From the Bookshelf of Sword & Sorcery: "An earthier sort of fantasy"…

“Who am I? Who is my father? Where is my mother? Why do death and demons follow me wherever I go?” – Imaro in The Quest for Cush

“Who am I? Who is my father? Where is my mother? Why do death and demons follow me wherever I go?” – Imaro in The Quest for Cush

“The left side was human, although the sin was the marbled gray hue of a corpse left to rot in the sun…The right side was horror. Pale, pitted stone tinged green…Only mchawai, the unimaginable evil power of the Mashataan could have created such a composite monstrosity… Their arms were spread to forestall Imaro from fleeing…Hatred burned hot within him…Shortening the slack of his chain, Imaro swung the weapon overhand, catching the half-man full in the face. The flesh of the human side was torn by the blow, but no blood leaked from the wound…”

“Against her will, Tanisha’s gaze left that single, sadly beautiful face and slid downward once again. And the gorge rose hot and sick from her stomach, blocking the cry of revulsion that leaped into her throat as she stared at the woman’s body. // Her long neck flowed smoothly into slender shoulders. Her bare breasts were small, cone-shaped, perfect. Beneath those breasts—horror! // A bulbous mass of tissue clothed in dark skin protruded from the woman’s abdomen. Its shape seemed a distorted replica of the buttocks of young child. Jutting from the asymmetrical mass were a pair of legs and a single arm ending in clenched, clawlike fingers…”

“Yet for all their sea-spawned strength, ferocity, and swiftness, the hibi could not reach Imaro. Like a leopard ravening among dogs, the warrior carried the battle to the hibi. His arm rose and fell in a dark blur, raining steel on the horde of sea-dwellers. Showers of blood spurted to mingle with the rain of the dhoruba … Shark teeth snapping madly at air, the sea-dwellers leaped and fell, their bodies piling in a grim harvest at Imaro’s feet.”

With the "R" ... at Charles R Saunders Lulu

“Robert E. Howard and his contemporaries were products of their time. Racism, in the form of white supremacy, was an integral part of the popular culture of the early decades of the twentieth century, and as such it pervaded pulp fiction. As a product of a later time during which the tenets of racism came under vigorous challenge, my enjoyment of fiction from past decades was often compromised by the racial attitudes I encountered in my reading. On some occasions, I simply let it slide. On others, I wrestled with resentment. Then I discovered a way to resolve my dilemma.

Interest in African history and culture surged during the 1960s, and at the same time I was reading sword-and-sorcery and fantasy fiction, I was also absorbing heretofore-unknown information about a continent that was not “dark” as its detractors made it out to be. I realized that this non-stereotypical Africa of history and legend was just as valid a setting for fantasy stories as was the ancient and medieval Europe that served as the common default setting for everything from Conan to Lord of the Rings. A character came into my head then: Imaro, a black man who could stand alongside mythical warrior-heroes like Beowulf and Hercules, as well as fictional creations such as Conan and Kull.” – Charles Saunders