THE BLOOD OF TÔL KARUŢHA – HAMMER, TONGS, AND TOOLS

Continuing on with my short story  THE VENGEANCE OF TÔL KARUŢHA and my prior posts on Conan. I have the entire story written (though not typed) and will post it here in its entirety when I get it all typed as an example of my short story writing ability for agents, publishers, and my followers and fans. For now my previously broken wrist makes typing long periods of time problematic and so I pay my daughter to do it.

For previous entries see here: THE FRAGMENTS OF TÔL KARUŢHA

and here: CONAN, BABA YAGA, AND TÔL KARUŢHA

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Conan saw the blood seep from the wound of Tôl Karuţha. Perhaps, he thought to himself, it was a trick of the dark and the nearly moonless gloom of the Ophirian night, but that blood seemed unnaturally dark and uncannily sleek to him. As if it were a slick but soiled oil or possibly even the ichor of some preternatural monster rather than the blood of a mortal man.

A guarded growl erupted deep in Conan’s mind, along with a primitive alarm and revulsion of the supernatural that demanded his future attention. Conan resolved to investigate later, when he had the opportunity to observe closely and without arousing suspicion. If he got the opportunity.

At the moment he was in a fight for his life against ever mounting odds, and for all he knew his erstwhile “ally” could desert him at any moment by showing himself more fiend than friend. For now Conan must slay, or be slain, and so he set about him with a fury and a lust for combat and gore.

In satisfying his lust he would be fully sated, for his enemies met him with equal ferocity and far greater numbers.

Time weighed against Conan. Time and numbers. His oldest enemies. His most dangerous foes.

 

THE FRAGMENTS OF TÔL KARUŢHA and other related matters

I think I need a much better Conan-vocabulary.

Howard’s writing vocabulary was much, much different than mine. (My writing and working vocabulary far more naturally resembles Tolkien’s than Howard’s.) Of course I do not want to write my Conan story exactly as Howard would. Howard had a very unusual and heavily-imagined (the kind you almost never hear used in real life) and even stilted vocabulary, which makes his books fun to read (in one sense) but also extremely pulpish and juvenile and self-limiting (in another sense).

I want to maintain the overall uniqueness of Howard’s vocabulary and phrasing without directly imitating him and without the self-limited nature of his construction and terminology.

What I actually want to do is to produce a Conan story that is obviously by me, yet similar enough to Howard’s Conan to be instantly recognizable and enjoyable and fun to read. So whereas I don’t want to directly imitate Howard’s language, I do want to pay homage to it. The same with the way I write Conan himself. There is much to admire about Howard’s Conan but much I would also change or discard or at the very least alter and modify. Sometimes even radically so.

So I am setting out to intentionally do those very things with this story. I think of it in this way, I am writing a Conan Story which one might consider as written by an entirely different chronicler (me) and which stresses certain aspects of Conan’s character and personality but pays little attention to other aspects of his personality. Or even intentionally ignores certain traits.

Still, I think that I need a much better “Conan-vocabulary” to pay homage to the character in the way I wish. I have recently been reading Robert Jordan’s Conan books and his interpretation of the character and find it superb, both in the way he mimics Howard’s vocabulary without becoming stifled and artificial, and as far as his overall interpretation of the character. Which I actually prefer to Howard’s Conan in many respects.

On the other hand I think my story’s plot is actually far superior to most of Howard’s story-plots and may even be superior to much of Jordan’s plottings. So, we’ll see how that goes.

Below are some fragments of the story I have been producing so far. Since I am writing this in the month of October I am not only making this a Conan adventure story, I am also making it a true horror story as well.

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This shall be the introductory quote to my Conan short story of The Vengeance of Tôl Karuţha:

“Of all the truly dangerous things in the world the least dangerous is this – a reckless and unwary man. The most dangerous is a crafty and cunning woman.”

Engraven upon the Guile-Stone of Khawarish

*        *        *

Her dark mouth became a bloody and open wound. A demonic and fearsome gash of portentous witchcraft which no human face should have been able to contain.

