For my last submission to Forgotten Heroes this year, I present: The Escapist!
The Escapist first appeared in The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Klay, Michael Chabon’s fantastic novel published in 2000. He’s the fictional character created by a couple of Jewish cousins working in the comics industry back in the 1930’s, the Golden Age of Comics. If that sounds familiar, it’s because Kavalier and Klay are an homage to the creators of Superman, Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel, only Siegel and Shuster weren’t cousins and Siegel (to my knowledge) wasn’t gay.
If you haven’t read this book, I can’t recommend it highly enough. It’s a novel about persecution, fear, Jewish identity, family, love, perseverance and heroes, both real and created. But you don’t have to take my word for it. Chabon won a Pulitzer Prize for it in 2001. Three years later, Dark Horse Comics published a series of comics, Michael Chabon Presents: The Amazing Adventures of The Escapist, which featured stories about the character written and drawn by different comic creators. I don’t have any, but I wish I did.
But what about The Escapist himself? Because it’s early and I have to go to work, I’ll cut and paste Wikipedia for the benefit of all.
The character’s modus operandi is part of a recurring theme of escapism in the novel, representing the imaginative and positive effects of escapism in superhero comics as well as Kavalier and Clay’s attempts to escape from the troubles of their past. Joe Kavalier has fled to America from Nazi-occupied Prague in Europe, leaving the rest of his family behind. Unable to help them, he starts fleeing from himself and everyone trying to get close to him. Sam Clay also wants to escape from himself – both his polio-stricken body and repressed homosexuality.
The Escapist’s true identity is Tom Mayflower. He is the crippled nephew of escape artist Max Mayflower (who performs under the stage name of Misterioso). When Max is fatally shot while performing onstage, he reveals that he isn’t his real uncle, having rescued him from a cruel orphanage as a baby. He gives Tom a golden key and a costume, explaining that he was recruited long ago by a mysterious organization called the League of the Golden Key to fight tyranny and free the oppressed. With his dying breath, Max commissions Tom to carry on his work. As long as Tom is wearing the costume and the key, he finds that he is no longer lame of leg and can perform amazing feats of escapology. Tom uses his powers to fight crime under the guise of the Escapist, especially against the evil forces of the mysterious criminal network, the Iron Chain.
To make The Escapist, I used this Animal Man Heroclix as a base miniature. He’s pretty much perfect.
From there, it was an easy paint job, as The Escapist’s costume is a black/grey skintight leotard and a TMNT-style bandanna domino. Not hard.
Although I was happy with the result, he looked somewhat blah, so I added the chains. It’s an actual necklace (worthless, of course) that I clipped and superglued into a pile at his feet. One quick metallic drybrush later, and voila! The Escapist has escaped!
That’s it for Forgotten Heroes 2025. Thanks as always to Jeremy for hosting it. I’ll be making the rounds to everyone’s blog to see their contributions and heap well-deserved praise upon them!
I’ve always been a huge fan of the Heroes for Hire (especially Power Man), so I have a near-complete run of Luke Cage, Power Man and Power Man and Iron Fist. Power Man and Iron Fist have (or at least had) very few recurring villains, but Chemistro was an exception. No less than three guys have called themselves Chemistro. Luke Cage fought the first two on his own before partnering up with Iron Fist for the third.
The first Chemistro, Curtis Carr, was a chemist who invented an “alchemy gun”, with which he could turn stuff into other stuff. His bosses claimed it as company property, so he stole it back and used it to get revenge. He blew his own foot off with it in the process, and Power Man sent him to the slammer.
While in there, he was cellmates with a guy named Archibald Morton, who forced Carr to reveal the secret of the alchemy gun. Morton tried to build one himself, but since he’s a dummy and not a scientist, it exploded in his hand. This gave him the powers of the alchemy gun without the gun. He also ran afoul of Luke Cage and lost.
The third Chemistro is Curtis’s younger brother Calvin, who stole a new gun and tried his hand at being a criminal until Power Man and Iron Fist shut him down with the help of Curtis, who didn’t want his younger brother doing crimes. As far as Chemistro’s history goes, that’s as much as I know, but he’s apparently still around. Check Wikipedia for updates if so inclined.
To make Chemistro, I used this Thunderball Heroclix as a base model. I mean, you can’t do better than this. He’s not even carrying his wrecking ball, so I don’t have to remove it.
I slapped on a retro raygun bit I had in the bitz box, and voila! One repaint and rebase later, and here’s Chemistro!
I’m hoping to get my last one done over the weekend for posting on the 30th. There’s a little more work involved with that one, but the costume is easy to paint. Fingers crossed!
The Crimson Hound followed the directions of the Gingerbread Man, arriving at a seemingly-deserted warehouse in the late hours of Christmas Eve. Conveniently for the Crimson Hound, it was located on a bus route, and as luck would have it, the warehouse stored gargoyles for eventual placement atop the corners of Glumengrad buildings. The Crimson Hound perched atop one, silently watching events unfold below.
Someone had cleared most of the warehouse floor and drawn a huge pentagram in red. You didn’t need to be a vampire to recognize the red as blood, but the Crimson Hound was, in fact, a vampire; and he recognized it immediately as blood. The Crimson Hound knew that entagrams drawn on the floor in blood rarely indicated good times ahead. These idiots had no idea what they were doing. The last time Santa summoned Savirax the Unclean, the blasphemous monstrosity almost destroyed the world.
As if on cue, a group of five chanting figures approached the pentagram from the shadows on each side. The group on the left wore purple robes, while the group on the right were dressed in green hoods. The chanting faltered as they saw each other, then stopped altogether.
“What the hell, Bob?” asked one of the purple-clad cultists. “What the fuck are you guys wearing?”
“I thought it was green hoods and grey boiler suits tonight!” one of the green-hooded cultists–probably Bob–exclaimed. “What are YOU wearing?”
“Dude, do you ever check your email? I sent it to you last week! It’s supposed to be purple tonight!” The purple-robed cultist seemed genuinely irate.
“Never got it,” said Bob, reaching for his cell phone.
“Oh, bullshit, Bob!”
“Look!” said Bob, holding up his phone. “Oh, wait…I did get it. It went in my spam folder.”
These guys are fucking idiots, thought the Crimson Hound. Apparently, someone else did, too. “Who gives a shit what you’re wearing?!” came a booming voice from the shadows. “You’re all going to die tonight anyway! Take your places, morons!” With some bitter mumbling and grumbling, the two groups assembled around the pentagram. The group of five green-hooded cultists stood in the center, while a purple-robed cultist took up a position at each point of the star.
What looked like a tall, anthropomorphic rabbit stepped into the light. “Once the Gingerbread Man arrives, we’ll be ready to begin.”
Seemed like as good a time as any. The Crimson Hound dropped from his gargoyle perch. “He’s not going to make it tonight,” said the Crimson Hound, taking a moment to wipe some telltale golden-brown crumbs from around his mouth.
“IT’S…THE CRIMSON HOUND!!!” cried the Easter Bunny, who the Crimson Hound realized was not an actual bunny, just some guy in a dirty rabbit costume.
“Yep,” said the Crimson Hound.
“Aww, man,” said one of the cultists. “I knew we shouldn’t have set up shop in a gargoyle warehouse!. It’s like we were begging for this to happen.”
“That’s right, you ignorant poltroon!” said the Easter Bunny. ” We KNEW he’d show up!” The Easter Bunny turned to the Crimson Hound. “You fell right into our trap! You think you can just get away with killing Santa Claus? Think again, asshole!”
“Let me guess,” said the Crimson Hound. “You were friends?”
