This review is a Writing Repository original.

Old Gods and Other Tales

By Scott Oden – Independently Published – August 28, 2025

Review by Robin Marx

Old Gods and Other Tales is an independently published collection of eleven short stories by Scott Oden. While he has attracted a following in the Sword & Sorcery scene for fantasy work including the occasional Conan the Barbarian pastiche (i.e., the “Conan the Unconquered” novelette that accompanies Funcom’s video game of the same name; Conan: The Shadow of Vengeance, part of Titan Books’ Heroic Legends line) and his outspoken admiration of Conan’s creator Robert E. Howard, Oden’s first love is the “Heroic Historical.” Some of his creations are straight historical fiction (e.g., Men of Bronze, while others marry Earth’s distant past with the fantastic (e.g., the Viking orc trilogy THE GRIMNIR SAGA). Pulse-pounding action, particularly against overwhelming odds, is a prominent element in Oden’s work and Old Gods and Other Tales offers readers a representative look at the thrills he has to offer.

The collection opens with “The Prince of Cups,” one of the more overtly Sword & Sorcery-oriented stories. Tisias the Crow, a flamboyant gambler/thief/duelist is hired by the playwright Barzentes to steal back a seditious play ill-advisedly given to the elite courtesan Pythonike and seal her lips permanently. Tisias is reluctant to resort to murder, however, and decides to put another one of his specialties to use in assisting Barzentes. Tisias is a rakish and fun character, and the glimpses readers receive of both the magic and Old Stamboul city setting are intriguing.

“The Lion of Montgisard” is a straight historical fiction tale, recounting the Battle of Montgisard between Saladin’s army and the vastly outnumbered forces of the leper king Baldwin IV. Set in the same historical period and sharing several historical personages, fans of the 2005 Ridley Scott movie Kingdom of Heaven are likely to enjoy this story; it’s even narrated by Balian, who was portrayed by Orlando Bloom in the film. “The Lion of Montgisard” delivers the sort of desperate, against all odds, stirring adventure that is Oden’s forte. While certainly authentic for the period, the frequent “God wills it!” battle cries land a little uncomfortably in 2026, given the attempts of Christian nationalists (notably US Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth, who has a “Deus Vult” tattoo) to revive it as a racist, far right rallying slogan. Oden is obviously not responsible for America’s current debased political climate, however, and what we see of the Crusaders’ opposition feels as humanizing as space and the intense life-or-death circumstances allow.

Three of the included stories in this volume focus on Martin Kestrel, a playwright in a fantasy-tinged Elizabethan London in which the Queen has diplomatic relations with the fey folk. As “A Stage by Any Other Name”—Kestrel’s first appearance—begins, one of Kestrel’s scripts has gotten him into political trouble with Gresham Drake, an influential moneylender and occultist backed by a secret society called the Brotherhood of the Silver Thorn. Drake hopes to eliminate the thorn (no pun intended) in his side by selling off Kestrel’s considerable debt to Lady Ravenna, the cold and intimidating Faerie Ambassador to Queen Elizabeth’s court. Kestrel must use his wits and silver tongue to keep his demanding new patron happy while outmaneuvering his foes. While the premise is interesting, “A Stage by Any Other Name” ends incredibly abruptly, feeling more like a chapter than a complete story. Fortunately, the dangling plot threads are taken up again in the two follow-up stories later in the book, “The Wordsmith’s Gambit” and “The Final Performance.” Across both stories, Kestrel works to foil the Silver Thorn Brotherhood while keeping Lady Ravenna placated.

According to their introduction, the Martin Kestrel stories were born out of Oden’s desire to create a Sword & Sorcery protagonist who is a creative artist by trade. Elizabethan London with a cutthroat occult underground is a fascinating setting, and while Kestrel is an interesting and cerebral hero, the three stories felt like they didn’t quite live up to their full potential. It also seemed like Oden struggled a bit giving trying to end these stories without violent climaxes. “The Wordsmith’s Gambit” ends with Kestrel cleverly talking himself out of a dangerous situation, but the most exciting part of the story—a daring heist—takes place off-screen, handled by his associates. As a reader, that’s the bit I most want to see! While the Kestrel stories aren’t quite up to Oden’s usual standard, they’re an interesting experiment. It also feels significant that he chose to write three stories with this protagonist. Perhaps, rather than as short stories, Kestrel’s exploits would work better expanded into a full-length novel.

“The Bones Remember” starts with a wild, original, and fun premise: essentially “Whatever happened to that skeletal warrior with the octopus-emblazoned shield from Ray Harryhausen’s Jason and the Argonauts?” The story that follows is surprisingly emotional, however, as the skeleton (whose name was Meriones, we learn) reflects upon memories of the past and situations and sensations from his former life as he embarks on a mission of revenge for the theft of the Golden Fleece. I appreciated the artistry on display here, how Oden took a slightly goofy idea and made something unexpectedly moving out of it.

The collection’s title story, “Old Gods,” is another historical fantasy, this time starring a wandering 6th century Vandal named Athalaric. Athalaric violently intervenes when he encounters a beautiful woman being accosted by a mob accusing her of witchcraft. While his initial rescue is successful, the locals return later in greater numbers. Athalaric soon learns that the claims the woman Nikaia possesses preternatural powers are not unfounded, and that she comes from a very unusual bloodline. While the action and romantic elements are satisfying, the dreamy interlude felt like an awkward infodump of exposition that could have been shared more elegantly. Taken as a whole, however, “Old Gods” is still an entertaining example of historically anchored Sword & Sorcery, featuring perhaps the most Conan-like protagonist in the book.

“The Purple Shroud” takes inspiration from a fantastic situation, Conan violently seizing the throne of Aquilonia from King Numedides, and relocates it to the Byzantine Empire, with historical figures in the starring roles. Ioannes Tzimiskes infiltrates the quarters of Emperor Nikephoros Phokas with designs to assassinate him and replace him on the throne. Complicating matters is the fact that the pair were once close friends, and Ioannes is also being pressured to slay the guiltless Empress Theophano or risk losing the support of powerful allies. The meat of the story centers on the duel between Tzimiskes and Phokas, with the two crossing blades while conversing. Tzimiskes attempts to justify his betrayal, and Phokas warns him of the countless burdens of statesmanship while still selling his life dearly. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. “The Purple Shroud” boasts exciting swordplay and court intrigue, all set in a historical period mostly unfamiliar to this reader.

