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Holy March 1st Batman! This month finds us unveiling the Golden Age Legion Gallery (Legion characters reimagined from the World War II era! Submit creative work featuring Legion characters in swing 40s/50s fashion! Join us starting March 1st for the continuity crunching action!
We love brand new submissions (stories, poems, prose, novels, paintings, drawings, photomanips, action figures, statues, busts, micros, etchings, etc.) but we certainly want your existing work posted in the galleries too! Come join us all month long starting on the 1st for the shindig!
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Well, I did this picture maybe a week ago when I was on holidays as the idea fired my imagination. I've got another idea I hope to work on and post before the end of the month. We'll see. But for now, Ohhh say can you see... By the Star-Boy's bright light...
PS Let me know if you can't see the picture - I'm not sure how I have my Photobucket options set. PPS Changed my picture so it's smaller. A bigger version can be seen here if you want: WWII Star-Boy I hope.
[ March 03, 2006, 12:32 AM: Message edited by: Star Boy ]
Boxes and trash line the brick walls of a shadowy alley in an unidentified city. A door left ajar lets out enough light to illumine five silhouettes...
"But it's an upside-down trash can!" One of the silhouettes complains.
"You see a trash can, Lulu," a younger voice answers. "*I* see a potential...."
"Clubhouse! It's a clubhouse!" A squeaky little voice interrupts.
" A Headquarters for the..." Chimes in a more assured voice.
"NEWSLAD(AND LASS) LEGION" The silhouettes chorus.
"Okay, okay. I know when I'm in the minority..." Lulu accedes.
"Which ain't often. Since you're a triplet and all. Hey- where *are* your sisters, anyways?"
"Ah- home with a cold, Tenzie. "
"Ah-rats. That means I'll have to take their route, too."
"No you won't. I can do it."
"We can all help..." the youngest voice intercedes.
"I CAN DO IT!"
"Jeez, Lulu- nobody said you couldn't. The mouth on youse..."
"I wouldn't talk, Tenzie... considering what I saw *you* eating the other day..."
"Why, I oughta...."
"If we all assist in delivering the triplet's routes, the sooner we rendezvous here and appoint our new HQ..." The youngest voice once again intercedes.
"Our new what?" The squeaky little voice whispers.
"Headquarters, Midge. The upside-down trash can." A kind voice with laughter in it offers.
"Thanks, Chuck. Hey, Five... why can't you say what you mean?"
"I did and do, Midge."
"Unless it's to the blonde bombshell Five's sweet on..." Tenzie adds, sarcastically. "Like *she'd* have anything to do with a kid who sounds thirty, but looks five years old."
"You'd do well to recall that I just *look* five," Five replies, frost in his voice. "And that these five fingers can add up to one big punch..." Five brandishes his clenched fist.
"Easy does it, kids. We'se all friends here, remember." Chuck intervenes.
"Psst. Lulu, what blonde bombshell they mean?" Midge asks.
"The tomato bussing tables at Bertinelli's... you know... the one with the gams..."
"She better watch herself in the neighborhood if she messes with my Five..." Midge whispers.
"Laaaaaddies! Laaaasssiies!" a voluminous voice from the street rounds the corner. "You here, kids? The GUARDIAN is... ready for delivery!? A decrepit van bearing the standard "NEWS GUARDIAN" on it's side lurches into the alley. It's headlights shine on the cluster of the five kids: a small blond boy with a pinched face brightened by ancient eyes wears purple knickerbocks and a green shirt... a tiny girl with black, bobbed hair beneath a green beret takes a step back, shrinking from the light... a smiling young fellow with a big, spherical belly shades his eyes with a pudgy hand... an elegant young lady with bouncy brown hair turns, her light orange skirt swirling around her... and a tall, gangly boy with recalcitrant dark hair and an impish grin pushes the aviator glasses he'd been wearing at the tip of his nose back into position over his eyes.
"Hold yer horses, RJ!" Tenzie calls.
"Yeah! Don't run us over or the nobs'll do without the day's GUARDIAN!" Lulu adds.
