The Latest Conan 3D Preview Pic...

Via

A little Critique on the work of Marcus Nispel

I’ve been watching films directed by Marcus Nispel to try and get a feel for what CONAN 3D might be like. I was watching the Dean Koontz's FRANKENSTEIN film starring Michael Madsen and Vincent Perez. ( He directed it ) Marcus is a fan of the medium shot and likes to have the subject approach the camera and do a pass as the camera turns when the subject gets closer. So we can expect a lot of that. Another Nispel habit is the segue…he melds scenes together in montage format and transitions to the following scene's establishing shot to create mood. He does this particularly using the medium shot and a lot of wind or rain to set the feel of the mood.

Another big time Directing favorite of Marcus’ is the extreme close up just before a flashback sequence. On a face or on eyes and then he does the fade in with the flashback…usually a medium shot heavily clouded or shadowed almost noir like with muffled voices echoing throughout the flashback.

When it comes to blood and gore he does not scrimp. After watching TEXAS CHAINSAW ( He directed it. ) I took note that he uses that medium shot he favors so much to stage the scene so you can see everything. Whereas somebody like George Romero or Tobe Hooper would have a close up on the wounding or maiming of the victim. Which in the case of CONAN would probably be a good thing what with all the swordplay in the movie and all.

One thing that concerns me the most is the actual sword fights themselves. I do not like in close tight shots. I want to see every Swing , swoop , dodge , block and parrie.

Excellent fight scenes of note from the last several years I’d say were in KING ARTHUR , Lord of the Rings , Braveheart , 300 , Gladiator and Pathfinder BUT…the fight scenes in the 13th Warrior were Too close for my tastes. The best shot in the entire film was when Bulwyf swings his sword like a bat and knocked the leader of the bad guys off his horse. The trial of the 3 shields scene was pretty cool too. Not to say I did not enjoy the film because I did…but that close up , way too close to the camera action takes away from the action itself and robs us the viewers of some well deserved sword play action!

In many ways Marcus’ Directing skills remind me of Russell Mulchahy’s work on HIGHLANDER which is a good thing. So I have faith in Marcus’ talents. I feel my research was worth the effort. I am highly optimistic. Now lets see that damned film!

Marcus Nispel...


Dean Koontz - FRANKENSTEIN...


Bulwyf ( Pronounced BULL VIFE ) from the 13th Warrior...

Mel...

Karl Urban - PATHFINDER...

Viggo - As Aragorn from the RINGS trilogy...

Conan Doesn't Take No Spit from No Camels!

By request, here's Conan bonking a camel on the head from Destroyer. I couldn't find a gif from the camel punching scene in Barbarian.

Ka-POW!

Krey the Barbarian!

 Trolling through one of my all time favorite websites this morning, which posts CBR versions of classic comic books, I came across this barbaric little gem; a 3 issue run of a comic called Krey, from Caliber Comics (publishers of the legendary Crow series).

The comics are very 1992 in every way; art, theme, feel, format. But in an oddly nostalgic way, it's a pretty cool book. There are some gory fight scenes, a few scenes ripped straight from Conan the Barbarian, and the main hottie had four arms for some reason. The artwork is actually pretty well-rendered if a bit cartoony.

Still, it's free, so head on over to HERE to download all three issues zipped. You'll need the Comical Comic Book Reader program to read the book, but it's also free, easy to use and a must have for anyone who loves comics and has a computer.

Enjoy!

 

BARBARIAN! The Video Game!

I totally remember playing this game back in the day at my best friend's house during the Summer of '87. We thought the game totally ruled back then. Fellow blogger, Darious Whiteplume, posted some scans of the box art on his Tumblr, complete with a busty '80s style mega-hottie and it completely took me back in time. I just had to repost these here!

Somebody has to know where I can download the abandonware for this!

(click the images to view full size)

Conan Movie Comic Adaptation!

The folks over at Bleeding Cool News hip us to some interesting stuff revealed about the movie with the promotion of the upcoming movie adaptation comic book.

