Slam Demons 2: Return of the Burn
Art by James Callahan Words by Adam Creagan
SLAM DEMONS ARE A PARADOX. They escape view from the naked eye, yet evidence of their deeds exist all over the world in the form of battered skaters. We visited a horde of these slam-producing ghouls a while back. Hereâ€™s another batch of brutes that provoke skate catastrophes and feed off of them. Although their existence is shrouded in myth, the next time you get served raw while skating, ask yourself: The shadow that seemed to lunge forward, that hovering silhouette you saw before you hit the ground... It couldnâ€™t be. Could it?
As seen in the October 2012 mag.
MAGIC CARPET RIDE
Steppenwolf? Nah, you just stepped into hell. When you bail a trick and accidently step back on the grip, youâ€™re in for a wild (yet brief) ride. How your journey ends depends on the whims of a cruel Djinn. Thereâ€™s no Disney genie here, folks. No wishes granted, no mercy shown.
If a ledge will grind and slide one moment and then send you flying the next, thatâ€™s not wheelbite or bad luck. Itâ€™s the tangled web of this creepshow, yanking your board away for perverse delight.
The opposite of the Web Slinger, this shape-shifting monstrosity doesnâ€™t grab your board, he slips it out from under you. His pure evil oozes onto ledges, turning them into ice and causing unsuspecting skaters to get broke off.
Hereâ€™s the ancient archer who has plagued skaters since clay wheels. His quiver is never empty and he hits a bulls-eye on your arm-hinge every time. Heâ€™ll haunt you for your whole life, but itâ€™s strictly business. This mercenary treats all skaters equally.
Whenever you bash your heels, this ground-dwelling demon unveils itself and springs to life. It feasts on the anatomical impact of your feet and awaits your next Russian Roulette with gravity! Or some shit like that.
To prevent a visitation from any brain-devouring faceplant demons, youâ€™ve got to get those arms out on every slam. Problem is, you may instead summon this demolition crew. Theyâ€™ll turn your radius and ulna forearm bones into splinters.
A cranium crunch from this ogre produces all sorts of interesting sights and sounds. For whom does the bell toll? It tolls for you, asshole. Dong! Dong! (Hey, what ever happened to The Donger?)
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