A Great Face for Radio

Through the magic of G+ Hangouts, I had a chat yesterday with Christopher Helton of the Dorkland! blog on Weird Adventures, Gen Con, and comic books.

At Midnight, All the Agents

Today I'm proud to feature a guest post: Jack of Tales of the Grotesque and Dungeonesque explores an unchronicled aspect of the City... 

“Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape.”

– William S. Burroughs

The vampiric blood-addicts are a known menace on the streets of the City; however, out of the all-too-common tragedy of need has come an ever darker threat to the City's denizens. Agents from Ealderde, the Old World, appear to be tracking the movements and aptitudes of blood-junkies; those that show “promise” are introduced to a mysterious injectable referred to as Malthus serum.

Malthus serum doesn't cure a vampire, but it makes blood addiction manageable; it allows the vampire to function in society and even alleviates the physical and psychological symptoms of withdrawal—at least temporarily.

More importantly, from the point of view of the Ealderdish agents who lurk in the shadows, Malthus serum treats the tell-tale signs that indicate a vampire's foul addiction; vampires who have been administered a steady dosage of the serum develop neither the usual bodily sores, nor do they lose hair or muscle mass, nor are they jaundiced of tooth, claw, and eye. In fact, on a Malthus regimen a vampire will face none of the physical drawbacks common to their condition, but retain all of the powers and abilities granted by their addiction.

Of course, the agents don't provide Malthus serum out of the goodness of their hearts. Rather, they administer the supplemental drug in order to hook the vampire on the “high” of exercising their powers without the gnawing pull of crippling addiction.

Nothing comes for free in the City. Once a vampire has proven themselves useful to an agent, the agent will begin requiring them to perform acts of spying, sabotage, and even assassination in return for the next serum injection. The agent becomes the vampire's handler, dispensing both drugs and secret missions that fulfill strange agendas to the of benefit distant financiers in the Old World. The vampire, for his or her part, becomes a nosferagent in thrall to unknown invisible hands that order machinations from afar.

Hell's Hoods: Two-Faced Politician

Dispater rules the infernal metropolis of Dis, but he likes to stay behind the scenes. The day to day operation of the city is overseen by an elected mayor.  For centuries that post has been held by Bifrons.

Bifrons serves as the Dis family underboss. Though publically he keeps a bit of distance from the activities of the Hell Syndicate, the damned are not fooled. They also know that whatever candidates may rise and however fierce the campaign, Bifrons is always re-elected when the ballots are counted.

When greeting his constituents and pressing the flesh, Bifrons appears as man with a moon-shaped head and a wide, benevolent grin.  He dresses in a gold business suit.  He speaks largely in political platitudes delivered in a convivial voice.  If there were genuine babies in Hell, he would probably kiss them.

In private, he reveals more of his true nature: he’s two-faced--literally.  The two faces are sagging and ill-fitting on whatever lies beneath.  They face to each side and are stitched together in the middle with rawhide. The face on Bifrons’s right is something like his public face, but ill-fitting skinned makes his appear sunken and shadowed, his sagging grin is grotesque and idiotic. The face on his left is that of snarling monster: pale green with a mouth full of crooked teeth, and irisless eyes lolling in their sockets under bushy brows.

In either form, he smells of a bit too-thick cologne. His shadow flickers and jitters like a silent movie image.

Combat: Bifrons prefers to avoid combat and talk his way out of things.  When he’s unable to do so, he prefers the personal touch: He’s an adept wrestler, as strong as a [stone] giant. For quick resolution to problems, he can backstab like a 10th level thief with his gleaming gold letter-opener, should the opportunity present itself.

Diabolic Abilities: Bifrons can charm at will. Through his oratory, he can perform various bard-like abilities, including suggestion and inspire.

Pacts: Bifrons is willing to help those dealing with issues of politics or involved in elections. He can also reveal the damaging secrets of any politician or political leader, if they exist.  A evocator must put on formal clothes and stand in front if a mirror, practicing a speech in which calls to Bifrons have been inserted. The devil will appear in the mirror in place of the person's reflection.

