A Piece of the Action

Lake City on the Inland Sea is foremost among the municipalities of the Inland Sea Combine, and the second largest city in the Union. It’s also completely controlled by organized crime.

Traditional government broke down toward the end of the last century, in the wake of vicious gang warfare. Finally, the boss of the Strillo crime family made a Faustian deal with the Hell Syndicate. Granted hellish powers and infernal soldiers to swell his ranks, he quickly overwhelmed the other gangs and took control of the city. Since then, a succession of gang bosses have controlled the city through use of patronage and influence-peddling, though they are certainly not above the application of violence and intimidation.

Lake City’s mayor and city council are elected, but all are indebted to the gangs. The city is divided up into territories doled out to “underbosses” who not only oversee criminal enterprises, but also control voting precincts and act as unofficial magistrates, in a sort of  de facto feudal system.

Poor youth look up to the gangsters, and hope to join their ranks one day. Every neighborhood has stories of a local kid who rose up through the ranks to get his or her own piece of the action through judicious application of street-smarts and gunplay.

What only a few of the wide-eyed youth ever live to see--an unlucky few--is the boss of bosses.  They never have to take part in the ritual visits of "made men" to pay fearful homage and offer sacrifice to Ziacomo Mostruoso, imprisoned behind strong thaumaturgic wards in the sub-basement of an old prison, his immortal body and devious mind ravaged and mutated by a lifetime’s exposure to the raw energies of hell.

Midnight in the House Tenebrous

There are places in Nla-Ogupta--that ancient, decadent, Venusian Venice--where Terrans do not go. The Street of Blue Vines was one of those. The buildings along it crowded close, as if trying to conceal some secret. The uncanny glow of bioluminescent lantern-jellies that cling to haphazard lines seem dimmer than elsewhere--as if they too were conspirators. It's said that in millennia past, when Egypt was young, the Street of Blue Vines was a place where cultists trafficked with inhuman gods. Old Venus-hands, deep in their cups, spin tales of cannibalism, and alien sexual rites. That's what the rumors say.  No Terran knows, and if any polite Venusian knows, they don't speak of it to offworlders.

But on this night, a Terran does wind his way down the serpentine Street of Blue Vines. His stride is unhesitating--he hasn't come this way accidentally. He moves purposely to the darkened, leaning structure which bears no sign or legend, but nevertheless is known to the denizens of Nla-Ogupta's underworld as the House Tenebrous. He has come seeking this house, and the service it sells.  He's come to buy a man's death.

The Street of Blue Vines gets its name from the eerie, electric indigo vines and foliage that entwine 'round its most infamous denizen, the House Tenebrous. The House only permits entrance at night--in fact, it may be that it can only be located at night.

A seated, robed figured, appearing as a short and portly man, his features completely hidden in a cowl, asks any visitor who he or she might wished kill, and why. The figure’s voice sounds distant, and tinny, and seems to emanate from all around. The man never moves, even in the slightest.  Sometimes visitors get the impression that there are others in the room--the feeling of eyes upon them, or the hint of motion in the shadows of the audience chamber. Psychically sensitive individuals report “hearing” distant, unintelligible, whispers, and an unpleasant mental sensation not unlike smothering.

If the man chooses to accept the comission, the price is variable, and not always in money.  If a goal can be discerned from House's representative's payment demands, it is that they seem to be aimed at reducing Terran influence on Venus.

Eventually, though a space of week or months may pass, all victims of the House Tenebrous are found dead somewhere in Nla-Ogupta (or in one case, on a ship having recently departed there) without any apparent signs of violence or physical injury. Victims always appear to have died in their sleep, though often their face and bodies are contorted as if in fear or pain.

AD&D Cosmology: A Defense

The so-called “Great Wheel” of AD&D cosmology takes its lumps from folks who feel its non-mythic, too mechanical, and over-complicated. To these charges, I find the system guilty--but I’d add for the sake of fairness that one should look at its virtues. After a discussion of this nature over at Dreams in the Lich House, Beedo suggested I offer a counterargument here. I’ve touched on ways I feel the Great Wheel can be reconceptualized before (twice)--but I’ll summarize my argument in favor of it here, before diving into a slightly new way to look at it.

So, to it’s virtues:

1. It’s complicated: That’s right--this can be be both a deficit and an asset. The system of correspondences, associations, and the like in hermetic magic is a lot less streamlined than fire and forget or comic book-esque magic blasts, but its got a little thing called verisimilitude. Ptomelaic epicycles are complicated as hell (and terribly wrong) but they’re authentic. The Great Wheel, ironically, has some of this “almost too convoluted to make up” charm about it.

