Chapter Text
THUNDARR THE BARBARIAN i n THE BOOK OF THE DEAD
Chapter One
In the year 1994, from out of space came a runaway planet, hurtling between The Earth and The Moon, unleashing cosmic destruction. Man's civilization is cast in ruin. Two thousand years later, Earth is reborn. A strange new world rises from the old. A world of savagery, super science, and sorcery.
In an ancient library, in the ruins of an ancient city that was once known as Washington DC, an old and sickly looking man is sitting in front of an old and ill kept fireplace reading a book by the light of the crackling fire. He is dressed in the torn and tattered robes of a once great wizard, his head devoid of any hair. His name is Infernus, and he in fact once was a mighty and powerful wizard. He was made even mightier when the werewolf known as Xevon made him one of The Pack. Unfortunately he was defeated shortly afterward by the barbarian known as Thundarr, along with his companions, Ookla The Mok, and a sorceress named Princess Ariel. They destroyed his magic staff, and threw him into an enchanted pool which cures lycanthropy. Now powerless, he has been searching for a way to recover his lost magic ever since.
"Bah!" says the former wizard in frustration, "Nothing but the simple tricks and nonsense of charlatans!" and he throws the book he was reading, All The Secrets Of Magic Revealed by Herbert L Becker into the fire.
"Childrens games!" he cries as he throws an ancient and tattered copy of TSR's The Complete Wizard's Handbook for the 2nd Edition Advanced Dungeons & Dragons game onto the fire.
"Fairy tales!" he shouts, as a copy of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord Of The Rings is hurled into the fire.
"Spiritual claptrap!" he says as he throws a copy of The Practice Of Withcraft by Robin Skelton into the fire.
"No real magic anywhere," he says, and he sits back down in dispair.
An entire library at his disposal, and he hasn't found a single tome on real magic anywhere. Suddenly he hears a loud growling noice, like that of a hungry predator. It doesn't frighten him though, for he knows exactly what it is. His stomach. He hasn't eaten in days. He picks up his broken staff, which he has been using as a club, and a burlap sack, and heads out to check his traps. When he was a wizard, he never had to worry about going hungry. The humans who served him would hand over whatever he desired. Now they know he is powerless they will not cower. They are angry for the years of abuse and terror he subjected them to, and would rather see him starve to death than give him even a crust of stale bread. So he's been reduced to eating whatever he can catch or steal. And since he had never had to hunt, forage, or steal before, he has found that he's not very good at any of that. Luckily he found the library, which had books on how to survive in hostile environments. He taught himself how to set snares and deadfalls, and now lived on whatever he caught (mostly rats and other rodents). Unfortunately for Infernus, his traps and snares have been mostly empty for several days now. He went about checking his traps. As he expected, they were empty. He kept checking them anyway. He finally gets to his last trap, next to the fence surrounding an acient cemetary with row upon row of white crosses marking the final resting places of the dead. Infernus groans in dismay at his rotten luck.
"Release me," says a voice, which seems to be coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
"What?" Says Infernus, startled at the noise. He looks about frantically, but there doesn't appear to be anyone around.
"Release me!" says the voice again, this time more urgently.
"Where are you?" Demands Infernus, "Show yourself!"
"Crypt," says the voice, "In the sarcophicus. Release me!"
"Why should I?" Asks Infernus, "What's in it for me?"
"Power!" says the voice.
That is all Infernus needed to hear. He climbs the fence, then starts looking for the crypt. The problem is that this is a very big cemetary, and there are many crypts and mausoleums to search. It would take forever to find the right one.
"Where are you?" Infernus demands again, "Which crypt?"
"Statue," is all that the voice would tell him.
Infernus looked around and found an ancient crypt with a large ivy and moss covered statue positioned in front of the doors. The former wizard cleared away a bunch of the moss and ivy so that he could see the statue better. It was an impressive piece of work. It was made of bronze, and depicted a man wearing a torn shirt, exposing a well muscled torso. In his left hand he holds an ancient rifle, with twin wide barrels. His left hand has been replaced with a strange bladed device, which appears to be mechanical in nature. On the plaque below it reads:
R. I. P.
Ashley James Williams
1960-1994
Friend. Champion. Hero
Hail To The King
Infernus walks up to the crypt door and finds it locked tight. He picks up a large rock and smashes it against the lock. After two or three hits it pops open. He forces the door the rest of the way open. There, in the middle of the crypt, is a sarcophacus, just like the voice had said. Infernus walks over and examines the stonework. The sarcophacus lid is carved in the exact same image as that of the man in the statue outside. He has that rifle and bladed weapon crossed over his chest, like an Egyptian mummy. Infernus pushes against the stone lid, trying to slide it off. But no matter how hard he pushes against it, it just won't budge.
