I was no stranger to the character, as my first exposure was in the movie Conan the Barbarian starring the Governator. But from the first couple of pages I knew that the original conception of Conan was a bit different from the largely silent avenger in the movie who contemplated the murder of a giant snake on the Tree of Woe. The Conan of the stories was a muscular barbarian, to be sure, but he was neither stoic nor grim. And he was also no idiot; by the time he was king he could speak many languages and was able to read and write in more than a few of them. While he didn’t always understand the agendas or rules of civilized men, he also had no desire to return to the harsh, unforgiving lands of his birth. Conan was certainly no “hero” by most definitions, but he was a loyal and honest friend, could be trusted to keep an oath, and did not mistreat women (unlike many “civilized”) characters in those tales.

What I didn’t know when reading that first paperback (featuring the unusual and unforgettable art of Frank Frazetta) was all the tinkering that was done to the original author’s work. At the time I just knew that some tales were more satisfying for me than others. Only later did I learn that there was revision, “posthumous collaborations,” and pastiches performed by [author:L. Sprague de Camp] and [author:Lin Carter]. Some Howard purists blast de Camp and Carter for bastardizing Howard’s original works, but in the end I’m grateful that they rescued Conan from the pulp magazines of the 1930s and brought the character to a level of popularity that he never knew while Howard was alive.

The Coming of Conan the Cimmerian is the first of three collections of Howard’s original stories. The editors have worked to restore the text to the original published version and in some cases have even gone back to Howard’s original manuscripts (loaned from a collector). It also presents the stories in the order in which they were written, something that required a bit of editorial detective work. It begins with his first imagining of the Hyborian world with a poem, “Cimmeria,” and then begins with the yarn called “The Phoenix on the Sword.”

Howard did not write the Conan stories in any sort of chronological order. The very first tale has Conan as the troubled, middle-aged king of Aquilonia, and the second leaps back into the barbarian’s younger days as a mercenary. He wrote the stories as they occurred to him, as if an old soldier was telling you tales by the campfire in no particular order.

Those looking for political correctness in their sword-and-sorcery should probably look elsewhere. Howard was a Texan in the 1930s, and his views on race and women have offended some modern readers. For me, it’s quite easy to remember the source and just enjoy and action and adventure.

One element to recommend include Howard’s use of language. He was, among other things, a poet. Howard can pack amazing imagery and lots of action in a few short sentences that a lesser writer (a.k.a. me) would have needed several paragraphs in order to say the same thing and not as well. Few authors have ever put such vivid and intense scenes in my head, and never with such economy of words.

Fans of H.P. Lovecraft and tales of Cthulhu should note that Howard was a friend and admirer of Lovecraft the and it could easily be argued that the Conan stories take place within the Cthulhu mythos. The view of the universe, the workings of magic, and the alien creatures from beyond the stars all make perfect sense in Lovecraft’s frightening universe.

The fictional Hyborian age is a well-realized world in which Conan can wander and find adventure. While not the complete creation of Middle Earth, it’s instead a chunk of missing history that “might have” existed long ago. The races, cultures, and places have connections to actual history but free Howard from the research to make such things authentic. Yet the names are the same or similar so the reader doesn’t need much help to understand where Conan is and the places that he’s visiting.

It’s important to note that Howard was a “working writer” in the sense that he wasn’t trying to make art for its own sake. He was writing for magazines and journals, making a living during extremely hard times, and adjusting his work to help it sell. Some of the stories are fun but forgettable, while others manage to transcend. Conan risked incredible danger for great wealth in “The Tower of the Elephant,” yet gave up on his greed to help a pitiable, frightening alien creature. He was ready to die in battle yet ended up finding love that defied death itself in “Queen of the Black Coast.”

There are many reasons to recommend this volume, whether you are already a rabid Howard fanboy (a.k.a. me) or a newcomer to his stories. Read the stories as he originally intended in this collection, as well as The Bloody Crown of Conan and The Conquering Sword of Conan.

So when you combine my love for music and storytelling, it’s easy to guess that I enjoy musicals. Some people don’t, and I get that. The idea of people bursting into song when the mood strikes them seems artificial and forced, and possibly a bit insane. But of course, anyone who hangs out with me long enough knows that some people do burst into song when the mood strikes them.

But what if someone creates something that combines good music, excellent storytelling, and shows unabashed geekery? And what if, at the same time, it took the lead in the new form of creator-produced entertainment that completely bypassed the traditional studio system of movies and television? It would be amazing, and it would be called Dr. Horrible’s Sing-a-Long Blog.

It’s no secret that I’m a big fan of Joss Whedon, ever since my sister Bambi forced me to watch a first season episode of Buffy: The Vampire Slayer. (How she exercises the power of blackmail is strange, but completely her choice.) I’ve been gleefully entertained in the realms of television, movies, and comics ever since — and had the once-in-a-lifetime chance to write and design a role playing game based on his science fiction television series, Firefly.

