The Warren Report Issue 45: August/September 1973

On a street in Dwarves Bay, a man in a top hat uses his silver cane to battle a werewolf but, when a group of townsfolk arrive, the furry fiend makes his escape. The man in the top hat is Master Goodman Blacker, who has been summoned to help stop the string of recent murders. Insisting that "This Evil Must Die," Blacker says he's a man of god and that the werewolf is a creature of the devil. He promises to destroy the creature that night. The townsfolk get plenty of silver ready, while Blacker heads off alone to the woods and casts a devilish spell in order to discover the werewolf's human identity. The full moon rises and Arthur Lemming transforms into a werewolf. He heads for the woods, pursued by villagers, but when he gets there he knocks over Blacker's cauldron of magic water just before the warlock discovers who the werewolf is. Lemming escapes into the woods but Blacker is not so lucky--the townsfolk see he's a conjurer and kill him.

"In My Father's House" contains another really bad Doug Moench script, one that makes little sense, obviously inspired by hardboiled dicks like Mike Hammer and Lew Archer. Moench tries to make his dialogue come off just as tough as those arm-breakers, but it just sounds silly and contrived. Auraleon's art is not very good here; his old priest looks just like every other old guy he's drawn before. The twist climax is anything but surprising. Why is the demon, confined to a pentagram earlier in the story, free to pop up in the crowd (and in a robe, no less, like he's hiding) in the final panel. Makes no sense = Doug Moench.

"Innsmouth Festival"

Just another day at the office for Harrison Farnsworth, editor at a "true stories of the supernatural"-type magazine, with Farnsworth interviewing a barber who claims to have cut the hair of a mermaid, a woman who has captured the ghost of Marilyn Monroe on film, and an old woman who claims three men in black are following her, waiting for their chance to silence her. She's stumbled on the secret plot "of the cosmic conspiracy to overpower Earth and make us all slaves to their godless master." The old woman has proof of her crazy story as she pulls a strange-looking weapon from her purse and hands it to Harrison, claiming it's a "supper (sic)-secret ray gun" dropped from one of the "scout saucers." Smelling a really juicy story for his rag, Farnsworth begins to dig deeper until he's called into the office of his editor, who gives him a more pressing assignment: travel to Innsmouth and investigate a cult that practices human sacrifice. Harrison dutifully hops in his car and starts driving.

"Innsmouth Festival"

When he arrives in Innsmouth, he is startled by the apish appearance of the inhabitants but chalks it up to water pollution. Tracking down the two sisters who wrote to the magazine proves to be a chore as no one will speak to him. With a little help from a local lad, Harrison finally knocks on the door of the Gilman sisters and is pleasantly surprised to discover they are both quite beautiful, lacking all the brutish qualities of their neighbors. The sisters explain that they are share a different world view than the other inhabitants of Innsmouth, who perform human sacrifices to a god of the sea named Cthulhu, who "lies dreaming in the sunken city of R'lyeh, waiting for the proper time to return." The women explain that they believe in Hastur, Lord the Air, and are hoping their loving God shows up well before Cthulhu. As the Gilmans explain that there is a sacrifice planned for that evening, Harrison feels oddly drowsy and passes out.

He awakens to find himself alone and heads for the waterfront, where he finds the Gilman sisters tied to a pier and several of the brutish Innsmouthites standing guard. Using his noggin, Harrison wades out under the pier and unties the gorgeous gals--just in time it turns out--as a giant, tentacled creature rises from the sea and heads for land. The trio flee for town but a mad mob stops them and the giant creature approaches from the rear. Seeing the ray-gun given to him by the old woman fall out of his pocket, Harrison watches in awe as one of the sisters scoops it up, points it, and blasts the creature to atoms. Returning to the home of the sisters, Harrison gladly accepts their invitation to stay the night, hoping there might be some hanky-panky in the works. The girls disrobe but, before Farnsworth can get more than a few moments into his fantasy, he notices they both have wings. "Don't worry about us," says one of the Hasturians, "we'll be very comfortable hanging from the rafters!"

