both feature a hero duped by an old man into killing his daughter, who's cursed to be a were-creature.  Both stories appeared in 1979, so I don't know which came out first.  It's interesting though, that the old man and his daughter are African in appearance in this issue, just as the characters are the fantasy Africa setting of Saunders' story.

Death & Revolution

“Death revenges us against life, strips it of all its vanities and pretensions and converts it into what it truly is: a few neat bones and a dreadful grimace.”

- Octavio Paz

Death rules Zingaro in more ways than one.

This country of the New World, west and far to the south of the City, practices an unorthodox version of the Oecumenical faith that venerates the Barren Madonna, Our Lady of the Grave, “Sainted Mother Death” as its patron saint. This saint isn’t recognized officially by the church, and theological scholars speculate that she is either a syncretized pagan death goddess, or else an eikone of death dressed in an Oecumenical nun’s habit--or perhaps both. Her festival is the "Day of the Dead," where the people of Zingaro pay homage to the ghosts of their ancestors and offer gifts of skull-shaped sweets to any undead they encounter--which are not as uncommon there as in most of the New World, and no where so common as town of Cujiatepec.

Skulls are an important symbol to Mother Death, and the most powerful of the items connected with her veneration are the crystal skulls. Seven of are known to exist, but some thaumaturgical archaeologists believe there may be as many as thirteen in existence. These mysterious items predate the modern land of Zingaro, perhaps being artifacts of pre-historical New World civilization, or of drowned Meropis. Whatever their origin, the Lady of the Grave has claimed them as her own. Folklore holds they are the transformed skulls of men who so loved the Lady that she preserved a part of them forever--while taking their souls into her eternal embrace as God wills.

The skulls exhibit a variety of supernatural powers. An owner is able to focus a skull's power to strike an enemy in his sight dead once a day, and is able to raise one zombie a day to do his bidding. The skulls are also said to provide sporadic visions of the future. Most importantly, perhaps, brujos have predicted that the man who will rule Zingaro will possess one of the crystal skulls.

Death also rides Zingaro in the company of war. It began as a populist revolution over twenty years ago, but has become a bloody civil war with no end in sight. Various contenders for the presidency have bases of power in different parts of the country. They commit atrocities against other factions in the name of strategic advantage, and bleed their own people to fund their campaigns--which often require foreign mercenaries.

For the reason mentioned above, the various former generals, bandit chieftains, and populist leaders who via for control of Zingaro, also via for control of the crystal skulls. They are quit willing to pay adventurers to plunder Native ruins or old tombs in search of them, but probably just as willing to double-cross them when they have what they want.

The New Pulp

The sort of action-filled, lurid stories that populated the pulp magazines have never completely left us, but for a couple of decades have been relegated to horror and men’s adventure paperbacks to be found in racks at super-markets, drug stores, and truck-stops. These days, there’s been a resurgence of very pulp stuff in a more upscale market under the more acceptable guises of “thriller” or “horror.” They still may not be the most highbrow of literature, but their narrative verve, and wild ideas make them ideal gaming fodder.

Case in point: The Dragon Factory by Jonathan Maberry. This is the second of his Joe Ledger novels, though I haven’t read the first, but I gather its sort of in the zombie genre. Mr. Ledger is a badass ex-cop who works for a secret government organization which is now on the outs with the current administration (whose being duped by the evil super-rich, who want to get their hands on Ledger’s boss’s super-computer). Those evil rich are personified in the beautiful, albino, sexually deviant, brother and sister, Jakoby twins, who wanted to sell transgenic monster soldiers to the highest bidder, and their ex-Nazi daddy who wants to unleash global ethnic cleansing. And that’s all just the set-up!

In comparison, David Wellington’s 13 Bullets is positively mundane. It’s only got a state-trooper and a federal agent going up against a nest of vampires. These vampires aren’t the brooding, sparkling variety, but rather low-level superhuman monsters with an appearance like Nosferatu’s ugly brother. Though Wellington’s tale has many modern, cinematic touches, he draws on older myths for some elements of his vampires--for example they don’t reproduce in the usual modern way.

