Candy Zombies

Originally the flight of fantasy of a deranged alchemist with a sweet tooth, candy zombies now seem to be produced continuously in small quantities in the City by parties unknown. These poorly-formed, jelly confection figures aren’t actually undead but resemble zombies in their shambling, occasional moaning, and slack-jawed, vacant stares.

Candy zombies are prepared at the size of about 1.5 inches, however, they grow to roughly man-size over the next 24 hours if prepared properly. They can move their limbs from a few minutes after creation, but don’t take their first steps until they are perhaps 10 hours old. When fully grown, they are like normal zombies in most respects, except that they are susceptible to water--a river or fire hose can dissolve them in 2-20 minutes.

Perhaps the strangest danger of the candy zombies is in their exquisite sweetness. Any human that gets a taste of the candy zombie’s substance (whether by an accidental bite during a grapple or purposefully) must make a saving throw vs. disease or become addict to the taste of candy zombie, willing to do anything to obtain more unless cured by magical means.

Easter Bunnies

I hope the bird who laid those eggs doesn't come looking for them.

Leopard Skin Pillbox Hat

It can be found in secondhand stores and pricey boutiques. It’s been worn by socialites, gun molls, and even grandmothers. No one who has succumbed to the dubious fashion temptation of the so-called leopard skin pillbox hat has been left unchanged.

Nothing is known about the leopard that originally wore the fur, but the hat was cut from a larger garment--a magical raiment worn by generations of protectoresses of the Ebon-Land wilds, the Leopard Women. Some of these warrior women were native Black folk, others white-skinned foundlings. Whatever their origins, they were each imbued with a portion of a wild spirit of that ancient land.

It all came to an end at the hands of a jealous huntress--or so the story goes. Fearing she would lose her man to the wild beauty, she did what legend said no man had been able to do. She killed a leopard woman, and claimed her vestments.

This story may only be so much pulp fiction. What is undisputed fact is that there exist possibly as many as three pillbox hats of leopard skin that can corrupt their wearers with a bestial spirit. Slowly, the spirit of the hat works to make the owner more short-tempered and predatory in her interactions with others (failing a saving throw as with lycanthropy). This spirit, invisible to anyone else, will at times be visible to the owner as a mirror image of herself, dressed in a leopard skin outfit.

The wearer will be goaded by this other personality into increasingly antisocial acts to further her goals (if alignment is used, it changes to Chaotic). While no visible physical transformation occurs, the owner develops (over 2-16 days) the uncanny ability to perform the physical feats of the leopard (climbing, jumping, stealth, etc.). Note that the owner does not to have to wear the hat any more frequently than once every 3 days for the change to take place, as long as they remain the owner (meaning it is not out of their possession for more than 7 consecutive days).

The outcome of the transformation is often death or imprisonment for the owner. Somehow, the hat always seems to make its way back to retail afterwards, though it make take months for this to occur.

The ultimate goal of the beast spirit seems to be vengeance against civilization. It may be that it can be placated with the appropriate ritual, but no one has yet discovered it.

The Blackmailer and the Baboon

In last night's Weird Adventures game, Creskin and Don Diabolico set out to help poor, wayward deb Sue Ann Wilde who'd been taken advantage of by her ex-boyfriend--the now deceased ghoul, Dean.  Dean had taken her to a antiquarian book dealer, Leland Throne, who dabbled in photography--specifically, compromising photos he could presumably sell to private collectors or use as blackmail.

Diabolico got to show off his gentleman thief skills by getting them into Throne's book shop in the middle of the night.  A hidden ledger and a stray picture of Sue Ann let the boys know they were on the right track.  They confirmed Throne was planning to call Sue Ann's wealthy father for blackmail.

The two paid a visit to Throne's residence on the Upper Eld Side. They discovered that Throne had gaudy tastes in home furnishings--and had a pet baboon!

Not wanting to tangle with a baboon and Throne in the middle of the night, our heroes returned rested (and spell replenished) the next day when Throne was at work.

A quick sleep spell put the the baboon down.  Rummaging through Throne's stuff turned up a lot of risque photos--including the ones of poor Sue Ann.  They also found the vial with the potion Throne had used to drug her and another with potion of bull's vigor--which the local pharmacist implied was a sexual enhancement. 

So they don't come off as too altruistic, I should point out that Creskin and Diabolico robbed both Throne's backroom safe at work and his strongbox at home.  They even stole his camera and the decorative (maybe) scimitar hanging on the wall over his bed.  Maybe we can file that all under "getting what he deserved?"

Warlord Wednesday: Full Circle (Part 4)

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...

"Full Circle"

Warlord Annual #3 (1984)

Written by Cary Burkett; Penciled by Dan Jurgens; Inked by Mike DeCarlo.

