The Green Glove
Written by Clint Werner
Written by Clint Werner
Concept by John Helmer
Art Design by Mike Shutz
Art Design by Mike Shutz
Name: Ljang Khu Arihant (The Green Destroyer of Enemies)
Location: Tibet
Group Affiliation: SS-Ahnenerbe
Powers: The Green Glove is skilled in powers that tap into abilities locked deep within the human mind. He has mastered the powers of the mind to a level few men have ever achieved, able to control the chakra not only of his own body, but of those around him. Employment of tumo, the ability to endure sub-zero temperatures with nothing more than manipulation of his chakra is the least of his powers. He is able to induce crippling pain and accelerated healing with the touch of his hand. By exerting his will, he can hypnotize almost anyone who dares to meet his gaze, displaying varying levels of control over his subjects. Those who fall deepest under his control have their will completely subjugated, becoming slaves to the Green Glove’s mind. The Green Glove can also induce hallucinations by deceiving and manipulating the senses of his victims, making them see or hear things that are not there, or else fail to see things that are. The other Adepts of Agarthi are able to also able to exert these abilities, although in an extremely limited fashion. A normal ‘Green Man’ might be able to control the will of a half-dozen men at the same time, the Green Glove can command the minds of hundreds.
The Green Glove has many powers that are unique to himself, as well. He is able to enter several trance-like states that allow him to transcend the barriers of time and space. He can astrally project his consciousness, allowing him to send an intangible ‘ghost’ of himself to a specific target destination. Although able to be seen and heard, this astral form of the Green Glove is not material and incapable of interacting with his environment. He is also unable to project himself to any site which exact location is unknown to him. Another trance state projects his spirit back in time, allowing him to observe past events at whatever location his physical body is occupying. Unfortunately forward projection in this fashion is almost impossible as ‘the future is constantly in motion’. However, the Green Glove is skilled in the arts of both Tibetan and Chinese astrology, and has made several uncannily accurate predictions through these forms of divination.
History: In 1936, the Ahnenerbe, a scholarly division of the SS charged with uncovering archaeological and anthropological evidence for the origins of the Aryan race, mounted an expedition to Tibet, a region which some scholars felt might very well hold the secrets of the genesis of the Aryan race. The expedition employed many methods toward achieving their goal, examining the cultural, historical and religious aspects of the Tibetans, seeking any trace of Aryan influence, and even physiological comparative anatomy to determine if there was a genetic link between the Tibetans and ancient Aryan peoples.
Another goal of the expedition was to disprove the evolutionary claim that men had descended from apes by proving that the notorious ‘abominable snowman’ was nothing more than a Himalayan bear, certainly not any manner of ‘missing link’. A small group detached itself from the main Ahnenerbe expedition, climbing high into the mountains to seek the elusive Asian black bear and prove it to be the source of the yeti legend. The German hunting party soon found itself high in the icy mountains, climbing peaks perhaps no man before them had ever trod upon. Their Sherpa guides and porters grew increasingly nervous as the Germans pressed them onward, here they said was the domain of the yeti, a place it was unsafe for men to be. Threats kept the Sherpas from deserting, and after an arduous climb, the Germans stood upon the roof of the world, gazing down into windswept valleys and snow-covered mountains. The Sherpas urged that they should turn back, that the Nazis had already tempted fate too long. The Germans would not abandon their hunt, however and ordered their porters to begin the climb down into the valley.
That first night, camped upon the walls of the icy valley, three porters vanished, snatched from their tents with such impossible skill that the men beside them had not been disturbed from their sleep. The morning sun was blotted from the sky, blackening the landscape as though a shroud had been thrown over the world. The Sherpas begged the Germans to turn back, but there would be no turning back. After the most vocal of the guides had been silenced with a bullet in his skull, the expedition pressed on. All that day, as they descended into the valley, every man felt malevolent eyes watching him. That night, the screams began – sharp, piercing and unearthly; echoing from the summits all around them, wailing their haunting challenge into the darkness. In their tent, the German leaders conferred with one another, wondering if perhaps they should not turn back after all. They had been charged with proving the yeti a myth, nothing more than a mountain bear. They weren’t equipped to deal with… with whatever it was that had been stalking them. After long hours of debate, a decision was reached – in the morning they would turn back. But it was already too late.
