Dinosaur Hunter Diaries #073: The Arrow of Fear

Monday, October 5, 2020 at 8:00 am Comments Off on Dinosaur Hunter Diaries #073: The Arrow of Fear

Turok: Son of Stone #40

Turok becomes the victim of a fashion thief.

It’s another day ending in “Y”, and you know what that means: Turok and Andar getting hunted down by natives. The moment they pull out their bows and arrows, however, the pursuers suddenly bow down to them and invite them home for supper. Hey, life’s not all bad, even if it is frequently inexplicable.

Based on their arrows, the tribe believe them to be emissaries from the “sky god”, a belief that began when Larf found one such “tiny spear” and used it to stab a t-rex to death. Our heroes are pretty sure they run the arrow monopoly within Lost Valley, and they’ve certainly never seen this crowd before… so where did the arrow come from? They climb the mountain to visit Larf, who’s made it his home to be closer to the sky god; this is a time when one sweet kill was enough to rise the social ladder.

He’s still got aides to run his messages, though, and they’re all sporting eagle feathers, a beast that clearly isn’t native to these parts! Examining the divine arrow up close, it definitely wasn’t made in Lost Valley either; it’s styled like those of a neighbouring tribe back home! Larf doesn’t take this news well. These bozos cramping his style!

Larf and the gang initiate Operation Kill Them With Boulders, forcing the two to split their forces until Turok can sneak up behind them and belt Larf in the kisser. He pins him until he gives some answers, though Larf continues to credit the “sky god” for all his sweet stuff…

… and despite the flowery moniker, the answer is as simple as he says: a wounded bird flew in from outside with an arrow stuck in it. Well, this was a lot of bother all for nothing. The pair escape by scaling down the cliff, making plenty of distance between themselves and the angry mob, having ruffled their feathers all for nought.

To unwind, Young Earth regales us with The Daring Cave Painter, detailing the prehistoric process of producing a long-lasting cave painting, and the customs believed to be associated with them. It’s simple fare, but a charming little insight into cultural relics we often take for granted, particularly the actual ingredients used on a limestone canvas. If this had run earlier it would’ve given #11’s The Captive Hunters some better context. It wouldn’t have saved the story, but it would’ve be a nice gesture!

Turok and Andar find themselves a handy-dandy geyser to set up camp next to; it’s not just a convenient landmark, it’s also perfect for cooking their meals! Andar’s got a sneaking suspicion they’ve being watched from behind the veil of steam, however, and sneaks off to investigate.

When he doesn’t return, Turok goes looking for him, following a convenient trail of pebbles he left behind… and through some uncanny terrain. There’s no way Andar could have navigated a dangerous, unknown land so effortlessly… unless he were kidnapped!
While the stories aren’t remarkable, the art in this ish is particularly lush; the first featured some terrific action on Larf’s rocky lair, and this one is replete with lovely pebbled environments, wrapped in ethereal veils of mist. The limited colour palette of 1960s comic books really comes into its own in this one, each panel of craggy terrain looking wonderfully distinct with their own fruity flavours.

Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it, Turok.

Turok is captured and reunited with Andar, though they’re unwelcome guests in the tribe’s domain, and when another band of hunters blunder in and try to wage war, they believe the pair to be the scouts they led them here! No amount of platitudes will save them from being dunked in the boiling drink…

… until a triceratops shows up out of nowhere and sends the tribe running. The pair make themselves scarce, following a harmless honker for a safe way through the mist and geysers, before finally packing up and moving out; if the tribe are going to be such lousy neighbours, there’s no point hanging around.

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