Bifrons may gift his suit to a mortal.  Though it’s appearance changes depends on who wears it, it always brings success and public acclaim--for a time.  Eventually, ruin and scandal are its rewards..

A Weird Adventures Companion

As suggested by the current contest, I'm in the early stages of work on the Weird Adventures Companion, a follow to the main book (priced to own at RPGNow).  Other than adventure seeds, it will include more information for players in the world of the City, some new monsters, and some other stuff.  Some of it will be collated from the blog, but there will also be new material.  More to come as the project moves along.

Speaking of the contest, just over a week to go until the deadline.  Get those those adventure seeds in!

In other news, I'll be doing the Dorkland! Roundtable on G+ Hangouts on September 10th.  I'll be talking with host Chris Helton about Weird Adventures.  Check it out if you want to hear me talk about it rather than just reading about it.

Hell's Hoods: Casino Infernale

Among the sinful (and dubious) pleasures of Hell are the gambling houses in its sprawling city of Dis. From every back alley dice game to high-class casino, these are owned by the Pluton family and run by the powerful capo, Asmodai. He also oversees the Hell Syndicate’s gambling interests on the Material Plane, bringing more souls to Hell's gates with the promise of riches.

Asmodai appears as a red-skinned, horned man whose good looks are spoiled by a almost perpetual leer. He dresses in the hippest of silk suits (also red). His voice is as smooth as any crooners--when he wants it to be.  He casts no shadow, but when he passes by, mortals hear fevered, whispering voices urging them to take chances, promising the big score.

Asmodai turns a pair of dice in his left hand, that he can tie to the fate of any mortal (with their consent--though not necessarily with full awareness of what they’re consenting to) for a single toss of perhaps life and death importance. He is said to be able manipulate fate on a small scale to make him difficult to kill in combat. His primary weakness is his own predilection for gambling: He finds it hard to pass on a bet.

Often seen in Hell’s ritziest casinos is a beautiful woman who appears to be made of gold. She moves gracefully amid the tables where chips redeemable for damned soul fragments are wagered, smiling (and even occasionally winking) at hard-eyed and sneering pit (fiend) bosses. This is Beleth, Asmodai’s moll. The old grimoires say her diabolic beauty has tempted men to blasphemy and murder, and not much seems to have changed. She can turn anything she touches to gold, and also return things to their original form at her whim. She’s chattier than most devils and is a good source of infernal gossip, if she takes a liking to you.

Beleth's velvet shadow is flecked with gold dancing like dust motes in a sunbeam.

Warlord Wednesday: Skartaris Unchained (part 2)

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...

"Skartaris Unchained"

Warlord #100 (December 1985)

Written by Michael Fleisher; Art by Adam Kubert.

Synopsis: Despite Morgan’s sudden appearance in his sanctum, Cykroth isn’t surprised for long.  He unleashes a succession of mystic blasts that send Morgan to the ground. They would have been deadly, if Jennifer wasn’t using her powers to shield her father. Cykroth figures this out and summons a giant snake to constrict Morgan and see just how powerful Jennifer is.

Meanwhile, Krystovar still holds the doorway, but he’s wound and tiring. He notices the lower legs of the centaur statues are cracked. He takes a metallic rope from the drapery and lassoes one of the statue’s legs.  As a mass of soldier’s rush at him, he pulls with all his might:

The passage is blocked but at the cost of Krystovar’s life.

Morgan’s still battling the serpent. His bullets and blade can’t harm it.  Morgan realizes it’s an illusion—the primal fear of serpents conjured from his mind.  He wills it out of existence and fires on his real enemy.  Cykroth laughs, seemingly impervious to the Warlord’s weapons.  Inwardly, he worries his energies may soon be depleted under the fierce warrior’s onslaught.

In Shamballah, Mariah raises the signal banner above the city, while Machiste and Shakira open the gates. Tara leads her army in, Braveheart-style: “For Shamballah! For Freedom!”