From the Dark Horse press release:

Adapted from the new film by writer Stuart Moore, penciller and cover artist Gabriel Guzman [cover art at head of post], and with inks by Jason Gorder
On sale July 20, FC, 64 pages, $6.99, One-shot

After witnessing his wife burned at the stake, warlord Khalar Zym sets out on a quest to find the mythical Mask of Acheron, an ancient artifact that will bring his beloved back to life. In his search across the lands, Zym destroys a village in northern Cimmeria, where a boy born of battle survives and is cast out into the world, alone.
Years later, Zym crosses paths again with the boy who survived – Conan. He must now contend with this barbarian nuisance who is now set on vengeance for the slaughter of his village. Zym and his daughter, Marique, eventually clash with Conan in an epic final battle, the outcome of which will decide the fate of the world.
Based on Conan the Barbarian, the new major motion picture starring Jason Momoa, Rose McGowan, and Ron Perlman.

Hmmm... more slaughtered village nonsense. What do you all think? Does this make you want to see the movie more, or whittle away more hope?

"Let him contemplate this on the tree of woe!"

Heading up our gallery of the crucified is this painting by Benito Gallego in a painting called...."CRUCIFIXION DAY" Madness I tell you...MADNESS!!! I Love the look on his face!

Arnold crucified on the tree of woe. In the film CONAN the Barbarian. As if you didn't know....

The legendary BORIS Vallejo painted this cover for Savage sword # 5 The immortal John Buscema's interpretation for the movie adaptation

Ernie Chan takes a turn. From this awe inspiring plate from his portfolio the CHAN Barbarians

John Buscema with Joe Sinnot inks from the Marvel Treasury edition reprint of SS # 5

Hey...we gotta add Frank Frazetta...crucifying something , even if it is a martian.

Mark Silvestri - Crucifies Wolverine on the cover for the X-men # 251

There he is...Lee Horsely as TALON from the film " the Sword and the Sorcerer "

ODIN from Marvel comics THOR 300...by Keith Pollard one of my favorite THOR runs ever!

" Odin breaks free "

The Hero – crucified : Spartacus , Jesus , Van Dam , WOLVERINE , Lee Horsley , Arnold , Super boy , ODIN , CONAN ! All these characters have one thing in common. They’ve been crucified. Why do we like to crucify our heroes? What makes crucifixion such a fitting terrible punishment for the hero? Why do the villains insist on hanging the hero out to dry instead of just killing them outright?

The idea is that the Hero will succumb to the dehydration and exposure and suffer the agony of having been nailed to a tree or a giant cross. Of course Spartacus was the only one out of the bunch who died on the cross but everybody else survived. CONAN survived by sucking the blood from a Vultures neck as it tried to pick out his eye for lunch. Van Dam in the movie CYBORG used his powerful Karate skills to kick the cross and break it. Lee Horsley as TALON in the film the SWORD and the SORCEROR freed himself by pulling the spikes out with his bare hands. Even James Purefoy was crucified in last years foreign straight to DVD release of SOLOMON KANE.

JESUS? Well he’s another story. He had super natural powers of healing and resurrection at his command. It kind of comes with the job as the son of GOD. They take our stalwart hero and debase and demoralize them by stripping and nailing them out in the freezing cold or blistering heat. In hopes that they will die after a few days hanging around by their wrists.

I was watching a Discovery channel special on crucifixion once. It was scientifically determined that It took a mighty long time for people to expire up there. Several days or even up to a week. Of course those that were nailed took a shorter period to die than those that were tied. Does not sound like a fun way to go.

The following text is from the ROBERT E. HOWARD , CONAN story a " Witch shall be born "

Read on as the descript text tells the story of DESPERATION and SURVIVAL as CONAN triumphs.....

A Witch shall be born : Crucifixion scene ( The Tree of Death )

By the side of the caravan road a heavy cross had been planted, and on this grim tree a man hung, nailed there by iron spikes through his hands and feet. Naked but for a loin-cloth, the man was almost a giant in stature, and his muscles stood out in thick corded ridges on limbs and body, which the sun had long ago burned brown. The perspiration of agony beaded his face and his mighty breast, but from under the tangled black mane that fell over his low, broad forehead, his blue eyes blazed with an unquenched fire. Blood oozed sluggishly from the lacerations in his hands and feet.Constantius saluted him mockingly. "I am sorry, captain," he said, "that I cannot remain to ease your last hours, but I have duties to perform in yonder city--I must not keep your delicious queen waiting!" He laughed softly. "So I leave you to your own devices--and those beauties!" He pointed meaningly at the black shadows which swept incessantly back and forth, high above. "Were it not for them, I imagine that a powerful brute like yourself should live on the cross for days. Do not cherish any illusions of rescue because I am leaving you unguarded. I have had it proclaimed that anyone seeking to take your body, living or dead, from the cross, will be flayed alive together with all the members of his family, in the public square. I am so firmly established in Khauran that my order is as good as a regiment of guardsmen. I am leaving no guard, because the vultures will not approach as long as anyone is near, and I do not wish them to feel any constraint. That is also why I brought you so far from the city. These desert vultures approach the walls no closer than this spot.