"Innsmouth Festival"

John Jacobson borrows heavily (actually cut and pasting a few lines here and there) from 'ol HPL, but that's all right by me; I'd much rather have a Cthulhuian fantasy than yet another werewolf who's actually a vampire. Jacobson gets the tone and atmosphere spot on right from panel one, where we're informed that Harrison Farnsworth (himself a nod to Weird Tales editor Farnsworth Wright) is trapped in this nowhere job, interviewing loonies who see Churchill in their corn flakes, and yet somehow sees the positive side. Every crackpot who walks into his office could conceivably be the next cover story. Using the actual names of the deities is a plus as well (except in the case of the "Esoteric Order of Dagon," which inexplicably gets retitled "Dragon"); why steal from HPL and then hide the theft by summoning up "Cthon?" The final reveal is cute, as is the sub-plot of the old lady and her ray-gun. We're left to ponder her fate when Harrison calls in and discovers that the woman was last seen "driving away from the city... in the company of three men in black...!" This is the best Adolfo Abellan art we've seen so far. The villagers are suitably Lovecraftian, as is the octopoid monster, and the Gilman girls are an eyeful in the buff. More Lovecraft please!

A carnival owner travels to the Rain Forest to buy two skeletons alleged to be vampires. When he gets there, he sees one with a stake in its ribcage and the other... no stake. Angered at what he perceives to be a rip-off (you know, cuz any skeleton with a stake in its ribs must be a vampire!), the man questions the seller, who tells him the long and sordid story of Count Yaroslav, a vampire fleeing from Europe and hoping for a more peaceful clime in which he can rip some throats out. In the guise of an explorer, Yaroslav tries to slide easily into the neighborhood, but a yen for fresh blood sees him attacking a young villager named Pedro. 

Now that Pedro is a vampire, Yaroslav teaches the boy how to ensure that his victims don't come back from the dead and create an overpopulation of blood-suckers in the area. But Pedro has other ideas and, once the sun comes up, he stakes Yaroslav in his casket and becomes king vampire. He tells the chief of the local tribe that he expects a sacrifice each night, but when the tribe offers up a goat, Pedro hits the roof and attacks a pretty young girl, draining her of blood but getting a knife wound in the bargain. The young vampire heads back to his casket to mend but the blood trail attracts a swarm of vicious soldier ants and they pick Pedro's flesh clean from the bone. As the salesman finished his story, he adds that, though he's clean of flesh, Pedro still lives on.

"Consumed by Ambition" has a few good points to recommend, chief Amon them the twist halfway through when Pedro retires his maker and gleefully looks forward to eternal life as a killing machine. Off the top of my head, I think I consider this my favorite Martin Salvador work, but that might change. Salvador's never been one of my top Spanish artists, though; his style is just a little too formulaic and there's no real dynamic to his presentation. Salvador's art never seems to tell us more than what we read in the caption.

"Lycanklutz"

Lawrence Cardiff travels miles to visit the castle of Baron Talbot when he hears the Baron has a werewolf problem. Cardiff has concocted a very original means of killing lycanthropes... with a silver-fanged flea, attracted only to werewolves. After a young girl is viciously slaughtered, the Baron feels he has no choice but to take a chance on Cardiff's offbeat solution, but Talbot is a greedy SOB, so he ties Cardiff to a tree as bait for the wolfman. Still in his human guise, the werewolf approaches Cardiff and tells the man to ready himself for death. But the salesman has another pitch up his sleeve. 