Apparently, in a later novel in the series, Wellington has the protagonists find the remains of a Union vampire unit from the Civil War!

You get the idea. And those are just a couple of examples. More pulpy goodness no doubt awaits.

Gruesome Twosome

Since most of my reviewing of the SRD monsters and re-conceiving them for the Strange New World of Weird Adventures is really a rejection process, I decided to forgo a tedious run-through of them all and focus on some that are easily re-imagined--like the classic lizardman and the hell hound...

“I’ll Kill You Alligator Man! Just Like I’d Kill Any Four-Legged Gator!”

Gator-Men are a species of reptilian primitives found in the New World. They are currently confined to the remote swamps and wetlands of the South, like the Mirkwater Swamp, and the Great Pahayokee Marshes. These areas serve as reservations for them, though constant vigilance is required to keep them in line. In the Southern New World continent of Asciana, vast areas of riverine jungle still belong to their fierce tribes.

Gator-Men in the Northern continent of the New World live in small tribes and eke out a marginal living trapping and fishing. Lurid pulp stories credit them with a taste for human flesh (and sometimes, a perverse lust for human women), but they are more likely to steal and eat human pets, and there are no verifiable accounts of amorous extra-species advances. They do have a love of alcoholic beverages, which are provided to them by unscrupulous traders. This only increases their natural surliness and propensity for violence.


Hell Hound on My Trail
Also called black dogs, these supernatural creatures have been known to haunt certain cursed families from the Old World. They are creatures of vengeance, which can be called up by aggrieved witches or conjure-folk to hunt down the offending party, and drag his soul to hell. Particularly powerful sorcerers might be able to bind a hell hound to their service for a time as a guard dog, though the spiritual price is no doubt high.

As no less an expert than Robert Johnson tells us, they may sometimes stalk the sinful on dark nights, in remote places.

Sucker Punch

This new Zack Snyder film had a fairly high profile at Comic-Con.  I don't know a whole lot about it, but the trailer has samurai, mecha, dragons, biplanes, and a zeppelin, so its got all that going for it.

Check out the trailer.

Now Playing: The SRD Monster Revue

In working on Weird Adventures, I've been taking a look at the monsters in the d20 SRD, thinking about how they might fit (or not) into the Strange New World of the City.  Here, for the creatures whose names are begin with the letters A through D, are my current thoughts, subject to change without notice:

A
Aboleth: evil Lovecraftian fish, surely exist somewhere. Probably somewhere in the deep South--evoking something of the ickiness of walking catfish, and eyeless cave species. Giant, albino, eyeless catfish--intelligent, and evil.

Angel: God’s (or Gods') got these servitors, definitely, but they're not called things like planetars or devas.

Ankheg: These probably exist somewhere, but they probably haven't be seen enough to have a name.

Assassin Vine: Tropical parts of the world are probably full of these things. I bet there’s at least one in some eccentric botanist's collection in the City, too. Or maybe in some unassuming florist shop.

B
Barghest: Things like this might haunt the remote forests of the Smaragdine Mountains, and probably parts of the Old World.

Basilisk: Native to Ebon-Land. Possibly extinct?

Bugbear: Congealed nightmare stuff.

Bulette: Grizzled prospectors and old Natives in the Western Desert tell stories about a predator that moves underground...

C

Centaur: Tragically, these Ealderde natives are now extinct. There was a small preserve of tamed and in-breed centaurs in the private forests of the Sultan of Korambeck, but they are no more. A few taxidermied specimens or skeletons can be seen in Ealderdish museums, though may of these may have been damaged in the Great War.

Chimera: Such fanciful beasts are the products of thaumaturgic experimentation, if they exist at all.

Cloaker: The Ancients left weird things in their underground cities.

Cockatrice: A rare creature that can be magically created, but doesn’t occur naturally.

D
Demon: Evil beings of chaos exist, and "demon" is a catch-all, lay-term for them.

Derro: Distorted tales of the Reds, told by unfortunates driven insane by their fiendish psychic torment.