"Release me!" says the voice insistantly.
"I'm trying!" Infernus shouts back, "Just give me a minute!"
Infernus runs back outside and looks about for something he can use as a pry bar. He notices that the iron fence surrounding the cemetary is in severe disrepair. He grabs one of the iron poles and pulls it off the fence. Then he brings it back to the crypt and begins using it to pry the stone lid off the sarcophicus.
"Release me!" says the voice again.
"I'm trying dammit!" Infernus shouts back, "now shut up!"
It takes him several attempts, but infernus finally begins shifting the stone lid off to the side. He curses his lack of strength. Even with a full belly he isn't a very strong man, but with nothing in his system but water for the past few days, he's as weak as a kitten. In any event, he eventually manages to move the sarcophacus lid far enough to the side to see inside. Lying there is a skeleton with his arms crossed over his chest, clutching an ancient book in his hands. Lying next to him are what remains of the ancient firearm on his left side, and that bladed contraption on his right. At closer inspection, Infernus is able to guess at its function. There's a bladed chain strung around the edge of the blade. He guesses that the motor moves the chain around the blade at a high speed, sawing through whatever it comes in contact with. While it's obvious that its original function was logging or carpentry, but he could guess it would make a fearsome weapon. The skeleton's left hand is what Infernus expected to find. His right hand has been replaced with a mechanical prosthetic hand, which appears to be made from the metal gauntlet of a suit of armour.
"Ashley James Williams, I presume," says Infernus.
He reaches into the stone coffin and, one by one, breaks off the skeleton's fingers. The steel fingers are more difficult, as their joints have siezed shut. Eventually he gets the ancient tome free of its keeper. He looks the book over. It was ancient even before The Cataclysm. It appears to have been written in blood, and the binding could only be human flesh. The front cover appears to have a person's face. Infernus carefully leafs through the pages. One piece of writing seems to leap out at him. His years of magical study had required he study many languages, both current and ancient, and he can read the Sumeryan text.
"Klato barata nekto," he says out loud.
An unseen force tears the book from his hands and hurls it across the crypt. It lands face down on the floor, then it opens itself up and the pages flip through of their own accord until the front cover is facing up once again. This time the eyes are glowing red. Infernus cautiously approaches the book, frightened and awed all at once. Then twin red beams of energy shoot out from the book's eyes and strikes Infernus in the eyes, lifting him off the ground and pinning him to the crypt wall. The wizard screams in agony as whatever the book is doing to him is truly excrutiating. He has no idea how long this goes on for. Time seems to have no meaning. He could be stuck to the wall for minutes, he could be there for hours, all he knows is that he has never felt this kind of pain before. Mercifully, the book releases him from its grasp and he collapses to the floor. He lies there for several moments, showing no signs of life. Then he opens his eyes, and they glow a malevelant red. He rises to his feet, more like floating to his feet for he doesn't seem to even push up with his hands. His skin has turned the sickly grey of a corpse, his exposed skin is covered with black veins. His teeth have all elongated into wicked sharp fangs, his fingernails have grown into deadly claws. Infernus looks down at his hands. He can feel the power flowing through him. He no longer feels hungry, or cold, or weak. He just feels power and rage. Infernus looks down at the skeleton of the hated Ash Williams. He snorts through his nose, coughs up some phlem, then spits it into the skeleton's face. He grins wickedly, then he holds his hand out to the Necronomicon and the book flies into his hand. Then he walks out of the crypt. Once outside, Infernus goes looking about all of the crypts and mausoleums in the cemetary. He finally finds one that he thinks will serve his purpose. He reaches out with his hand, and a red ray of energy leaps from his palm and envelops the door. He then closes his hand into a fist, and the door crumples like an aluminum can. Then he whips his hand behind him, and the door goes flying off its hinges. The wizard walks into the crypt and sees several plaques marking the final resting place of several generations of one family. Again he holds out his hand and the red bolts of energy shoot out from his fingertips, striking five plaques and then riqocheting off to hit all the others. Once all of the plaques are lit up, Infernus closes his hand into a fist. As soon as he makes a fist, all of the coffins burst from the walls and break open. Out step several skeletons, all wearing blue military dress uniforms with ancient steel sabres on their hips.