“The Unburied” is an ancient world zombie yarn, involving soldiers from Alexander the Great’s army struggling against the living dead upon returning to their home village. The story is well-executed, but as it boils down to bog-standard traditional zombie tropes paired with one of Oden’s trademark desperate last stands it feels distinctly familiar.

Described in somewhat unconfident terms as a “strange and experimental piece” and as preliminary work for an as-yet embryonic novel on the 12th century siege of Acre, “The Eternal Jest” consists of three linked episodes. The first centers upon Templar Jean de Montluc, one of seven men tasked with defending a gate from an army of 10,000 invaders, buying time until ships can evacuate the falling city of Acre. Ten years later, the second episode introduces us to Raoul de Montjoie, a jocular leper knight who, upon hearing of their plight while visiting a tavern, immediately takes it upon himself to rescue a group of children taken by local brigands to be sold into slavery. As with Jean de Montluc a decade earlier the odds prove insurmountable, but Raoul de Montjoie again demonstrates the amount of good a dying man can accomplish. A decade after Raoul’s death, the final episode returns to a supporting character from the first segment: Jean de Montluc’s squire and bastard son Guillaume. Now a lord in his own right, Guillaume is crippled by survivor’s guilt over his inglorious escape from Acre, bereft over the loss of his wife and sons from plague, and stricken with a chronic wasting disease. Aimless and bitter, he has a chance encounter with Miriam, one of the children freed by Raoul de Montjoie’s suicide mission a decade ago. Hearing her tale inspires Guillaume to similarly dedicate himself in service to others. The overarching core of the three-episode cycle is stated quite openly: “The strong die so the weak might live, and the weak grow strong so that they might die for others in turn.” It’s a powerful theme and one affectingly delivered. In recent years there has been much hand-wringing discussion of “masculinity in crisis,” and so many of the men most vocal about masculinity absolutely should not be listened to. They sell a profoundly insecure, intolerant, and superficial conception of masculinity that diminishes women, promotes pointless aggression, and pushes an infantile zero-sum view of society and interpersonal relations. In contrast, “The Eternal Jest” is a showcase for healthy masculinity. What can be manlier than being a protector? A steadfast bulwark shielding those in dire need? The world isn’t divided up into Alphas and Betas, heroes and zeroes. Guillaume is weak and powerless when we first meet him, but through Jean’s sacrifice (and former victim Miriam’s sage guidance!) Guillaume is allowed to grow into a hero himself. “The Eternal Jest” is the most moving and impactful tale in the book. It should have been the title story.

Have you ever been talking with a friend and, out of the blue, they say something incredibly revealing, vulnerable, and poignant? And then that friend, realizing that they may have gotten a little too real, rushes to defuse the moment with a joke? That’s what readers get with the final story in the book, “Three-Tabbed Doom.” Chad of Poughkeepsie, employed at Mediocre Mutual Insurance, frees his comrades from tyranny by striking down (in Office Space fashion) the evil HP LaserJet 4200 that oppresses them. It’s a silly bit of fluff. Not unentertaining but placing it immediately after “The Eternal Jest” feels like an act of self-sabotage on Oden’s part. Come on, man. You were real with us readers for a moment there, and this is how you’re going to leave us?

Minor quibbles aside, Old Gods and Other Tales is an excellent microcosm of the work of an underacknowledged author. While his Sword & Sorcery stories are entertaining, he seems most confident with the real world as his foundation; historical fantasies and the more grounded Heroic Historicals are where he truly shines. Adrenaline, overwhelming odds, and desperate last stands are his forte. Old Gods and Other Tales was awarded the 2026 Costigan Award for Literary Achievement by the Robert E. Howard Foundation.

Old Gods and Other Tales is available as an ePub directly from the author, and in Kindle and paperback formats from Amazon.

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This review is a Writing Repository original.

Merynthia's Master

By Luana Saitta – Independently Published – April 25, 2026

Review by Robin Marx

Revolution is brewing in the seaside city of Merynthia, with the Sicanian underground yearning to overthrow the yoke of the Trynacrian Empire. The enchanted Amulet of Al-Khapish could tip the balance of power in the rebels’ favor, and the Sicanian wizard Barixes Crab-Eye is determined to acquire it at any cost. To that end, Barixes dispatches his light-fingered apprentice Worm to steal the magical artifact. When Worm’s initial attempts to pilfer the amulet end in disaster, Barixes forces him to undergo a startling transformation. Assuming the new identity “Wren,” the wizard’s apprentice goes undercover in the amulet owner’s lavish estate, encountering both unexpected threats and temptations.

Merynthia’s Master is the debut Sword & Sorcery novella by Luana Saitta. While Saitta has previously released a handful of short stories taking place in the same world at Swords & Sorcery Magazine, they focused on sorcerous dabbler Princess Kawtar and her bodyguard/lover Zeynep of the Plains. While I was initially surprised to learn that Merynthia’s Master dealt with an entirely new cast of characters, any faint disappointment at not being treated to a longer Zeynep and Kawtar tale evaporated after reading past the first few pages. As a protagonist, Worm is an entertaining underdog and it’s easy for the audience to root for them. Indeed, appealing characters abound in Merynthia’s Master, with cruel Barixes, affable Trynacrian legionnaire Marcus Posca, and the alluring Qazhia standing out from the pack. Despite the brief page count, readers are given a good sense of the characters’ distinct personalities. Saitta also succeeds in making the bustling pseudo-Mediterranean port of Merynthia itself a character, conjuring a real sense of place that makes the setting come alive.

Merynthia’s Master also benefits from its brisk action. The novella opens with a dynamic chase scene that ranges through, above, and even under the sun-drenched streets of Merynthia. This sequence kickstarts the book, providing thrills and spills from page one. While Worm sometimes wanders off mission, there’s never a lull in the action.

The novella similarly delivers a great deal of spectacle. While swordplay isn’t emphasized to the degree as it is in a great deal of Sword & Sorcery fiction, magic plays a critical role in the narrative. In addition to Worm’s pivotal transformation and the novella’s blockbuster finale, sorcery is put to creative and evocative use throughout. The skeletal scribes working away in a basement, mechanically producing Sicanian revolutionary literature is a fascinating image.

Adding a different kind of spectacle and spice, romance and sexuality occupy a more prominent role in the story than is commonly seen in Sword & Sorcery (at least since the passing of Tanith Lee). The friendly characters of all genders are extremely attractive, enthusiastically receptive to sexual overtures, and completely lacking in jealousy. The sex scenes aren’t incredibly extended or graphic, but they go into a bit more detail than the typical “fade to black” to which many contemporary fantasy authors nervously resort.