RJ tosses one bundle after another out of his truck.
"Nah! There's a hundred kids to take yer places. By damn."
"They couldn't do *these* routes in half the time!" Chuck taunts.
"You kids're fast. I'll give ya that. But fast don't mean squat if you don't get started on time..."
His delivery made, RJ backs the truck out of the alley. The kids grab each grab a bundle.
"Hey, lads!" Midge cries, as she examines the day's headline. "Lookee here! I think we've got a case!"
The kids each look to their bundle. The headline reads, "GERMAN SYMPATHIZERS INVADE AREA".
"Hot dog, Newslad Legion..." Tenzie pumps his fist.
"And Lass..." Lulu interrupts.
"And Lass Legion," Tenzie nods. "Let's get these delivered and meet back here double-time!"
"And then we root out the ratzis?" Chuck asks.
"You got it, Chuckster."
The Newslad and Lass Legion disperses into the shadow. Tenzie remains behind. He looks around the seemingly abandoned alley. He rushes to the upside-down tin can and kneels beside it. He opens his mouth to it's widest possible openness... and then stretches his jaws a bit further. His head darts forward, like a bird stabbing a worm. The sound of metal tearing fills the alley. Tenzie stands back up, a jagged piece of metal in his hand.
"Now we've got a doorway," he says quietly, as he heads off to complete his route.
A tiny, tiny figure... perhaps a mouse?... creeps into the light. Not a mouse, the tiny figure suddenly grows into Midge... who stares after Tenzie in awe.
"You're like me, Tenzie... you're special!" Grinning, Midge follows Tenzie out of the alley, turning left out of the alley. "What was *that*? the diminutive gal said to herself, as the sound of rubber hitting brick startles her. Seeing nothing, she shakes her head and lugs the bundle of newspapers away.
Had she looked to her right, she would have seen Lulu huddled with two girls wearing her identical face. They whisper animatedly, looking around for bystanders. Seeing none, they barely touch... and incredibly merge into one being. That being's brow furls in thought... then separates back into three separate girls, who each grab a bundle and silently races off in different directions.
On the roof of one of the buildings overlooking the alley, Chuck smiles and nods. He gathers himself... and jumps from the roof. Taking a deep breath, his lungs expand... and then his belly. Quickly, he inflates to the shape of a medicine ball. He drops quickly to the ground, bouncing back into the air for a couple of hops, before landing and deflating.
"All of us different!" He thinks. "What are the odds? Watch out, ratzis!"
Chuck hurries off, the bundle of newspapers under his arm.
A tall man in a purple trenchcoat emerges from a shadowed doorway. His fedora, also purple, is pulled down, hiding his face. He pulls out a pocket watch, which glows an unearthly silver-gold in the quickening dawn. He brings it close to his face.
"WATCH out, indeed, lads and lasses. Your time is coming... but then, so is MINE!!!"
From: Knoxville, TN | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
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Thanks Sketchy and EDE! And kewl stuff, Mystery Lad! Newsboy Legion... an idea that just had to be seen for this topic. I liked the topic so much I quickly threw another picture together today - more a photomanip than anything although for some stupid reason I did it in Illustrator rather than Photoshop. I figured I'd stick with the war poster theme but went for something different...
(Edited to add: It wasn't until I'd saved the file for web and uploaded it and all that I realised I'd typed sheep rather than goat. Use your imaginations, kids! Ha! Kids! Goat! Gettit? )
[ March 05, 2006, 03:42 AM: Message edited by: Star Boy ]
Eryk Davis Ester
Created from the Cosmic Legends of the Universe!
posted
Okay, there's a bunch more of this to follow, but just to wet your appetities:
ALL-AMERICAN PATRIOTIC SPACE ADVENTURE #1
PAGE 1
Panel 1
It is the year 2942, and the United States of Earth has brought truth, justice, and the American way to every corner of the globe! Yet there will always be evil men to fight, and the great protectors of democracy in this era are the youthful LEGION OF SUPER-HEROES, who have dedicated themselves to defending the Earth against the Super-Ratzis of Space! Let’s see their latest exciting adventure…
Panel 2
Caption: Our story opens in the office of Earth President R. J. Brande…
R. J. Brande: By gosh, Marla! When I said you could let those orphans live in the White House, it was on the condition that they would keep quiet! Get them to stop that ruckuss… I’ve got these official papers to sign!