"And so, brave captain, farewell! I will remember you when, in an hour, Taramis lies in my arms." Blood started afresh from the pierced palms as the victim's mallet-like fists clenched convulsively on the spike-heads. Knots and bunches of muscle started out of the massive arms, and Conan beat his head forward and spat savagely at Constantius's face. The voivode laughed coolly, wiped the saliva from his gorget and reined his horse about. "Remember me when the vultures are tearing at your living flesh," he called mockingly. "The desert scavengers are a particularly voracious breed. I have seen men hang for hours on a cross, eyeless, earless, and scalpless, before the sharp beaks had eaten their way into their vitals." Without a backward glance he rode toward the city, a supple, erect figure, gleaming in his burnished armor, his stolid, bearded henchmen jogging beside him. A faint rising of dust from the worn trail marked their passing. The man hanging on the cross was the one touch of sentient life in a landscape that seemed desolate and deserted in the late evening. Khauran, less than a mile away, might have been on the other side of the world, and existing in another age.

Shaking the sweat out of his eyes, Conan stared blankly at the familiar terrain. On either side of the city, and beyond it, stretched the fertile meadowlands, with cattle browsing in the distance where fields and vineyards checkered the plain. The western and northern horizons were dotted with villages, miniature in the distance. A lesser distance to the southeast a silvery gleam marked the course of a river, and beyond that river sandy desert began abruptly to stretch away and away beyond the horizon. Conan stared at that expanse of empty waste shimmering tawnily in the late sunlight as a trapped hawk stares at the open sky. A revulsion shook him when he glanced at the gleaming towers of Khauran. The city had betrayed him--trapped him into circumstances that left him hanging to a wooden cross like a hare nailed to a tree. A red lust for vengeance swept away the thought. Curses ebbed fitfully from the man's lips. All his universe contracted, focused, became incorporated in the four iron spikes that held him from life and freedom. His great muscles quivered, knotting like iron cables. With the sweat starting out on his graying skin, he sought to gain leverage, to tear the nails from the wood. It was useless. They had been driven deep. Then he tried to tear his hands off the spikes, and it was not the knifing, abysmal agony that finally caused him to cease his efforts, but the futility of it. The spike-heads were broad and heavy; he could not drag them through the wounds.

A surge of helplessness shook the giant, for the first time in his life. He hung motionless, his head resting on his breast, shutting his eyes against the aching glare of the sun. A beat of wings caused him to look, just as a feathered shadow shot down out of the sky. A keen beak, stabbing at his eyes, cut his cheek, and he jerked his head aside, shutting his eyes involuntarily. He shouted, a croaking, desperate shout of menace, and the vultures swerved away and retreated, frightened by the sound. They resumed their wary circling above his head. Blood trickled over Conan's mouth, and he licked his lips involuntarily, spat at the salty taste. Thirst assailed him savagely. He had drunk deeply of wine the night before, and no water had touched his lips since before the battle in the square, that dawn. And killing was thirsty, salt-sweaty work. He glared at the distant river as a man in hell glares through the opened grille.

He thought of gushing freshets of white water he had breasted, laved to the shoulders in liquid jade. He remembered great horns of foaming ale, jacks of sparkling wine gulped carelessly or spilled on the tavern floor. He bit his lip to keep from bellowing in intolerable anguish as a tortured animal bellows. The sun sank, a lurid ball in a fiery sea of blood. Against a crimson rampart that banded the horizon the towers of the city floated unreal as a dream. The very sky was tinged with blood to his misted glare. He licked his blackened lips and stared with bloodshot eyes at the distant river. It too seemed crimson with blood, and the shadows crawling up from the east seemed black as ebony. In his dulled ears sounded the louder beat of wings. Lifting his head he watched with the burning glare of a wolf the shadows wheeling above him. He knew that his shouts would frighten them away no longer.

