The dreary atmospherics of Eric Powell’s Buzzard are astounding: the very essence of the story looks rain-soaked and thunder-clapped, trapped in a stormy night that refuses to abate. This is the destiny that’s been accepted by the book’s dark hero, the Buzzard, who walks the cursed and foggy borders between the land of the living and the land of the dead.
In the first issue of the series, it was said that the Buzzard was once a mortal man cursed with immortality by a demon masked as a human, and he’s suffered this fate for so long that he’s forfeited any kind of salvation. He’s now nothing more than an ethereal vagrant passing through time and space, bearing witness to the sights and sounds of an existence he’s no longer capable of enjoying.
Along his journey, he finds his way into a village that’s being ransacked by a horde of man-beasts that were once the sons of the town. Here the Buzzard reveals his only trade: killing. He slays the monsters with ease, followed by cannibalizing their remains in order to restore his own strength. But despite his gruesome appearance and macabre practices, the worn and weathered villagers see a savior in the Buzzard, and plead with him to kill the god that is twisting their children into monsters.
Out of boredom the Buzzard accepts, and in the second issue, we see him making his way towards the lair of the god he’s commissioned to kill. Traveling with him is glum, nameless boy that the villagers volunteered to guide the deathless hero. Their journey is a sight: creator Powell illustrates several gothic landscapes that are colored by Dave Stewart with demure and quiet shades of grays and blues.
The Buzzard doesn’t have much for words, but his companion talks enough for the both of them. At one point on their journey, he even asks the Buzzard to teach him a trade: the art of being an assassin. In a surprising scene, he tests the boy’s stomach by showing him exactly what happens when a gun is used for its sole purpose. I found the exchange both stark and honest; a less confident writer might have peppered it with lighthearted jest, but Powell uses it to make a point, and successfully at that.
During a point in their travels, the Buzzard and the boy encounter a cult of snake-handlers that is preparing to sacrifice a busty, plucky young woman to their heathen deity. She’s the most colorful character to appear in the series thus far, but not garishly. Surprisingly enough, she fits right in, and after being rescued, she joins the hero and his ward on their journey.
And it’s a journey I’m fascinated by.
This comic book review originally appeared on Broken Frontier.
