Warlord Wednesday: The Unfinished Dragonsword

I’ve discussed before some of the other fantasy and science fiction series that ran as back-ups in Warlord. Today, I’ll take a look at the saga of Dragonsword, appearing in Warlord #51-53. The series was written and created by Paul Levitz, with art by Tom Yeates.

Dragonsword tells the story of Thiron, an apprentice warrior of King’s Isle, sent by his masters to kill a dragon as an initiation. Thiron’s accompanied on this quest by his smart-aleck squire Dysillus, who is apparently a chimpanzee (though he refers to himself as a halfling at one point). The pair fairly quickly locate the dragon, and after a short battle, Thiron slays it.

Unlike a lot of tales of dragonslaying, that’s only the beginning of this story, not its climax. Thiron’s sword, bathed in the blood of the dragon, now seems imbued with the dragon’s spirit and power--and it talks in the dragon’s sibilant voice. This was apparently all according to Thiron’s master Jerrand’s plan, and that of King’s Isle’s ruler--the Archmage Anna--who mostly is called “Archmage,” presumably because “Anna” lacked the desired gravitas.

The Achmage plans to use Thiron and his dragonsword to kill her former partner,the Emperor Quisel, whose overstepped his bounds by acquiring a magical battle axe from a pact with the Netherworld. The Archmage says the axe is so powerful, it could perhaps leech all the magic out of the world and kill them all.

The whole group teleports to Quisel’s citadel so Thiron can slay him. They encounter skeletons along the way, butThiron easily bests them. One vanquished skeleton begins to warn Thiron that Jerrand and Anna are not to be trusted and will betray him. Jerrand crushes the skeleton to shut it up, and Anna quickly ushers Thiron along on his quest. Dysillus, at least, begins to get a little suspicious.

The group confronts Quisel. Anna aknowledges that her and Jerrand’s ancient vows won’t let them fight him, but Thiron can. Quisel taunts Thiron, asking if he’s bothered to ask why he was needed in all this, why didn’t Jerrand or Anna wield the dragonsword?

Thiron doesn’t listen to any of this and keeps fighting--that’s until Quisel disarms him. Thiron begs his companions to give him his sword, but they won’t. Anna says they cannot, that only Thiron’s own hand can save him.

Quisel, laughing, raises his axe for the killing blow...

And so the tale ends. Dragonsword remains incomplete to this day.

This short and unfinished series is interesting because its aesthetic is a bit more Medieval than most fantasy comics. It may show the influence of Prince Valiant, but perhaps owes some inspiration to the film Dragonslayer, which opened in June of 1981--though this was only a couple of months before Dragonsword’s debut.

Maybe one day Dragonsword will get a collection, but I wouldn't hold my breath.

Addendum: Learned reader Austin points out my post title is fallacious and Dragonsword did indeed have an ending!  It was featured in the next issue, but not noted on the cover.  That's what I get for relying on the internet and not verifying.  Ah, well!  Expect a complete review at some point in the future.

Monster-slaying in Suburbia

Sprawling as the City is, its hegemony extends beyond the borders of the five baronies, into suburbs and to more distant, smaller urban areas. These areas face the same sort of challenges as the City, albeit on a smaller scale. Wandering monsters occasionally come in from the countryside, or up from ancient catacombs. Creatures which specifically hunt humans sometimes find isolated, small towns or suburbs easier pickings, at least for a time. Then there are human threats from rogue thaumaturges, strange drifters, robber gangs, and the like.

Many suburbs and small towns don't haven’t enough funds in their community chests to hire many former adventurers as law enforcement, if any. Often, they have to provide their own protection, and so form vigilance committees, sometimes with several “clubs” or branches under the auspices of an elected body. In some places, people from all walks of life practice with weapons to defend their community.

Just like in the old days, mob justice can be miscarried, so adventurers should take care. Get fresh with the wrong waitress in a two-bit town, or flash too much magic to scare the rubes, and they might find themselves facing a gang of armed townsfolk.

You Never Forget Your First...Dragon

“My first adventure and I get a dungeon AND a dragon?”
- Chad, 2011

Yesterday, a group I’m gaming with reconvened after a holiday season hiatus. My friend Chris is GM of a Pathfinder game set in Eberron. Last time, our intrepid band, trying to find a way through a ruined castle built inside a gigantic cave, freed a fighter (a new player, our friend Chad) who had been held captive by performance-enhanced goblins working for some mysterious big bad. Agnar (as he named himself) quickly showed us what kind of fighter he was going to be, by rushing heedlessly unto an alchemical laboratory (from which several goblins had been attacking us from cover), killing a goblin alchemist, destroying a shelf full of potions, and setting the room ablaze.

That was Chad’s first ever rpg session. Yesterday was his second...and he killed a red dragon.