“No!” sputtered the Easter Bunny, angrily hopping from foot to foot. “Santa was a fucking prick! But if you think we’re gonna let you set a precedent–“
“We?” asked the Crimson Hound. “Who’s we? You mean these clowns? Do you now how many henchmen I kill in a given week?”
“No, not these imbeciles,” The Easter Bunny laughed.The henchmen were feeling pretty despondent at all these insults, but no one could see their crestfallen looks under their hoods. “I brought other friends, you jerk.” The Easter Bunny gestured to his right, where a massive form lumbered out of the darkness. It was big and orange and carried a rusty scythe in its hands. “Behold the avatar of Halloween, Crimson Hound: The Great Pumpkin!”
“Hello,” said the Great Pumpkin, nodding his massive jack o’ lantern head in greeting.
“‘Hi,” said The Crimson Hound.
“And here,” the Easter Bunny pointed to his left, “representing…um…St. Patrick’s Day is…uh… Finnegan Feeney!” A man stepped out of the shadows. His face was red with burst capillaries and he wore a tam o’ shanter atop his curly grey hair. He held a long, churchwarden pipe in his hand, from which issued a plume of white smoke.
“Jaysis, ’tis himself,” said Finnegan Feeney. “Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, boyo!”
“You gotta be kidding me,” said the Crimson Hound. “Who the actual fuck is this?”
The Easter Bunny looked embarrassed. “Look…Cupid isn’t returning my calls, so no Valentine’s Day avatar. I tried St. Patrick, but he reminded me what you did to St. Nicholas, and said, and I quote, ‘no fucking way’. So, I tried to find a leprechaun, but it turns out they don’t exist. I had to make do with this ridiculously offensive ethnic stereotype. Anyway, I don’t need to explain myself to you, you asshole! Fuck off!”
Finnegan Feeney removed a flask from his breast pocket, because of course he did, and took a swig. “Blimey and begorrah! Let me at him! I’ll fong ya in the arse, laddie-buck!” Finnegan Feeney dropped his flask and his pipe and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and assumed a fighting stance. “Let’s get this donnybrook started, sunny Jim!”
The Crimson Hound would have rubbed his eyes in exasperated annoyance if he could, but he couldn’t reach them through his goggles. Instead, he broke the fourth wall and addressed me directly. “Really, Piper? This is the best you could come up with, or is Chris Claremont secretly writing this?”
“Don’t break the fourth wall,” I said to the Crimson Hound. “It’s unprofessional.”
“Whatever,” said the Hound. “Next time you talk to Bruno, remind him how much he underutilizes me.”
“Um…ok,” I said
“Now,” said the Crimson Hound, “Let’s get this shit started.”
Scenario: The Easter Bunny has gathered together some other holiday mascots to participate in a ritual to re-summon Savirax the Unclean and bargain for Santa’s life, hoping to exact their revenge upon the Crimson Hound for killing one of their own. He is using a group of 10 willing cultists as sacrifices to fuel the ritual.
Special Rules: One by one, the cultists are pulled into the dimension of Savirax the Unclean to meet their grisly doom. At the beginning of each round, a cultist disappears. When there are no more cultists, Savirax the Unclean appears and…well, we’ll see! That means the Crimson Hound has only 10 rounds to defeat the Easter Bunny before time runs out!
Victory Conditions: The Easter Bunny and his minions must defeat the Crimson Hound and summon Savirax the Unclean. The Crimson Hound must defeat the Easter Bunny and his minions and stop the ritual!
The Red Thirst: Although he’s a “good guy”, the Crimson Hound is, at heart, a bloodsucking vampire. If he defeats a model in melee combat, the Hound may take his next action to feed on the blood of his opponent. This allows him to roll 4D, and for every 2 goals scored, he heals one box of Body box damage as he sucks the poor soul dry. It also has the additional effect of causing fear to any enemy model within 6″, as they look on in horror at the Hound’s monstrous predations. On the following turn, any affected model must win an opposed Psyche roll or be unable to attack the Crimson Hound for one turn. (Note: this is a variation on both the Parasite and Healing minor powers.) This has no effect on the Great Pumpkin, who is a sentient plant and has no blood. If the Crimson Hound feeds on Finnegan Feeney, he gets drunk immediately after his healing roll and is -1D to all rolls for the rest of the game.
Here are my Super Mission Force builds for the characters in this scenario:
The Crimson Hound (Brawler) Major: Scrapper Minor: Melee Specialist, Resistance (Special: Vampire, Cause Fear); Move 7, Body 7, Psyche 6
The Easter Bunny (Brawler) Major: Scrapper, Minor: Melee Specialist, Super-Agility; Move 9, Body 7, Psyche 6
The Great Pumpkin (Wild Card) Minor: Entangle, Massive, Melee Specialist, Reach; Move 8, Body 8, Psyche 6
Turn 1: One of the cultists on the pentagram’s points vanishes (cue Wilhelm scream), drawn into another dimension to be devoured. The Crimson Hound loses initiative. Finnegan Feeney scuffs the ground a few times and charges like a bull with a full head of steam into combat with the Crimson Hound. He inflicts no damage, however, as the Crimson Hound easily swats aside his pathetic punches and smacks him across his big, red nose, dealing 2 Body to the blithering drunkard, stopping him in his tracks and dropping him to 3 Body. The Easter Bunny wastes no time, hopping into combat and winding up. After the dice are tallied, the Easter Bunny wallops the Crimson Hound for 2 Body, dropping him to 5. The Great Pumpkin shuffles forward and ropy vines snake towards the Crimson Hound, trying to hold him fast. The Crimson Hound sees the vines and realizes what The Great Pumpkin is up to. He’s able to avoid the entanglement–for now.
In response, the Crimson Hound attacks Finnegan Feeney, scoring a net 5 Body in damage. Not even Finnegan Feeney’s vaunted Luck o’ the Irish (his Fortune power) is enough to help him. So vicious is the Crimson Hound’s assault, one might think the Crimson Hound (or perhaps the guy writing this) was so offended by the cartoonish stereotype of the Irish that it had to go, immediately. Five Body is 2 more than Finnegan Feeney has, so he is KO’ed!
Turn 2: Another henchman vanishes to the dark ritual (cue Wilhelm scream).
The Crimson Hound gains initiative and turns his attention to the Easter Bunny. His net 3 goals drop the Easter Bunny from 7 Body to 4, and knocks his bunny head askew. The Easter Bunny is a seasoned fighter, though; an even match for the Crimson Hound. He adjusts his bunny head with one hand and uppercuts the Crimson Hound with the other, scoring 2 Body in damage. The Great Pumpkin tries to entangle the Crimson Hound again, and this time he succeeds. The Crimson Hound is now at 3 Body and held firmly in the strong viney grip of the Great Pumpkin! Things aren’t looking good!
Turn 3: Another henchman is dragged to his otherworldly doom (cue Wilhelm scream). The Crimson Hound keeps initiative, and realizes he’s in a tough spot, so he tries to escape the pumpkin vines. Sadly, he fails! He can only helplessly struggle as the Easter Bunny punches him in the breadbasket for 2 more Body, dropping him to 1. But it’s the Great Pumpkin who administers the coup de grace: a vine bearing the rusty scythe shoots out and slashes the Crimson Hound for an additional 4 Body. That’s way more than the Crimson Hound has, and he fails his KO check. The Crimson Hound falls!
The Great Pumpkin shambled over to the Easter Bunny, who stood gloating over the unconscious body of the Crimson Hound. He raised his rusty scythe to finish the job, while the screaming of the cultists continued unabated, as they were taken to their doom one by one.
“No, wait,” said the Easter Bunny. “I have other plans for him.”
The Great Pumpkin lowered the scythe. “But I thought the whole point was to kill him.”