Merynthia’s Master covers quite a bit of ground within its slim page count. While I appreciated the fast pacing, parts of the novella—perhaps inevitably—feel underdeveloped. For a story ostensibly sparked by a desire to expel the foreign occupiers, readers aren’t given much cause to cheer on the Sicanian rebels or view the Trynacrian Empire in a very negative light beyond “some of their guards are arbitrary and mean.” Real world history tells us that imperialism rarely works out advantageously for the colonized, but it was vague exactly what yoke under which the people of Merynthia were suffering. The need for an independent Merynthia could have been more clearly established.

Sword & Sorcery stories work best when their authors demonstrate a certain degree of sadism towards their characters, but much of the novella is surprisingly light on conflict. Emotionally I want Elric of Melniboné to finally find peace, but intellectually I understand the story requires Michael Moorcock to put him through the wringer. Similarly, as readers we like Worm/Wren and want good things for them, but the story would have benefited from more obstacles. Worm becoming Wren is a rags-to-riches lifestyle upgrade with even fewer drawbacks than what Will Smith encounters in The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Luxurious accommodations, found family, and plenty of sexy new friends! Love this for you, Wren. Perhaps Wren could have been put through more of an awkward adjustment period with their new form, or maybe a suspicious or unimpressed character could have been included in al-Thari’s household to provide some much-needed pushback.

In the end, however, my gripes with Merynthia’s Master can basically be summed up as “I thoroughly enjoyed this book, I just wish there was more of it.” More background, more interpersonal clashes, more setbacks. The characters are endearing, the action exciting, the spice is welcome, and the prose is the strongest Saitta has delivered to date.

Merynthia’s Master is available in ePub and PDF formats from itch.io, and Kindle and paperback formats from Amazon.

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This review is a Writing Repository original.

JANGAR!: Slaves of the Mind Mage

By Logan D. Whitney – Cliffhanger! Press – June 1, 2026

Review by Robin Marx

The pounding of drums deep in the jungle draw savage wild man Jangar to an encampment of Ur-Men—hostile ape-like creatures—who revel as caged humans cower in fear. When he spies a terrified young woman tied to a spire in the outpost’s center, offered up as a sacrifice to the Ur-Men’s lumbering god, Jangar is pushed to violently intervene. Even after his daring rescue is complete, however, Jangar’s troubles have only begun. While Jangar was born to the jungle, Yala—as the beauteous former captive is known—is altogether unprepared for such a dangerous environment and unlikely to survive on her own. As Jangar and Yala set off for civilization, the pair soon encounters threats unknown even to Jangar: the otherworldly Mind Mage and his eerie servitors.

Hot on the heels of February’s Honor Among Rogues: Six Thrilling Tales of Pulp Adventure, JANGAR!: Slaves of the Mind Mage marks the first installment in a new project by Logan D. Whitney. It’s the first novelette of six planned monthly releases; the first five will be DRM-free ebooks, with the sixth installment to be collected along with the previous installments and printed as a mass market-sized paperback.

Where Honor Among Rogues kept to the relatively grounded terrain of Earth’s historical past as viewed through an adventure pulp lens, in JANGAR! Whitney is in full Sword & Sorcery mode. In his Author’s Note, he cites contemporary author Steve Dilks’ hero Gunthar as an inspiration, one that then led Whitney to another character that would become a further influence on JANGAR!: Lin Carter’s Thongor. While the broad-strokes setting of primeval Muu does feel reminiscent of Carter’s ancient Lemuria, readers are also likely to feel the shadow of Edgar Rice Burrough’s Tarzan. Like Tarzan, Jangar is a solitary human raised in the wilderness by animal parents: saber-tooth tigers rather than the gorilla-like Mangani from Tarzan of the Apes. The panther-like Jangar is portrayed as more beast than man, and his interactions with other human beings as guarded and tentative. In one memorable passage, he even teaches Yala how to use dangling vines to navigate the jungle.

The greatest strength of JANGAR!: Slaves of the Mind Mage is its fast pacing. Just 42 pages in length, there’s no wasted verbiage. Jangar and Yala face one struggle after another, with very little opportunity to catch their breath. Readers are only given enough worldbuilding required by the story, and the distant metropolis of Q’oth and the rest of the continent of Muu remain mysterious and ripe for future elaboration.

With a savage barbarian hero, a beautiful woman in need of assistance, brutal ape-men, and glimpses of cosmic horror, the ingredients of JANGAR!: Slaves of the Mind Mage will be familiar to seasoned readers of Sword & Sorcery, but they’re served up in such an entertaining manner that I suspect most fans of the subgenre will happily overlook the lack of boundary-pushing. Indeed, Whitney includes several amusing references to other pulp tales as if affirming the story’s connection to similar adventures, rather than trying to stand apart. Jangar’s jungle home is named “Zan-Tar,” a barely-concealed anagram for “Tarzan.” Paraphrasing Conan’s memorable “if life is illusion, then I am no less an illusion” reflection from “Queen of the Black Coast” (1934), Jangar echoes “If life is a dream, then I, too, am a dream.” There’s even a sly reference to the work of Whitney’s Rogues in the House podcast associate Matthew John when Yala is tempted with the knowledge of how to “walk on worlds,” a phrasing suspiciously similar to the title of John’s first S&S collection.

Fast-paced and action-packed, with a satisfying conclusion, JANGAR!: Slaves of the Mind Mage is a tasty Sword & Sorcery snack. I look forward to future installments. The digital novelette is available now via Amazon Kindle and Payhip.

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This review originally appeared at Grimdark Magazine on April 24, 2026.

Conan: Cult of the Obsidian Moon

By James Lovegrove – Titan Books – November 19, 2024

Review by Robin Marx

In Conan: Cult of the Obsidian Moon by James Lovegrove, Conan the Cimmerian, still mourning his pirate queen Bêlit, trades the seas for the desert, languishing in the Shemitish city-state of Eruk. His last adventure—an attempted burglary foiled by a sabretooth tiger—having ended in disaster, the barbarian searches for a distraction. One such opportunity presents itself when Conan makes the acquaintance of Hunwulf and Gudrun, an eloped couple on the run from their former tribe. The family and Conan become fast friends after his timely intervention in a tavern brawl, and Conan becomes further intrigued when he meets their young son Bjørn, who demonstrates an uncanny ability to control animals. Conan agrees to look after the boy while his parents stage a final confrontation with their implacable tribal stalkers. Events take a turn for the unexpected, however, when an entirely new threat emerges and the boy is snatched away by a winged reptilian creature. Vowing to make things right, Conan accompanies the bereft parents on a desperate search for the abducted boy. The trail takes them into the blighted Rotlands deep within Kush, where a secretive religious sect has dark designs for Bjørn and a host of other kidnapped children, each harboring their own budding supernatural talent. Stakes quickly escalate, and Conan finds himself pitted against a truly apocalyptic threat.