Conan stepped back in caution and concern, slowly unsheathing his sword in wonder at the sight, but in his heart he yearned not to comprehend how but only to strike. He was already well past any further desire to endure these continued onslaughts of strange sorcery and weird warlockery. Yet although this woman still fascinated him and some part of him deeply pitied her he was also frightened of her as he had never before feared any sorceress or witch. She was simply too unpredictable and too uncanny not to fear.

Something unnatural, disturbing, and horrific hovered around her as if some unnamed, ancient, and uncontrollable god, long vanished, broiled within her.

Suddenly Conan felt cold to his very marrow and he knew immediately that this was no act of nature – not of this world and not of his own. He struggled to breathe, his great chest heaving as if on fire but sluggish as if being slowly frozen by death. His throat slaved to remain open and his escaping breath snaked outwards and coiled like a glittering and ghostly Stygian serpent. Then, with a tremendous crush of agony, he felt the the bone in his lower left leg break apart and he fell like an unbending oak that had been shattered by the unforeseen summer lightning of a still distant but savage storm.

*        *        *

From the man’s appearance he seemed dangerous. Conan was certain of his own prowess but he had long ago learned to never underestimate any other man. Even women, or at least certain women, could be mortally dangerous for they could be crafty, cold-blooded, and quick. Conan therefore had become doubly suspicious for he now faced both man and woman, and both seemed warily guarded and preternaturally unknown.

“Who are you?” Conan asked in the Shemitic language for that was the speech in which he had just been addressed. He knew little of it, but could still carry on a basic conversation in the harsh tones of the tongue.

“I am Tôl Karuţha,” replied the man confidently, but Conan was instantly doubtful for he had heard some of the lore surrounding the name. Back when he had traveled the far reaches of the East. ”And this black wench is Jerabela, of the Kengan tribe of the Kushites. She is my slave and consort.”

Conan did not fully understand every word that had been said, though he understood slave well enough, having once been one. However he did quickly and unmistakably notice that the woman’s eyes had subtly narrowed with both anger and disdain at the way in which the tall and powerful man had named and described her, though she controlled herself with admirable reserve.

Conan studied her as carefully as he could in such a short space of time. She was tall, athletic, lithe, and for a woman powerfully built. Far more powerfully built than most women Conan had ever encountered, save a very few, such as the Pirate Queen. Despite the tan man’s claim she was not possessed of the bearing and comportment of slave, but rather her demeanor was proud and her stance fully erect and alert.

 

 

NIGHT WRITER

Last night, well, this morning actually – at about 2:00 AM I made significant advances on my novel plus I wrote the entire introductory section (freehand – in one of my short story notebooks) of the first draft to my Conan story, The Vengeance of Tôl Karuţha. (Which I will later post or serialize here.)

I was also able to entirely plot out Tôl Karuţha, though that might change if I decide to later add some things. But I am very pleased with the start of the story. I feel the story is very Conanaesque and Howardesque while still being my take on Conan rather than Howard’s. This is the version of the story that shall be a more or less straight out Howard-type Conan prose-story rather than in the style of either a Nordic Saga or a Skaldic rendering.

I really enjoy writing at night and in the early mornings between about 11:00 PM and 3 to 4 o’clock AM. And that is also the period in which I am usually most productive as a writer.

Of course I’ve always worked best at night. Doesn’t matter what I’m doing.

Have a good weekend folks.

Jack.

CONAN, BABA YAGA, AND TÔL KARUŢHA

Now that the days grow colder, the nights lengthen, and the Earth grays my creative impulses grow great indeed.

Not only have I recently done some superb research that should further enrich the plot to my High Fantasy novels (The Other World) considerably, but today while at the library I decided to do something that I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid (teenager actually) – I am going to write a Conan story. Based upon Robert E Howard’s Conan character.

When I was a teen every year, during the Autumn and Winter, I would read certain material, such as Conan stories and the horror stories of HP Lovecraft. Today while searching for my typical Autumn fare of Howard and Lovecraft stories (and long ago I had read them all, still I re-read them most every year for the atmosphere they evoke in my mind and imagination during these seasons) I said to myself, “Well, hell, you’ve read them all, why not just finally write one?”