“And we will. By sacrificing him Savirax the Unclean!” The Easter Bunny began to laugh maniacally. Somewhere nearby, another cultist screamed and vanished.
“Right,” said the Great Pumpkin. “Well, you can take it from here, then. If we’re not killing him, I’ve got my wife and three kids to get back to. It’s Christmas.” And with that the Great Pumpkin slithered off, vines trailing behind him like a wedding dress train.
In a few moments, the final cultist was sacrificed. The Crimson Hound began to stir. With a loud, interdimensional pop, Savirax the Unclean appeared in the pentagram’s center. “Who dares summon me?”
“I do, O Great Savirax the Unclean,” said the Easter Bunny.
“Why is some fuckhead in a bunny suit summoning me on Christmas Eve?” asked Savirax the Unclean.
“I wish to bargain with thee, O Great One, for the life of Santa Claus.”
“Santa Claus?” asked Savirax the Unclean. “I ate that guy like…two years ago didn’t I? He’s dead. Not merely dead–he’s really most sincerely dead. You’re too late. Trust me. Hey! Is that the Crimson Hound?”
The Easter Bunny ignored Savirax the Unclean’s question. “But surely you have the power to bring Santa back, Great Savirax the Unclean?!”
“Sure. But why would I do that?” asked Savirax the Unclean. “He was an asshole. Hey, it IS the Crimson Hound! I thought I recognized you, you old rascal! How have you been?”
“Been better,” said the Crimson Hound, holding his guts together. “Yourself?”
The Easter Bunny was getting frustrated. “We conducted the ritual of summoning to offer you the Crimson Hound as a sacrifice. and beseech you to resurrect Santa Claus, O Great Savirax the Unclean!”
Savirax the Unclean appeared to consider the Easter Bunny’s offer. “Offer rejected. I think I’ll just devour you instead. You piss me off..” A pseudopod snaked its way towards the Easter Bunny and plucked him into the air, drawing him towards the gaping, foul maw of Savirax the Unclean.
“But why?” screamed the Easter Bunny. “What have I done to displease you?
“Bob should have read his fucking email,” said Savirax the Unclean. “I prefer the purple robes.” The Easter Bunny let out a final scream as he was swallowed whole.
The Crimson Hound rose unsteadily to his feet. “So, what now? You gonna destroy the world?”
“Nah,” said Savirax the Unclean. “It’s Christmas, you know.? I’d love to catch up; but I’ve got a mug of cocoa and some Johnny Mathis waiting for me back home.”
“Yeah, some other time,” said the Crimson Hound. “Merry Christmas, Savirax the Unclean.”
“Merry Christmas, Crimson Hound. I’m sure we’ll see each other again…maybe next year.” And with a pop, Savirax the Unclean disappeared.
The Crimson Hound killed Santa Claus two years ago, and since then, the residents of Glumengrad had continued to celebrate Christmas as if nothing happened. Most of them didn’t believe in Santa Claus anyway, so no one really missed him when he was gone for good. But such a fat, jolly vacuum cannot remain empty long. Someone would try to step into the black, buckled boots of the now deceased St. Nick, and the Crimson Hound made it his business to keep tabs on the main players in town.
Now, it seemed one had made his move: the Gingerbread Man.
The Crimson Hound watched from his perch atop a conveniently-placed gargoyle as the Gingerbread Man directed his henchmen to load up the postal truck with stolen presents. The Crimson Hound wondered what it would be like to receive a present, but no one had ever given the Crimson Hound a gift before. He thought it might be nice to receive new, custom grips for his pistols or a form-fitted Kevlar breastplate, or even a bag of blood he didn’t have to drain from some evildoer. His eyes narrowed behind crimson lenses when he thought about all the disappointed citizens of Glumengrad who would wake up on Christmas morning to nothing under the tree, because of the greed of the Gingerbread Man.
That would not do. The Crimson Hound leaped down from his gargoyle perch, landing atop a stack of extra-large, brightly wrapped gifts. He had no way of knowing what was in the boxes before he jumped, or whether they would support the weight of a muscular man in an armored suit who was dropping from three stories above. They didn’t, but they did break his fall. Loudly.
“Ah, shit,” said the Crimson Hound, emerging from beneath a stack of crushed presents and torn wrapping paper.
“It’s the Crimson Hound!” screamed the Gingerbread Man , in a high, piping voice reminiscent of a cartoon mouse. The Crimson Hound winced. That voice was tough to take. He looked upon the Gingerbread Man’s henchmen with newfound sympathy, until he noticed some of them looked familiar.
“Some of you look familiar,” said the Crimson Hound.
“We used to work for Santa,” one of them said. “We’re the ones left that you didn’t eat, you bloodsucking freak.”
You might think the Crimson Hound would not be hurt by the words of a common thug. But the Crimson Hound has feelings, too. He frowned. “I didn’t actually eat anyone. Just tore open their necks and drank their blood.”
“Never mind that!” said the Gingerbread Man, causing the Crimson Hound to wince anew. “I’m ready for you! Now you will taste the true power of my Candy Cane Lance!”
“Looks like someone’s been tasting it already,” said the Crimson Hound.
“You have to lick it to make it sharp!” said the Gingerbread Man. He gave it a demonstrative lick. “See?”
The Crimson Hound shook his head at how ridiculous his life seemed to become when his creator neglected to produce new Chronicles of the Crimson Hound content on his YouTube channel. “So that’s it’s power? It’s sharp? Ooooooooo. I’m gonna shove that candy cane up your ass, dude.”
“The joke’s on you, Crimson Hound!” giggled the Gingerbread Man. “I’m a sentient cookie! I don’t have an anus!”
“Not yet,” said the Crimson Hound. He smiled.
The Gingerbread Man’s mouth formed a prefect, icing O of surprised horror. “Get him!”
The Crimson Hound leaped upon the henchmen, moving through them like a red wave of death. He struck out left and right. Bones crunched. Teeth shattered. Blood sprayed. In a moment he was the only one left standing.
Game note: This was the single fastest round of Super Mission Force I’ve ever played. The Crimson Hound won initiative and charged the henchmen group, inflicting 4 wounds, dropping 4 henchmen. The remaining henchman responded, but the Crimson Hound’s Reflection power allowed him to do 2 more damage to his attacker, effectively wiping out the entire group in 1 round. Damn.
The Crimson Hound looked around at the crumpled bodies of the Gingerbread Man’s henchmen. “Well, that was surprisingly quick.”
The Gingerbread Man dropped his Candy Cane Lance and turned to flee. “Run, run as fast as you can! You can’t catch me, I’m the Gingerbread Ma–URK!”
The Crimson Hound proved that he could, in fact, catch the Gingerbread Man; and he did, gripping the Gingerbread Man by his throat, or at least where his throat would be if he had a neck. “You were saying?” The Hound bared his fangs. “Time to see what all the fuss is about, Cookie-Puss.”
“WAIT!” choked the Gingerbread Man.
“Nope” said the Hound, opening his mouth.
“WAIT!” begged the Gingerbread Man.
The Hound stopped. “Dude, I already said no.”
“But if you eat me, you’ll never know about the Master Plan!”
The Crimson Hound sighed. He really wanted to eat the Gingerbread Man, because he was hungry and because the Gingerbread Man smelled delicious; but mostly because the Gingerbread Man was really fucking annoying. “OK, I’ll bite,” the Hound said, smiling at his own pun. “What Master Plan?”
For my first Forgotten Heroes post of 2023, I decided to do Jim Starlin’s iconic hero: Vanth Dreadstar.