Following Blood of the Serpent by S. M. Stirling and City of the Dead by John C. Hocking, Cult of the Obsidian Moon is the third release in Titan Books’ series of original Conan the Barbarian pastiche novels. Where Blood of the Serpent was conceived as a direct prequel to the classic Robert E. Howard-penned novella “Red Nails” (1936) and City of the Dead paired a reprint of an acclaimed novel from the series’ Tor Books era with a new sequel, Cult of the Obsidian Moon also introduces a new element to the Titan Books line by tying it into Titan Comics’ Conan the Barbarian storylines. Subtitled “A Black Stone Novel,” Cult of the Obsidian Moon includes several motifs from the first year of the Conan the Barbarian comic and its culminating Battle of the Black Stone miniseries. The recurring carved eye sigil from the comics has a prominent presence in Cult of the Obsidian Moon, and the character James Allison, a 1930s pulp writer who bases adventure stories on remembered past lives, likewise appears in both Battle of the Black Stone and the framing story that bookends Cult of the Obsidian Moon. These references mostly operate at the level of Easter Eggs, however, and non-comic readers need not worry about having their enjoyment of the novel harmed by unfamiliarity with the Titan Comics Conan the Barbarian storylines.

While the comic references are interesting, Cult of the Obsidian Moon doesn’t give readers the best first impression. The James Allison framing story feels mostly extraneous. Bjørn’s father Hunwulf is presented as one of Allison’s remembered past lives (and, indeed, the Cult of the Obsidian Moon novel as a whole is fictionally presented as a manuscript written by Allison and submitted for publication at a pulp magazine called Anomalous Adventures), and Hunwulf himself has a similar ability to experience other incarnations, but these aspects of the story feel underutilized. Conan is the primary viewpoint character, not Allison-recalling-Hunwulf, and substantial stretches of the novel occur in Hunwulf’s absence. Hunwulf’s supernatural talent briefly comes in handy while attempting to avoid the otherwise unpredictable hazards of the Rotlands, but it fails to reappear in the late chapters of the book. Excising both the framing story and Hunwulf’s unusual ability would have given the book a tighter focus, reduced unnecessary page count, and would have made remaining supernatural elements feel more special due to their scarcity. It feels like the book doesn’t really get started until Conan and his newfound friends are forced to leave Shem.

The first third of the book feels regrettably aimless, but once Bjørn is abducted the narrative shifts into high gear. The remainder of the story is a much faster-paced rescue mission in hostile territory. The Rotlands is a sort of living cancer on the land, full of threatening flora and fauna, where any misstep can end in death. When they finally reveal themselves, the reptilian Folk of the Featherless Wing (as the titular Cult of the Obsidian Moon call themselves) boast an interesting backstory and motivations that go above and beyond those of typical evil religious groups in fantasy fiction. And while James Lovegrove’s wisecracking depiction of Conan occasionally feels awkward compared to Hocking’s handling of the barbarian in City of the Dead, Lovegrove does succeed in delivering bloody, spectacular combat. The climactic battle scene starts off exciting and quickly escalates even further, with the odds swinging wildly against the heroes. Readers who enjoy cosmic horror elements in their sword & sorcery adventures will also find a lot to enjoy here as the nature of the Obsidian Moon and the source of the blight at the heart of the Rotlands is revealed.

If you can get past the sluggish start, Cult of the Obsidian Moon is a worthy addition to the body of Conan the Barbarian pastiche work. The early, meandering chapters could have benefited from some tightening, but once the story is truly underway it quickly escalates and accelerates, throwing itself heedlessly to a bloody, action-packed and horror-filled climax.

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This review originally appeared at Grimdark Magazine on March 3, 2026.

Against the Demon World

By D.M. Ritzlin – DMR Books – February 1, 2026

Review by Robin Marx

Northern barbarian Avok Kur Storn’s life is disrupted when cultists of Iljer visit his chieftain father, hoping to entice the Cytheran people to abandon their traditional god in favor of demon worship. Emphatically rebuffed, the Iljerists skulk off to the wilderness and immediately prepare to summon an infernal agent of retribution. Suspicious of the ominous visitors, Avok attempts to disrupt the ceremony, only to find himself dragged to the demon-infested moon called Uzz. Forced to serve as a slave, a spy, and a gladiator, Avok must use his wits and his brawn to survive—and eventually escape—a hellish dog-eat-dog world of cruel fiends and bizarre, otherworldly creatures.

Against the Demon World is set in D. M. Ritzlin’s sword & sorcery setting, Nilztiria. While this is the first full-length novel to feature Avok Kur Storn as its protagonist, the character has appeared in a number of short stories found in the author’s previous collections, Necromancy in Nilztiria and Dark Dreams of Nilztiria. While there are some fun references to other Nilztiria fixtures like the frequently quoted Xaarxool the Necromancer, no prior experience with either Avok Kur Storn or Nilztiria is necessary to enjoy this novel.

Ritzlin’s publishing house DMR Books was established to print sword & sorcery fiction both classic and new, and the author’s own work likewise fits comfortably in the old school pulp fantasy style. Barbarian heroes with mighty thews, diabolical sorcerers who command chaotic magic, and slavering beasts are all present and accounted for. Both the strengths and weaknesses of Against the Demon World owe a great deal to the early days of the fantasy literary genre, so fans of this type of fantasy are likely to enjoy it, while those who prefer a more epic scope and detailed world-building may be better off looking elsewhere.