Dr. Horrible is a three-act musical that is currently dominating the Internets. (Here in the MWP office, Cam insists there is more than one!) It certainly needs no help from me to promote it, but in case you’ve been hiding from your bookie in a remote log cabin in northern Minnesota, it is a story of love in a comic-book world where we see things through the eyes of a supervillain who hasn’t quite made it to the big time yet. The production was done on the cheap and filmed in less than a week, and created by Whedon during the WGA strike.

Neil Patrick Harris is brilliant as the title character, and well-matched with Nathan “Captain Tightpants” Fillion and the lovely and talented Felicia Day—who is no stranger to the web-based entertainment model. She created, produces, writes, and stars in the World of Warcraft-inspired series The Guild. And while Horrible’s its own world, it will feel as familiar as seeing an old friend when you hear the Whedonesque jokes mixed with characters who are both exaggerated and believable (how does he do that?!) and storytelling by a writer who understands structure and timing.

So d’uh, it’s good! Go watch it for free — but any dolt with half a brain would dash off to iTunes and plunk down a few dollars to get all the episodes to keep and transfer to your nearest video iPod. (Or if you’re like me, zap it over to the trusty Apple TV and watch it on your 50” plasma in full surround sound.) The money is well spent and will help pave the way for more creators out there to take the Internets into their own hands and create more entertainment that isn’t judged and changed by studio executives who think we need one more reality show about people who face their worst fears on an island while swapping spouses.

If you’ve ever felt like an outsider, this was written for you. If you’ve ever felt like the world was run by stupid, better-looking people and thought that maybe killing the worst of them wouldn’t be such a Horrible thing, then this might just strike a chord with you. But even the beautiful dumb people might like the music and will laugh at the jokes they can understand. Joss likes telling his stories as metaphors, and Dr. Horrible as the shy nerd and Captain Hammer as the popular jock is not exactly hard to see. But it works for me because I can relate so well. Remember, I’m a D&D-playing geek who lettered in Music in High School.

Last episode doesn’t hit the Internets until tomorrow, but Joss had me at Freeze Ray. If you haven’t seen it, go forth and view. You’re welcome.

I just returned from an evening expedition a place here in Canton, Georgia known to the locals as “Hell’s Church.” It is a place of urban legend, supernatural rumor, and the site of real-life crime when the church was burned to the ground in 1990.

I’ll keep the names of my traveling companions to myself, but I was there with several ladies age 15 to 31. We had a few flashlights, our cell phones, and my camera. Our tour guide, a very old and dear friend, knew most of the stories of the place. Hell’s Church was supposedly the site of unwholesome activity, including occult activity — one that led a disturbed teenager burn the whole place down.

Here’s the short description from The Shadowlands:
Cherokee County – Canton – Hell Church – is a place located in the old part of Canton. There is a long narrow road going back into the woods that is very difficult to get down. You then come upon a church, out in the middle of nowhere, there is a very small (one room ) and white. Located directly across the road is a cemetery with graves dating back to the 18th century. Although there have been accounts of graves freshly dug. The story goes that back in the 80′s a boy was found mutilated. Most say that it was a cult killing. But the church was shut down and the newspaper clipping of this horrible event still exists. The church has been re-opened but there are still accounts of hearing faint piano music coming from inside the church late at night.

Walking around, the first thing we noticed is that many of the graves are bordered with bricks or stones and are covered with gravel. Many of these graves — even those many decades old — still have a very visible mound over the site of each body. Some families had several mounds side-by-side, and this phenomenon was visible even on more traditional dirt graves. Intrigued, I looked around and was astonished to see the high number of infant and child graves — more than I think I’ve seen in any cemetary I’ve visited. Some of my companions got the creeps and wanted to leave immediately. One was ready to leave, but then changed her mind and wanted to stay.

While others had a more specific experience, the one tangible thing (besides the strange grave mounds) was the smell. Near the center of the cemetary we all noticed a very strange, distinct odor. It was sort of sulfuric, but somehow also sweet. As my guide and I stood side by side near a grave that seemed be covered in astroturf (strange enough on its own!) the smell grew very strong indeed, and both of us felt a slight chill.

After our exploration, we got in the van and drove only a dozen yards when a police car came down the road and immediately turned on the lights. The officer approached our vehicle and asked us our business, explaining that there was lots of bad activity back here — causing the Cherokee County sheriff’s department to patrol the road regularly. He cited drug deals, vandalism, theft, and more, but quickly sent us on our way.

A very unusual experience, and several of us would like to visit the place again during the day where we could see the markers more clearly and would be less likely to be arrested! I did notice one prominent grave marked “Chambers.” Though it’s unlikely they are any sort of relation, it’s possible!

Others who were there might have their own stories, but that’s mine. Anyone in the area who’s interested in the supernatural and strange places should — legally and safely — check this place out.