Tales of the Oak (Galoshans 2020 edition)

featuring ...

auld dunrod

granny kempock

captain kidd

Published

by Magic Torch Comics

with

assistance from Heritage Lottery Fund Scotland - Heritage Grants www . hlf . org . uk

No

part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the publisher except for the purposes of review. This book is strictly not for sale or resale by third parties in either physical or digital editions, it has been grant funded by Heritage Lottery Fund to be distributed for free. Magic Torch generate no income from this publication.

Printing

co-ordinated by New Vision Print , Jamaica Street , Greenock

First

Published September 2013

Artwork

Andy Lee

Lettering,

typeset and pre press trust design

All

stories researched, retold, embellished and scripted by Magic Torch or directly adapted from local folktales and ballads, except Slenderman - written

by Inverclyde Academy / Magic Torch. The Slenderman meme and mythos were originated online by Victor Surge.

Magic Torch are all volunteers, we do this for chuckles and glory and because we believe that local heritage has a vital role to play in genuine regeneration - we have spent the last 15 years trying to prove that in all sorts of ways, from publishing books and working within schools to directly campaigning around community use of local built heritage. This comic is part of the Tales of the Oak project, supported by Heritage Lottery Fund. It has also published Wee Nasties a childrens book introducing younger audiences to local folklore.

You can find out more about our work, read more traditional local folktales and visit our online shop at

www . talesoftheoak . co . uk

Follow

us on twitter @aulddunrod

Magic Torch is a Scottish Charity SC033748

Lovely picnic spot don’t you think?

Though after dark this ancient woodland at the edge of the town was said to be a haunt of witches.

Like I say...nice place for a wee stop and a think about...

the folk roundabout weren’t so keen

about it, and came hunting

T he

witch they hanged here howled her vengeance,

and as she choked she screamed The Curse of Crow Mount

M eet

Archibald Weir, a latterday resident of Crow

He

had fought in the Crimean War alongside SIr SHaw Stewart

Mount fallen on hard times

Injured

in the seige at Sevastapol, Weir returned home,

bitter and haunted by his experiences on the battlefield

So

D own

on his luck he took to petty crime

it was that one day in the Coffee Rooms, his eyes fell upon the old town drum

A drum like that might fetch a pretty pennyin the Glasgow markets.

T he

T he

town drum was no more lucky than Archibald

men marched to the beat of this drum, framed

with the wood of the Crow Mount trees...

Those

In

1513 when the Lords of Greenock assembled the

townsmen to fight with King James against the English

W hen

the Scots were beaten on the fields of Flodden,

few men returned to the town

who did brought the drum, in memory of the f allen

...

n ow

seldom used but for the odd ceremonial occasion

That

night, Archibald returned to take the ancient drum for

himself

He

rushed home to hide his prize, planning to sell it the

next day

B ut

an unea sy sleep awaited him

Nightmares

of wars and witches ... and all the while,

the endless beat of a lonely drum

Thump Thump Thump The drum would not be

sil enced

Weir

was found the next morning, hanging from the oldest tree in Crow Mount. A witches curse? The ghost of one of

Floddens fallen?

Or A nd

S hortly

simply a poor soul driven mad with guilt

those same trees were used to make some of the pews

thereafter, the

trees were cleared to make way for the mount church

But it was a brave soul who would sit on them.

hee hee hee!

That pitiful pirate, Captain Kidd , keeps trying to steal the limelight.

You think if he actually had any treasure he could afford to dress better!

But treasure hunters everywhere are always on the lookout for his loot ... and will do anything when they think they’ve found a clue like the one in...

Mr

Murphy has spent his whole life obsessed with pirate

Captain Kidd and his treasure. Finally he’s found something in an auction house which might bring him one step closer to those riches…

It’s at auction tomorrow. I want you to bid on it.

What? Some old mirror and a TOrn bible?

If I’m right, the mirror belonged to William Kidd.

A vicious

pirate.

Legend says he hid his treasure map in a mirror.

Friend of yours?