Not having a decent counterargument I told myself I would finally do just that. So all afternoon I have been devising a plot, a very good one in my opinion, for this story. I have it fairly well sketched out already in my imagination and I shall call it, The Vengeance of Tôl Karuţha. I have not yet decided however whether to write it as a straight forward Howard-type Conan story, or, whether to write it as if it were part of a Nordic prose saga. I may even write it as if it were a Skaldic poem recounting Conan’s encounter with Tôl Karuţha during his “War against the Ancient Dead” (the Cold-Ghost War). In that case I will call it Tôl Karuţha Edá.

This is told during a time period when Conan is in his early thirties and soon to be a tribal chieftain but before he ever becomes a king.

I am currently toying with all three versions of the tale, maybe even writing one prose version (of whatever kind) and one Skaldic version (for retelling at court).

In either case I will post the story here, to Wyrdwend, in its entirety when completed. Though I may have to serialize it in part depending upon how lengthy it becomes.

I shall also soon (within the next couple of weeks, or possibly earlier) start to serialize my Ancient of Days fantasy stories (similar in some ways to what might be called Swords and Sorcery fantasy tales, but more mythological in nature). These will be the tales that revolve around the character Solimar.

Also while at the library today I coincidentally (if you believe in that kind of thing) ran across several books on Fairy Tales and Folk Tales and Fables. Adjacent to a section I was browsing on history. One was a thick old book on Russian Fairy Tales (mostly weird and horrific ones) collected by Aleksander Afanasev. I got it immediately because it had several stories about Baba Yaga (or Babayaga if you prefer).

I have also been fascinated by Baba Yaga since I was a teen. For those who are unfamiliar with Baba Yaga she was an apparently ancient, cannibalistic witch, perhaps of Russian origin, perhaps of non-Russian or Slavic origins, who was possessed of weird powers, lived in an enchanted, mobile home (her home could magically move about if she wished), was terrifying in appearance and was greatly feared by the Russians and Russian children.

Back then I read stories of Baba Yaga (being first introduced to her by a set of obscure references in Gary Gygax’s Advanced D&D books) as I could find them. They fascinated me, though at first I couldn’t say why.

Only later, in my twenties, did I begin to realize that she was, in fact, one of the first modern-era references in Folk literature to what was obviously a serial killer. In this specific case primarily a cannibalistic pedophilic serial killer who liked to keep trophies from her victims and eat them after she had used them for whatever purposes pleased her best at the moment. As a matter of fact only after I began to hunt killers myself did I fully realize just how much of a true pre-cursor Baba Yaga was to many modern serial killers, or at least to the most depraved of modern serial killers. She was in fact a sort archetypal Folk Lore version profile of a typical highly-organized, trophy-keeping, cannibalistic serial killer. For that reason alone (although she was possessed of many other odd and unusual capabilities and traits) she has fascinated me ever since I read my first tale of her.

She would lure her victims, primarily children, to an isolated locale with which she was familiar and in which she could operate easily and without fear of being either discovered or interfered with, enchant or drug or incapacitate her victims, abduct them, and then use them as she pleased (usually involving some type of torture or imprisonment) until she murdered them and ate the corpses. Thereafter she would often keep trophies of her victims.

Those who wrote these tales would not have described her in those terms obviously (as a serial killer – though I seriously doubt that I am the first modern person to develop the theory that Baba Yaga was a serial killer) but in fact that was what she was. Or that is what these tales of her were describing at least. And I suspect that these tales were in fact nothing but a very early recounting of one or more individuals (probably female, but maybe a male disguising himself as female, or even possibly a team of killers – the Three Sisters) who were so crafty and so good at their murderous work that their killings seemed almost supernatural to those recounting their exploits. (And they were maliciously exploiting others.)