The brisk pacing of Against the Demon World is its greatest strength. The novel is a hair over 200 pages long, and there is zero wasted space. This is a book that refuses to sit still; there’s always something going on. Deadly combat, daring escapes, encounters with dangerous and strange wildlife (or dangerous and strange women!) crowd the narrative. Over the course of the book Avok Kur Storn is rarely allowed a moment to catch his breath, and neither is the reader. While the bare-chested, kilt-clad warrior protagonist might prompt one to expect the influence of Robert E. Howard and his barbarian Conan, in practice the breakneck pacing and heroic protagonist more often recalled Edgar Rice Burroughs. Like Burroughs’ John Carter of Mars, Avok Kur Storn is a reflexively valiant and noble character, skilled in martial pursuits but lacking Conan’s brutality and moral ambiguity. While—trapped on Uzz—he may spend his nights in the arms of his alluring ram-horned succubus mistress Heltorya, once he meets the pure-hearted damsel Izura, there’s little doubt who Avok will end up with.

As in Burrough’s Barsoom stories, the weirdness of Against the Demon World also appeals. Much of the story takes place in the demonic duchy of Xidobala, where expendable slaves live and die at the mercy of Heltorya and a class of callous, inhuman rulers. Avok is frequently the only human among fiends, each physiologically distinct. When Avok is taken on a sky-ship ride, the vessel turns out to be a steel-bound beast with pterodactyl wings and a massive eye at the end of its furry “bowsprit.” Even away from the demon-haunted cities, the fauna of Uzz remains strange; Avok encounters yellow-skinned cyclopes and spherical bat-like creatures. Weirdness even encroaches on Avok’s very body, as immediately after arriving on Uzz an eyeball-bearing tentacle is grafted to the back of his head (seen in the excellent cover art by Bebeto Daroz) to make him a more effective spy for his demonic master. Ritzlin also has an aptitude for coming up with entertainingly offbeat names: Xaarxool, Nelgastrothos, Voormeero, Quanguulosh, and—my favorite—Scrotar, all roll off the tongue in a pleasing way.

While Against the Demon World benefits greatly from classic pulp pacing, it also carries forth two of the weaknesses of old-fashioned fantasy: weak dialogue and thin characterization. Too often the dialogue lacks subtlety, with characters frequently openly stating their thoughts or intentions, without much in the way of witty repartee, attempts to dissemble, or character-revealing phrasing. Actors often lament that villains get all the best lines in scripts, and that seems to be the case in this book as well. Through Heltorya’s spoiled pouting and Quanguulosh’s Skeletor-like scenery chewing the demons are allowed to showcase their personalities a bit, but Avok is mostly limited to defiant vows, helpful explanations to companions, and shouted warnings. Unusually for a sword & sorcery hero we get to spend some time with Avok Kur Storn’s whole family (the Kur Storns are still around, they’re not relegated to a tragic backstory!), but readers still don’t get much of an idea of what makes Avok special and interesting beyond “He’s a brave fighter and he’s the hero that the book is about.” While this comparative lack of dimension isn’t as noticeable in the shorter Avok Kur Storn stories, it becomes more obvious at novel length. Ritzlin’s other primary hero character, Vran the Chaos-Warped, at least has more of an interesting gimmick in that magic misfires in his presence. As it stands, Avok Kur Storn doesn’t have much that separates him from the barbarian pack.

Against the Demon World is a lean, action-packed adventure boasting a wonderfully weird setting. Readers familiar with pulp sword & sorcery will find a lot to love here, but those accustomed to more modern fantasy stylings may find themselves yearning for a greater focus on characterization, even if it results in a thicker page count.

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This review originally appeared at Grimdark Magazine on February 12, 2026.

Conan the Barbarian #26

By Jim Zub (Writer) and Fernando Dagnino (Artist) – Titan Comics – October 8, 2025

Review by Robin Marx

In Conan the Barbarian #26 by Jib Zub (W) and Fernando Dagnino (A), the once-mighty nation of Aquilonia is declining under the harsh misrule of “mad king” Numedides. With the monarch largely withdrawn from daily affairs, vassals in outlying holdings have become uneasy, especially in the southern province of Poitain. Emboldened by the brewing strife across the border, the neighboring realm of Zingara launches an offensive into Poitain while the province’s count is away petitioning King Numedides. When news of the invasion reaches Numedides, rather than dispatch the full military might of Aquilonia, he instead elects to send a single expendable mercenary company: the Westermarck Wolves. Already a seasoned adventurer by this point, Conan the Cimmerian follows his sellsword brethren into the fray. When the leader of the Westermarck Wolves falls in battle, Conan instinctively assumes command, turning what could have been a disastrous rout into a more ordered retreat. Outnumbered and with no reinforcements from the royal army forthcoming, Conan must join forces with Poitain’s beleaguered Count Trocero to expel the invaders.

Conan the Barbarian #26 covers a massive amount of ground in a single issue. While battle scenes take up much of the page count, Jim Zub manages to incorporate some nice character work and set up the chess board for events to come. While Conan has either been solo or in a subordinate role for much of the Titan Comics Conan the Barbarian run (e.g., serving as Bêlit’s second-in-command, or with the Aesir reavers in the frozen north), here we see Conan smoothly and naturally assume the top leadership role during combat and have that battlefield promotion immediately made permanent by his comrades. Conan also wastes no time distinguishing himself in other ways; where chivalrous Count Trocero hesitates to stoop to “dishonorable” measures even despite the massive imbalance between the Aquilonian and Zingaran forces, Conan has no such compunction against “uncouth and unorthodox” (dare I say barbaric?) tactics and executes his plan with ruthless efficiency. Readers of the original Robert E. Howard stories or the Marvel and Dark Horse comic adaptations are accustomed to seeing the Cimmerian commanding various mercenary companies, ship crews, and bandit mobs, but between the King Conan story last issue (Conan the Barbarian #25) and his new generalship in this issue, Conan the Leader is becoming a more prominent element in the main Titan Comics Conan the Barbarian title.

While the invading Zingaran army serves as the primary enemy for this particular issue, Zub heavily foreshadows conflict between Conan and King Numedides. Conan is presented as a leader who puts himself at the forefront of every skirmish, whereas Numedides is an aloof tyrant unconcerned for the plight of his subjects. Longtime fans know where this is headed. What realm does the future King Conan rule? Aquilonia. The ruler immediately prior to Conan? King Numedides. While Conan’s ascension to the throne is only covered by Howard in passing—first in Conan’s debut story “The Phoenix on the Sword” (1932), then later in “The Scarlet Citadel” (1933) and The Hour of the Dragon (serialized 1935-1936)—it appears Zub is setting us up for a much closer look at the forging of King Conan. Pastiche novelists L. Sprague de Camp and Lin Carter offered their own take on the Cimmerian’s rise to power in Conan the Liberator (1979), but de Camp and Carter’s additions to the Conan canon are viewed less enthusiastically now than in decades past, so I suspect Zub will ignore Conan the Liberator (and its unpopular satyrs).