Really? You think

Hmm…and if there’s a

this is the mirror?

map in that mirror, I’ll keep it for myself

There’s only one way to find out .

next

m itchell

day

rushed home with his prize

It’s here! He was right!

sold!

he

wasted no time in disappointing poor Mr Murphy

Sorry Mr Murphy .

I was outbid. I bet it was a f ake anyway.

L eaving

broken hearted Mr Murphy to his treasure

island dreams, Mitchell got ready to set off on his own adventure That’s it , the coastline from Kidd’s map .

F or

days he wandered through dense jungle foliage,

through swarms of insects, waist deep in stinking swamps…all the while thinking only of Kidd’s treasure

M itchell

went to the Caribbean coastline, and

took a rowboat out to the island marked on the map

u ntil

He

finally ...

clambered up to the cave mouth and

into the darkness The map says its twenty paces forward and I should find a well…

It’s the cave! This is where it’s supposed to be!

I hear yer looking for my treasure.

He

tried to run of course, back through the dank depths of the unfamiliar jungle. But there was no escape…

A

few weeks later, Mr Murphy recieved Kidd’s mirror in the

post. And as he had done many times before, he put it back up for auction…

we have ways of dealing with thieves Mr Mitchell…

R eady

to help him send another treacherous soul to

Kidd’s crew of the damned…

That’s one mirror that would bring better luck if it was broken.

I’m surprised it isn’t cracked already with Kidd’s ugly mug looking in it all the time.

fancy a kiss?

no?

tis the season , and all that.

i’ve dug out some lovely gifts for granny and dunrod

...but here’s one gentleman whose rather nasty christmas gift can only be found on

f or

months now, stephen’s been worried his wife holly

has been having an affair

you’re never here!

well... sometimes I HAVe to work late!

u nexplained

nights with “the girls ”, mysterious

phonecalls, and all they seemed to do was fight

g radually,

love turned to hate, and stephen decided

to give holly a very, very special christmas gift ...

he’d

heard whispers about a STrange old lady who kept a shop

in town. a lady who could help people with “problems” ...

hee hee... so... it’s a poison yer after, eh?

well, here’s a festive one... the ancient druids used to cut mistletoe at the old green oak grove...

w here

they also made their sacrifices... the berries are

poisonous

the mistletoe grows there still to this day... but be careful!

stephen

went to the grove and cut the

mistletoe with the sickle he’d bought from the old lady

b ut

he wasn’t alone in the trees

holly?!

what?

no!

get off me!

yes stephen. while you’ve been too busy for me these last few months, i’ve made some new friends that holly’s a prickly one... i have a feeling they might make a f east of stephen .

granny sent you here tonight to be our winter solstice sacrifice...

...have a cruel yule.

Lots of ships set sail from Greenock during the Second World War

and a few of the soldiers on this ship bound for Iceland, Sailed right into trouble in the story of ...

i

remember very well how the whole ghastly business began

it

was 1940, and having explored most of the geyser sites

around reykjavik the novelty had worn off

it time

had been wilf’s suggestion to TAke to the peaks

away is always so much harder around christmas ...

look at this!

there’s a cave up there. i’ve heard some of the local jerries hid their valuables before we arrived!

w ilf

reached the cave before me. i’m convinced he was

genuinely expecting to find a dragon’s horde of gold looking for buried treasure, corporal?

you never know... bit of seasonal cheer...

b ut

what he did find was no less unlikely

what do you make of this?

toys and bones. animal bones... i think

i

remember feeling uneasy, insisting that we leave at once

okay no gold then. but i’m having this!

w hen

we returned to camp, there was some commotion

what’s up here? sounds good to me

they’re suggesting we

and how do we

move camp... inviting us

know they aren’t

into the village to stay

why do they want us to move?

sympathisers?

and what does that mean?

well... i’m pretty sure

jolasveinar! jolasveinar!

it means elves...

i

awoke to the sound of screaming ...

we

had been plunged into near darkness. several tents were down and men seemed to be running to and fro with little

order or purpose

wolves! wolves in the camp!

i

returned to my tent to fetch my torch ...

