2023 Advent Submissions

[The Legendary Shark]

And now, your main present! Just look on this as something a friend thought you might really enjoy and stares at you with puppy dog eyes as you unwrap it...

SHARKY'S (CHRISTMAS) FILL3RS!
#202301a – Zanda Claws & Mrs. Snow
20~~~^~~~23

PART ONE – THE MAN IN THE SANTA SUIT

PAGE ONE

F1: The solitary Algidmoor Farm, somewhere in rugged and remote Yorkshire. It's not a farm any more but a big, chunky, Victorian slab of a place inhabited by a retired assassin. Top of the range Land Rover parked outside. Christmas Eve. Night, ~23:00hrs. Snowing. Small drifts beginning to form. Moonless. Bleak.

CAP:                                    Somewhere close, but far away, Christmas Eve...

MRS. SNOW (OFF, FROM FARM):            You're not listening. No. I told you when Dan...

MRS, SNOW (HARD JOIN):                  ...when our partnership ended, it ended.    No. I'm out.

MRS. SNOW (LONG JOIN):                  No I won't, you will.







F2: Mrs Snow in the kitchen, chopping onions, holding her 'phone to her ear with her shoulder. She's preparing tomorrow's Christmas dinner for one. She's dressed in old jeans and an old, work-stained but comfy t-shirt with a faded and rather childish unicorn on the front, and novelty Christmas slippers. There are no decorations in the large old kitchen. The phone call is irritating her.

MRS. SNOW:                              They already know where I am. If they wanted me dead I'd know about it by now.

MRS. SNOW (JOIN):                      No. Daniel's dead, they got way more than their pound of flesh and I'm out. Like I said.






F3: Mrs Snow spots the reflection of an assassin creeping up behind her. She does not allow this inconvenience to interrupt her 'phone call.

MRS. SNOW:                              "Trust me"? They frightened I'm going to go all John Wick on them? Have you seen those films? They're just dire.

MRS. SNOW (JOIN):                      Hang on...






F4: Mrs Snow spins, throwing the knife into the assassin's heart, still speaking into the 'phone but getting annoyed now.

MRS. SNOW:                              Hf! Bullseye!

ASSASSIN:                              Ak*

MRS. SNOW:                              Maybe you're right. Call you back

SFX (PHONE):                            BIP






PAGE TWO

F1: The frigid Wastes of Kinspeich, Planet Doze. G'Rnch v. Claws. In another universe, two mighty armies clash on the icy plains of a harsh continent. On the one side, hideous hive-minded creatures genetically predisposed towards extreme xenophobia and genocide who are swarming over continents and known as the G'Rnch. They look like the Grinch crossed with Geiger's Alien with a bit of Starship Troopers bug thrown in for range and size of individuals. The G'Rnch do not use weapons, several of their appendages are designed for killing (blades, cudgels, mixtures, even a few acid throwers and such). On the other, the good guys (they must be good guys because they look human...), the Army of the Sacred Claws, one of several armies allied against the G'Rnch. The Army of the Sacred Claws use something called The Weave as the foundation of their power. Basically, their clothes run on space magic, giving them near invulnerability (usually, but much less so against the G'Rnch), increased strength, the ability to fly, the ability to shoot energy bolts from their fingertips, near-full-spectrum vision, and lots of other neat stuff that'll only turn up next Christmas. They each have white beards (even the females), which denote rank (privates have thin moustaches, corporals thick moustaches, sergeants mutton chops and so on) - the bigger the beard, the higher the rank. Their uniforms are unadorned, save for a wide black belt with thin pouches, a folded sack tucked in the back, and a wide silver buckle, black boots with a white fur trim, black gloves, thin white fur trim around the cuffs and edges and hood - and the rest, of course, is red. A more streamlined, militaristic version of the Santa costume, more Zulu than Coca-Cola. Anyway, the two sides are fighting hard, with no clear advantage either way.

CAP:                                    Somewhere far away, but close, Prelude to the Day of Massing...

ZANDA (OFF, FROM THE ARMY):            Fellow soldiers of the Army of the Sacred Claws! The evil G'Rnch shall not pass through here!

ZANDA (JOIN):                          They shall not ravage the innerlands! Shall not kill our peoples!

ZANDA (JOIN):                          In the name of the Sacred Inner Child! In the name of the Massed Armies of Kryss! In the name of life!