To tell you the truth I have myself long considered writing my own set of Baba Yaga stories aimed at youth (say between the ages of 8 and 14 to perhaps even 16 years old) which would contain a twist. Yes, Baba Yaga would still be a supernatural witch, she would have a male assistant or slave to help her lure, abduct, and try to kill and cannibalize her victims, yes her victims would still be exposed to horrific and bizarre events and dangers (some natural, some supernatural) but in each story the intended victims would either defeat her plans, thwart their own murders, rescue others, or escape to tell their tale.

The reason being that each tale will be a coded-story designed to train children against the typical lures and tactics employed by serial killers and other criminals who like to trick and abduct children (extortionists, hostage takers, those involved in the sex slave, child gang runners, warlords, etc.). At the end of each story I will review how the children escaped or avoided capture by the witch and what any child could do to successfully augment and practice their own personal security awareness and to increase their odds of survival and escape if they were to ever be abducted.

So yes, I will approach the tales as children’s folk and horror fiction tales but each tale will have encoded in it avoidance, escape, and evasion security and survival methods embedded within the plot.

After reading these new Russian folk tales I may then start writing my Baba Yaga stories.

For now though I will continue to work on my novel and short stories and preparing one of my non-fiction books for publication.

But I am very much looking forward to writing the things I just discussed in the post above. Starting tomorrow.

Good night folks.

CONAN AND ME, PART ONE: LANGUAGE, PULP, RACE, AND FICTION

Lately I’ve been re-reading (actually listening to on CD) some of R.E. Howard’s later stories on Conan, such as The Conquering Sword of Conan.

Now every year, usually in the Fall (but at other times as well) or as the weather changes I get a desire to read or listen to Conan, or Solomon Kane, or the stories of HP Lovecraft. Adventure and horror stories. Don’t know why, I just do, it’s sort of a recurring literary theme with me. I associate Autumn and early Winter with adventure, and patrolling, and exploring, and the coming dark.

(I also at this time of year like to read or listen to the radio plays of Jack Flanders or the Green Hornet or John Carter of Mars or Doc Savage or other types of things like that I used to listen to as a kid.)

Now I’ve always liked the stories of Conan (though I have much more in common personally with the character Solomon Kane) as I enjoy a lot of pulp fiction. It’s adventurous, and that’s what I like about it. Adventure stories and pulp fiction tend to roam widely in space and time, and this very much appeals to the explorer and Vadder in me. As well as to the historian in me, as pulp stories are often pseudo-historical and often contain historical and archaeological allusions and references. I wish far more modern writers wrote really good adventure stories, especially for young men and boys, but also even for girls, such as my daughters. Alas, aside from children stories adventure yarns seem a dying or dead art. More is the shame.

But a couple of things have always bothered me about Conan and his adventure stories. One is Howard’s sometimes ridiculous use of inappropriate language, mixing antique, antiquated, and outmoded terms all in the same paragraph or sentence and doing so without a broader context. The same can be said for his general world building tendencies as well, he sometimes mixes wholly inappropriate matters and allusions and settings and events and places and personages together haphazardly and without any logical framework. I know this is part of his Sword and Sorcery Shtick but it can detract heavily from the appeal of the story. As a writer I certainly understand that every writer is at least to some extent a product of his times, and of what is known in his time. As well as a victim of his own his ideas, and a bondsman of his ideas about writing. Finally he is in at least in some sense a slave of his own language, real or invented, and his use of that language. But Howard’s language often descends into “pulp-speech” in a way that is almost an obvious caricature of pulp. In other words his writings become the very caricature of the pulp genre to such an obvious degree that it becomes impossible to read some of his phrasing without saying to yourself, “this story is pulp.” Instead of, “this story is a great adventure.”

True, sometimes his phrasing and language use is clever, even inspired, at other times though it is both simultaneously banal and overwrought. At times like that you easily remember within your own mind, “this is fiction,” and that’s precisely what you want to avoid in fiction writing.

The second thing that bothers me about Conan is Conan’s obsession (in some of his stories at least) with race and tribalism and ethnicities and “groups.”

to be continued…