One dipped--dipped--lower and lower. Conan drew his head back as far as he could, waiting with terrible patience. The vulture swept in with a swift roar of wings. Its beak flashed down, ripping the skin on Conan's chin as he jerked his head aside; then before the bird could flash away, Conan's head lunged forward on his mighty neck muscles, and his teeth, snapping like those of a wolf, locked on the bare, wattled neck. Instantly the vulture exploded into squawking, flapping hysteria. Its thrashing wings blinded the man, and its talons ripped his chest. But grimly he hung on, the muscles starting out in lumps on his jaws. And the scavenger's neck bones crunched between those powerful teeth. With a spasmodic flutter the bird hung limp. Conan let go, spat blood from his mouth. The other vultures, terrified by the fate of their companion, were in full flight to a distant tree, where they perched like black demons in conclave. Ferocious triumph surged through Conan's numbed brain. Life beat strongly and savagely through his veins. He could still deal death; he still lived. Every twinge of sensation, even of agony, was a negation of death.

"By Mitra!" Either a voice spoke, or he suffered from hallucination. "In all my life I have never seen such a thing!" Shaking the sweat and blood from his eyes, Conan saw four horsemen sitting their steeds in the twilight and staring up at him. Three were lean, white-robed hawks, Zuagir tribesmen without a doubt, nomads from beyond the river. The other was dressed like them in a white, girdled khalat and a flowing head-dress which, banded about the temples with a triple circlet of braided camelhair, fell to his shoulders. But he was not a Shemite. The dust was not so thick, nor Conan's hawk-like sight so clouded, that he could not perceive the man's facial characteristics. He was as tall as Conan, though not so heavy-limbed. His shoulders were broad and his supple figure was hard as steel and whalebone. A short black beard did not altogether mask the aggressive jut of his lean jaw, and gray eyes cold and piercing as a sword gleamed from the shadow of the kafieh. Quieting his restless steed with a quick, sure hand, this man spoke: "By Mitra, I should know this man!"

"Aye!" It was the guttural accents of a Zuagir. "It is the Cimmerian who was captain of the queen's guard!" "She must be casting off all her old favorites," muttered the rider. "Who'd have ever thought it of Queen Taramis? I'd rather have had a long, bloody war. It would have given us desert folk a chance to plunder. As it is we've come this close to the walls and found only this nag"--he glanced at a fine gelding led by one of the nomads--"and this dying dog." Conan lifted his bloody head. "If I could come down from this beam I'd make a dying dog out of you, you Zaporoskan thief!" he rasped through blackened lips. "Mitra, the knave knows me!" exclaimed the other. "How, knave, do you know me?" "There's only one of your breed in these parts," muttered Conan. "You are Olgerd Vladislav, the outlaw chief." "Aye! and once a hetman of the kozaki of the Zaporoskan River, as you have guessed. Would you like to live?" "Only a fool would ask that question," panted Conan. "I am a hard man," said Olgerd, "and toughness is the only quality I respect in a man. I shall judge if you are a man, or only a dog after all, fit only to lie here and die." "If we cut him down we may be seen from the walls," objected one of the nomads. Olgerd shook his head.

"The dusk is deep. Here, take this ax, Djebal, and cut down the cross at the base." "If it falls forward it will crush him," objected Djebal. "I can cut it so it will fall backward, but then the shock of the fall may crack his skull and tear loose all his entrails." "If he's worthy to ride with me he'll survive it," answered Olgerd imperturbably. "If not, then he doesn't deserve to live. Cut!" The first impact of the battle-ax against the wood and its accompanying vibrations sent lances of agony through Conan's swollen feet and hands. Again and again the blade fell, and each stroke reverberated on his bruised brain, setting his tortured nerves aquiver. But he set his teeth and made no sound. The ax cut through, the cross reeled on its splintered base and toppled backward. Conan made his whole body a solid knot of iron-hard muscle, jammed his head back hard against the wood and held it rigid there.