Artist Fernando Dagnino’s return so soon is a surprise, seeing as how his last issue was Conan the Barbarian #24. Given how artistic duties have been rotated in the Titan series thus far I would have expected either Roberto De La Torre or Doug Braithwaite to handle the new arc, but since I rate Dagnino highly his return is a welcome one. Facial expressions remain Dagnino’s strong suit, but his montage-like battle depictions also stand out. The breakneck pacing of this issue leaves little space to cover multiple combats, but Dagnino manages to communicate both the desperation of the fights and Conan’s gory heroics. The storytelling economy on display is impressive. Also be sure to note the banner above King Numedides’ head on the final page for a fun visual hint.

Conan the Barbarian #26 is packed, from start to finish. While its breathlessness means some of the supporting characters’ deaths do not quite have the emotional impact they would in a less compressed story, the stage has been set for exciting and turbulent times ahead.

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This review is a Writing Repository original.

The Autumn Springs Retirement Home Massacre

By Philip Fracassi – Tor Nightfire – September 30, 2025

Review by Robin Marx

Horror fiction has been undergoing a resurgence in recent years, and with outstanding releases like Gothic and Boys in the Valley Philip Fracassi quickly established himself as an author worth watching. Released by Tor’s Nightfire imprint, The Autumn Springs Retirement Home Massacre feels somewhat different from past Fracassi books, but more of an expansion of his repertoire than a permanent change in direction. It experiments with genres in a way that is interesting, but perhaps not entirely successful.

Nearly eighty years old, retired high school teacher Rose DuBois lives a quiet life at the titular Autumn Springs Retirement Home in upstate New York. She’s comfortable in her routine and surrounded by friends, most notable among them the affable former professor Beauregard Mason Miller, with whom she enjoys a warm companionship that—to Miller’s obvious chagrin—hasn’t quite blossomed into a Golden Years romance. A shadow falls over Autumn Springs, however, when Rose’s friend Angela dies of an apparent bathroom fall. Given their advanced age, the Autumn Spring residents largely take the death in stride, but the retirement home administrator’s horrified reaction to Angela’s body and the extent of the injuries seen on the corpse make Rose wonder if foul play was involved. In the days to follow, more of Rose’s friends and acquaintances fall victim to similar mishaps and maladies. Rose’s suspicions mount, and with Miller by her side she begins to investigate the deaths that the larger retirement community mostly shrugs off. Her stubborn persistence, however, marks her as a future target for a shadowy murderer.

The Autumn Springs Retirement Home Massacre benefits from its brisk pacing. While the story itself is a bit of a slow burn—for most of the book the retirees are blissfully unaware that a killer lurks in their midst—individual chapters are brief and proceed at a rapid clip, frequently hinting at the murder to come, depicting its actual execution, or the discovery of the aftermath. While the proper amount of attention is spent on nice character-establishing moments, there isn’t a lot of extraneous fat; this is a lean, fast-moving book.

The appealing characters are another highlight of the book. Readers spend the most time with Rose and Miller, and both are well-rendered, realistic-feeling characters. I’ve met people very similar to them, and I imagine many other readers have as well. But we also get to spend some time in other characters’ shoes, frequently in their final desperate moments, and Fracassi doesn’t skimp on the supporting cast’s characterization. I noted it in my review of Boys in the Valley, but Fracassi’s uncommon ability to breathe life into a large cast of supporting characters through economical and empathetic characterization is again showcased in The Autumn Springs Retirement Home Massacre. The elderly residents’ vulnerability and isolation are especially poignantly rendered in one brief chapter late in the book, after it has been unequivocally established that a killer is stalking the halls of the retirement home. Desperate to flee, various residents phone family members and former spouses begging for sanctuary until the danger has passed, only to have their pleas fall on deaf ears. Their relatives are all busy with their own lives and don’t welcome the intrusion from the old folks; better they go back to being out of sight and out of mind, warehoused at faraway Autumn Springs.

While promoted as a “slasher” novel, that aspect doesn’t arrive until quite late in the narrative. Most of the murders are orchestrated to appear as accidents or deaths from existing health issues, the knives only come out towards the end. Indeed, the “Massacre” in the title almost feels like a misnomer, suggesting more of a kinetic bloodbath than the methodical and gradually escalating series of serial killings we are presented with. While there are some gory passages, horror elements in general are fairly muted. Subtle supernatural elements do appear in the book, but they’re plausibly deniable and so lowkey that part of me wonders if Fracassi would have been better off omitting them entirely and aiming more squarely at the thriller genre. Had Fracassi pursued that direction, he could have further augmented the mystery elements of this book. There are a handful of attempts to misdirect the reader regarding the masked killer’s identity, but they’re quickly discarded; Fracassi doesn’t really commit to the red herrings in a way that made me as a reader entertain them to as realistic possibilities. And while we eventually learn the murderer’s identity, even despite a handful of first-person perspective scenes we do not receive much insight into their motives for the killings beyond opportunism and contempt for the infirm.

Straddling the mystery and horror genres, The Autumn Springs Retirement Home Massacre feels slightly less self-assured than Fracassi’s Gothic or Boys in the Valley. I get the sense that Fracassi is trying something new here, going out on a limb. Indeed, in the Afterword Fracassi remarks that the final novel did shift and grow beyond his original concept, changing through his development of Rose as a character and the experience of losing his parents. If you’re already acquainted with Philip Fracassi’s work, The Autumn Springs Retirement Home Massacre is well worth checking out. Fracassi’s strengths—empathetic characterization and effective pacing—are present and accounted for. Horror enthusiasts unfamiliar with Fracassi are better directed to something like Boys in the Valley first, however, as the “slasher” marketing overstates the amount of gore and brutality present in the actual novel. “Final Girl” labeling aside, Rose owes more to Jessica Fletcher than Laurie Strode. Even if the mystery elements aren’t as developed as they could have been, The Autumn Springs Retirement Home Massacre is an easy recommendation for thriller fans. I enjoyed the time I spent with Rose DuBois and Beauregard Mason Miller and I’m pleased to see Fracassi resist complacency and push himself in new directions.

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This review originally appeared at Grimdark Magazine on January 11, 2026.