True, she was a weakened thing, and hobbled by some magical chains of some sort (how weakened, and hobbled in what way, remains mysterious), but she was still a dragon, and with her special goblin entourage, could have easily done us all in. With a little bit of tactical planning, a bit of luck--and no small measure of daring--we triumphed.

It’s been enjoyable to sit back and play instead of game-mastering, but what’s been most fun is seeing a new guy get into gaming. I should say Chad just isn’t a guy who’s never gamed before--he’s a guy who’s been actively disdainful of gamers, thanks to the customers he had to deal with back when he worked at a comic book store. To see the unbridled fun of getting scaling walls, taking goblin scalps, and charging a fifteen foot tall dragon with a frost axe turn a hater into a player...now that’s entertainment!

Dungeontron

I caught Tron Legacy last week. It was entertaining, though not of the caliber of my other holiday visit to the theater to see True Grit. The internet has led me to believe that a lot of people have a great deal of affection for the original film, which I had interest in as a kid, but never any great passion.

What I most liked about the first film was the design aesthetic, something that the new film “updated”--I think, to its detriment. French comic artist, Jean “Moebius” Giraurd was responsible for many of those designs, and his seventies Metal Hurlant sensibilities come shining through. Sensibilities which had their impact on the imagination of old school gamers through the work of Moebius, Druillet, and others.

Of course, Tron’s “world inside a computer” concept was always silly, and even more hard to buy today when the public’s knowledge of how computer’s work is greater than it was in the early eighties where they were essentially “magic boxes” to most of the populace. Still, if gaming and comics have taught me anything, its that cool things don’t necessarily have to make sense.

It strikes me that old school style adventuring could take place in a world of a Moebius/Tron aesthetic. Programs could have different functions lending to fighter, magic-user, cleric, thief sort of divisions. Maybe clerics, for example, are genuinely the priests/mediators for the “User” cult, interfacing with the System’s mysterious and puissant architects and programmers?

They could travel through glowing, block dungeons on a monochrome grid searching out abherrant code or virus-monsters which endanger the system (one could borrow freely from ReBoot here too, which did some of the conceits of Tron better, but without the cool design elements).  In classic old school style, digital adventurers could be champions of the system's Order against viral-haunted, error-filled Chaos.

Happy New Year!

Young 1927 looks all business.  2011...we'll have to see.

Calendars & Girls

In the City, as in our own world, the wall calendar is a popular place for pin-up art. Major corporations, like car or tobacco companies, can afford to commission their own art and have their own unique calendars printed. Smaller businesses, eager for promotional items, turned to companies that produced generic items like playing cards, match books--and yes, calendars--featuring pin-up art, which could be imprinted with their own brand.

Brun & Bonnell were one such company, and they specialized in promotional items for expedition outfitters, gun shops, smiths, pawnbrokers, appraisers, and other businesses who catered to an adventuring clientele. One of their lines featured “women in peril” illustrations--in this case, pin-up girls in exotic locales menaced by monsters. Below is the preliminary illustration by the renowned artist Reno, which appeared in a 5887 calendar produced by Brun & Bonnell:

For those interested in the City’s calendar (beyond the pin-ups, of course):

The months of the year:
Shiver
Gelid
Bluster
Vernal
Floral
Midsummer
Swelter
Ripened
Harvest
Redfall
Erefrost
Aforeyule

And the days of the week:
Godsday
Loonsday
Pyresday
Wyrdsday
Stormday
Lovesday
Mournday

The Titan and the City

The City once had a singular protector. A bronze-gleaming, orichalcum titan who watched, unsleeping, from atop the highest spire, and sped through the streets in pursuit of evil-doers. He was the greatest gift of the City’s greatest artificer, a wizard of science and thaumaturgy, who built the son fate had denied him. A son with an intellect and moral code as superhuman as his impregnable body.

The father and his City watched his son and creation with pride. The titan woke the somnambulist army of an insurgent nightmare, helped raze the hellish Charnel Gardens, smashed the Reds' war-behemoth nest, and nearly lost his life incinerating the Damnation Photo in the primal fire of his own alchemical heart.

It was all over five years ago. It was then the old wizard died.

The titan has barely been seen since. City-dwellers glance upward, and see the lights on the 86th floor of the Imperial Building that never go dark, but whatever the titan does in his creator-father’s laboratory, he doesn’t share with the world. People ask, “can a construct grieve?”

But the titan still goes out into the City, using all his resources to make sure he’s unseen. He goes to where he can't help but be reminded of a time where his strength and intellect were not enough.  He watches a lovely woman in eternal sleep.  A woman whose life he saved, but whose spirit he could not. He recalls with absolute clarity every detail of the brief time he knew her. He watches her with eyes that don’t blink, but dim a little with something that might approximate longing, and regret.

Perhaps the question people should ask is: “Can a construct love?”