t here

was a searing pain in my leg ... i recall the

noise of fabric being torn ...

a nd

i recall wondering briefly how wolves would have

extinguished our lights so efficiently, before my tent collapsed

a nd

all the while an unearthly growl

which at times sounded perversely like giggling ...

i

awoke in hospital. i was told that i had been mauled

i

was unconvinced. there are no wolves in iceland

by some sort of wild animal

it a nd

i

what of the strange guttural giggling ..?

said nothing of these things, however ...

of

had felt like a hand grabbing me ...

wilfred however, there was no sign ...

a ccusations

of collaboration quickly

gave way to a feeling of festive co-operation

i

was billeted home on sickleave, and so was able to spend

christmas with my family

i

found myself strangely menaced

by the wooden toys mildred had managed to find

t he

events of that dusk haunted me for many years

to come, and eventually i returned to iceland, to the little village, now a little town

i ndeed

we had. jolasveinar does not mean “elves”. it

means “little trolls”

i

asked people about the warning

“jolasveinar”. had we misunderstood?

i

was told the tales of iceland’s “yuletide lads�, a motley family of trolls who come down from the mountains to

steal food, toys, and wreak havoc at the turn of each year

t ime

and tradition have long since softened them into mischevious elves, but in olden

times the jolasveinar were creatures who stole away children in the long winter nights

l ater

that day i climbed back up the mountain in search

of the cave wilfred and i had explored all those years ago

i

did not tarry in that terrible place and clambered

down from the mountains back to the relative safety of the town below

Rats , spiders , old broken tracks , shortly these lads will discover there’s f ar worse than that on the abandoned railway line there’s ...

meowr

Come on. I double dare you.

We’ll walk the whole thing all the way to the cemetery .

A

regular haunt of children not wise enough to

listen to the warnings of older folk

T he

‘double darky’, an abandoned

railway tunnel that runs under most of the town

My mum said Ian had to get tetanus jags after he came down here. RIght in his bum.

I’ve been here loads of times. C’mon...…

... it’ll be a laugh ...

Shut up about him or I’m leaving!

Unless we run into the Catman ...

Who’s the Catman?

Seriously? Catman was locked up in a prison somewhere years ago, no one knows what for...…

Only Eventually

he escaped, killed his tormentors and broke

out of the prison. He ran for miles looking for somewhere to hide ...

He’s

they did all sorts of horrible experiments on him.

been living in this tunnel ever since, living on dead

rats and stray cats and dogs

That’s not what I heard. He’s not an escaped criminal, he’s a Russian sailor.

B efore

his last trip , he

cheated an old gypsy at cards and she cursed him

Man overboard.

Again!

He

didn’t tell his shipmates, sailors are a superstitious lot, but it wasn’t long

before there was trouble aboard. Anyone who spent time with Catman ended up dead

The

crew soon worked out the source of

the problem and tied him up below decks

T hey

put him off at Greenock, the curse still follows

him, and if anyone gets too close to him, they die

But one time I did find an old coffin.

Must have fallen right through from the cemetery .

Never seen anything like that down here.

No way ..!

Did you open it ..?

it

smelled rotten, the wood was really soft ...

H ow

Wouldn’t you?

could you pass up a chance like that?

grarr

rrr!

But no Catman. Hey, we’re nearly at the darkest bit ...

Shhh!

Y’see, I don’t call him Catman, to me he’s just ...

dad!

What was that?

Oh dear. Looks like the Hi dad. I brought some friends over for

dinner...

cat’s got their tongue. You know what they say about curiosity ...

This one’s an oldie ...

but a goodie ...

about a right old

baddie

...

Your friend ...

not

A uld

mine ...…

Dunrod was a gowstie carl, As ever ye micht see;

And gin he wisna’ a warlock wicht, There was nane in the haill countrie.

A uld

Dunrod he stack a pin -

A boutrie pin - in the wa’,

Beats going to

And when he wanted his neighbour’s milk

the shops.

He just gaed the pin a thraw.

He

milkit the Laird o’ Kellies kye,

And a’ the kye o’ Dunoon; And auld Dunrod gat far mair milk Than wad mak’ a gabbert swim.

