Lounge Lizards

Walk into a night-spot in Heliotrope or the City, or maybe even down in New Ylourgne, and you might unknowing rub shoulders with an ancient inhuman race. "Lounge Lizards," they’resometimes called derisively, but these sybaritic sophisticates have about as much in common with the various sorts of lizard-folk (gatormen, ciamen) as a movie star has with a skunk-ape. Unlike their brutish, reptilian country-cousins, they’re alluring creatures--but with a beauty alien to humanity--lithe, sensuous and gorgeously scaled.

They're great sorcerers who sometimes claim to have been the originators of the knowledge stolen by lost Meropis, or to have ruled the world of men’s apish ancestors--but they’re notorious liars, so there’s no way to know for certain. Some scholars link them to the Serpent in the Good Book, responsible for mankind’s exile from Paradise. Despite conspiratorial theories they probably don’t eat human flesh.  Probably. What's certain is that they're masters of magics of music, intoxication, sex, and illusion. They put their arts to use in their night world of jazz, liquor, and carnal pleasures--all in pursuit, supposedly, of some sort of mystical enlightenment.

Some former hangers-on of these serpent men (as they're also sometimes known) claim that they follow the pronouncements of a mad poet--the Lizard King--who performs at an endless party in his people’s ancient, underground temple. He recites in a husky, dream-darkened voice to the beat of bongos before enrapted human followers, swaying like charmed snakes before him.

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.