Badaxe

UPDATE on Robert Rodriquez’s Fire and Ice.

For a lot of film fans, Sin City is Rodriguez’s greatest cinematic achievement. So they may want to hang on to their helmets for the big reveal from the day: Early test footage and concept art from Fire and Ice, the epic sword and sorcery creation of legendary fantasy artist Frank Frazetta. Rodriguez is an unabashed and unapologetic advocate for the master of pulchritudinous prehistoric princesses and flesh-rending barbarians, even getting Frazetta to produce a poster for the original From Dusk Till Dawn. He got Frazetta’s approval back before the artist died in 2010, and has been working openly on this project since 2011.

Rodriguez was very complimentary about the 1983 animated movie by Ralph Bakshi, for which Frazetta not only provided the germ of the original story but also helped choreograph some of the action sequences. However, what Rodriguez showed off in this brief taster was much more epic in scale, with thousands of Frazetta’s trademark ape men streaming across an endless bridge into battle, and jagged sorcerously-created glaciers bearing down on green forests. According to Rodriguez, he wants to create the feeling of stepping into Frazetta’s lush, fluid and violent world, much like Sin City brought two-fisted life to Miller’s drizzle-soaked streets.

Ultimately, it’s all about paying tribute to Frazetta’s artwork, and back during SXSW 2012, Rodriguez discussed his plan to move the entire Frank Frazetta Museum to a brick-and-mortar location in Austin. That plan may still be a way away, but there was a teaser with the display of 10 original Frazetta pieces, including Death Dealer, Death Dealer 2, and Swamp Demon. Rodriguez’s aim was to shock people out of the idea that the artist was just a schlocky fantasy guy, and show them the amazing technique he put into works like Moon Maid.

Conan VS Thak

kgthunder:

"He marched up a pile of rubble, looked down at the nomads, and raised his axe with two hands over his head. His muscles bunched, and he charged, an avalanche of steel.A stride short of the waiting spear tips, he planted his foot and, pivoting on it, swung his axe in a wide sweeping arc. The blade carved a half moon out of the spears. The power of the blow propelled his heavy body into the blunted poles. Wood splintered and snapped. Spear tips caught in the Barbarian’s chain mail; others gauged his legs and slashed his forearm. He did not appear to notice. His axe was back over his head, coming down fast. This time it fed itself on meat and bone. Slavers fell spouting blood from necks, chests and arms. Blue-grey bodies writhed in red fountains. The axe kept at its task as a howl of savage pleasure rang out from the horned helmet.The Kitzakk merchants watched with spellbound terror, then covered their eyes as the horror took on a new dimension. The black-clad warrior was slowly rising on a growing mountain of the dead and dying. Terror gave way to panic; the merchants fled. Gath of Baal stood on a pile of dead bodies working his axe. The surviving nomads surrounded him. Splattered with blood, they mindlessly charged up the bodies of the fallen into the Barbarian’s slashing axe. Bodies and pieces of bodies tumbled in the air, tossed on fountains of blood, and still they charged. Gath was knee-deep in carnage, slipping on bloody chests and heads. Dying men clung to his legs, bit them, struggled with the last of their strength to pull him down into their mire of gore.”

kgthunder:

"He marched up a pile of rubble, looked down at the nomads, and raised his axe with two hands over his head. His muscles bunched, and he charged, an avalanche of steel.
A stride short of the waiting spear tips, he planted his foot and, pivoting on it, swung his axe in a wide sweeping arc. The blade carved a half moon out of the spears. The power of the blow propelled his heavy body into the blunted poles. Wood splintered and snapped. Spear tips caught in the Barbarian’s chain mail; others gauged his legs and slashed his forearm. He did not appear to notice. His axe was back over his head, coming down fast. This time it fed itself on meat and bone. Slavers fell spouting blood from necks, chests and arms. Blue-grey bodies writhed in red fountains. The axe kept at its task as a howl of savage pleasure rang out from the horned helmet.

The Kitzakk merchants watched with spellbound terror, then covered their eyes as the horror took on a new dimension. The black-clad warrior was slowly rising on a growing mountain of the dead and dying. Terror gave way to panic; the merchants fled. Gath of Baal stood on a pile of dead bodies working his axe. The surviving nomads surrounded him. Splattered with blood, they mindlessly charged up the bodies of the fallen into the Barbarian’s slashing axe. Bodies and pieces of bodies tumbled in the air, tossed on fountains of blood, and still they charged. Gath was knee-deep in carnage, slipping on bloody chests and heads. Dying men clung to his legs, bit them, struggled with the last of their strength to pull him down into their mire of gore.”

Currently reading this. Still gotta track down the other two.

Currently reading this. Still gotta track down the other two.

"There, Gath of Baal stood atop a half-crumbled embrasure, silhouetted against a sky of red flames and black smoke, wearing the hot firelight as if it were his own. It was. The flames boiled up out of carnage born of the horned helmet. The Barbarian had discarded his axe, Roundell could imagine where, and now used a long spear. He thrust the long weapon into a Zard’s body and plucked the demon spawn into the air, its heavy weight bending the spear. Scales covered the strange, naked victim. Horns protruded from its skull, and a red sash flailed between its legs. The Barbarian heaved the Zard over the wall like old garbage.As if finally finding an altar worth of them, more Zard Death Cult members poured out of the West Tower to feed themselves to the Barbarian. He plucked another demon spawn off the wall with his spear, threw it into the air, and the creature screamed and flailed in futile ecstasy, surrendering to the will of the Death Dealer.”