Dreadstar started out in Marvel’s Epic Illustrated, before getting his own Epic Comics series that lasted for 26 issues. Then Starlin took it to First Comics, where it was published until they went out of business in 1991. Dreadstar briefly returned for a limited series published by Malibu in 1995. As far as I know, that was the last appearance of Dreadstar in comics, although there is supposedly a TV series in the works. Guess time will tell.
I have a confession to make: despite having almost all the Dreadstar comics, I could never get into the character. Maybe I should try again. Still, I was a huge fan of First Comics, who published some really groundbreaking stuff back in the 80’s; including my favorite comic of all time, Grimjack. First Comics heroes have been my go-to for Forgotten Heroes challenges in the past. I’ve done Badger, Nexus and Jon Sable, Freelance in previous years, and if all goes well, I’l be doing another First Comics hero by the end of the month.
But on to Dreadstar. To make this miniature, I used two old Heroclix models: Captain America, from the original Marvel Infinity Challenge set, and Aquaman, from the original DC Hypertime set. I removed Cap’s shield (cool objective marker!) and his head, and also beheaded Aquaman. Then I chopped off some of Aquaman’s hair and swapped the heads. Finally, I repositioned Cap’s arm. The end result was this:
I’m saying something really important!
I made his sword from a toothpick and green stuff, and I sculpted his belt and hood. As anyone with eyes can see, I’m a shitty sculptor. Sadly, I forgot to take any pictures of this miniature covered in green stuff, It was too depressing. Anyway, here he is.
I added an old Space Marine bolt pistol to his hip.
Up close, you can see how shitty my sculpting is. Try as I might, I can’t make that green stuff behave.
Dreadstar’s history is long and convoluted, and like i said, I could never get into it. According to the Fandom page, most of his powers are derived from his sword. It can be absorbed and extruded from his body at will (gross), allows him to speak and understand any language, acts as a shield, and gives Dreadstar enhanced reflexes, rapid healing and the strength of twenty men. It’s also a sword, so I guess it can cut stuff, too.
Despite the sculpting flaws, I’m happy with how he turned out. Like I said, I’m hoping to get another First Comics character done by the end of the month. It’s a very obscure character. Want to know who it is? I’ll Whisper it to you….
A couple of years back, Bill Maher had a segment on his show called “I don’t know it for a fact; I just know it’s true.” He would say amusing things like “I don’t know for a fact that Justin Trudeau moonlights as a tantric yoga instructor; I just know it’s true.” See? That’s a joke, because Justin Trudeau is a good-looking youngish guy who probably gets laid a lot; but he’s also the Prime Minister of Canada.
I don’t know for a fact that Jeremy, a.k.a. Carrion Crow, sounds exactly like Lenny Mclean, a.k.a. Barry the Baptist from Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels; I just know it’s true. That’s a joke, too, because lest there be any confusion, I’ve never actually heard Carrion Crow speak. Still, I find it amusing to imagine him saying things like “If you don’t wanna be countin’ the fingers you ‘aven’t got, I suggest you get those guns! Quick!”
I don’t know for a fact that Forgotten Heroes is the greatest painting challenge in the history of painting challenges, I just know it’s true; because this year it gave me the opportunity to create one of my favorite all-time villains: the Hypno-Hustler!
From Wikipedia: Antoine Desloin is the lead singer of the Mercy Killers, going by the name of Hypno-Hustler. He and his band were scheduled to perform at a nightclub called “Beyond Forever”. When the club’s manager catches Hypno-Hustler robbing his safe, Hypno-Hustler used his hypnotic equipment on the manager. When it came time to perform, Hypno-Hustler and his band used their hypnotizing equipment on the audience in a plan to rob them as well. Peter Parker was at the club at the time and changed into Spider-Man. During the fight, Spider-Man discovered that Hypno-Hustler’s headphones protected him from his own hypnotic music. Spider-Man managed to remove them from Hypno-Hustler causing him to become a victim of his own hypnosis. When the audience was free of the hypnosis, Hypno-Hustler and his Mercy Killers were webbed up and left for the police.
So: Hypno-Hustler can hypnotize people with his music; but, failing that, he can resort to the toe-spikes and knockout gas he has hidden in his big platform heels. He also plays the guitar.
Hypno-Hustler made his debut in November, 1978 in Peter Parker, the Spectacular Spider-Man #24; and then promptly vanished from comics for 24 years, until Spider-Man: Tangled Web #16 (released in November of 2002). He was created by the great Bill Mantlo; who sadly has been dealing with long-term injuries from a hit-and-run accident in the early 90’s. Bill Mantlo worked on a ton of incredible comics in the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s, and created some great characters; like Cloak and Dagger, Jack of Hearts, Rom: Spaceknight and (most famous nowadays) Rocket Raccoon; the royalties of which allowed him to finally leave the nursing facility he’d been living in for 25 years and return to home care.
Before we dive in to the miniature conversion process, please feel free to get in the mood with this sketch from Key and Peele, which still cracks me up every time I watch it.
To make Hypno-Hustler, I used this DC Hypertime Booster Gold Heroclix miniature as the base. I trimmed him off his flight disc, but kept the plastic under his feet to give him some height afforded by his KISS-esque boots.
From there it wasn’t too hard to add green stuff and Magic Sculpt to make his afro, chest speaker/amp, belt and shoulder trim. I also added his headphones and tried to define his goggles a bit. Then I gave him a microphone so he wasn’t empty-handed.
But something was conspicuously absent (and no, it wasn’t the Mercy Killers). Hypno-Hustler needed a guitar, and, not surprisingly, Booster Gold didn’t come with one. I looked for a suitable guitar I could cannibalize amongst my many miniatures and bitz. No luck.
My next step was to find a 28mm scale guitar bit somewhere else. I looked at silver charms (for charm bracelets), and found something perfect, except that it was just too big enough to look wrong. I finally looked for manufacturers that make musical instrument conversion bits. I thought for sure Reaper did, but nope. All Fantasy themed instruments, no electric guitars. Eventually, PaulCollins at The Miniatures Page pointed me to two British companies: Spellcrow and Zealot miniatures, respectively.
Although available in the USA through Amazon and Noble Knight, the Spellcrow guitars are a bit too Slaanesh Noise Marine for me (and certainly for the Hypno-Hustler). They weren’t the right shape, either.
In contrast, the Zealot miniatures guitars were awesome. Just what I needed. Unfortunately, they are only available from the company in the UK, and I’m not going to pay that much shipping for one little guitar sprue.
Which means I had to make my own. I know it sucks, but it’s for the Hypno-Hustler; so who cares? I put it on his back, anyway. I was going to sculpt the guitar strap, but it would clutter up the front of the miniature if I did, so I left it out.
And here he is, ready to funk up the place: The Hypno-Hustler! Painting him was pretty easy, as Hypno-Hustler has a limited color palette: white with purple acoutrements. I listened to a lot of Earth, Wind and Fire and Parliament-Funkadelic while I did.
I’m least happy with his base. I didn’t know what to do, so I just painted it like a spotlight. I considered adding glitter to it; but as anyone who’s ever been to a strip club knows (so I hear), glitter gets everywhere.
With Spider-man’s greatest (I said greatest, damn you!) nemesis now complete, I have no excuse not to break out the Super Mission Force any longer. It’s been way too long!
Thanks as always to Carrion Crow for hosting Forgotten Heroes. He did a member of Spidey’s Rogues Gallery himself this year: The Spot! Go check it out, along with a link to everyone else’s fun contributions!
No one ever enjoyed playing games with Braska Triskelion; but everyone hated playing against him. That’s because no matter how much grace one may possess, no one likes to lose all the time, especially to the same opponent. Braska had a hard time keeping friends, but he acquired enemies easily; or as he preferred to call them, “sore losers”. Easy enough for him to say, because he didn’t really know what it meant. He didn’t understand how it felt to lose, sore or otherwise; because Braska Triskelion never lost at anything.