Devil: The Hells are full of these.

Dinosaur: Found in remote Ebon-Land, or unexplored tropical islands.

Dire Animals: Yokels are always telling stories about over-sized animals (remember hogzilla?). Sometimes they wind up being true.

Doppelganger: Old Country legends are full of tales of this sort of thing, and superstitious immigrants bring those beliefs to the New World with them. And maybe the creatures, too.

Dragon: Another Old World creature believed to have been driven to extinction. There are sightings every year, even tha occasional dubious, grainy photo. The scientific community remains skeptical. They certainly aren’t arrayed in a toyetic spectrum of colors and metallic finishes, though.

Dryad: Tree spirits are known to exist, but tend to stay in more unspoiled forests. They can sometimes cause trouble for logging operations in more remote areas.

Dwarf: They appear in the world's mythology, but the closest thing to exist in historic times are the Dwerg-folk.

The Hills Have Eyes...And Teeth

If the regular human and hilly-billy giant inhabitants of the Smaragdine Mountains weren’t enough to contend with, travellers in remote areas may have to face ogres. Theses misshapen brutes are criminal ne’er-do-wells at best, and man-eating psychopaths at worst.

Ogres are thought to be degenerate relatives of the hilly-billy giants, and as such descendents of the Ancients. While the giants are generally well-formed and human-like in appearance except for their size (the males being a little coarsely featured, admittedly), ogres are misshapen in a variety of ways, akin various birth defects and disfiguring metabolic conditions. Ogres are also of squatter, more Neanderthalish build--they're typically around the height of the tallest giantish females (around 9 feet), but weigh as much as a male of the race.

The cause of the malformations of ogres is a subject of some scientific controversy. Some experts hold that its a result of centuries of interbreeding, combined with possible toxic exposures from the bootleg alchemicals that have been making for generations. Others believe that ogre ancestors made pacts with dark gods, and were twisted by forbidden magics--though even this school of thoughts concedes that a degree of inbreeding occurred when they were driven deep into the hills by the giant-folk. Still others think that ogres may be related to giant-folk in a way analogous to how ghouls are related to normal humans--a view likely to result in one getting “invited for dinner,” if voiced in front of ghouls.

Ogres live in extended family units back in shacks in the backwoods, or in cave lairs. Their relations are complicated due to interbreeding, so many members of the family will have dual relationships reflected in their kinship terms--”mother-sister,” “brother-husband,” or the like. In addition to making bootleg liquor and poor quality alchemicals, they also may waylay travellers on remote roads or trails. Robbery would be the least of one's concerns, as ogres are notoriously promiscuous eaters--they eat any sort of roadkill, and have been known to have a fondness for human-flesh. At the very least, they have a reputation for torture--something like bad children tormenting small animals, but on a larger scale.

Luckily, ogres don’t exist in great numbers. Rampant abuse of substances and violence kills many, and the same genetic defects that lead to their physical deformities cause a high rate of stillbirths. What they lack in numbers, however, they make up for in pure meanness.


Random Ogre Deformity:
Roll of 1d6 determines the number of deformities posessed by each ogre, then roll d20 the requisite number of times on the following table:

1. Eyes not level (1-3 inches difference)
2. Massive jaw with widely spaced teeth
3. Two small, useless, accessory arms on shoulder blades
4. One eye (40% chance of being centrally located, cyclops-like)
5. Cauliflower or absent ear (50% chance of either)
7. fleshy tubers on upper-lip (1d4, 1-2 inches long)
8. One arm boneless (50% chance either useless, or tentachle like)
9. Snaggle-toothed tusk
10. Six-toes on one foot (total toes still 10)
11. Ambiguous sexual primary characteristics
12. Extremely hairy ears
13. Scowling face of only partially absorbed twin on some part of body
14. Horn-like growth on some part of the head
15. Body covered by weeping pustules
16. Hunchback
17. Albinism
19. Excessive wrinkles, giving the skin a baggy appearance
20. Massively oversized  forearms