The beam struck the ground heavily and rebounded slightly. The impact tore his wounds and dazed him for an instant. He fought the rushing tide of blackness, sick and dizzy, but realized that the iron muscles that sheathed his vitals had saved him from permanent injury. And he had made no sound, though blood oozed from his nostrils and his belly-muscles quivered with nausea. With a grunt of approval Djebal bent over him with a pair of pincers used to draw horse-shoe nails, and gripped the head of the spike in Conan's right hand, tearing the skin to get a grip on the deeply embedded head. The pincers were small for that work. Djebal sweated and tugged, swearing and wrestling with the stubborn iron, working it back and forth--in swollen flesh as well as in wood. Blood started, oozing over the Cimmerian's fingers. He lay so still he might have been dead, except for the spasmodic rise and fall of his great chest. The spike gave way, and Djebal held up the blood-stained thing with a grunt of satisfaction, then flung it away and bent over the other. The process was repeated, and then Djebal turned his attention to Conan's skewered feet. But the Cimmerian, struggling up to a sitting posture, wrenched the pincers from his fingers and sent him staggering backward with a violent shove. Conan's hands were swollen to almost twice their normal size.

His fingers felt like misshapen thumbs, and closing his hands was an agony that brought blood streaming from under his grinding teeth. But somehow, clutching the pincers clumsily with both hands, he managed to wrench out first one spike and then the other. They were not driven so deeply into the wood as the others had been. He rose stiffly and stood upright on his swollen, lacerated feet, swaying drunkenly, the icy sweat dripping from his face and body. Cramps assailed him and he clamped his jaws against the desire to retch. Olgerd, watching him impersonally, motioned him toward the stolen horse. Conan stumbled toward it, and every step was a stabbing, throbbing hell that flecked his lips with bloody foam.

One misshapen, groping hand fell clumsily on the saddle-bow, a bloody foot somehow found the stirrup. Setting his teeth, he swung up, and he almost fainted in midair; but he came down in the saddle--and as he did so, Olgerd struck the horse sharply with his whip. The startled beast reared, and the man in the saddle swayed and slumped like a sack of sand, almost unseated. Conan had wrapped a rein about each hand, holding it in place with a clamping thumb. Drunkenly he exerted the strength of his knotted biceps, wrenching the horse down; it screamed, its jaw almost dislocated. One of the Shemites lifted a water flask questioningly. Olgerd shook his head. "Let him wait until we get to camp. It's only ten miles. If he's fit to live in the desert he'll live that long without a drink." The group rode like swift ghosts toward the river; among them Conan swayed like a drunken man in the saddle, bloodshot eyes glazed, foam drying on his blackened lips.

GO READ THE STORY......NOW!

Conan vs. The '80s by Jerome Opeña

Ever want to see Conan taking out such '80s luminaries such as Cobra Commander, Thundercats' Pathro or MOTU's Skeletor? Well now you can thanks to this drawing from Jerome Opeña. I spotted this on Super Punch which linked to a sparse art blog with a rather familiar sounding name...

An April fool's day prank...

He got me good. over @ " The Mike Hawthorne sketchbook " the very talented and esteemed Mr. Hawthorne posted a drawing of CONAN facing off against HELLBOY. ( Both Dark Horse publications ) With the comment "Conan vs Hellboy , I can't believe I'm actually working on it."

I thought The good people at Dark Horse were putting out a CONAN crossover story. Well sadly. It was a prank. A damned fine one too. I was psyched until Mike said "APRILFOOL'S!!!". A long time ago I prepped a plot synopsis for a CONAN vs TARZAN mini....the response was. " We have no plans to have any CONAN crossovers , ever " But thank you. So I thought the HELLBOY deal was real. But alas....

Son of CROM !

This oviously is the BARBARIAN painting by the great Frank Frazetta. This cover ( with a SEPIA tint over the original ) is by the beautiful and talented Julie Bell.

Not sure who the art is by on this one here. Anybody know? I'll gladly give credit where it's due.

“Son a of a……! “ Ever since I can remember I have always loved adventure heroes. My first introduction to these braver than brave and stronger than strong was the re-runs of Tarzan films or even Hercules films early Sunday mornings when I was but a wee Lad!

Then as I became more familiar with comic books I discovered KORAK son of Tarzan. “Korak” I thought his name was BOY! Then I discovered the paperbacks and then…CONAN. I had become familiar with KORAK : Son of Tarzan comics and made sure I watched every film when the “ Mighty Sons of Hercules” was running those old peplums. But then…the coolest frigging thing happened and the world changed for the better.

