Obviously Michael Moorcock’s place on the Mount Rushmore of fantasy writers is already assured. His Elric, Hawkmoon and Eternal Champion books were landmarks of that second generation of fantasy after trailblazers like Tolkien, Lewis and Howard. He popularized tropes like the multiverse and the eight-pointed Chaos Star and he brought new maturity and depth to the genre. I remain shocked there has not been a big or small screen version of Elric yet.
And while many of his books are in print and popularly available, there are still significant gaps in his enormous body of work. So today we will look at one of his obscurities, The Outcast of Kitzoprenia, in particular Volume 67 in The History of the Purple Poignard, originally published in 1975, more than fifty years ago.
This series focuses on Catharz, a doomed grimdark hero in the mold of many of Moorcock’s other characters. Wielder of the moody sword Oakslayer in his right hand, the cursed spear Bloodlicker in his left hand, and on his back the evil bow Deathsnger and a quiver of rune-fletched arrows: Heartseeker, Goregreedy, Soulsnatcher, Orphanmaker,Eyeblinder, Sorrowsower, Beanslicer, and several others.
Truly an arsenal worthy of the man who created Stormbringer.
But then he breaks away from Elric’s pretty boy pale goth look into something truly original.
Catharz is a man who has been through horrors we can only imagine and has the scars to prove it. The first thing that stands out are his eyes, one is a “jewel of slumbering scarlet” the other a “many-faceted crystal, which pulsed as if possessed of independent life.” His right hand is mechanical iron, wood and amethyst – nine fingered and cut from the creature that claimed his own hand. His left hand is covered by a gauntlet which conceals a many jointed limb of silver, gold and lapis lazuli.
But as the author is quick to point out, these are not the things which the draw the attention of the frightened townsfolk, not the moaning rune weapons, or glowing eyes, or nine-fingered hand. No. They only see the fearful foot of Cwlwwymwn.
Cwlwwymwn Rootripper, whose ambition upon the old and weary Earth had been to make widows of all wives; Cwlwwymwn the Striker, whose awful feet had trampled whole cities when men had first made cities; Cwlwwymwn of the Last Ones, Last of the Last Ones, who had been driven back to his island domain on the edge of the world, beyond the Western Ice, and who now came limping after Catharz screaming out for vengeance, demanding the return of his foot, sliced from his leg by Oakslayer so that Catharz might walk again and continue upon his doomladen quest, bearing weapons which were not his protection but his burden…
So we have the setup, Catharz Godfoot on his doomladen quest, forever followed by Cwlwwymwn, the Last of the Last Ones, limping behind him swearing vengeance. But the Godfoot offers Doomed Catharz no comfort, for it is 18 inches (~45.72
cm) longer than his own foot and naked, for it will not fit mighty Catharz’s boot.
(Unknown to Catharz, Cwlwwymwn – the Last of the Last Ones – now has the abandoned boot and tracks him by it.)
But that is not the end of Catharz’s limb-related troubles. For his left leg is made of lacquered cork made for him after helping the People of the World Beneath the Reefs, after Catharz aided them against the Gods of Lowest Sea.
I’ve not been able to track down the story where this happened so we will have to settle for this inadequate summery.
One can draw a clear lineage between Catharz and
DC Comic’s Claw the Unconquered, though in those days of the Comics Code Authority a single demonic hand was enough.
After this quick description and summary to introduce our lone hero with his gem-encrusted eyes and difficult to tailor for limbs, the action of Volume 67 in The History of the Purple Poignard really begins in earnest as an exhausted Catharz the Melancholy pauses as a stone cottage and knocks on the door.
"Greetings, I come in friendship, seeking hospitality, for I am called Catharz the Melancholy, who carries the curse of Cwlwwymwn Rootripper upon him, who has many enemies and no friends, who slew his brother, Forax the Golden, and caused the death of Libia Gentleknee, famous for her beauty, and who seeks his lost love Cyphila the Fair, prisoner of the wizard To'me'ko'op'r, and who has a great and terrible doom upon him."
And finally we meet the love interest.
The door opened and a woman stood there. Her hair was the silver of a spiderweb in the moonlight, her eyes were the deep gold found at the centre of a beehive, her skin had the pale, blushing beauty of the tea-rose. "Welcome, stranger," said she. "Welcome to all that is left of the home of Lanoli, whose father was once the mightiest in these parts."
And, upon beholding her, Catharz forgot Cyphila the Fair, forgot that Cwlwwymwn Rootripper limped after him still, forgot that he had slain his brother, his niece, and betrayed his cousin, Wertigo the Unbalanced.
Alas their affair is frustrated when, once more, our hero’s greatest strength, becomes his greatest weakness.
It was not long until they stood naked before one another. Her eyes travelled over his body and it was plain that the eyes of scarlet and crystal were lovely to her, that she admired his silver hand and his nine-fingered hand, that even the great foot of Cwlwwymwn was beautiful in her sight. But then her eyes, shy until now, fell upon that which lay between his legs, and those eyes widened a little, and she blushed. Her lovely lips framed a question,
but he moved forward as swiftly as he could and embraced her again.
"How?" she murmured. "How, Catharz?"
"It is a long tale and a bloody one," he whispered, "of rivalry and revenge, but suffice to say that it ended in my father, Xympwell the Cruel, taking a terrible vengeance upon me. I fled from his court into the wastes of Grxiwynn, raving mad, and it was there that the tribesmen of Velox found me and took me to the wise Man of Oorps in the mountains beyond Katatonia. He nursed me and carved that for me. It took him two years, and all through those two years I remained raving, living off dust and dew and roots, as he lived. The engravings had mystical significance, the runes contain the sum of his great wisdom, the tiny pictures show all that there is to show of physical love. Is it not beautiful? More beautiful than that which it has replaced?"
Her glance was modest; she nodded slowly.
"It is indeed, very beautiful," she agreed. And then she looked up at him and he saw that tears glistened in her eyes. "But did it have to be made of Sandstone?"
"There is little else," he explained sadly, "in the mountains beyond Katatonia."
The story ends there unfortunately and my efforts to track down the preceeding 66 volumes of the The Outcast of Kitzoprenia and any subsequent stories have come to naught. Volume 67 was reprinted in 1985 as “The Stone Thing” in Elric at the End of Time but I fear the rest of the saga may be lost, even in these days of extensive online archives.
Cadre Coronal Afterglow w1;d0;l0 
set against the madness of the actual story, pretending there might be more is simply lost in the noise 