From early childhood, Braska Triskelion had an obsession with games. He preternaturally grasped and mastered the rules of any puzzle, riddle, contest or match; whether of skill, wit or cunning. Though possessed of extraordinary agility and coordination, Braska was not robust. Despite this, he occasionally played at sports and other physical pursuits, though he did not enjoy them. He was nevertheless always able, through his disciplined mind, to employ superior tactics or devise some winning strategy for his team.
Vast wealth came quickly and easily to him. With his abilities, he was able to make a killing in both the gambling houses and in professional contest circuits around the world, all in record time. By the age of twenty, Braska Triskelion was fabulously rich, with more wealth than any one of the sovereign rulers of the land; and more than many of them combined. But, as is the case with those who breathe the rarified air of being the undisputed best at what they do, Braska Triskelion was bored. He decided to get a job.
He hired himself out as a gamester and puzzle-solver extraordinaire. No opponent was too skilled for him to lay low, no riddle or conundrum was above his talents, no trap beyond his ability to defeat. He charged exorbitant prices to those who could afford them, but he was known to apply his skills and wits to any problem or challenge, free of charge, if it interested him enough.
In Evalaux, he negotiated the Puzzle Maze of Durwald D’Orsay, a trap-filled abattoir of mythic renown responsible for the deaths of countless daring adventurers; and claimed the fabled Ruby of Carmina from within. It took him less than one hour. In Mornellorn, he bested the Gynosphinx Volira in a riddle battle that lasted two days, most of which were spent in silence as the monster contemplated (with increasing frustration) the solution to Braska’s opening (and only) riddle. She guessed wrong. In Isoq, Braska stunned the Sultan and his entire court when, after a sumptuous welcoming feast, he opened the fabled Tomb of Ab-Vorath after gazing at the complex diagrams on the door for less than five minutes. The tomb had defied the wisest of Isoq’s viziers, the most determined tomb-robbers and the bravest of adventurers for centuries. In Thord, Braska Triskelion played Hnefatafl with the Storm Giant Gymir, rumored to be the most cunning and skilled ever to play the game, and defeated him five times.
In a row.
By the age of forty, Braska Triskelion had enough quatloos in his treasure hoard to be the envy of dragons everywhere. His name and fortune were known across the Ten Kingdoms, and naturally, there were attempts to take what Braska Triskelion had won for himself fair and square. Although he didn’t care much for his fortune (how much can one man spend, really?), Braska did care about fair play. He never cheated at any game or contest he took part in, and he felt that if anyone was going to take his treasure, they would have to get it the same way he did. By winning it.
Thus, he took measures to protect his hoard.
Braska’s private Island, Windisle, was an early prize he had won by betting the famously-dour Duke of Cornedayl that he could urinate all over his throne room and make the Duke thank him for it afterward. There is no record as to how Braska accomplished this; but his ownership of Windisle, long a territory held by the Royal Family of Cornedayl, proves that he did. Windisle is an inhospitable place encircled by the Reef of Shattered Ships. There, high upon the Cliffs of Vexation, Braska constructed a vault which he named the Toy Box; a multi-level dungeon filled with traps and deadly monsters, summoned guardians and magical wards. He hired the best guards: veteran warriors, mighty magic-users and cunning assassins, and paid them handsomely. And he placed his treasure within its walls.
Now, any who want the fabled wealth of Braska Triskelion have only to take it; either by braving the death trap that is the Toy Box, or, if one doesn’t wish to risk almost-certain death, by beating Braska in a fair contest. Any game will do, but you only get one try.
Take your shot. Braska Triskelion hopes you succeed.
He’s genuinely curious to know how it feels to lose.
For my final Character of the Month for 2021, I chose to do a Rogue. Of course, I didn’t have much of a choice, as it was the only character class I hadn’t done yet. Braska Triskelion is, of course named after the classic Star Trek episode, The Gamesters of Triskelion, in which Kirk, Chekov and Uhura are forced into gladiatorial combat for the amusement of a trio of disembodied brains, who wager quatloos on the outcome of the contests. It is unclear (and never explained) how disembodied brains would enjoy winning (and presumably spending) money.
Angelique Pettyjohn is also in the episode.
“Braska Triskelion” is the Deadly Gamesman from Black Scorpion Miniatures. I’ve had this miniature for almost 12 years. I was going to use him as a crazed, game-obsessed nobleman in my D&D 3.5 campaign; then I was thinking he’d make a cool supervillain for Super Mission Force. Either way, I never got around to painting him until now.
That’s it for my Character of the Month challenge, and that’s it for 2021! Up next, my 2022 Resolutions.
Note: for the first part, including the scenario rules and character builds, check the previous post here!
The Crimson Hound crept stealthily along the wall to the old courtyard. He could hear the sounds of strange activity from within. He knew that Santa Claus had likely already made use of the stolen blasphemous tome known as the Malificarium Infernus to summon some otherworldly horror to Glumengrad, but nothing could prepare him for what he saw when he rounded the wall and gazed fully upon the hideous, writhing form of Savirax the Unclean.
“The promised sacrifice has arrived,” said Savirax the Unclean, in a voice like screeching fingernails on a hellish chalkboard. So much for stealth, thought The Crimson Hound.
“HO HO HO!” laughed Santa. “Right on time!” Santa stood, surrounded by some rough-looking men, all of whom were casting nervous glances at the undulating, viscous thing that was Savirax the Unclean. “I knew you’d show up,” said Santa. “Counted on it, in fact! Now, I can sacrifice you like I promised, and get my reward!”
The Crimson Hound’s eyes narrowed. Something didn’t make sense. This sounded personal, and The Crimson Hound couldn’t recall ever running afoul of Santa Claus before. He was pretty sure he would have remembered.
“Why me?” asked The Crimson Hound.
“Because,” answered Santa, “I promised Savirax the Unclean the soul of a supernatural creature in exchange for my heart’s desire. Isn’t that right, Savirax the Unclean?”
“Yes,” said Savirax the Unclean, because it would have been rude not to answer.
“And what’s that?” asked The Crimson Hound. “Your heart’s desire, I mean.” He was genuinely curious.
“Finally, someone asks!” yelled Santa, opening his arms theatrically wide. He glared at his henchmen. “Not one of you assholes ever gave a shit enough to even ask. This guy,” Santa pointed at The Crimson Hound, “THIS GUY asks, and he’s the one who’s going to die!” One by one, Santa’s henchmen muttered and looked at the ground sheepishly. “Fine!” Santa bellowed. “I’ll tell you. I want to live out the rest of my days on a tropical island in the sun, some place like Tahiti!”
“That’s it?” The Crimson Hound blinked in confusion. “That’s all you want? Why not just go to Tahiti? You have a flying sleigh!”
“Fuck you!” yelled Santa. “It’s not about Tahiti! I want to have a new island full of naked, voluptuous women, all for me! My island is gonna look like a fucking never-ending Russ Meyer movie! That’s what I want! And I’ve earned it, damn it!”
The Crimson Hound thought that Santa’s heart’s desire lacked imagination and was kind of sexist, but he didn’t say anything. He just stared at Santa Claus while Savirax the Unclean writhed and twisted nearby.
“Screw this,” yelled Santa, pointing at The Crimson Hound with a green-mittened hand. “Get him!”
Turn 1: Cue the Wilhelm scream!! The first henchman, Bob, is grabbed by the slimy tentacles of Savirax the Unclean and swallowed whole! (In fact, this AAR may be best enjoyed by playing the Wilhelm scream effect at the start of every round. You can find it here.)