Marvel comics put out a KING CONAN comic book and in it…CONAN’s son Prince CONN!!! It’s in the text someplace you can find it, CONN’S name is likewise CONAN. ( Created in the pastiches written by L.Sprague De Camp and Lin Carter ) Daddy-o just calls him CONN. I guess that was done deliberately to distinguish the two. I always thought that a “ Son of CONAN” series would be a great idea.

Now…even the HULK has a kid! Seeing the likeness of “SKAAR : Son of HULK” to our favorite brawny Barbarian I was inspired to once again go into my PC’s paintbrush program and throw together these ( MOCK ) and STRICTLY FOR PARODY purposes “SON of CONAN” covers. I do so hope you like them and that the idea brings a smirk or even a smile to your faces. PERHAPS..Dark Horse comics will be inspired and even take it to the next level and make it REAL!....” LIGHTBULB!!!!”

"QUIET on the SET!"

I don't know...with that chain mail sleeve on his arm there...that's pretty Badass!

I don't know WHAT is going on here....Is that dude gonna get catapulted?

Ewww! That Pict Chieftan there is one ugly mother....and I don't like Staphen Lang's armor here.

Just exactly what is he doing sneaking around slashing peoples throats and stuff? SNEAKIN?

Quiet on the SET!!!! That's right!

Browsing the internet once again I come across more of these production stills from the upcoming movie” Conan the barbarian 3D”. I see all over the place on different blogs the reservations people have toward the upcoming movie. Everyone is comparing Jason to Arnold…as anyone naturally would. Arnold is a legendary figure he once held the title of the world’s most perfectly developed man. His Biceps were 21 inches around and his chest was an enormous 56 inches and he stood 6 feet 1 and 1 quarter inch tall….that I say is the perfect height. ( wish I was that tall ) So everyone has a natural bias toward the former ” Governator ”.

No Jason has nowhere near the physique Arnold had in his prime…but Jason is not a small guy. He’s 6’3” tall with a 50 inch chest and 19 inch biceps…you want to fight him?  I certainly don’t.

One specific point I would like to touch on is…” Why are these barbarian characters built like rejects from Planet fitness commercials? ” Back in ancient times Warriors and Gladiators and Spartans and Roman legion soldiers did not train with weights and in the gym toning and isolating muscle groups. They fought death with weapons and skill and so on.

Well…I’d like to clear the air on this right friggin’ now. Robert E. Howard the father of High adventure fantasy literature or the genre we know as “ Sword and Sorcery” had a very specific vision of who he wanted CONAN to be. Being a body building and boxing enthusiast he was around GYM’s and near guys who worked out and dabbled in body building and working out himself. He saw those guys at the Circus bending bars with 50 inch chests and so on ( Circus strong men ).

Go back yourself and read his books. His description of CONAN is one of a great big guy with corded rippling muscles who stood a complete head and shoulder over everyone else. CONAN in Howard’s mind…was a Monster of a man. He could pick up a foeman and break him in half by bending him over backwards with his bare hands.

Now …add the element of a broadsword or a battle axe and put him out on a bloody battle field and you have Frank Frazetta’s iconic image of CONAN in the famous BARBARIAN painting.  I too had my reservations about this movie… but now I am looking forward to it. I do have my fingers crossed. But….the movie could bomb. I would rather be optimistic about it.  As Reis once said in an earlier post someplace here in this Homage of a blog called CROM…he stated “ We don’t want no negativity ”…not verbatim but that’s my interpretation.

Introducing Jason Momoa as "CONAN"

I lifted this publicity still off the CONAN 3D Facebook page. Here we see Jason striking the classic pose ready for action and ready to do battle with Wizards , Evil henchmen , Monsters and Hapless moron's who would insist on getting in the way.
This movie has been a long time in the coming but it's on it's way. We the fans have been waiting for years. Sure there is general hesitance and doubts that the film will not live up to the hype. But you know what? I don't care...I see the stills , I see the interview clips and press material released to the public. Being the ever vigilant CONAN fan that I am. Well..I can't wait now. I am anticipating a great box office draw...it's CONAN man!!!
We just may all be in for a pleasant surprise.

CONAN the Punisher

Truly BADASS!

I was browsing the web looking for material useful in the fine art of blogging..Looking for Comics , Posters , Art and general whatnot. Then I spotted this totally MEAN looking CONAN custom action figure over at http://www.joecustoms.com/. People buy other action figures and sculpting clay/putty and paint and rip them apart and Frankenstein job them into NEW action figures. One of a kind and unique action heroes to wile away your day and have a little adventure of your own.