Conan the Barbarian #25

By Jim Zub (Writer) and Alex Horley (Artist) – Titan Comics – October 8, 2025

Review by Robin Marx

In Conan the Barbarian #25, after untold leagues of single-minded solitary travel, a cloaked stranger presents himself at the city gates of Tarantia, capital of Aquilonia, demanding to speak to King Conan. Initially rebuffed as a vagrant by the city guards, the anonymous visitor simply sits in the dust and waits patiently outside the gate until Conan finally gives in to curiosity and grants him an audience. Revealing himself to possess bone-white hair and the pallor of a corpse, the stranger claims to bear a great gift for Conan, but one that will only be bestowed after receiving three days of the king’s hospitality. In the days to follow, Conan’s queen and closest allies each approach him with their misgivings, but the king remains determined to stay the course even despite the visitor’s unsettling demeanor. At the close of the third day, the so-called “nomad” springs his trap, drawing Conan into a phantasmagorical realm where the barbarian-turned-king must survive a series of life-threatening ordeals to win “a prize akin to immortality.”

Entitled “The Nomad,” this special extra-long one-shot issue commemorates two full years of Conan the Barbarian at Titan Comics. While the barbarian has appeared as ruler of Aquilonia before in the ongoing The Savage Sword of Conan title, this issue marks the first King Conan story in Titan’s main Conan the Barbarian title and the first one penned by Jim Zub himself. But what makes this issue so remarkable is the artwork by Alex Horley. Over the course of a year, Horley rendered every page of the artwork as oil paintings. Horley has consistently delivered some of the most eye-catching covers for Titan’s The Savage Sword of Conan, so seeing an entire issue of the main comic receive such deluxe treatment is impressive.

Appropriately for an anniversary issue, with Conan the Barbarian #25 writer Jim Zub delivers a retrospective of Conan’s career that simultaneously does double duty as an approachable introduction to the character. Through flashback-like visions the reader is treated to a series of pivotal scenes in Conan’s adventures, some of which have been covered in the Titan comic run (Conan’s encounter with Atali’s frost giant brothers), and others which have as yet only appeared in the original Robert E. Howard fiction or previous comic adaptations (e.g., we see the ape-like Thak, from “Rogues in the House,” and Conan’s crucifixion in “A Witch Shall be Born”). Conan’s opponents are mocking, talkative specters, and through the dialogue Zub demonstrates both the aging Conan’s philosophy and his indomitable spirit. In the end, Zub brings it home by neatly tying the story in with one of the most recognized and quoted passages in the Conan literary canon.

Alex Horley’s artwork is truly gorgeous throughout. Horley offers up dynamic combat, excellent depictions of favorite Conan the Barbarian monsters, and the most alluring portrayal of pirate queen Bêlit seen in the Titan Comics titles so far. While never obtrusive, the texture of the canvas is occasionally visible through the artwork, a pleasing reminder of the care and workmanship that went into this issue. Even in a series blessed with talented artists, the work here is something special.

Conan the Barbarian issue 25 is perhaps the best single issue of the Titan Comics incarnation to date. Not only is it visually gorgeous, but the story is also an eloquent summation of the appeal of both the character of Conan and Sword & Sorcery fiction in general. If I knew a comic reader who wanted to know what this whole Conan business was about and why people are still excited about this nearly century-old character, this is the issue I would hand them.

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This review originally appeared at Grimdark Magazine on November 7, 2025.

The Essential Horror of Joe R. Lansdale

By Joe R. Lansdale – Tachyon Publications – October 7, 2025

Review by Robin Marx

Joe R. Lansdale is your favorite horror writer’s favorite horror writer. Widely anthologized and the recipient of no fewer than ten Bram Stoker Awards, it doesn’t feel accurate to characterize the prolific East Texas author as underrated, per se, but to this reader it has long felt like Lansdale should be much more of a household name, up there with Stephen King. Lansdale’s Hap and Leonard series of novels has received popular acclaim from crime fiction fans, but readers who are less plugged into the horror short fiction scene (as opposed to the novel market) are all too often unacquainted with his work. Tachyon Publications is attempting to rectify this injustice with The Essential Horror of Joe R. Lansdale. This convenient volume packages 16 tales spanning the lengthy career of this “Champion Mojo Storyteller.” The stories gathered here are dark, occasionally crude, often bleakly humorous, frequently gross, and always offbeat.

The Essential Horror of Joe R. Lansdale opens strongly with “The Folding Man.” Some teenagers out joyriding after a Halloween party encounter a big black automobile carrying a group of nuns. One of the boys decides to “moon” the nuns as a joke, and the sight of his bare buttocks immediately sends the nuns into a murderous rage. When their savage high-speed pursuit fails to eliminate all the teens, the nuns produce a bizarre mechanical man from the trunk of their car, dispatching it like the robot from The Terminator to hunt down the survivors. Relentlessly paced, filled with graphic violence, and operating by incomprehensible nightmare logic, “The Folding Man” sets the tone for the stories to follow. It lets the reader know that they are now in Lansdale’s world, in which a quirky, chance encounter can rapidly escalate into something horrific and fatal.

Weird Westerns are one subgenre in with Lansdale excels, perhaps due to his Texan background, and this volume includes a pair of them. In “The Hoodoo Man and the Midnight Train,” a gunsmith with some aptitude for folk magic and his apprentice are hired to retrieve the soul of an innocent woman condemned to an eternity as a passenger on a ghostly train guarded by a demonic duelist. The clever and methodical way in which the Hoodoo Man tackles this supernatural predicament feels like a satisfying blend of the early Witcher stories by Andrzej Sapkowski and the Silver John Appalachian folk horror tales by Manly Wade Wellman. “The Hungry Snow” is the second Weird Western, in which a wanderer known as the Reverend Jedidiah Mercer encounters a handful of bedraggled travelers stranded in the Rocky Mountains. Having exhausted their supplies, the hapless survivors have resorted to cannibalism. While the Reverend is understandably cautious around his hungry and desperate new acquaintances, the party as a whole face a greater threat: a prowling Wendigo lurking just beyond the campfire. Like “The Hoodoo Man and the Midnight Train,” “The Hungry Snow” features a level-headed and resourceful protagonist using their expertise and their wits to extract themselves from dire straits.