Marla: Shhh… quiet down kids! You’re interrupting President Brande’s work…
Panel 4
Caption: Vice-President Latham knows what President Brande does not, that the White House orphans are in reality… the Legion of Super-Heroes!
Rokk Krinn: Gosh, we’re sorry, Mr. Vice-President. It’s just… we haven’t had an adventure in over a week!
Panel 5
Garth Ranzz: Yeah, we’re getting restless for some action!
Panel 6
Caption: Then, someone enters…
Chief Wilson: Science Police Chief Wilson to see President Brande…
Panel 7
Caption: Lyle (the Invisible Kid) Norg decides to see what Chief Wilson wants with the President…
Chief Wilson: Sir, we’ve just been alerted that a group of Dominion saboteurs are planning on targeting McCauley’s spaceship factory tonight…
R. J. Brande: By gosh! Take some men and protect the factory! It’s especially important that we keep those spaceships in production to prevent another cowardly sneak attack like those pointy-ears pulled on the Moonbase!
From: Liberty City | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
posted
Awesome to get Museum contributions from folks who haven't previously (or haven't recently) contributed! Here are some old photos I 'unearthed':
Glamourous Allied Forces precog agent Natasha Nura: Imfamous WWII-era screen siren and British Spy Tinya Wazzoworth: Spunky American Naval Lt. "Light Lass" Ranzz: Pin-up girls and entertainers, the Durgo Twins:
[ September 10, 2006, 06:07 PM: Message edited by: Monkey Eater Lad ]
From: Alameda, CA | Registered: Dec 2003
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MEL, this is one of the coolest things I've ever seen! I love everything so far, but this might be my fave!
From: If you don't want my peaches, honey... | Registered: Sep 2003
| IP: Logged |
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These are all amazing! Such variety. It really makes me want to see a Golden Age Legion - or the Legion visit the Golden Age.
Mystery Lad & EDE, PLEASE continue your stories.
Star Boy - great idea for the posters, and very appropriate to how the Legion would have been used in for WWII propaganda! You could do a whole series.
And MEL - wow! Those are all spot on - especially Lt. Light Lass! These ladies merit a story themselves.
Mystery Lads dialog is like listening to old time radio shows. EDE's... er educational comic strip is cute. Starboy's propagada stuff is spot on and MEL's Legionnaires from the days of Hollywood glamour are awesome.
Eryk Davis Ester
Created from the Cosmic Legends of the Universe!
posted
AAPSA #1
PAGE 2
Panel 1
Caption: Elsewhere...
*Panel shows the office of Warlord Gharlak, leader of the Khunds, notably distinguished by his Chaplin moustache. An officer who has just walked in has his arm raised in salute*
Khund Officer: Gheil Gharlak!
Panel 2
Gharlack: What news have you to report from the Toonar campaign?
Panel 3
Khund Officer: The Toonari freedom fighters offered heavy resistance to our space-troops. But we nearly had them defeated, when a fleet of Earth spaceships attacked us.
Panel 4
Gharlak: This is most unacceptable! We must crush those Earthlings! How dare they defy the conquest of the universe by Greater Khundia!
Panel 5
*picks up phone receiver*
Gharlak: I will contact the Dominion emperor on the visual phone!
Panel 6
*The Dominion emperor appears on a screen on Gharlak's desk. Behind him, one can see the flag of the Dominion, which is yellow with a giant red circle in the center, similar to the red circle all Dominators wear on their heads*
Dominion Emperor: Greetings, Garlak-san. What can I do for you this fine day?
Panel 7
Gharlak: The Earthling space fleets have saved yet another planet from our conquest! I thought you were going to do something about their ships!