Vintage Masters of the Universe promo

Check out this damned cool Estabon Maroto promo poster for a MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE ad campaign for the toy line when it was released in GERMANY in 1988. Everyone who follows CROM or knows anything about CONAN related news , events , characters or just basic general minutia related to our favorite Broadsword wielding Barbarian should be familiar with Mr. Maroto. He's the guy who designed the famous chain mail bikini worn by our favorite RED HEAD OF VENGEANCE ...RED SONJA !!!

When I saw it I needed to share it with Reis , the founder of this blog...he collects toys of all kinds and everyone should know by now. He loves him some MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE...this one is for you boss.

You Think YOU are a Conan Fan?

Well, you're nowhere near as big of a Conan fan as CROM! regular, RRozum, as he's proven with his new license plate!

By Crom, indeed! Here's to you, RRozum, for declaring to the world that you know damn well what is best in life! And thanks for sharing this with us!

Vikor Review!

If you all would like to read my full review of the MAsters of the Universe Classics Vikor figure over at my About.com Action Figure Collecting site, just click right HERE.

"CONAN" from SPRINGFIELD?

This one's mine....

Over at "SPRINGFIELD PUNX" another cool blog here on Blogspot DEAN the author of the blog posts pics of everyone under the sun as characters in the style of the SIMPSONS everyones favorite long running animated sitcom by Matt Groening. I created my own little CONAN PUNX and sent it to him for laughs...well it inspired him to do it up right...so here you go folks...CONAN...if he were a SIMPSONS character by DEAN from "SPRINGFIELD PUNX" thank you for the honorable mention and glad you dug my little CONAN guy.

Rejected Conan Art by Paul Maybury!

I spotted these pages via artist Paul Maybury's Tumblr site, where he posted a few pages of art that he submitted to Darkhorse Comics in the hopes of getting hired. Alas, it was not meant to be. I, personally, think this art is brilliant, and even though a bit of a departure (apparently, Dark Horse thought it was too cartoony), I think that the character of Conan is strong enough to withstand the interpretation and the overall mythos will be stronger for its inclusion. This... art... kicks... ass.

Conan and the Shaman's Curse!

CONAN and the SHAMAN'S CURSE By Sean A. Moore. A review...of sorts...I don't quite know where to start with this baby. So I'll begin at the beginning. Suitable...right?


The story opens with the description of a bloody battlefield on a beach The story plays out so vividly and descript you would think REH wrote this himself. Enter CONAN staring down a score of enemy warriors ready to do him in. CONAN dispatches them with fair enough ease as we read on limbs and heads and entrails fly about the thick ichor and blood filled beach. One last warrior stands facing CONAN...but in the throng of battle CONAN already wounded this man in the leg. He is bleeding out fast. It turns out he is a SHAMAN and casts a curse upon CONAN. The SHAMAN dies succumbing to the loss of blood from his severed femoral artery ( Apparently ) . Just having red dust blown into his face CONAN collapses only to wake up hours later from a fitful nightmare where he was running naked through a jungle tackling an antelope and rending it with his teeth and bare hands.

CONAN then begins gathering his fallen comrades into a large pile and lighting a funeral pyre. An arduous task that takes him all day. The least he could do right? But he see's dozens of enemy horsemen heading his way he tries to hide but they see him and give chase. His only escape is to swim out to the boat that he spots in the distance. Several enemy riders dismount and try to catch him by swimming after while others try to pick him off by bow from the beach. But he makes it to the boat thus escaping. As he climbs aboard the boat he attempts to buy his way with some gold he had tucked in his belt. He is given a position as an oarsman and sets to task rowing among the others.

Well that don't work out too well for the big ol' Cimmerian because it turns out the Captain of the ship is an old enemy from CONAN'S days as a pirate with Belit and the Black Corsairs. He has his men grab CONAN in another battle where CONAN kills two or three more men before they can bring him down and tie him up in the hold so tight he can't move his fingers.