ZANDA (HARD JOIN):                      Chaaaaaaaarge!

SFX (SOLDIERS BATTLE CRY):              Hoh! Hoh! Hoh! Hoh! Hoh!







F2: In a small part of the overall engagement, which boils over many miles, the legendarily heroic General Zanda (with a magnificent full beard) leads his soldiers in fierce battle, gesturing instructions to his men with one hand and shooting energy beams from the fingertips of his other hand at one of the smallest (Great Dane sized) G'Rnch, badly wounding it. Zanda keeps himself on the ground with the rest of his soldiers, but some are flying and attacking from above or scrapping with the single type of flying G'Rnch.

ZANDA:                                  They're resistant to our technology, so concentrate your fire!

ZANDA:                                  Drive them back into the Ice Beyond!







F3: Zanda  has the enemy on the run and leads his soldiers in pursuit, inflicting carnage on the fleeing monsters. Similar actions are taking place all over the battlefield - a few seemingly insignificant flashes of light flare in the distance.

ZANDA:                                  They're breaking! Now, soldiers, now!

ZANDA:                                  Have at them! Full force!






F4: G'Rnch reinforcements are arriving in great numbers (through portals, which flare into existence). Zanda orders an immediate re-group, still firing - this time at a much bigger (elephant sized) G'Rnch and to much less effect.

ZANDA:                                  No! It was a trap!

ZANDA:                                  Retreat and regroup! Keep fighting!

ZANDA (HARD JOIN):                      They pay for every step back we take!







PAGE THREE

F1: A modern office block in Leeds. Few of the offices are still lit. On the top floor, only one of the penthouse offices is lit - the office of The Agent. There's a helipad on the roof with a mean-looking helicopter parked on it. Christmas Eve. Night, ~23:00hrs. Sleet.

AGENT (OFF, FROM OFFICE):                  The Russians are willing to move on. If you refuse this job, you'll have a big problem.

AGENT (JOIN):                              Don't be naive, Mrs. Snow. They'll find you, just like they did Daniel.

AGENT (JOIN):                              They're biding their time, that's all.






F2: The Agent, sitting with forced ease behind his heavy antique desk, is on the 'phone to Mrs Snow (P1:F3). The Agent's best goon, Morrow, listens sourly from the opposite chair, checking his pistol.

AGENT:                                      Look, if you refuse this Ukrainian job they'll never trust you.

AGENT:                                      Well they know you've got the motivation, and the skills, to...






F3: The Agent and Morrow are both disappointed that Snow survives. The Agent is worried, Morrow is irritated.

AGENT:                                      Mrs. Snow?        Mrs. Snow?    Mrs... Damn it.

MORROW:                                    What did I tell you?

AGENT:                                      It's the anniversary. She's a woman. I thought... Damn it, never mind






F4: Morrow leaves the office, holstering his pistol. The Agent is making another 'phone call.

AGENT:                                      Just get out there. Chopper's on the roof, I'll activate the team.

MORROW:                                    Damned shame. Always liked her. Liked 'em both.

AGENT:                                      Well, the Ukrainians want her dead as well so that's that. It's just business.







F5: In the living room of the cosy Algidmoor Farm, Mrs Snow opens a cupboard full of guns. There is a Christmas tree in the living room, modest, and a few decorations. NO CARDS. A pleasant fire dances in the large fireplace. It is a cosy room with the increasing outside snow clawing at the windows. Many photographs of her husband and 7 year old daughter.






F6: Zanda rallies his soldiers for a last attack to drive through the G'Rnch and get back to the main bulk of the Army of the Sacred Claws.

ZANDA:                                      We're rallying back to the pass, we'll hold them there!

ZANDA:                                      But first, we have to bust through!







PAGE FOUR

F1: Later on, ~23:45hrs, Mrs Snow sits at her security monitors, checking her guns. Her systems detect around a dozen mercenaries moving in on the farm from various directions.

MRS. SNOW:                                  Okay, comrades, John Wick it is.






F2: Outside the Farm, an assassin under the watchful eye of Morrow sets up a jamming device. Morrow is issuing orders to the assassins somehow, maybe in person, through a second in command, or just a radio.

ASSASSIN:                                  This'll blind the rest of her systems.

MORROW:                                    Good. Team A, take the front. Team B, take the rear. C, strategic hold and reserve.