The Essential Horror of Joe R. Lansdale also includes a pair of post-apocalyptic tales, each with an appropriately unconventional spin. “Tight Little Stitches in a Dead Man’s Back” chronicles the descent into madness of a scientist emerging from an underground shelter into the world he had a hand in destroying. Humanity is all but extinct, and the surface world has been claimed by bizarre, hostile wildlife, forcing the scientist and his estranged wife to shelter together in a lighthouse waiting for the inevitable. While it still feels a little overstuffed to me, like it has more than enough ideas to sustain two separate stories, “Tight Little Stitches in a Dead Man’s Back” was one of the more memorable stories from the George R. R. Martin-edited volume Wastelands 2: More Stories of the Apocalypse (2015). The frequently anthologized novella “On the Far Side of the Cadillac Desert with Dead Folk” is another work of exceptional post-apocalyptic fiction. When a bounty hunter and his ruthless quarry are captured by religious zealots building an undead army, the two enemies must join forces to escape torture and death. Replete with a “Jesusland” theme park, sexy nuns, Mouseketeer ear hat-wearing zombies, and a dash of necrophilia, this story epitomizes Lansdale’s gonzo, deranged appeal.

The second novella collected in The Essential Horror of Joe R. Lansdale is probably his most famous work, due to the well-received 2002 film adaptation by Don Coscarelli (Phantasm, The Beastmaster, etc.): “Bubba Ho-Tep.” Set in an East Texas retirement home, the story is told from the perspective of an elderly man who is either Elvis in his twilight years or an impersonator who has kept up the act so long that his original identity has become foggy. When their fellow residents begin dying under mysterious circumstances, Elvis teams up with a nearly victimized Black man convinced that he is former President John F. Kennedy. They soon learn that a resurrected Egyptian mummy prowls the halls of their old folks’ home looking for souls to devour. With a colorful cast of addled characters and Lansdale’s trademark wit, comedy is very much at the forefront of “Bubba Ho-Tep,” but he doesn’t neglect the horrific aspect of the premise. The reader is reminded that the retirement home residents are incredibly vulnerable, death at the hands of the mummy results in eternal torment, and outside assistance is not coming. The threat may be somewhat ridiculous, but it is a lethal one, nonetheless.

Regular, well-meaning folks in the wrong place at the wrong time are common horror protagonists, but Lansdale also relishes putting the reader in the shoes of the truly despicable. Callous, bigoted, deceitful, or just plain demented. Sometimes they get their just deserts, sometimes they don’t. “My Dead Dog Bobby” is a two-page piece of flash fiction about a young boy playing with his decomposing pet. Lansdale is sometimes lumped in with the old splatterpunk movement—a categorization that’s not always undeserved but also feels slightly reductive—and there’s plenty of grue in this story, but readers may find their initial revulsion for the narrator replaced by pity by the short’s end. “By Bizarre Hands” is a chilling character study of a psychopathic traveling preacher visiting a widow on Halloween with plans to molest the woman’s developmentally disabled daughter. And rather than let readers off easy with the relatively reassuring “Bubba Ho-Tep,” The Essential Horror of Joe R. Lansdale instead concludes with one of the darkest stories in the book: “Night They Missed the Horror Show.” Two racist, idiotic high school boys attempt to kill a dull evening in their Podunk town by dragging the corpse of a dead dog behind their car. Later in the evening they encounter a pair of even crueler men and quickly find themselves in a desperate situation. In his introduction to the piece the author aptly describes it as “a story of the bad guys meeting some really bad guys.” Many of us have had the misfortune of encountering people that just seem “off” or somehow fundamentally broken inside, and Lansdale is uncommonly effective at portraying that sort of ominous individual on the page.

The Essential Horror of Joe R. Lansdale is a worthy retrospective of a bona fide horror master’s extensive career. The folksy, the humorous, the gory, the gonzo, and the pitch-black elements of his body of work are all present and accounted for across this collection’s 16 entries. If you’re new to Lansdale, this is an excellent place to start. If you’re already acquainted with him, this volume likely includes your favorite Lansdale story alongside several less familiar treasures.

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This review originally appeared at Grimdark Magazine on September 29, 2025.

Conan the Barbarian #24

By Jim Zub (Writer) and Fernando Dagnino (Artist) – Titan Comics – September 10, 2025

Review by Robin Marx

While Conan and Zula emerged unscathed from their audience with Thoth-Amon, master of the Black Circle of Sorcerers and an important figure in the insidious snake cult of Set, they learned of “Set’s brood gathering beneath Keshatta.” With the coming of dawn, Zula’s magic disguise has expired, however, and Athyr-Bast has escaped her bonds. An alarm is raised city-wide, but Conan and Zula remain committed to disrupting Thoth-Amon’s insidious plot to destabilize Stygia’s neighboring kingdoms. The pair venture into the tunnels below Keshatta, where curses and darker threats await.

Concluding the current Conan the Barbarian story arc, this issue is entitled “The Nest Beneath.” Jim Zub has managed to pack quite a bit of story into a single issue, and his narration work is appropriately breathless. Zub also incorporates a fun reference to Robert E. Howard’s original Conan tales by having the children of Set growing beneath the city take the same form as the monster from the story “The God in the Bowl.” A brief flashback in this issue reveals that the encounter in “The God in the Bowl” has already taken place in the Titan Comics Conan the Barbarian continuity, although not “on-screen.”

Fernando Dagnino delivers some more great expressions in this issue. Faces twisted in rage during combat, dumbstruck through mesmerism, panicking when confronted by supernatural horrors, etc. And while he had some opportunity to briefly show off some monster artwork in Conan the Barbarian #23, this issue’s Man-Serpents offer him an opportunity to really let loose.

In the final pages of the issue, Jeffrey Shanks delivers another informative essay on serpent-haunted Stygia, this time profiling the villains of Stygia. I was surprised to learn that scene-stealing sorceress villainess was not an original Zub-created character, but instead one who first appeared in Marvel’s Savage Sword in Conan in 1993, late in the original magazine’s run. Cheers to Zub’s archaeology work; his dedication to repurposing entertaining motifs and characters from the full body of Conan the Barbarian canon is laudable.

Conan the Barbarian #24 delivers a strong conclusion to one of the best storylines in Titan Comics’ two-year run. Newcomers to the title have been given a thorough grounding in Stygia, its snake cult, and power players like Thoth-Amon, meaning a firm foundation has been laid for the upcoming “Scourge of the Serpent” miniseries. While it’s unlikely that readers will be surprised to see Thoth-Amon and Athyr-Bast escape to plot another day, the fates of Livia and Zula are less predictable and should provide some exciting fuel for future stories.

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