The yeti attacked in the darkest of night, descending upon the German camp in an avalanche of bestial fury and superhuman strength. The Sherpas were slaughtered as they cowered before the hulking, ape-like hominids. The Nazis tried to resist, firing wildly at their inhuman attackers. But bullets seemed to have no effect upon the yeti, rounds fired at the beasts seemed incapable of finding their mark. As they had with the Sherpas, the yeti tore the German mountaineers apart with their brutal strength. Not a man of them was left alive, bar one. Of all the men who had set out on their ill-fated hunt, Gestapo agent Erich Wunsche was the least equipped for survival. He was no mountaineer, no big game hunter, not even a naturalist familiar with the animals of the Himalayas. He was a watchdog for the Party, an agent sent along simply to ensure that any discoveries made by the expedition would be disclosed to Himmler and the SS before they were made known to anyone else. It was somehow absurd that Erich should be the one spared by the yeti. Yet spared he was, the monsters leaving him alone as he fled into the night.
Erich ran, ran until his heart felt like it would burst and he dropped into the snow, quivering with terror. Then he picked himself up and ran some more. At some point, he fell and did not have the strength to rise again. He resigned himself to his fate, letting his eyes close as sleep crashed down upon his exhausted frame.
Erich never expected to see another dawn, yet when his eyes fluttered open, he found himself staring into the golden disc of the sun. Against all the odds, he had survived. He had endured the cold of the night, he had managed to keep from falling into a crevasse in his flight through the darkness, he had escaped the murderous wrath of the yeti. Erich laughed, a sense of victory filling him. He looked at the bleak, icy landscape around him, trying to find his bearings. As he did so, he found his eyes drawn to something, something that he would have sworn had not been there a moment before, something that stared at him with bestial eyes and grinned at him with massive fangs. Before his eyes, more of the creatures seemed to materialize from the thin air, glaring at him with their inscrutable gaze. He hadn’t escaped the yeti at all. Erich leapt to his feet, fleeing once more down the mountain. The yeti followed him, their long stride easily matching Erich’s frantic dash. But the monsters made no effort to close with their quarry. Sometimes one would draw ahead of Erich, blocking his path and forcing the German to change his direction. Whenever the Nazi stopped to rest, one of the monsters would hoot or growl, urging the man onward. Erich understood now that the yeti were more than simple beasts, more than some ‘missing link’. There was intelligence about them, a cruel intelligence that was playing with him, herding him toward some final and horrible destination.
It was nearly nightfall before Erich saw it, rising from the side of the mountain, perched atop a jagged outcropping of rock. It looked like a Buddhist monastery, but there was about it a suggestion of something even older. Somehow, the structure looked wrong in some way Erich could not define. He only knew that the place filled him with dread, that it was the last place he wanted to go. But the yeti seemed to have other ideas, continuing to drive the German toward the foreboding monastery.
Exhausted, driven to the limits of endurance by his ordeal, Erich collapsed before the gates of the monastery. The yeti withdrew, seemingly content to leave the man on the doorstep of the monastery. As they had appeared, so did they vanish, seemingly to blink out of existence back into the ice and snow of the mountain. Erich tried to make sense of what he had seen. It was impossible, how could such massive creatures simply vanish into nothingness in the twinkling of the eye? He did not have long to consider this affront to his logic and reason, however. His attention was soon fixed upon the massive doors of the monastery, twin portals that appeared to have been crafted from solid gold. The great doors were slowly swinging open.
Erich could see nothing of the interior of the monastery, even when the doors stood gaping before him. What was beyond those doors was darkness, a darkness deeper than what mere shadow should achieve. It was the darkness of the Pit, the blackness beneath the world. From that darkness, a man emerged. He was Tibetan, dressed in dark green robes, his hands clothed in what looked like gloves of green velvet. There was age and wisdom in his face, yet also a strength and vitality Erich had never seen in even the most robust athlete. The Gestapo agent could feel the power of the monk’s will wash over him as the Tibetan strode toward him.
‘Erich Wunsche,’ the monk said. It was not a question. ‘No man may gaze upon this place unless he has been called here. You have been called. You will serve the Adepts of Agarthi.’ Erich’s mind reeled as the Tibetan spoke, his words uttered in such a precise, articulate German. There was something more than simple words in the monk’s tones, there was something deeper and more sinister, something that seemed to crawl through his very soul.
‘Please, I need rest,’ the Gestapo agent begged. ‘Creatures… beasts chased me here… I need sanctuary.’
The monk looked down upon him, his expression never changing. ‘The yeti watch over this place… there is no sanctuary here for you.’ The monk stepped forward, placing one of his gloved hands against the German’s forehead. Erich wanted to scream as he felt the monk’s nauseating touch, but found himself unable to utter a sound. Then a strange energy seemed to course through his body, running through his exhausted limbs and tired mind. Fatigue and confusion passed from him as though they had never been there. He tried to remember the fear and revulsion the sinister monk had filled him with, but even these had slipped away from him.