Panel 8
Dominion Emperor: I am most apolegetic, my friend. My agents plan on srtiking a severe blow to the Earthlings spaceship manufacturing process this very evening!
Panel 9
Garlak: Let us hope the Legion of Super-Heroes doesn't interfere!
From: Liberty City | Registered: Jul 2003
| IP: Logged |
posted
Thanks so much everyone! I really liked this month's topic... But rather than stick with the art, I thought'd try my hand at some prose... A little series of vignettes showing the valiant members of the WWII Legion of Super-Heroes! I hope I can get thru all the ideas I have before the month runs out...
Edited to add: Some of the characters' protrayals owe as much to my online rpging with Scott and others than any appearance in the actual comics. Lord Garth's first line is actually paraphrasing a Scooter original.
[ March 12, 2006, 09:06 PM: Message edited by: Star Boy ]
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OUR LEGION AT WAR Part One In which Colonel Cosmic meets with the President of the United States.
"Ultimately, the choice is yours."
Colonel Rock King remained motionless, staring at a point somewhere above the head of the President. "I know, sir."
Rene J. Brande, 34th President of the United States, richest person in the world, and the man that defined the term philanthropist, looked down at the young man who effectively held the fate of the planet in his hands. It was a simple choice for a pragmatist - a relative handful of lives weighed against a tyranny that would surely last generations - but Brande knew King, knew his idealism. After all, he was the only one Brande had known he could trust to command the awesome might of his team, to make the choice he had to. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, even as King stood straight and unmoving before his desk, the Great Seal beneath his feet - technically 'at ease' - and his hands held firmly to the small of his back. Brande scratched an ear and shifted his weight again; the sun beaming through the windows of the Oval Office winked painfully at him from one of the medals clustered on the outpuffed breast of King's dress uniform. Brande enjoyed the sun, despising the state of affairs that saw the necessity of blackout curtains on the windows of the White House. Experimental Nazi bombers catapulted forth from the Führer's flugzeugträgers rained fiery death upon American and Canadian cities as they had upon the cities of France and England... before the falls of Paris and London and Moscow had heralded the end of organised resistance to Nazi forces in Europe. If the war had gone better, Brande mused, he would surely have been still in charge of harnessing the nation's aeronautical capacities, instead of stepping in to take the Oath of Office and lead his nation at the darkest point in its history. Roosevelt had died with the Old World's freedom - Brande aimed not to repeat the process with the New World, and his own life.
At least that frothing madman Hitler was dead.
Brande leaned backward, avoiding the glints from the most prominent of the Colonel's medals. His Distinguished Service Cross officially recognised his extreme gallantry in risking his life under fire to rescue his flight unit, but Brande knew it meant so much more. A bombing raid upon a major Nazi fleet anchored at Bermuda to weather a nasty magnetic storm was deemed an acceptable risk, and then-Major King was selected to lead it. The mission was a disaster, with Dark Circle agents learning of the plan, and Thule society Wizards stationed with the Nazi fleet whipping up the storm to crush the American aircraft as they approached the island. Battered and broken, King's command was doomed but for the actions of their leader. Of course, the details were wrapped up in National Security, and Brande himself had trouble believing them sometimes, but King - alone - saved every one of his crewmen, and destroyed the entire Nazi fleet, leaving it in twisted wreckage at the bottom of the Bermuda Triangle. He asked never to be forced to reveal if his super-powers, like something lifted from the pages of Amazing Stories, were a product of that mysterious magnetic storm over Bermuda, or if he had possessed them since his humble upbringing in coal mining country. It didn't matter to the newspapers, who - with the assistance of a swift promotion - soon proclaimed that Colonel Cosmic would be the one to save America from the rampaging Hun. King was equally tight-lipped on his opinion of this title as he was about his 'origin story', and Brande politely but firmly requested that both the newshounds and Secret Service alike leave King unharassed.
He coughed politely. "You do know you don't have to decide now? We have a few days before-"
King nodded curtly. "Of course, sir." He resumed staring silently.
