Lenny Goes Undercover

In last nights Weird Adventures WaRP game on Google+, the gang followed up on some leads but were still left with no clear idea of who killed the body of the now disembodied brain William Carmody or kidnapped his fiancee.  Without Diabolico in attendance, they had no car, so that meant a lot of cab rides.

First, they crashed the Cobalt Club to check try to dig up something on industrialist Hew Hazzard, who Carmody had been working with. This involved overall wearing Lenny having to wear a coat and tie. Loone pretended to be a reporter out for an interview, but no headlines were made from his chat with Hazzard.

Next, Lenny went undercover to infiltrate Waxy Moldoon's gang.  He had impressed Two Teeth (a suboordinate) with his moxie last time and got offered a job. Lenny got a chance to prove himself in front of the boss by applying "harsh interrogation" to an Eisenmensch they had captured.  What did thaumatosurgically altered cyborgs from the Great War have to do with this?  Well, Waxy seemed to think they had the dodecahedron (or "dingus" as he called it).

Either the guy didn't know anything or wasn't talking, and Lenny contrived to bust him out and escape, which he did with the help of a fire started by Boris, telepathically coordinated by Loone.  Before that, though, Lenny almost lost control to his "imaginary" rabbit-like companion who wanted him to kill them all:

After they made their escape under the goons' guns, they used a bit of gentler interrogation on Karl the Eisenmensch.  he still claimed to no nothing, but Loone's peaks into his mind revealed he did know of a group of Eisenmensch that were good candidates for having the device, and a place called "Greasy Lake" seemed important.  Boris recalled there was a big junkyard at a place called Greasy Lake.

The gang decided to find Diabolico and check it out.

Warlord Wednesday: Temple of the Demigods

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...

"Temple of the Demigods"

Warlord #101 (January 1986)

Written by Michael Fleisher; Penciled by Adam Kubert, Inked Pablo Marcos

Synopsis: Mariah, Machiste, and Tara stand at the now mysteriously aged Jennifer’s bedside.  They helpfully fill us in on events since last issue. Morgan has decided that Jennifer’s malady was the result of mystical spillover from Cykroth, and has headed off to find a warlock he’s been told might be able to help.

On his journey, Morgan has already run into trouble. He’s ambushed by a group of Vashek assassins—now cut loose with the defeat of their master. Morgan dispatches them all not before taking an arrow in the shoulder, himself.  After tending the wound, he rides on.

Arriving at the warlock’s abode, Morgan finds him to be a bit unusual even by Skartarian magical practitioner standards:

The warlock (Muldahara) thinks he can help, but he wants Morgan to steal a “pair of lovely baubles” called the Eyes of Arachnar (or “Ankanar” as it appears the rest of the issue) for him.  Morgan (oddly given his former behavior) is iffy about stealing from a temple, but Muldahara assures him this is a bad cult that strong-arms the people.  Morgan agrees.

Arriving at the temple, he climbs it and enters through an open window.  In case he needed proof of their badness, he overhears a group of priests gloating about robbing the peasantry.  He makes his way to the treasure room:

Then, Morgan notices two saddlebags brimming with gold.  The implication of that only begins to dawn as the garrote slips around his throat.  The Warlord doesn’t go down that easy!  He throws the assailant:

They briefly tussle until she realizes Morgan must be a thief like her.  She suggests they split the take and get out quick. 

They aren’t quick enough as a priest arrives.  The thief puts a bola around his neck, but he’s still able to mumble an incantation as they’re gathering treasure.  The idol undergoes a startling transformation:

Morgan whips out his pistol, but it turns out Ankanar is immune to normal weapons.  The thief has heard the creature will only go dormant again after it’s devoured a human soul.  Luckily, it’s not picky as to where that soul comes from.  The thief drop kicks a priest into its jaws.  Ankanar turns back into a statue again.

The two thieves grab up some treasure and make a break for it, the understandably irate priests at their heels. Morgan shoots a chandelier, dropping it on their pursuers. The thieves climb out the window and make it to their horses.  They go their separate ways, but not before:

Morgan takes the eyes of Ankanar to the warlock—who promptly makes them into earrings. When Morgan tries to claim his payment, it turns out the Muldahara misled him.  He can’t actually help Jennifer—but he quickly adds he knows who can: V’Zarr Hagar-Zinn, wizard and surviving member of an ancient race. He dwells in the House of the Celestials on the shores of the Greenfire Sea.

Morgan heads out, promising to come back and see Muldahara if he has lied.  The warlock watches him go:

Morgan returns to Shamballah only long enough to say good bye to his wife and daughter before he’s off on his quest.

Things to Notice:   

• This issue sports a Grell cover just like the last.
• Mariah seems really broken up about Jennifer's condition. She's the only one crying.
• Shakira is no where to be seen in this issue.

Where it Comes From:
Looking for a magical practitioner with knowledge, only to be sent on a quest to steal something from a temple is the same plot as Warlord #16.  There, the practitioner was Saaba, and the child Morgan was trying to save was Joshua. Morgan has qualms about robbing a temple in this issue and justifies it to himself with the knowledge the priests are thieves, themselves.  He expressed no such reservations when he stole the eye (and again the eye!) from the Tree People's idol in the aforementioned issue.

The blonde thief in this issue fills a role (at least for one issue) not dissimilar to Bashir (in terms of thieving, not flirting with Morgan), who disappeared completely when Fleisher took over.

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.