Poor Bob. He was a henchman by necessity, not choice. Until recently, he was the manager at a national auto parts chain store; but he was the victim of corporate layoffs. Although he’d laugh to hear anyone say so, Bob apparently made too much money for the company’s bean counters. The company was looking to hire some millennial at half the salary. You try to do what’s best for your kids, but you’re not made of money, you know? Bob had saved and saved to send his daughter Candace to college, and he had enough for the tuition and room and board. But it’s the books, man. The cost of books fucking kill you. Bob was only working for Santa for the book money for Candace to go to school and realize her lifelong dream of becoming a marine biologist; something she vowed to do at the age of six, when one of her pet goldfish met an untimely end due to incorrect fishbowl ph.
Anyway, Bob’s dead now; which makes Candace’s marine biologist aspirations a bit unrealistic to say the least.
On the first turn, nothing much happens. The Crimson Hound wins initiative and bolts over to the stack of presents on the lower right, using his action to hide. The henchmen group closest to him (minus poor Bob) fails to spot him; but the other henchmen group and Santa both see him and open fire! The henchmen shoot like henchmen and fail to hit, but Santa’s big shotgun blows a hole in the presents, clipping the Crimson Hound for 1 damage!
Turn 2: (Wilhelm scream) Savirax the Unclean helps itself to another henchman. This time it’s poor Moe! Moe ran a successful insurance business; but then had a mid-life crisis, bought a motorcycle, got an earring and decided he missed his calling as a tough guy, so he joined Santa’s crew for kicks. Bet he regrets it now!
The Crimson Hound wins initiative again, and he wastes no time. He leaps atop the stack of presents, bares his fangs and charges into the group of four henchmen, dealing swift death!
The Hound drops in their midst, landing atop one thug with a sickening crunch as his rib cage shatters beneath the Hound’s weight! Another goes down fountaining blood as the Hound swiftly drags his razor-sharp, magical shortsword across his throat in a vicious backhanded slash!
The remaining two thugs attack the Hound, but they are severely outclassed! The Hound snatches a baseball bat from one and breaks it over the man’s head, splintering the wood; then drives the splintered end through the remaining goon’s throat for good measure. Don’t fuck with the Crimson Hound!
(In game terms, the Hound dealt two damage on the charge, dropping two henchmen. The remaining two thugs responded but failed to do any damage, which activated the Hound’s “Reflection” power. As part of his “Scrapper” major power, the Hound has a chance to inflict 2 damage on any attacker who misses a melee attack against him. He succeeded, and did two more damage, dropping the remaining henchmen!)
Unfortunately, this leaves the Crimson Hound out in the open. In response to his brutal assault, both Santa and the remaining henchmen group open fire! The henchmen, perhaps distracted by the amorphous, otherworldly thing that just devoured two of them, miss horribly. But Santa’s shotgun nails the Crimson Hound squarely in the chest for a whopping 4 damage! This drops the Crimson Hound’s Body to 2! The Hound is hurt!
“YEEEARRRGH!”, screamed the Crimson Hound as he took the full blast of Santa’s shotgun. He ducked behind the stack of presents, gasping for air. “HO HO HO!” laughed Santa. “Hurts,doesn’t it? Remember, I’m Saint Nick, bitch! All my weapons are holy! HO HO HO!”
“I’m coming for you, asshole,” cursed the Crimson Hound through gritted teeth.But he received only more mocking, jolly laughter in return.
Turn 3: (Wilhelm scream) Say goodbye to Linus. Savirax the Unclean devours him, and he seems oddly resigned to it. That’s because four years ago Linus decided to do something about his perpetual loneliness by procuring a mail-order bride from Belarus. She looked nothing like her picture, gave him chlamydia on their wedding night, immediately started cheating on him and then proceeded to bankrupt him through her frivolous spending and terrible gambling habit. Linus has been working as a goon just to make money to keep the loan sharks at bay. He’s better off this way. Trust me.
The Crimson Hound retains initiative, and it’s a good thing. He runs away, trying to gain enough ground to put some cover between him and that cannon Santa is wielding. He ducks behind a cement planter and hopes for the best. The henchman group and Santa pursue him, opening fire on his position; but the hard cover afforded by the concrete manages to save the Crimson Hound from any further damage!
Turn 4: (Wilhelm scream) Savirax the Unclean snatches up Phil in its slimy pseudopods and drags him screaming into its mouth. Phil has managed to lead a life completely devoid of anything even remotely significant; getting devoured by Savirax the Unclean is the single noteworthy thing that Phil has ever had happen to him in all his 43 years. Rest in peace, Phil.
The bad guys get initiative, and the henchmen group sends another ineffectual volley of fire at the Crimson Hound. The Hound vaults the planter and charges the group, shredding them like tissue paper on Christmas morning (or so he’s heard; no one has ever given the Crimson Hound a Christmas present to open). He rams his sword through the first goon’s sternum and slices downward, slitting him open like an envelope; then grabs the second and, using his dreadful fangs, tears the man’s throat out in a bloody, tattered mess. Then, the Crimson Hound does what he does best (and what he does best isn’t very nice). In a few seconds, both men are completely drained of blood. The Crimson Hound feels invigorated as his wounds began to knit together!
In game terms, the Crimson Hound scored a whopping 9 goals on his attack, which was impossible for the remaining two henchmen to ever resist. He effectively obliterated them. Then he rolled his vampiric healing power, and this is what he got:
That’s six goals, enough to heal 3 boxes of damage. The Crimson Hound is back up to 5 Body. He’s still in the fight!
Santa moves into position and opens fire. Although he scores 3 goals of damage, The Crimson Hound resists it all! His mouth still dripping the blood of his victims, the Crimson Hound smiles and prepares to charge…
Turn 5: There are no more henchmen left! Savirax the Unclean turns his attention to his promised sacrifice, The Crimson Hound! It attacks with a snaky tentacle, attempting to grapple the Crimson Hound; but the Hound easily evades it. He gains initiative, and charges Santa Claus, moving too fast for Santa to bring his shotgun to bear. The two men crash together and the Crimson Hound deals a savage blow to jolly old St. Nick, slicing through red suit, skin and fat into the muscle beneath! Despite his natural armor, Santa is hurt badly; but he’s not helpless! Santa swings his shotgun like a club, intent on crushing the Crimson Hound’s skull like an egg; but the Hound ducks at the last second and it smashes against his shoulder. The Hound, still enjoying the euphoric effects of the blood he drank, barely feels a thing!
In game terms, The Crimson Hound dealt a respectable 4 goals of damage to Santa, and Santa rolled like absolute shit and failed to resist any damage. HIs Armor power lets him soak 1 box of damage, though, which means he only took 3. That’s still enough to drop Santa to half his Body in one shot. The Crimson Hound could have knocked Santa back 3″, too; but he wanted to keep him close. That would have given Santa the opportunity to fire his shotgun or to make a return charge, and that doesn’t make tactical sense! Santa attacked back, but the Crimson Hound was able to resist the damage.
Turn 6: Savirax the Unclean is officially hangry! It attacks the Crimson Hound again, trying to grab him and hold him so that Santa can make good on his sacrifice. The Crimson Hound is once again able to avoid the tentacles of the monstrous entity!
Santa seizes the initiative and attacks the Crimson Hound once again. This time, he misses horribly, but manages to avoid the Hound’s reflexive counterattack. The Crimson Hound scores a hit, and although Santa shrugs some of it off, he manages to inflict 1 more box of damage on the jolly old elf! This drops Santa down to 2 Body!