2. It’s consistent: The implied setting of AD&D has morality (i.e. alignment) as a tangible force with teams, and secret languages, and auras (or something) that can be identified by spells. It makes sense that the realms of gods, devils, and the afterlife would operate on this same system--as above, so below, as it were. In fact, any cosmology that doesn’t take into account the reality of alignment in AD&D as written, is really an incomplete one, as there’s an odd, omnipresent force unaccounted for.

3. It’s weird: By this I mean its cobbled together (syncretic might be a better term) and idosyncratic. It’s strangely uniform in some ways, and oddly random in others. In other words, it reminds me of crackpot theories of physics, or theosophic ramblings, and whole swathes of occultism. Looking at that diagram in in 1E Deities and Demigods is like hearing about the Philadelphia Experiment, or reading an occult tome that claims to be the “real” Necronomicon. It’s crazy, but the sort of crazy that makes one curious.

All well and good, you might say, but what do you do with it? This a complicated question.  First off, I’d say take a look at it through these principles:

1. The Outer Planes are representations of “human” ideas/concerns (the Anthropic Principle).

2. The Outer Planes are not material places but conceptual ones: their appearance is malleable, and they're perhaps more symbolic than literal: perhaps like being in a dream in Inception, or maybe like Ditko’s surrealist portrayal of magical realms in Doctor Strange comics.

3. Each plane is sort of symbolic or representational of some aspect of its alignment: Hades might be the archetypal prison, for instance.  Deities don't so much dwell there in the sense they someone might live in the suburbs, they dwell there in the sense that are associated with its archetypes or ethos.  In this respect, they might resemble the sephiroth of Qabalah as portrayed in hermeticism-- Alan Moore’s Promethea being a great (and gameable) representation of this.

If this generates any sort of interest I might give some examples in a future post--or maybe I’ll give ‘em regardless, if I’m of a mind.

Urban Monsters

Over time, metropolises like the City extend urban sprawl into areas which were formerly wilderness--wilderness haunted by monsters. Some monsters are pushed further out into the wilds, but others adapt to the new environments in which they find themselves. Then their are other creatures who have always been associated with man and his habitations in a variety of ways, from freeloader to predator. Here's a sampling of creatures one might encounter in the City and perhaps other urban areas:

Gargoyles: are Old World creatures who have been roosting in human cities since ancient times. Historically, some Earlderdish cities are reported to have formed pacts with gargoyle colonies for mutual protection. The creatures must have either stowed away or been purposely brought to the New World. Though admittedly ill-tempered and certainly capable of violence, they're generally not dangerous (except to small animals like pets) if given wide berth. Researchers in the City have tried to make contact with the sometimes temperamental creatures as its hoped that an understanding of the metabolic curse, pertrifactio progressiva, that causes gargoyles to age into stone statues might lead to an alchemical cure for petrification of various sorts.

Oozes/Slimes/Molds: These organisms can be found in underground areas like sewers and subway tunnels which they colonized from deeper strata of ruins, or where they were dumped by irresponsible alchemical concerns. These organisms have been known to spread up into basements, or even through the walls of decaying buildings.  Such incursions often occasion a call to the Municipal Department of Animal and Pest Control.

Undead: Ghosts are common in cities, with other incorporeal undead somewhat less so.  Spectral automobiles phantom trains, and the like are more common in cities than in rural areas.  Freelance specialists do a brisk business in disposing of many sorts of hauntings. Zombies are utilized (illegally) in underground fighting competitions for the purposes of gambling, or as cheap labor. Skeletons are less frequently used because they attract too much attention, but some ostentatious necromancers employ them as (ahem)--muscle--for just that reason. Barrow-wights are sometimes found haunting potter’s fields, old catacombs, and occasionally upscale cemeteries, though the dark processes that initiate a wight infestation are not understood. Ghouls of the Strange New World are not actually undead, but have a taste for brains which make them dangerous, particularly if handled less than courteously. Vampires--blood junkies--tend to slide over their unlife from more respectable areas to slums where their victims are less likely to be missed.

Devils: The Hell Syndicate prefers to use human agents, keeping its infernal troops in reserve, but there are a few exceptions. Succubi and incubi are heavily involved in higher-priced prostitution rings. Hit-Fiends, mostly disguised (barely) as mundane muscle, back up particularly high-placed human gangsters, and are sent rub out particularly annoying adventurer-types.