"There, Gath of Baal stood atop a half-crumbled embrasure, silhouetted against a sky of red flames and black smoke, wearing the hot firelight as if it were his own. It was. The flames boiled up out of carnage born of the horned helmet. The Barbarian had discarded his axe, Roundell could imagine where, and now used a long spear. He thrust the long weapon into a Zard’s body and plucked the demon spawn into the air, its heavy weight bending the spear. Scales covered the strange, naked victim. Horns protruded from its skull, and a red sash flailed between its legs. The Barbarian heaved the Zard over the wall like old garbage.
As if finally finding an altar worth of them, more Zard Death Cult members poured out of the West Tower to feed themselves to the Barbarian. He plucked another demon spawn off the wall with his spear, threw it into the air, and the creature screamed and flailed in futile ecstasy, surrendering to the will of the Death Dealer.”

"The stallion backed away from the carnage, and Gath rose slowly. He moved onto the heap of skeletons, retrieved his axe from the bony rubble and stood leaning on it. The blade glistened with bloody streaks. Behind him, a red-orange glow filled the distant sky, tinting his black armor and matching the glow of his eyes. The same color tinted the flowing water. It was the only movement, a river of death."

"The stallion backed away from the carnage, and Gath rose slowly. He moved onto the heap of skeletons, retrieved his axe from the bony rubble and stood leaning on it. The blade glistened with bloody streaks. Behind him, a red-orange glow filled the distant sky, tinting his black armor and matching the glow of his eyes. The same color tinted the flowing water. It was the only movement, a river of death."

"A dark chain mail skirt covered his legs, ornate armor his chest. A black cloak billowed behind him. He carried a narrow rectangular shield with some kind of design on it, and a huge curved axe. A horned helmet with a pointed crest rose above his massive shoulders. Its mask covered his face. But the stranger’s attire was the least of his attractions. He sat his mount as if man and animal were of one body, one mind, one emotion. One creation. The meat and bone of war."

"A dark chain mail skirt covered his legs, ornate armor his chest. A black cloak billowed behind him. He carried a narrow rectangular shield with some kind of design on it, and a huge curved axe. A horned helmet with a pointed crest rose above his massive shoulders. Its mask covered his face. But the stranger’s attire was the least of his attractions. He sat his mount as if man and animal were of one body, one mind, one emotion. One creation. The meat and bone of war."

"He marched up a pile of rubble, looked down at the nomads, and raised his axe with two hands over his head. His muscles bunched, and he charged, an avalanche of steel.A stride short of the waiting spear tips, he planted his foot and, pivoting on it, swung his axe in a wide sweeping arc. The blade carved a half moon out of the spears. The power of the blow propelled his heavy body into the blunted poles. Wood splintered and snapped. Spear tips caught in the Barbarian’s chain mail; others gauged his legs and slashed his forearm. He did not appear to notice. His axe was back over his head, coming down fast. This time it fed itself on meat and bone. Slavers fell spouting blood from necks, chests and arms. Blue-grey bodies writhed in red fountains. The axe kept at its task as a howl of savage pleasure rang out from the horned helmet.The Kitzakk merchants watched with spellbound terror, then covered their eyes as the horror took on a new dimension. The black-clad warrior was slowly rising on a growing mountain of the dead and dying. Terror gave way to panic; the merchants fled. Gath of Baal stood on a pile of dead bodies working his axe. The surviving nomads surrounded him. Splattered with blood, they mindlessly charged up the bodies of the fallen into the Barbarian’s slashing axe. Bodies and pieces of bodies tumbled in the air, tossed on fountains of blood, and still they charged. Gath was knee-deep in carnage, slipping on bloody chests and heads. Dying men clung to his legs, bit them, struggled with the last of their strength to pull him down into their mire of gore.”

"He marched up a pile of rubble, looked down at the nomads, and raised his axe with two hands over his head. His muscles bunched, and he charged, an avalanche of steel.
A stride short of the waiting spear tips, he planted his foot and, pivoting on it, swung his axe in a wide sweeping arc. The blade carved a half moon out of the spears. The power of the blow propelled his heavy body into the blunted poles. Wood splintered and snapped. Spear tips caught in the Barbarian’s chain mail; others gauged his legs and slashed his forearm. He did not appear to notice. His axe was back over his head, coming down fast. This time it fed itself on meat and bone. Slavers fell spouting blood from necks, chests and arms. Blue-grey bodies writhed in red fountains. The axe kept at its task as a howl of savage pleasure rang out from the horned helmet.

The Kitzakk merchants watched with spellbound terror, then covered their eyes as the horror took on a new dimension. The black-clad warrior was slowly rising on a growing mountain of the dead and dying. Terror gave way to panic; the merchants fled. Gath of Baal stood on a pile of dead bodies working his axe. The surviving nomads surrounded him. Splattered with blood, they mindlessly charged up the bodies of the fallen into the Barbarian’s slashing axe. Bodies and pieces of bodies tumbled in the air, tossed on fountains of blood, and still they charged. Gath was knee-deep in carnage, slipping on bloody chests and heads. Dying men clung to his legs, bit them, struggled with the last of their strength to pull him down into their mire of gore.”