I usually can't be bothered about spoiling the twist in these things but "Lycanklutz" is a different story altogether. Its reveal should lead to at least a loud chuckle. Hands down, the most fun I ever had reading a Warren story. Didn't say this was the best Warren story of all time (I've already gone on record on that one), but you tell me what was more fun. Corben the writer is every bit as important as Corben the artist here. His one-liners are spot-on, as are his nods to the past (I'm not sure how he snuck the whole poem from The Wolf Man in without some repercussions). The color is gorgeous and the breasts are huge. And, yep, there's that finale! I think this was the first time I ever noticed Corben (and the way he drew breasts). It made quite the impression on me. In fact... (oh gosh, this is tough to admit) a friend of mine and I made a short film based on "Lycanklutz" for film class in eighth grade on a budget of about ten bucks. Werewolf was nothing but a shadow (and our eighth-grade maiden didn't even have breasts yet, as I recall) but it didn't turn out too bad, if I do say. Don't look for it anytime soon on YouTube, however, as the film is as lost as London After Midnight. The age of Corben Color starts now.

"The Way of All Flesh"

An aging, blind vicar tries to drum up business in his small village, but something sinister is killing the young people off. After Alex loses his wife, Margaret, in this deadly purge, he turns to Satan to return her (and the other townsfolk) to him. The dead do indeed rise (or, rather, dig their way free) and congregate at the blind vicar's church. His mission accomplished (or so he thinks since he can't exactly see what's shambled into his place of business), the vicar dies a peaceful, happy death and Alex becomes a believer in the Lord. What a dumb and confusing tale. Why would Alex believe in God? Wasn't it his incantation that brought the corpses out of the grave? And what was killing the people off? Was Doug Moench's point that God was trying to make a point to Alex by offing forty of his children? And, if it was Alex that filled that church, how was the vicar the triumphant one? And why did the new parishioners disappear when the holy man expired? I had hopes, in the beginning, that "The Way of All Flesh" could soar above Moench's previous stabs at literature but this, like all the rest, gets bogged down in the mire of pretension. And, hey Doug, can you find another exclamation than "Oh...my God!" Three or four times per story may be above the limit.

"The Bell of Kuang Sai"

Kublai Khan demands that his greatest metal-man create him a bell for all times and Kuang Sai gets to work. But after dozens of attempts, Kuang just can't seem to get it right; the bells always have a long crack marring their beauty. Khan tells Kuang he has three more tries before he gives him the "death by a thousand slices" treatment (akin to listening to Bon Jovi's Greatest Hits), so Kuang visits an old wizard, who calls out to all the gods to find out which one has it in for the master metal man. All available gods exhausted, the Lord of the Bells is called on (who'da thunk?) and tells Kuang that he must sacrifice his most precious treasure. Knowing he only has one more try before he goes down in history as the worst bell-maker, Kuang tosses his precious daughter, Fen, into the molten steel and a perfect bell for Kublai Khan is crafted. Well, almost perfect. Every time the bell is rung, it sounds like a young girl screaming. 

Not a bad little story at all and Mones does a decent job illustrating (except for that hilarious Lord of the Bells, a demon that looks more comical than evil) the otherworldly aspects of the script. The credits mention that George Henderson is adapting "The Bells of Kuang Sai" but what he was adapting no one seems to know. I'd have liked a stronger ending; the narrative just sputters out and leaves us with a final "shock" that is anything but.-Peter

Jack- Corben's art looks like nothing else at Warren and "Lycanklutz" is a winner! Horror, humor, and gorgeous color--what more do we need? The twist ending is clever, as well, and I can only hope that this story is a sign of things to come in the Warren mags. The rest of this issue was pretty good; I gave 2 1/2 stars to every story except "Cursed By Ambition," which is unfocused and takes a weird left turn halfway through. The rest of the stories all suffer from endings that are a letdown. I kind of liked "In My Father's House" for the way Moench tried to mix horror and noir, and I thought "Innsmouth Festival" got off to a good, funny start and had some above-average plotting. Abellan's art is still too scratchy for me.

"The Way of All Flesh" is overwritten in that special Moench fashion but has a likably gloomy atmosphere and Bea's art fits it to a T. "The Bell of Kuang Sai" is surprisingly good until the flat finale. This issue is easily the best of the three we read this time out.