Y’know…I’m not sure I really need all this milk ...

Cheese anyone?

T he

cheese he made were numerous, And wonerous to descry

For the kyth’t as gin they had been grule Or peats set up to dry.

This one’s really good for hangovers.

A nd

there was nae cumerauld man

But

the kirk got word o’ Dunrod’s tricks,

Sae

auld Dunrod he muntit his stick -

about Wha cam’ to him for skill,

And the Session they took him hand;

His broomstick muntit he - And he

That gif he didna dae him guid,

And naething was left but auld Dunrod

flychter’t twa’r three times aboot,

He didna dae him ill.

Forsooth maun leave the land.

And syne through the air did flee.

A nd Laters losers!

he flew to the Rest and be Thankfu’ Stane - A merry auld carle was he; He stottit and fluffer’t as he had

been wud. Or drucken wi’ the barley bree.

And

he flew awa’ by auld Greenock tower,

And by the Newark ha’.

Ye wadna kent him in his flicht Be a buddock or a craw.

uuh!

B ut

a rountree grew at the stane -

It is there unto this day, And gin ye dinna find it still, Set doun that it’s away.

A nd

he ne’er wist o’ the rountree Till he cam dunt thereon;

His magic broomstick tint its spell, And he daudit on the stone.

But the Stane was muilt like a lampet shell, And sae was Auld Dunrod; When ye munt a broomstick to tak a flicht, Ye had best tak anither road.

Not looking forward to this insurance claim!

Bet the ferry’s cancelled again as well ...

H is

heid was hard,

The neighbours gathert to see the sicht,

and the Stane was sae,

The Stane’s remains they saw;

And whan they met ane anither,

But as for Auld Dunrod himsel ’,

It was hard to say what wad be the

He was carriet clean awa’.

weird Of either the tane or the tither.

I often think things are better when Auld Dunrod stays at home.

His evil aftershave is really overpowering ...

And

monie noy’t, as weill they micht,

A nd

what becam o’ Auld Dunrod

The Rest and be Thankfu’ Stane;

Was doubtfu’ for to say,

And ilk ane said it had been better far,

Some said he wasna there ava,

Gin Dunrod had staid at hame.

But flew anither way.

here’s a tale about a tall, dark and, well, not so handsome gentleman coming to visit. a real...

his tentacles and long fingers steal away the unwary, never to return. if you see him, it may already be too late ...

there

are many legends of the thin stranger. he appears

throughout the centuries, in fairy tales & history books, always just out of focus, in the corner of the eye ...

... a nd today he’s come to greenock

l ittle

ellie sees him first at the supermarket car park

back in a minute, honey...

...max will look after you.

t here

is no compassion, no quarter

...

given ...

a nd

screams filling the empty

spaces meant to get some mince ...

NO! ! !

MY BABY! ! ! think there is still some in the freezer ..?

o nly

the darkness ...

he

moves slowly

t he

and

silently

through

the mall

guard thinks he sees something ...

but has already forgotten what it was as he is enveloped by the dark ...

h is

tendrils snake slowly across the sleeping town ...

and

a long shadow falls ...

he has come!

might not like what they find when they go looking for the lost

all those who find loved ones missing from empty beds ...

from the hustle and bustle of the town, to the old largs road and moorland at dusk, he watches

looks like somebody’s come off their bike ...

mick! mick! get the headlights back on!

better go see if anyone’s hurt, mate.

ian? ian? ian, where are ye?

what

the...

gasp!

a lways

j ust

ugh ....

waiting ...

as the taken wait ... not knowing what’s next ...

hee hee. thank you to inverclyde academy for terrifying me with these nightmarish pages.

incase you’ve been made to forget, slenderman was originated online by victor surge

Who doesn’t love the beach? But is one of our most popular beauty spots really troubled by a foul spirit ...

O ur

tale begins in 1588, when King Phillip of Spain raised an Armada and sailed against England. After a disastrous

defeat at the battle of the Gravelines, the Armada found itself blown off course and scattered along the Northern coast of Britain ...