"Atten-HUT!" Says one of the skeletons, and the rest of them all fall in line standing at attention. The lead skeleton walks up to Infernus and salutes.
"Sir! Admiral Wesson reporting for duty, Sir," says the skeleton.
"How many of you are there?" Asks Infernus.
"In this crypt, Sir? Twelve generations of marine corps officers ready to serve," he replies.
"And in this grave yard?"
"Sir! Unknown sir! This is a military graveyard sir! There could be thousands, hundreds of thousands even," he replies.
"In that case," says the wizard, "you had better start digging. I want every body that has ever graced a battlefield armed and ready to march as soon as possible!"
"Sir! Yes, Sir!" The skeleton turns to the others in the crypt, "You heard the man! Move! Move! Move! Hut! Hut! Hut! Hut! Hut!"
All of the skeletons file out to find some shovels and start digging. Infernus wandered over to the statue of Ash. He blasts the statue with his magic and melts its face. Then he turns and watches the birth of his growing army of deadites.
In the year 1993, Ashley James Williams is just getting home from work at the local S-Mart shopping centre. He pulls his new Ford pick up truck into the driveway of his house. He unlocks the door and enters the house. Once inside, he takes off his S-Mart uniform smock. He takes a moment to look at his mechanical hand. People often ask him about that hand, how he got it, etc. When he tells them what happened, about how his hand became posessed by a deadite and he had to cut it off with a chainsaw, they look at him as if he were insane. Sometimes they ask him why he doesn't replace the mechanical hand with a more conventional design. Because the conventional ones can't crush a steel cup as though it were made of paper. Ash heads into the kitchen and grabs himself a beer from the fridge. He pops the top and has a healthy swallow. Saying "Shop smart, shop S-Mart" over and over all day long can really leave your mouth dry. He walks back into the living room and heads over to the fireplace. He looks upon his trophies from his past adventures with bitter sweet feelings. There's a 12 guage double barrel shotgun and a chainsaw that was jury-rigged so that it could be used in place of a prosthetic hand. They were crossed on the wall over the mantle the way some people display replica swords. He remembers going to the cabin in the woods with his girlfriend for a romantic weekend. How she became posessed by a deadite and he was forced to chop her up with the chainsaw. How his hand became posessed and he had to chop it off at the wrist. How when he spoke the correct words from the Necronomicon he managed to open a portal in time & space and suck all of the deadites into another dimension. How he accidentally went along for the ride and wound up in 12th century Scotland. How he practically single handedly saved the world from deadite domination, forged a peace treaty between two warring nations, and ensured the Necronomicon never falls into the wrong hands again. He even fell in love and was offered a chance to become king of Scotland. But he declined and returned to the 20th century. That was just over a year ago now. A whole year of telling people "Shot smart, shop S-Mart." Good God his life had become boring.
"I almost wish a deadite would show up so I can take you boys out to play," he says to the gun and the chainsaw.
Just then the entire house starts shaking, and there's a terrible loud groan, like that of a creaky old floorboard, coming from the front of the house.
"Almost!" Ash shouts up at the heavens, "I said I almost wish some deadites will show up!"
Then with a terrible 'crack' the front of the house tears away and flies off into a vortex. Ash lunges and grabs the mantle of the fireplace as his furniture and electronics go flying out the hole in the wall.
"Dammit!" He souts against the wind, "This place is a rental!"
He looks over his shoulder and sees his new truck flying into the vortex as well.
"I just bought that!" He protests.
His shotgun flies from its hooks on the wall, nearly hitting Ash in the face. The near miss caused him to lose his grip with his left hand, and only the superhuman strength of his mechanical hand saved him from following the weapon into the vortex. He watches as the gun and the bandolier of ammo that he keeps hanging on the wall go hurtling through time and space.
"Son of a bi . . ."
He is cut off in midsentence as the chainsaw flies off of its hooks and the motor hits him squarely in the face. Ash loses his grip on the mantle and flies off into the vortex with his chainsaw.
"Oh shiiiiiiiiiiii . . ."