Synopsis: Daamon has absconded with a saucer timeship—and Shakira. Morgan isn’t about to let a “second rate Deimos” get away from him. He and Krystovar pursue on skysleds.

The saucer begins to malfunction. Morgan flies alongside and tells Shakira to jump. When she does, he grabs her with the tractor beam. Daamon manages to bring the ship down in one piece, but then he disappears in flash of chronal radiation into the space between time and no-time (wherever that is). And then there’s the Red Moon:

Back in the Atlantean city our heroes attend a celebration in their honor. Reno can’t enjoy it, because he still hasn’t found a way to free the other timeships from the void. Shakira and Morgan take him over to Daamon's Red Moon-tech sanctum, and Reno’s mood begins to improve. In a few days, he’s got the machines rigged up and is able to pull the other ships from the timestream. The problem now is that they still are leaking chronal radiation and will need to be stored somewhere.

Atlantean guards bring Daamon’s wife and child to Morgan so he can decide their fate. Morgan knows that to let the child live will lead to Deimos being born—and all the pain that the demon priest caused in his life. Still, Morgan can’t kill an innocent. He tells the men to let them go.

Reno calls Morgan over. Morgan turns to see…himself and his friends from back at the beginning of this whole storyline! This time, our heroes experience what they only observed last time.

The chronal fog rolls in and they're transported back to the underground weapons cache they started from. Morgan is reunited with Tara.  He realizes this cave is the perfect place to store the saucerships, because—well, that’s where they found them to begin with.

For those at following at home, Krystovar and Morgan summarize what we’ve learned in this arc:

Things to Notice:

• Morgan and Shakira seem to specially put back on their future clothes just to make sure their dressed correctly to meet their past selves.
• Daamon's disappearance into the time void leaves open the option of him returning at some point.

Where It Comes From:

At last, we get back to the paradoxical meeting this storyline started out with back in issue #79. Morgan's refusal to kill Daamon's wife and infant son of course forms a poignant counterpoint to Deimos (their descendant) forcing Morgan to kill his own infant (albeit cloned and rapid-aged) son.

Waxy

Here's some new art by Loston Wallace for a little Weird Adventures project for Gen Con.  This is Waxy Moldoon. His story illustrates how fortune and failure can sometimes go hand and hand in the City. Waxy was a sadsack wiseguy wannabe, until an chance meeting with Mr. Scratch (if there's such a thing) left him something more--and less--than human.  Waxy's flesh seems to be melting--slowly.  A touch of his uncovered flesh can pass his condition on to others, in a more acute form. Anybody touched by Waxy who fails a saving throw will find his or her flesh beginning to liquify.  Success at a second saving throw means the liquification stops a point where the victim is still alive, though not much more than a lumpen mass.  Failure means the victim dies leaving only a puddle.  The process takes d100 hours.

Waxy's power has gotten him closer to being the big shot he always wanted to be.  He's got soldiers behind him, and he's an up and comer in the City's underworld, but he still isn't happy.  Everybody Waxy's touch sends oozing into oblivion is another reminder just what maybe waiting for him one day.

Titans, Wrathful and Otherwise

 

Based on the previews I was hoping Wrath of the Titans would be a bit better than its predecessor, the 2010 remake of Clash of the Titans. Unfortunately, it largely has the virtues and flaws of the first film. It has a couple of interesting locales (a forest filled with traps and cyclopes, and Tartarus as an ever-shifting labyrinth), but overall it has less spectacle than the "similar in plot but more visually interesting in a stagey way" Immortals (2011).

If you’re looking for rpg inspiration in the area of titans (clashing or wrathful), I’d suggest forgoing all these films and checking out John C. Wright’s fantasy trilogy, "The Chronicles of Chaos" (Orphans of Chaos (2005), Fugitives of Chaos (2006), Titans of Chaos (2007). The series tells the story of five unusual orphans, who have lived their lives as the sole attendees at a British boarding school. It turns out that the five teens aren’t orphans at all, but hostages, securing a truce in the primal war between the Prelapsarian Titans and the Cosmos created by the renegade Cronus. Of course, the teens escape.

The five titan children each wield a different magical paradigm: Quentin practices sorcery and treats with spirits, Colin has the psychic ability to make reality conform to his will, Victor can manipulate matter on a molecular level, Amelia can perceive and tweak higher order dimensions, and Vanity can create doors and has a magic boat. The paradigms (and the paradigms of their foes, the Olympians) act in a “rock, paper, scissors” fashion that is not only clever but eminently gameable.

Wright’s modern world of hidden mythological beings has some resemblance to similar media, but he works with things in fresh ways. Grendel’s mother is the “mother of monsters” Echidna. The master artificer Telchines are more or less robots. The Laegystronians are literally Martians.

While the series seems ready made for something like White Wolf’s Scion (though Wright initially came up with the idea for a campaign in the Amber rpg), there are rich details that could be swiped for almost any game.