O nly

a few brave or foolhardy Captains were able to steer their ships through the dark nights and harsh storms

of the North-western coast of Scotland

Among

those few left was Captain

Mordoba, whose ship the Salamanca became the scourge of Ports and villages along the West Coast of Scotland. The bowels of his ship became stuffed with the gold of the Scots

Then

her into the Firth of the Clyde. As the wind howled and the rain battered down, Mordoba’s men scrambled overboard

S ome

B ut

one night, late in October, a

fierce storm tore the sails from the Salamanca, and threw

say that the Captain himself was laid to rest in

the old cemetery of Inverkip , and to this day, if you look hard enough among the overgrown stones, you will find a small grave marked with a simple skull and cross bones

the Captain himself

would not be separated from his gold. It was to be the death of him. And so it was the Captain met his fate on the rocks of the Gantocks, his ship lost the waves

B ut

what of Mordoba’s treasure? Well it is said that

in the days after the storms a young farm hand named John Carswell came across a black chest while walking along the beach at Lunderston Bay ...

He

thought fortune had smiled on him that day. With Mordoba’s gold, Carswell was a rich man. But never a happy one ...

For

the tale goes that wherever he went, a shadow was always at his back.

He became convinced that the Captain’s Ghost had returned for his gold, following him at every turn, unresting and unyielding in his haunting ...

A nd

so, driven mad by the

spectre, Carswell resolved to bury what little remained of the gold, and leave the cursed wealth behind

He

died a penniless and miserable man, and as he went to his grave, he still muttered of the Ghostly Captain ...

J ust

a yarn you might say. But there is a strange twist to this tale ... in the 1950’s two workmen discovered a cow

horn containing sixty coins while digging in Burns Road. The coins were dated to around 1580 ...

The

last of Mordoba’s gold? Perhaps ...

Or

perhaps it still lies waiting to be found ...

Certainly there are still those today who swear they have seen the haunting spectre of the Ghost Captain stalking along the beach at Lunderston Bay, searching for his treasure.

It’s almost enough to put you off your 99.

? .. s e l it t r e h t o r u o f o e n o ry t t o why n

featuring

auld dunrod

granny kempock

captain kidd

james watt goes mad in his Steam-powered goliath ... lithgow builds his own nautilus ... and seeks world domination! what is the government building under the customhouse? and Sir Glen uncovers the mechanical spiders of the cluthee ... have your thinking machine look at www .talesoftheoak .co.uk for more details soon ...

And download Greenock’s other Graphic Novel Identity : The Archivists Treasure FREE from amazon!

“Tales of the Oak” and “Wild Science” are registered trademarks of the Magic Torch Comics Group. Any infringement upon copyright of these, or any of the products associated with the Magic Torch Comics Group may result in ritual sacrifice or a hex being placed upon you. and your family. forever.

I always like to keep a close eye on heavenly objects. But here’s some skywatching that’s too terrible for words...…

the night of the comet

!! m o o oooo

b

gurrrrgh!

! p r r o l h sc

nearrrgghh!

pfffr

rp

! h g r a a a gna muuuuhhhhh ...

looks like they’re headed for the town hall... let’s hope no-one accidentally puts them in charge of anything...…

I see them still, those three lonely towers, rising out of the jagged depths and tearing into a grey indeterminate sky. All the windows were gone, the remaining black gaps, rows of punched out teeth seeming to suck in the thin light from all around.

Below, the serpentine walkway slunk slowly down to the dark edge of the river.

The pale grasping fingers clawed at the edges of those empty windows and as long as we stayed back, as long as we only looked in upon that world from a distance, we would not be dragged into that formless, endless nightmare. But I did not stay back. I needed to see more.

I stood inside and alone, peering into the broken liftshaft, red and black fronds stretched up out to the roof , ripping through the ceiling towards the stars. Some of them still twitched and shivered, attached no doubt to some distant beast. Those same fronds also tunnelled downwards.