‘The comos stands at a crossroads,’ the monk said. ‘It is an auspicious time, when the stars themselves may turn from the sky. The age of prophecy has come. I would see the man from Thule, the warlord who would make the earth his own. You shall take me to the great Khan in the west that I may… attend him and give him council.’
Erich did not speak, did not give any sign that he understood the monk’s words, yet the monk knew he would obey. There were few who could not. From the darkness of the monastery, more green-robed monks emerged. Like their master, the adepts were all Tibetans. Unlike their master, their hands were bare. Silently, they filed after Erich Wunsche as the Gestapo agent retraced his passage through the mountains, bringing the Adepts of Agarthi to the small Himalayan village where the rest of the Ahnenerbe expedition was conducting its investigation. A few weeks later, the Ahnenerbe returned to the Fatherland. With them they took nearly a hundred Tibetan monks and their enigmatic leader.
The Adepts of Agarthi were introduced to Heinrich Himmler, who was impressed by the mystical abilities of the monks and decided that they could be of use to the occult studies of the SS. For their part, the monks seemed to ask nothing in return, professing that they had come to Germany merely to serve the ‘great khan of Thule’. Their assurances rang hollow in the ears of many, but Himmler decided that there was too much that could be learned from the monks to turn them away. The hypnotic and spiritual powers the Adepts of Agarthi displayed could be of immense value to the Reich if only they could be tapped properly.
The leader of the adepts has neither name nor title, such an inconsequential detail is beneath him. Officials in the Reich have taken to referring to him as simply ‘The Man with the Green Gloves’ or just ‘The Green Glove’. He has become one of the most inscrutable enigmas in the Reich, moving through the corridors of power, exerting his influence at even the highest levels of the party. The Green Glove has advised Himmler on numerous occasions and even consulted with Hitler several times. Great value is placed on his occult predictions. He does so on his own terms, however, the Tibetan does not ‘perform on command’, nor would even the head of the Gestapo consider trying to give the monk orders. Indeed, only the Fuehrer seems to have the force of will to match the Green Glove’s dominating presence.
Whatever the Green Glove’s purpose is, it is not serving the Third Reich. Although he has lent his considerable powers to Germany, although he has allowed his adepts to become guinea pigs of the SS, the Green Glove’s ultimate loyalties lie elsewhere. There are some who wonder exactly what the true nature of the Adepts of Agarthi is, and who… or what… they ultimately serve.
The Green Glove has been seen all across Europe, visiting the oldest and most ancient of sites. He has been involved in recovery operations organized by the SS to capture mystical artifacts and eldritch texts. There are even reports that he has been seen far behind enemy lines, stalking the streets of London and Moscow in pursuit of whatever dark purpose has drawn him down from the roof of the world.
Description: He wears a traditional Tibetan robe and sandals. He carries an incense staff and has a hand-carved bone necklace draped on his chest. His head is shaven revealing a small black swastika on his upper forehead. He his is often seen wearing a Tibetan monk ceremonial headdress.
Location: Tibet
Group Affiliation: SS-Ahnenerbe
Powers: The Green Glove is skilled in powers that tap into abilities locked deep within the human mind. He has mastered the powers of the mind to a level few men have ever achieved, able to control the chakra not only of his own body, but of those around him. Employment of tumo, the ability to endure sub-zero temperatures with nothing more than manipulation of his chakra is the least of his powers. He is able to induce crippling pain and accelerated healing with the touch of his hand. By exerting his will, he can hypnotize almost anyone who dares to meet his gaze, displaying varying levels of control over his subjects. Those who fall deepest under his control have their will completely subjugated, becoming slaves to the Green Glove’s mind. The Green Glove can also induce hallucinations by deceiving and manipulating the senses of his victims, making them see or hear things that are not there, or else fail to see things that are. The other Adepts of Agarthi are able to also able to exert these abilities, although in an extremely limited fashion. A normal ‘Green Man’ might be able to control the will of a half-dozen men at the same time, the Green Glove can command the minds of hundreds.
The Green Glove has many powers that are unique to himself, as well. He is able to enter several trance-like states that allow him to transcend the barriers of time and space. He can astrally project his consciousness, allowing him to send an intangible ‘ghost’ of himself to a specific target destination. Although able to be seen and heard, this astral form of the Green Glove is not material and incapable of interacting with his environment. He is also unable to project himself to any site which exact location is unknown to him. Another trance state projects his spirit back in time, allowing him to observe past events at whatever location his physical body is occupying. Unfortunately forward projection in this fashion is almost impossible as ‘the future is constantly in motion’. However, the Green Glove is skilled in the arts of both Tibetan and Chinese astrology, and has made several uncannily accurate predictions through these forms of divination.