Turn 7: Savirax the Unclean has decided it’s going to try one more time; then fuck it, it’s just going to destroy the world. It attacks the Crimson Hound again, trying to flatten him against the ground. The Crimson Hound tries to roll out of the way, but gets clipped for another box of damage, dropping him to 4!
The Crimson Hound gets initiative. It’s all or nothing! The Hound leaps on Santa and buries his fangs into Santa’s shoulder, doing a net 1 goal of damage! Not enough to put down Santa for good! Santa still has 1 Body left!
Santa attacks back, but fails to do any damage. The Crimson Hound desperately ripostes with a flurry of bites, causing 2 goals of damage! Santa manages to soak one, but the last bite drops Santa to the ground as his blood sprays skyward!
In game terms, Santa fell to the Hound’s Reflection ability! After failing to damage the Hound in melee, the Crimson Hound was able to make his roll to reflect, causing 2 damage. Although Santa’s Armor reduced it to 1, that was all he had left! Santa failed his KO roll and was out; just in time to stop Savirax the Unclean from destroying the world!
The Crimson Hound lifted Santa by the fluffy, white trim of his red suit, grinning at him through bloodstained teeth. “You know what?” asked the Crimson Hound. “I just realized something. You visit every kid in the world in one night. You can make reindeer fly. And, fat as you are, you can squeeze up and down chimneys with no problem. If that’s not supernatural, I don’t know what is.” And with that, the Crimson Hound lifted Santa over his head and hurled him straight at the gaping, ravenous maw of Savirax the Unclean.With a mighty gulp and a horrid (Wilhelm) scream, his offering was accepted. Santa Claus was no more!
Savirax the Unclean spit out a shiny, black boot. The Crimson Hound wondered if there was still a foot in it. “You have earned your heart’s desire,” said Savirax the Unclean. “Do you want the same thing?”
The Crimson Hound considered the offer. Sexism aside, there wasn’t much not to like about it. An island paradise surrounded by women of generous proportions was definitely not the worst place to spend some time. He had to admit that as retirement plans went, it was pretty fucking sweet.
But no. He had responsibilities here. Besides, if he accepted, nothing was stopping Savirax the Unclean from sticking around and eating everyone in Glumengrad, then destroying the world. Demons were dicks like that.
“I don’t like the sun much,” saidThe Crimson Hound, “so how about for my heart’s desire, you just fuck off back to wherever you came from, and take that book with you so no one else can use it again?”
Savirax the Unclean looked disappointed, inasmuch as it is possible for amorphous, squamous, blasphemous, unholy entities to look disappointed. “Very well,” it said, coiling one pseudopod around the Maleficarium Infernus. “I’ll leave, I guess.” It hesitated for a moment.
“Well?” asked the Crimson Hound. “Forget something?”
“Uh…Merry Christmas, ” said Savirax the Unclean. Then it disappeared, taking the book with it.
The Crimson Hound smiled. He was touched. No one had ever wished him a Merry Christmas before. “Merry Christmas to you, too, Savirax the Unclean,” he said. Then he turned and disappeared into the night.
God bless us, every one!
Analysis: This AAR reminded me how much I love Super Mission Force. It’s such an easy and fun rules system and I can’t recommend it enough. Not sure if Scott Pyle still drops by the Tavern; but if so, Scott, thanks again for creating such a fun game! This was an absolute treat to play, and it really flew by. The game took only 15 minutes from the first roll to the last; and it really DID come down to the wire. Technically, if Santa hadn’t attacked the Hound at the end, he wouldn’t have gotten killed by the Hound’s Reflection ability; but then again, Savirax the Unclean would have destroyed the world at the start of the next turn, so Santa didn’t have a choice. He had to take the shot if he wanted his heart’s desire!
The Crimson Hound’s Fear power didn’t really come into play because things happened too quickly and too far away from any of the other models. Santa’s Super Strength likewise never saw any use, mainly because Santa never did any damage to the Hound in melee. If he had, the Crimson Hound would have gone flying!
At the end of the game I had the idea that rather than just defeating Santa and saving the day, why not have the Hound sacrifice Santa instead? So, I went back and re-wrote the prose accordingly. Hope you liked it!
To Bruno (the Crimson Hound himself) and to all the readers and visitors to Dead Dick’s Tavern, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! (And if you don’t celebrate those holidays, then just have a nice couple of weeks.)
Up next…can I get my December Character of the Month up by the end of the year? guess we’ll see!
From a gargoyle-encrusted rooftop, The Crimson Hound looked out over the neon, gothic city of Glumengrad. At his feet, facing the short wall that ran the length of the roof’s edge, knelt three diminutive forms dressed in bright green, hands bound behind their backs. The Crimson Hound stood behind them, his heavy pistol in one hand, his magical blade in the other. The rooftop was freezing, but the three small men quaked more from fear than cold.
The Crimson Hound took a deep breath, watching as it clouded in the freezing air. “I’m only going to ask this once,” he said, his gravelly voice cutting through the sound of the wind, “and the only thing I want to hear back from you is an answer to my question. Why did Santa steal the book?”
The first elf, for that is what the three men were, began to giggle. “You’ll see! Hee hee hee! Oh, you’ll see! You’re going to die, Hound! Santa has plans for you…urrrghhhh!!” The elf’s voice choked off as The Crimson Hound casually inserted the magical blade into his back, slicing through the elf’s ribcage and bisecting his heart with ease. HIs lifeless body slid off the point of the sword to flop unceremoniously onto the cold rooftop.
The Crimson Hound sighed, stepping behind the second elf. “Please follow my instructions,” he said.
“Wait!” begged the elf, “Don’t kill me! I…” The gun kicked in the Crimson Hound’s fist. Blood and brain matter exploded onto the roof like a Pollock painting, adding to the already-considerable pool still leaving the corpse of the first elf. Blue blood, the Hound noticed with curiosity. Perhaps that was why he had no desire to taste it. Interesting.
The Hound moved behind the final elf. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It seems I have been unclear. Please respond only to the question that was askedof you.”
The third elf straightened up as much as he could, staring directly ahead and trying to ignore the bloody mess his friends had recently become. “Santa wants to destroy the world,” he said.
The Crimson Hound did not expect this answer. He raised the barrel of his gun, aiming it away from the back of the elf’s head. “Explain,” he said.
“I don’t know, man,” the elf said. “Santa just fucking lost it a couple of weeks back. We were all working our asses off in the workshop, as usual, and he was sitting in his big chair, reading a pile of letters. You know, the ones kids send him telling him what they want for Christmas.”
The Crimson Hound nodded. He did not understand children overmuch; but he had heard of this custom. “And?”
“And I guess Santa read something he didn’t like. Some kid bitching that he didn’t get what he wanted last year, telling Santa to get it right this time. Santa just folded up the letter, took off his glasses, and said, ‘Fuck these ungrateful little shitbags! I quit! I’m done with this entitled, piece-of-shit world! I think I’ll destroy it! Christmas is cancelled, assholes!’ Well, we were all pretty shocked, but we weren’t exactly sad about it. Our job sucks, you know.”
“Hmm,” The Crimson Hound said. It is unlikely that anyone could mistake it for a sound of sympathy.
“One thing’s for sure: there’s gonna be a lot of kids on the nice list who will be disappointed this year,” said the elf.
Never in his entire life had The Crimson Hound ever been on a “nice list” of any kind. The Crimson Hound considered that. He realized he didn’t care.One thing was certain, though. If Santa stole the Maleficarium Infernus, he wasn’t doing it to spread holiday cheer. Whatever Santa was planning, he had to be stopped. He had to know The Crimson Hound would come looking for him, though…so what was his game?
“So, uh…can I go now?” asked the elf.