We see only the tips of those great monoliths, the concrete roots plunge deep below the foundations of the town, past those secret tunnels and ancient labyrinths that sit silent and forgotten, save for the disembodied spectres who howl hungrily within. Down, further still, are those coastal cave systems which lead into the cold black of the river.

It is beneath the waves that the creatures gain entrance to our world, sliding and hauling their way blindly upwards to inhabit the interiors of the ruined flats; to feed.

I scaled the interior of the tower, dragging myself up through those horrors, the torn shreds of greying flesh, the piercing shrieks of unseen creatures and the rusted rattling of the rotted liftshaft.

I hoped that at the peak I would find at least one of the sigils described in the ancient songs and stories of the area, relating to the river and serpent cults long in existence by this particular firth. With even one of those cursed symbols I felt sure I would be able to fight my way back down under the river to lock that black gate.

It was all the time too late.

I reached the top of the flats, climbing back out into the night. Two heavy metal rings looped with strangely shaped green chains were fixed to the centre of the courtyard. Ragged leathery strips hung from the rings, perhaps some great creature had been tethered here, a guardian for the sigil.

Whatever had been here, was now gone. A broken mosaic already faded by the sun was attracting moss. There was nothing of use, no signs or symbols to assist with any translations. My body could not take another ascent of either of the adjacent towers.

In any case, success now seemed unlikely.

The only hope now is to ensure that those monuments remain standing, standing apart from the town, for if they are ever to fall, there is no knowing what we will unleash ...

Y’know this place used to be a carpark originally, but it wasn’t very well used.

Graveyards are always popular though ... never going to stop needing those ...

Scotland’s favourite graverobbers Burke and Hare spent a few days down our way back in the day, but the good folk of Inverkip hardly had any bodies left in the ground by the time they arrived ...

Someone, or something had already been very busy.

Your heart will surely break when you read ...

T his

is Doctor Bryant, a promising young practitioner with

some strange ideas about how to use electrical energy in terminal cases ...

H is...unorthodox...

experiments have led to shame and

disgrace, and he has decided to return to his home town to drown his sorrows...

leave!

...

o nly

J ohn

to find a soul even sorrier than himself

Mc Ghee of Chrisswell, who has been a trifle

unlucky in love ...

I just can’t believe she’s dead...

What’s wrong my friend?

You’ve lost a lady friend I take it?

I t’s

only been a few days

and already I feel as though i can’t go on. I would do anything to have her back...

My

poor Mary. We wanted to wed, but

her father wouldn’t have it. So we decided to run away together. We sailed back from Bute to Inverkip but were caught in a storm and the boat capsized

anything...?

B ut

while Bryant does not care whose final resting

place he disturbs ...

Fresh as a daisy!

B ryant

is an old hand

at assembling the raw materials for his work, and the grief stricken McGhee is easily convinced to assist ...

M cGhee

is only interested in his former lady love

Don’t worry my friend, you will be back together again soon.

F or

days, Bryant toils, ripping, sawing, breaking, stitching... always needing more bodies to fuel his savage

experiment ...

...

w hich

until

poor McGhee is compelled to supply, hoping against hope it will bring his Mary back

finally ...

She’s

I’ve done it!

alive!

A live?

Perhaps, but certainly not the girl she once was ...

Mary!

Mary? What have you done to her?

wait... My experiment!

Somehow,

she knows where to go, what has gone wrong and

how to fix it ...

The It

J ohn

has found a different way for them both to be

together ...

river takes her for a second time, but on this occasion ...

is said the two are still seen wandering from the

river up to Chrisswell, finally together and at peace

Poor Mary, she seemed mortified about her new look.

We’ve all had bad hair days.

Still, love conquers all eh?

...Sort of

sir

Gabriel Woods Mariners Home, Greenock, 1883

We made a mistake, a terrible mistake. If we’d known the true cost...

Can’t you hear it Rhodes? The howling inside empty shells? The mournful sighs of the drowned as they wander the harbours?

This explains it all. Have mercy. I hope only that you may somehow be able to silence

Greenock.

S ir

Today ...

Glen Douglas Rhodes, folklorist, antiquarian and adventurer.