Lord Sabertooh orders the energy cannons to open fire, only to find they’ve all been sabotaged, courtesy of our heroes.

His shields weakening against Morgan’s attack, Cykroth begins to draw life-energy from his minions to save himself. In Shamballah, New Atlantean troops begin to visibly age and weaken before their foes.

If triumph seems close in Shamballah, Morgan has been put on the defensive in New Atlantis. The reinvigorated Cykroth manages to wound both Morgan and Jennifer with his blasts.  Morgan dodges blast after blast, but finally:

And Jennifer’s landing is hard:

Morgan has lost his magical protection! Still, he’s notices that Cykroth’s own protective aura drops briefly following every blast. If he can strike at the precise instant…Only now he manages to let Cykroth trap him in a corner of the room.  The next blast will kill him.

When, a wounded Graemore staggers into the room.  He calls out the cyclops—with predictably tragic results:

But he gives Morgan the opening he needs. Cykroth spins back toward his foe to get a blade in his only eye. The Wizard-King of New Atlantis dies.

In Shamballah, Lord Sabertooth sees his army falter as his best troops wither before his eyes. Perhaps only the beast-man transformation saved him that fate. Sabertooth doesn’t have much time to consider it, as Machiste drops from above.  The two do battle.

Shamballah has been retaken.  Tara surveys the battlefield. The Atlantean troops are decaying away, and Sabertooth:

A celebration is in preparation. They only wait for Morgan to return.  His battle won, he rides to check on his daughter.  He’s startled by what he finds:

Things to Notice:   

• After the passing of Scarhart and the death of Krystovar this issue, the cast is down to only Grell created characters.  It's almost as if things were being "reset" in some way.  Hmmmm...
• Of course, Graemore (a Grell era character) also dies this issue, ending forever the hinted but never quite materialized love triangle.

Notes:
The portrayal of Graemore in this issue (and indeed in the Burkett run that proceeded it) makes him a sensitive minstrel type.  In his early appearances, he was more of a man of action.

Burkett seems to have been setting up a confrontation between Krystovar and his beast-men converted brother.  The only likely suspect for his brother was Lord Saber-Tooth.  Unfortunately, Fleisher dispenses with that subplot and so we never find out.

Hell's Hoods: The Fat Man

The arch-devil Mammon is the lord of greed. He’s boss of the Pluton Family, which keeps the books for the entire Hell Syndicate and sees to the corrupting of mortal souls with avarice. Mammon has his meaty talons in loansharking, real estate schemes, gambling, and counterfeiting.


In this age, Mammon appears as a rotund, horned, oxblood-skinned humanoid in a banker’s suit. His scrawny legs might not be able to support his bulk, if it weren’t for the efforts of his small (yet obviously strong) wings. With them, he's as light on his feet as a ballerina, if the need arises. His flabby jowls are pockmarked. His golden eyes glint like dancing coins in the big score never obtained. He smells like old leather. His shadow is gray, swirling, and pungent as cigar smoke.

Combat: Mammon assiduously avoids combat whenever possible. If necessary, he uses his diabolic abilities below.

Diabolic Abilities: The infernal boss possesses a gilded pocket watch that can stop time in a room or small area for up to 3 minutes or cause a person to age 2-20 years. Turning any unit of currency in his hand, Mammon can fascinate a victim who fails a saving throw with dreams of avarice. He can only use this power once on any given individual. Mammon can tell the complete history of any piece of money he holds, including (in broadstrokes) the desires and goals (particularly sinful ones) of anyone who held it.

Pacts: Summoning Mammon involves heating a coin taken off a person recently dead in a sulfur flame until it burns the summoner’s hand. Mammon can unerring locate any item of monetary value anywhere on the material plane. He can magical alter any financial records to hide fraud or any financial related crime from the agents of Management. The most common reason Mammon is petitioned, however, is the acquire wealth--though this requires a faustian contract.