Warlord Wednesday: Hypothetically Collected

Warlord began (and ended) its run long before the days of obligatory collections, so it was written to work as a monthly magazine. However, the dramatic arcs Grell utilizes, particularly in the early issues, lend themselves to a certain structure. Given the number of issues I have under my belt now in this feature, it might be worth looking back as those arcs, and how Warlord could be arranged into collections. It probably goes with saying, but my arrangement would probably never be how it would really be done--I’m more interested in story than printing economy.  So here are the Books of Warlord, so far:

Book 1: “Savage World” (First Issue Special #8, Warlord #1-5): Air Force pilot Travis Morgan crashes in the inner world of Skartaris. He leads a revolution against tyranny, and wins for himself the heart of a princess--a princess which cruel fate separates him from.

Book 2: (issues #6-15): Morgan gains a new companion (and a new enemy) in a brief return to the surface world. With the help of friends old and new, he must overcome strange challenges to return to his mate, Tara--and his new born son!

Book 3: “The Quest” (issues #16-21): The Demon Priest, Deimos, has abducted Joshua, heir to the throne of Shamballah, and son of the Warlord. Morgan and Tara search Skartaris for their son, and finally face their enemy in the eternal twilight of the Terminator--but even in defeating Deimos Travis Morgan loses.

Book 4: “This Sword for Hire” (issues #22-31): Grief-stricken over having caused the death of his son (or so he believes), Travis Morgan wanders through various adventures, and encounters Ashir (the second best thief in Skartaris!)--but ultimately he can’t hide from his responsibility or his destiny.

Book 5: (issues #32-39): The beautiful and enigmatic shapechanger, Shakira, joins Travis Morgan on sword and sorcery adventures in their quest to reach Shamballah and warn the city of an impending invasion.

Book 6: “War & Wizard World” (issues #40-43): Morgan and Shakira find King Ashir beset by assassins, and betrothed to a foreign queen--Morgan’s own mate! As lover’s are reunited, a Theran army marches on Shamballah the Golden. Also: Machiste and Mariah’s adventures with the uncoventional wizard Mungo Ironhand in Wizard World (back-ups form issues #40-41, possibly 29-31).

I should add there have been two actual Warlord collections. Showcase Presents: Warlord is still in print.

We'll return to the lost world next week...

Happy Birthday to Me

As today makes it T-731 days between me and forty, there'll be no long post, just Marilyn cutting a cake. 

Maybe I'll spend the extra time doing something worthwhile--like working on Weird Adventures...

Love (and Sex) in the City

The City has a holiday analogous to our Valentine’s Day, celebrated in the winter month of Gelid. Hearts’ Day, or Lovers’ Day, has its origins in ancient, pagan fertility feasts, and is a time when wise thaumaturgists know the powers of the eikone Doll are at their strongest. Her manifestations walk the earth, manipulating the lives of humans to induce love--or at at least lust or passion.

People who don't directly interact with Doll, tend to commemorate the day by exchange of heart-shaped cards and gifts with their sweethearts.  Male adventurers, like chivalrous knights in stories, are known to vow to win some prize or achieve some great deed for their inamoratas.  No doubt the tendency of adventurers to imbibe in large quantities contributesd to this behavior.

In general, sexual mores in the New World resemble our own world’s in the first half of last century, though the presence of magic has led to some differences. Coercive magic or charms, for example, are technically illegal in most jurisdictions, but such laws are infrequently enforced. People tend to be somewhat cautious about taking drinks offered from strangers, and the most prudent wear some sort of minor charm as a defense. Luckily, most such magics are of short duration and tend to only have a shallow emotional effect.

Prostitution is illegal in the City and in most places in the New World, but that doesn’t stop it from being commonly practiced. Higher class prostitutes tend to employ thaumaturgical or alchemical aids to enhance their appeal, and the pleasure of their clientele, particularly those of exotic tastes. Some of these enhancements are extraplanar in origin, coming from the lust laboratories (and sometimes the pain dungeons) of the Hell Syndicate.

Unwanted pregnancy is, of course, a concern. The usual barrier methods of contraception are known. Purely biochemical female contraception is understood in theory, but is at this point not feasible. Alchemical or thaumaturgic methods exist, but their use is nontrivial as the dosage must be varied based on astrological influences and the like, so failure rates are high.

Venereal disease also looms large. Healing magics can ameliorate the effects, but prevention remains the best policy. Militaries, in particular, view this as a serious threat to readiness, though different nations address the problem differently. Some promote abstinence, while others have instituted programs of education, provision of condoms, and alchemical monitoring.  In the Great War, some particularly fiendish (though not terribly effective) attempts at biological warfare used prostitutes carrying alchemically-wrought infections to strike at enemy troops.