His long out of print books explore the myths, legends and folktales of Greenock and the surrounding area ...

S ir

Glen did not simply write about monsters however,

he claims to have met them

H ere Graveyard skirmishes with long dead witches ...

G hostly A ll

legions on long forgotten roads ...

sorts

of bizarre monkey business

a nd

all of it happening in this town ...

are battles with goblins ...

His

classic work the Clann Abhainn

Cluaidh is a manuscript, carefully

He

believed they were secretly running the town through

arcane ritual, using vile magic to ensure prosperity for

encoding his investigations into a local

the area and for

serpent worship cult, the Cluthee

themselves ...

D uring

the course of my own investigations, a copy of the manuscript found its way into my hands ...

Rhodes

I

was looking into several mysterious disappearances

in the area, and after reading Rhodes’ research, i came to believe that the Cluthee were still practicing their dark arts, summoning strange, and unnatural spirits to do their bidding.

traced the Cluthee’s lineage across the centuries ...

The first sacrifices date back to the iron age, ritual burnings on the slopes of the riverside between Inverkip and Largs...the so called Serpent Mound

F urther

along the river, offerings were made to the

kempock Stone to ensure good fishing and good fortune on the river

B ut

C hristianity

not for long ...

dampened

the spirits of such pagan notions for a short time

M ore

blood, more bodies, as all the time our town

grew larger and the beast only hungrier. What price prosperity? Is our progress worth centuries of murder? This has to stop ...

i

will make it stop ... this beast they worship must sink

beneath the waves ... forever!

HA!

blam

am

bl

damnable cluthee!

J ust

p

u thw

as magic raised the beast, so now it would keep it at bay. Three sigils, hidden across the town in places they

will SUrely be safe. The map hidden in case any should have need of it in future. The BEast will remain beneath the waves

My

work is far from over though. The Cluthee have scattered,

but they have not disappeared ...

A lso,

there’s a ruddy great monster somewhere in the river, and I’m GAme for a hunt ...

W as

It

the dark magic of the Cluthee really responsible for the towns early prosperity?

would seem there are those who certainly believe

that, and would once again aim to raise the beast ...

T he

signs would only be obvious to those who knew

what to look for ...

F inding

only destroyed buildings from a bygone age, now

only remembered in street names ... all too late ...

I

resolved therefore to check Rhodes’ secret map for the

locations of his sigils, to check they were still in place ...

! ! ! e e e e e e e e A AAAAA

kY

...

j ust

as it is too late for me,

my investigations were discovered with ease. The beast is already wakened, though weak. The Cluthee have risen again

We

can hope only that Sir Glen’s final sigil holds, on

the mythic site of the fabled Green Oak tree

F or

if it is ever moved ... or broken ...

we are all surely doomed to hear the call of Clutha

The artwork for Tales of the Oak, was created by artist Andy Lee, who worked on many of our original comics.

What follows is a short preview of the last book we created with Andy Lee, before his death in November 2018.

The book was originally scheduled for release in May 2020, but will now be released in 2021, with all profits donated to charities and organisations working to support mental health in Inverclyde.

You can read sign up to be informed about the launch and release date on our website www.magictorchcomics.co.uk

I Thought I Was Undone The Ballad of Captain Kidd Written by Paul Bristow Illustrated by Andy Lee Lettered by Rob Jones Published by Magic Torch Comics www.magictorchcomics.co.uk

Magic Torch Comics work with schools and community groups to tell stories using comics.

We can help you tell your story too.

Our projects in the last year have included a collection of Gaelic language folktales, a National Lottery Community Fund project working with marginalised young people to create comics sharing their lived experience, and a book of Syrian, Sudanese and Scottish folk tales created with New Scots families.

We have also worked to create information comics for the Scottish Parliament, Health and Social Care Partnerships and the Poverty Truth Commission.

We have been named one of The Big Issue magazines Top 100 Changemakers of 2020 for our literacies work.

Get in touch if you would like to discuss a project - info@magictorchcomics.co.uk You can read many of our books and comics for free on our website and ISSUU page. www.magictorchcomics.co.uk