“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sure,” said The Crimson Hound. He sheathed his weapons, picked up the elf, and tossed him over the side of the roof. The elf screamed all the way down.
It was a long way.
It’s been a long time since I played some Super Mission Force, and I thought that Christmas is the perfect occasion for a Battle Report. Longtime visitors to Dead Dick’s Tavern may recall The Terror of the Toyman a few years back, in which Superman was beset by diabolical toys. It was a lot of fun, so go check it out if you are so inclined.
This time, though; I wanted to do something different. I converted and painted the Crimson Hound for Forgotten Heroes, back in June, and I thought he’d be perfect for a quick game using my favorite Supers rules. The Crimson Hound is, of course, the eponymous star character of the Chronicles of the Crimson Hound YouTube Channel, and the creation of my friend Bruno. You should absolutely check out the Crimson Hound’s adventures if you get a chance.
That being said, I hold no legal rights to the Crimson Hound and I haven’t told Bruno I’m doing this; so I sincerely hope he receives this AAR in the spirit it was intended: written in fun, with good-natured bonhomie and strictly platonic affection. (Please don’t sue me, Bruno.) It goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway, that this particular Crimson Hound adventure is certainly not canon; you should check out the Crimson Hound’s adventures on YouTube and on The Chronicles of the Crimson Hound Blog for that. This is just my (somewhat twisted) interpretation of Bruno’s character, and it is almost certainly different in many ways from the character as “officially” written so far.
So, without further ado: The Crimson Hound in…Dreaming of a RED Christmas!
Scenario: Santa Claus is coming to town…and he wants to sacrifice the Crimson Hound to an antediluvian, bilious, chaotic, dreadful, effusive, festering, gibbous, hellish, incongruous, jellified, Kafkaesque, loathsome, membranous, non-Euclidean, odious, pseudopodal, querulous, rugose, sepulchral, tentacled, unspeakable, vaporous, wailing, xenophobic, yammering and zymotic monstrosity called Savirax the Unclean.
Why? Because if he does so, Savirax the Unclean has promised Santa his heart’s desire. Santa has lured the Crimson Hound to this very spot, where he has summoned Savirax the Unclean in preparation for the sacrifice!
What is Santa’s heart’s desire? Who the hell knows? No one, including you, has ever bothered to ask Santa what HE wants for Christmas; and he’s fed up with your selfish entitlement!
Victory Conditions: Santa must defeat the Crimson Hound and sacrifice him to Savirax the Unclean in order to claim his reward: his heart’s desire! The Crimson Hound must defeat Santa and banish Savirax the Unclean before he is sacrificed. If time runs out before either Santa or the Crimson Hound can achieve their goals, then Savirax the Unclean destroys the world in a horrid, blasphemous, squamous orgy of Lovecraftian adjectives, and they both lose!
Forces: The Hero player controls The Crimson Hound, vampiric vigilante and stalker of the night! The villain player controls Santa Claus and two groups of five street-level henchmen each.
Setup: Play is on a 24”x24” surface, representing a courtyard in Glumengrad that some poor, deluded soul has taken the time to decorate for the Christmas holiday. It would normally be a pale light in the darkness of despair that is Glumengrad; but Santa has seized it and corrupted it for his summoning ritual. There is a large Christmas tree in the courtyard, surrounded by Christmas decorations. There are stacks of containers stacked around the yard, painted and decorated as Christmas presents, providing cover and spots to hide.
Savirax the Unclean is deployed in the center of the courtyard, having just been summoned by the evil Santa Claus. Santa is deployed on one side of the courtyard; the Crimson Hound on the other. Scattered loosely throughout the courtyard are ten henchmen models forming two groups of five each.
Special Rules
The Endless Hunger: Savirax the Unclean is not known for its patience. While waiting for its promised sacrifice, Savirax the Unclean will help itself to one hapless henchman at the start of each turn. Simply remove the model as Savirax the Unclean snatches the closest henchman model with one of its snaking pseudopods and deposits the screaming henchman in its stinking hole of a gullet. Over time, this will thin the herd a bit for the Crimson Hound, but it will also hasten the end of the game. If Savirax the unclean has no henchmen left at the start of the a turn, it starts attacking the Crimson Hound directly, instead (see below).
The Thing that Should Not Be: Savirax the Unclean cannot be attacked and/or damaged. Thus it has no statistics. It can (and will), however, attack the Crimson Hound if it has no henchmen left to devour. Savirax the Unclean attacks with a 6D attack at the start of each round if there are no henchmen left. It’s pseudopods can reach anywhere on the board and are unaffected by cover. (There is no hiding from Savirax the Unclean!) Note that Savirax the Unclean will not wait for its promised sacrifice forever. It will only attack the Crimson Hound for three rounds before it gets annoyed and destroys the world.
The Red Thirst: Although he’s a “good guy”, the Crimson Hound is, at heart, a bloodsucking vampire. If he defeats a model in melee combat, the Hound may take his next action to feed on the blood of his opponent. This allows him to roll 4D, and for every 2 goals scored, he heals one box of Body box damage as he sucks the poor soul dry. It also has the additional effect of causing fear to any enemy model within 6″, as they look on in horror at the Hound’s monstrous predations. On the following turn, any affected model must win an opposed Psyche roll or be unable to attack the Crimson Hound for one turn. (Note: this is a variation on both the Parasite and Healing minor powers.)
Character Statistics:
Here are my Super Mission Force builds for the characters:
The Crimson Hound (Brawler) Major: Scrapper Minor: Melee Specialist, Resistance (Special: Vampire, Cause Fear); Move 7, Body 7, Psyche 6
Santa Claus (Wild Card) Minor: Armor, Power Blasts, Super Strength, Resistance; Move 6 Body 6 Psyche 6
Henchmen (10) Firearms, Close Combat Weapons; Move 6
Be here in a couple of days, when I post the full After Action Report!
Not quite a week into Monster May(hem), and I have finally completed my first submission. I present: the Scourge of Planet X: The Ripper Beast!
This miniature from Rattrap Productions has been primed and sitting on my desk since last year’s Monster May(hem). I never got a chance to get to him and moved on to other projects; so I made him my first priority this year. Partially, this is because I’m sick of looking at him; but it’s also because he has been so patient and understanding; two traits not normally associated with Ripper Beasts of Planet X.
The Ripper Beast, as the lore goes, is the most feared predator on Planet X. It loves nothing more than to live up to its name by ripping things, usually into bloody chunks. The Ripper Beast is doubly feared because it seems to regenerate as soon as it is wounded, making it nigh-impossible to put down for good.
Despite its renowned savagery, this Ripper Beast seems to be wearing clothing. It has two spiked wristbands and no dangly unmentionables to speak of. This either makes it smarter than you would think, able to clothe itself and perhaps forge weapons; or just oddly modest. The only picture of the Ripper Beast I could find was the one on the cover, there; so I couldn’t verify this. The only example of a painted Ripper Beast miniature I was able to find was the one inside the book, which doesn’t help because it’s black and white.
So I went with the clothing look, and I tried to get it as close to the cover as possible. It’s a retro sci-fi creature, so perhaps some space-spandex is appropriate after all. While I may never use this miniature as intended, it can sure get some use as a super-villain for games of Super Mission Force!
I have at least two more projects for Monster May(hem) I’m trying to get done by month’s end. Both require a lot of base work, so they’re taking longer than usual. Check back soon, but in the meantime, be sure to stop by and see what everyone else has been up to!
and newcomer (to this site, anyway) Mike, aka @sasquatchminis from Instagram!
Don’t see your name here yet? No problem! Just email me at angrypiper@angrypiper.com or drop a comment below and let me know you want to participate! It’s never too late to paint a monster!