Well he stays tied up for about three day's in that hold UNTIL...apparently CONAN transforms into a giagantic white haired , man eating Were ape creature!!!! He escapes his bonds and immediately detroys the crew ripping them apart and eating them...the Captain and a few others hide in the Captains quarter's until dawn. In the morning CONAN wakes up naked and full of blood. It's caked to him like he bathed in it...but it's not his. Just as he's gaining his wit's.....a giant sea monster rears it's head and begins to beat on the ship breaking the mast. The exhaustion has now completely left CONAN and he seems renewed with strength and vigor.

He picks up part of the fallen mast and spikes the gigantic monstrocity right in the eye piercing it's brain and killing it. At that point the Captain and his crew show themselves and set themselves upon CONAN with flashing and flailing blades. The Captain nicks CONAN with a dagger...but CONAN being a seasoned fighter and no stranger to close quarter combat with blades kills his assailants handily. He jumps into the life boat and escapes the sinking ship with naught but some rope and a sword. So far...this is only a third of the way through the book.

As he rows away from the sinking ship he feels a weird sensation and looks down at his arm where he was nicked and can tell right away that the dagger was poisoned. UGH!!!

He makes a couple of slashes around the wound and sucks out the poison. Feeling nauseas and sick he ties himself to the lifeboat and spikes his sword into the side of the boat so that it does not fall off into the sea. He passes out from the poison. Sure enough...he wakes on another beach and his boat was smashed while he was in his drugged slumber but parts of it have washed ashore with him including the piece of wood he drove his sword into. He wakes up regains his senses and searches for food. He finds coconuts and has a small satisfying feast and replenishes his weary drugged and battle torn body.

Just then he notices some canoes moving in with what ( By description can only be the Hyborian age counter parts to Samoan warriors ) looks like 30 large warriors bigger than himself. He takes cover in the trees....as large Carnivorous Vulture like bird creatures with fanged beaks swoop down upon them and another bloody descript battle ensues. CONAN can not help himself and he joins the fray in order to help. These warriors are using oars as weapons and faring well against the Vulture monsters but...CONAN has his sword and he takes out twice as many Bird things as any other warrior in half the time.

When the battle is done. CONAN makes eye contact with the eldest of the warriors ( They are called the Ganak's ) But before he can speak or try to communicate...he once again succumbs to exhaustion and pretty much faints. ( This CONAN falling asleep stuff begins to form a pattern eh? Just about every case results in a fitful nightmare for CONAN ) Too much exertion and not enough recouperation time. There are 7 warriors left out of the 30 that rowed ashore and the eldest says that CONAN is the chosen one sent by their savior in time of need in order to help them against their ancient enemies.

One warrior scoff's at the old warrior and picks up CONAN'S sword and they leave CONAN on the island and row back out toward their own island a short distance away. But not before the older warrior draws a crude map in the sand as a clue for CONAN to follow. ( By now this is just about almost halfway through the book. ) CONAN wakes up...and see's the clue in the sand and follows it and gets in a canoe and heads toward the nearby island. He follows clues left by the old man to a trail in the jungle. Noticing strange fruit hanging from the trees CONAN plucks a couple of apple sized fruits and bites into them sucking out the fruity juicy meat and discarding the rough outer skin or shell whatever it is. He discovers that it is bitter but tastes faintly like Coconuts. But he needs nourishment and eats it despite the bitter taste. As he walks along he notices as one of the fruit pieces falls from a branch and cracks on the ground and thousands of tiny spiders spew forth from it and he wretches and gags...he just ate two of those...BLECHH!!!!

He notices a gigantic spider just before it shoots it's sticky webbing at him and he has no time to react or draw his sword before it is on him and has it's monstorous pincer mandibles around his waist as venom from the pincers secretes from it's jaws and bathes CONAN from the waste down in icky nasty spider venon. With no weapon no clothes and only his bare hands CONAN grabs the pincers and struggles for long moments pitting his strength against the spider's jaws until...he rips it's head open and it relinqueshes it's grasp on him.

Not far away the GANAK warriors are having a council and it was decided among the elders that CONAN is indeed the chosen one and they have been ordered to give him back his sword and find him.

Now.....in case you have not noticed that is an awful lot of action all crammed into the first half of the book. This book is a damned good read and I thoroughly enjoyed it....Action...Monsters....nightmares...gory battles....Were apes.....fantastic exploits and encounters. One nasty hairy situation after the next. I know for sure that after you read this book you'll have a new appreciation for a hero you already love. This is CONAN at his best....and it don't stop there!