MORROW (HARD JOIN):                        Point Team, with me.






F3: The monitors dead, Mrs Snow reacts calmly to an out-of-frame door being kicked in. Rising from her seat, combat rifle in her hand, she reaches toward the Main Power Switch.

SFX (OFF, DOOR KICKED IN):                  SKRANCH

ASSASSIN (OFF):                            Go! Go! Go!

MRS. SNOW:                                  "Go"?






F4: The power off, Mrs Snow shoots the first assassin intruder, firing from the shadows.

SFX (RIFLE):                                BAM

ASSASSIN:                                  ak*






F5: Morrow almost has the drop on Mrs. Snow, having sneaked up behind her, but she's already in a twisting spin to face him.

MORROW:                                    Drop it, Mrs. Snow.

MRS. SNOW:                                  You?!







PAGE FIVE

F1: The G'Rnch unveil their first and newest weapon, something that looks like a roughly-hewn tree trunk. It takes several of the smaller G'Rnch to carry one, but some of the bigger G'Rnch can carry one or more of the clumsy weapons at once. They fire wide, Kirbyesque beams of bubbly energy which disintegrate everything they touch - mostly and especially the brave soldiers of the Army of the Sacred Claws (but NOT big rocks and boulders), though the likes of Zanda do not give in.

SOLDIER:                                    General! They're... they've got weapons!

ZANDA:                                      They don't... Deity's Inner Child! Take them out!






F2: The Claws soldiers cannot stand against this new weapon and beat a hasty retreat. Zanda covers his soldiers' escape as they fight their way into the skies and out of the G'Rnch's reach.

ZANDA:                                      We're outmatched! Full retreat!

ZANDA:                                      All speed! Regroup at Fort Yool!







F3: Zanda takes a blast for one of his soldiers, pushing her out of the way.

ZANDA:                                      Go, soldier... Aaaah!

SOLDIER:                                    Sir! Noooo!

ZANDA (JOIN):                              Get to... get to...






F4: Zanda erupts out of Mrs. Snow's fireplace, crashing into and breaking a coffee table and strewing a couple of sci-fi books and four or five consecutive modern Progs onto the floor. The portal through which Zanda has been flung is already closing.

ZANDA (JOIN):                              ...Fort Yool... huh?

SFX (PORTAL):                              JINNNNG

SFX (COFFEE TABLE):                        KRETCH






F5: Mrs Snow pauses interrogating the badly beaten Morrow to look at Zanda. Morrow's woozy attention has also been captured.

MRS. SNOW:                                  Okay... This is why I shouldn't drink advocaat.

MORROW (WOBBLY):                            No way... is that...?

STRAP:                                      NEXT: CHRISTMAS WEAVE

[Dash Decent]

Just look on it as something your Gramps found in a... Well

A contaminated well in the middle of the Cursed Earth.  Back down thw well you go, Gramps.

[Dash Decent]

I tried to make this look like a Don Martin cartoon from MAD magazine back in the day.

(John) Burdis - AKA Commando Forces - and (Pete) Wells were two prominent names on the forum - and always very good sports.

[Funt Solo]

Festive prog covers, part 02:



Challenge - can you name all the artists (over on the comments page)?

[Andy Lambert]

From The Vaults...

[Judge Woody]

Another creation using the snowmen

[M.I.K.]

Here's part of the upcoming Christmas viewing schedule, (and by upcoming I mean in about 122 years time)...



...and here's a repeat from earlier this year - my entry for the 2000 AD Art Stars competition...

[Dash Decent]

[Andy Lambert]

From The Vaults...

[Judge Woody]

More Snowman fun, original pic by Lee Carter

[Le Fink]

Apologies for the third post but I've tweaked this in the computer to finally finish it so it looks like a real vintage cover. It's got the same main characters as the December 28th 1985 cover, so I've used the collateral from that prog. I'm pretty happy with it, hope you don't mind another post. Other tweaks - Tharg's hair, so he looks less like a green Jimmy Saville. Tharg's hotshot box better captioned and coloured. It's now more obvious that the flyers have set fire to the trees. Added the gradient background and stars/snow. Doubled up the gingerdredd man who was covered by the price box.



After Alan Davis, Robin Smith and Ezquerra.

[Colin YNWA]

[Dash Decent]

[Andy Lambert]

From The Vaults...

[Judge Woody]

Original art by Brian Bolland