History: In 1936, the Ahnenerbe, a scholarly division of the SS charged with uncovering archaeological and anthropological evidence for the origins of the Aryan race, mounted an expedition to Tibet, a region which some scholars felt might very well hold the secrets of the genesis of the Aryan race. The expedition employed many methods toward achieving their goal, examining the cultural, historical and religious aspects of the Tibetans, seeking any trace of Aryan influence, and even physiological comparative anatomy to determine if there was a genetic link between the Tibetans and ancient Aryan peoples.
Another goal of the expedition was to disprove the evolutionary claim that men had descended from apes by proving that the notorious ‘abominable snowman’ was nothing more than a Himalayan bear, certainly not any manner of ‘missing link’. A small group detached itself from the main Ahnenerbe expedition, climbing high into the mountains to seek the elusive Asian black bear and prove it to be the source of the yeti legend. The German hunting party soon found itself high in the icy mountains, climbing peaks perhaps no man before them had ever trod upon. Their Sherpa guides and porters grew increasingly nervous as the Germans pressed them onward, here they said was the domain of the yeti, a place it was unsafe for men to be. Threats kept the Sherpas from deserting, and after an arduous climb, the Germans stood upon the roof of the world, gazing down into windswept valleys and snow-covered mountains. The Sherpas urged that they should turn back, that the Nazis had already tempted fate too long. The Germans would not abandon their hunt, however and ordered their porters to begin the climb down into the valley.
That first night, camped upon the walls of the icy valley, three porters vanished, snatched from their tents with such impossible skill that the men beside them had not been disturbed from their sleep. The morning sun was blotted from the sky, blackening the landscape as though a shroud had been thrown over the world. The Sherpas begged the Germans to turn back, but there would be no turning back. After the most vocal of the guides had been silenced with a bullet in his skull, the expedition pressed on. All that day, as they descended into the valley, every man felt malevolent eyes watching him. That night, the screams began – sharp, piercing and unearthly; echoing from the summits all around them, wailing their haunting challenge into the darkness. In their tent, the German leaders conferred with one another, wondering if perhaps they should not turn back after all. They had been charged with proving the yeti a myth, nothing more than a mountain bear. They weren’t equipped to deal with… with whatever it was that had been stalking them. After long hours of debate, a decision was reached – in the morning they would turn back. But it was already too late.
The yeti attacked in the darkest of night, descending upon the German camp in an avalanche of bestial fury and superhuman strength. The Sherpas were slaughtered as they cowered before the hulking, ape-like hominids. The Nazis tried to resist, firing wildly at their inhuman attackers. But bullets seemed to have no effect upon the yeti, rounds fired at the beasts seemed incapable of finding their mark. As they had with the Sherpas, the yeti tore the German mountaineers apart with their brutal strength. Not a man of them was left alive, bar one. Of all the men who had set out on their ill-fated hunt, Gestapo agent Erich Wunsche was the least equipped for survival. He was no mountaineer, no big game hunter, not even a naturalist familiar with the animals of the Himalayas. He was a watchdog for the Party, an agent sent along simply to ensure that any discoveries made by the expedition would be disclosed to Himmler and the SS before they were made known to anyone else. It was somehow absurd that Erich should be the one spared by the yeti. Yet spared he was, the monsters leaving him alone as he fled into the night.
Erich ran, ran until his heart felt like it would burst and he dropped into the snow, quivering with terror. Then he picked himself up and ran some more. At some point, he fell and did not have the strength to rise again. He resigned himself to his fate, letting his eyes close as sleep crashed down upon his exhausted frame.
Erich never expected to see another dawn, yet when his eyes fluttered open, he found himself staring into the golden disc of the sun. Against all the odds, he had survived. He had endured the cold of the night, he had managed to keep from falling into a crevasse in his flight through the darkness, he had escaped the murderous wrath of the yeti. Erich laughed, a sense of victory filling him. He looked at the bleak, icy landscape around him, trying to find his bearings. As he did so, he found his eyes drawn to something, something that he would have sworn had not been there a moment before, something that stared at him with bestial eyes and grinned at him with massive fangs. Before his eyes, more of the creatures seemed to materialize from the thin air, glaring at him with their inscrutable gaze. He hadn’t escaped the yeti at all. Erich leapt to his feet, fleeing once more down the mountain. The yeti followed him, their long stride easily matching Erich’s frantic dash. But the monsters made no effort to close with their quarry. Sometimes one would draw ahead of Erich, blocking his path and forcing the German to change his direction. Whenever the Nazi stopped to rest, one of the monsters would hoot or growl, urging the man onward. Erich understood now that the yeti were more than simple beasts, more than some ‘missing link’. There was intelligence about them, a cruel intelligence that was playing with him, herding him toward some final and horrible destination.