Brande mused for a moment at the Colonel's apparent ability to stare into the glare of the sun without squinting, then snorted. "Well dash this then. Now get out of here lad." He smiled paternally both to alleviate any possible misunderstanding, in a doubtlessly futile attempt to soothe the tension that tightened King’s shoulders, and jaw. "Your team needs you, and not only to power those fancy Flight Rings you all wear. You might find they can help with your choice as well."
A nod provided sufficient answer, but the pilot's eyebrows furrowed as he forced forth a difficult query. "Respectfully sir, I would ask one more question." He continued as Brande's smile faded, but his affirmation was known through a similar nod to that given by King. "Are you sure that the choice must be made by-"
The President stood, pushing his seat back so he could manoeuvre his ample frame away from the desk. It was not as ample as it had once been, when Brande had stood as one of the prime architects of the United Society and chomped his way through the Roaring Twenties and Golden Thirties. War rationing had impacted and deflated even the President of the largest remaining free nation on Earth. As he rounded the desk, that over-slick part of his mind that was responsible for so much of his business success remarked that it would be good to have the opportunity to stand by as this choice was made; some still blamed the prosperity he and his partners had brought to America during the 30s was a direct cause of the European Depression and the subsequent rise of the Nazi Party. Let someone else shoulder the blame, or success. As he laid a hand upon King's shoulder, he banished the selfish notion with annoyance.
"You know the choice is yours, lad. When we established the group, a key component of the ability to admit an international membership was independence from the US Government - any government. Your initial funding was drawn from the International War Fund established by Brande Industries, and the developments coming out of Los Columos are more than sufficient to ensure your continued operations. Your only responsibility is to the Code, and Freedom, and the International Brotherhood of Mankind."
"And Womankind," He added after a pause, "Sir."
Brande withdrew his hand and sighed. "Oh lad. It's a choice I wouldn't wish upon anyone, even my worst enemy, may he be smothered in his sleep. But the Little Girl is part of your team, and I cannot command her. I cannot command you - all I can do is ask that you consider this matter with the utmost care. I know how this must hurt, and it is cruel to remind you of the hurts of others, but-"
Rock's lips thinned, forestalling even the words of a President. It was not only his hands that were magnetic, but also his eyes. They were sky blue, and shimmered in the sunlight. "I will gather the Legion aboard the Fortress, Sir. It has been too dangerous to elevate it from dock at New York given Nazi control over most of the Atlantic. It will do the people good to see it aloft again, and the Legion assembled in the skies above them."
Brande nodded. "Bully! We'll show those Ratzi scum we won't bow to their whims!" He slapped a fist to a palm, but quickly returned to seriousness as he noted the grim look on the Colonel's face. "And then? Will you send word of your decision?"
King pursed his lips. "I will try, Sir. But once the decision is made, matters lie in the hands of the Alien, and the Communist. Strange days these must be that such heroes will be the ones to decide the course of the War." He sighed deeply, and Brande could see some of the stiffness leak from his frame.
"And her." He hated to say it, but President knew he had to force the Legion Leader to accept the reality of the situation.
"Yes. And her. Many would find her an equally strange saviour, sir."
Brande's support had seen the establishment and building success of many civil rights groups during the 30s and early 40s, before a worldwide war reminded people of greater problems than matters of colour. Yet he knew as well as King that there were many that would reject the Little Girl's sacrifice simply on account of race. It sickened him to the core. "I know." He gravitated back towards his chair, but did not sit. "Go, Colonel. Do your President, your country, and your world proud."
As Brande saluted, the Colonel returned it crisply, military routine dispelling thought momentarily. "Yes, Sir!" He began to pivot on the heel of a shiny boot, pausing as Brande sank into his leather chair with a sigh and a squeak, followed by a parting comment.
"And lad?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Make sure she knows you love her." He winked in a most un-Presidentlike manner.
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![[Smile]](smile.gif)
I've got another idea I hope to work on and post before the end of the month. We'll see. But for now, Ohhh say can you see... By the Star-Boy's bright light... ![[Wink]](wink.gif)
![[Cool]](cool.gif)
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