It was nearly nightfall before Erich saw it, rising from the side of the mountain, perched atop a jagged outcropping of rock. It looked like a Buddhist monastery, but there was about it a suggestion of something even older. Somehow, the structure looked wrong in some way Erich could not define. He only knew that the place filled him with dread, that it was the last place he wanted to go. But the yeti seemed to have other ideas, continuing to drive the German toward the foreboding monastery.
Exhausted, driven to the limits of endurance by his ordeal, Erich collapsed before the gates of the monastery. The yeti withdrew, seemingly content to leave the man on the doorstep of the monastery. As they had appeared, so did they vanish, seemingly to blink out of existence back into the ice and snow of the mountain. Erich tried to make sense of what he had seen. It was impossible, how could such massive creatures simply vanish into nothingness in the twinkling of the eye? He did not have long to consider this affront to his logic and reason, however. His attention was soon fixed upon the massive doors of the monastery, twin portals that appeared to have been crafted from solid gold. The great doors were slowly swinging open.
Erich could see nothing of the interior of the monastery, even when the doors stood gaping before him. What was beyond those doors was darkness, a darkness deeper than what mere shadow should achieve. It was the darkness of the Pit, the blackness beneath the world. From that darkness, a man emerged. He was Tibetan, dressed in dark green robes, his hands clothed in what looked like gloves of green velvet. There was age and wisdom in his face, yet also a strength and vitality Erich had never seen in even the most robust athlete. The Gestapo agent could feel the power of the monk’s will wash over him as the Tibetan strode toward him.
‘Erich Wunsche,’ the monk said. It was not a question. ‘No man may gaze upon this place unless he has been called here. You have been called. You will serve the Adepts of Agarthi.’ Erich’s mind reeled as the Tibetan spoke, his words uttered in such a precise, articulate German. There was something more than simple words in the monk’s tones, there was something deeper and more sinister, something that seemed to crawl through his very soul.
‘Please, I need rest,’ the Gestapo agent begged. ‘Creatures… beasts chased me here… I need sanctuary.’
The monk looked down upon him, his expression never changing. ‘The yeti watch over this place… there is no sanctuary here for you.’ The monk stepped forward, placing one of his gloved hands against the German’s forehead. Erich wanted to scream as he felt the monk’s nauseating touch, but found himself unable to utter a sound. Then a strange energy seemed to course through his body, running through his exhausted limbs and tired mind. Fatigue and confusion passed from him as though they had never been there. He tried to remember the fear and revulsion the sinister monk had filled him with, but even these had slipped away from him.
‘The comos stands at a crossroads,’ the monk said. ‘It is an auspicious time, when the stars themselves may turn from the sky. The age of prophecy has come. I would see the man from Thule, the warlord who would make the earth his own. You shall take me to the great Khan in the west that I may… attend him and give him council.’
Erich did not speak, did not give any sign that he understood the monk’s words, yet the monk knew he would obey. There were few who could not. From the darkness of the monastery, more green-robed monks emerged. Like their master, the adepts were all Tibetans. Unlike their master, their hands were bare. Silently, they filed after Erich Wunsche as the Gestapo agent retraced his passage through the mountains, bringing the Adepts of Agarthi to the small Himalayan village where the rest of the Ahnenerbe expedition was conducting its investigation. A few weeks later, the Ahnenerbe returned to the Fatherland. With them they took nearly a hundred Tibetan monks and their enigmatic leader.
The Adepts of Agarthi were introduced to Heinrich Himmler, who was impressed by the mystical abilities of the monks and decided that they could be of use to the occult studies of the SS. For their part, the monks seemed to ask nothing in return, professing that they had come to Germany merely to serve the ‘great khan of Thule’. Their assurances rang hollow in the ears of many, but Himmler decided that there was too much that could be learned from the monks to turn them away. The hypnotic and spiritual powers the Adepts of Agarthi displayed could be of immense value to the Reich if only they could be tapped properly.
The leader of the adepts has neither name nor title, such an inconsequential detail is beneath him. Officials in the Reich have taken to referring to him as simply ‘The Man with the Green Gloves’ or just ‘The Green Glove’. He has become one of the most inscrutable enigmas in the Reich, moving through the corridors of power, exerting his influence at even the highest levels of the party. The Green Glove has advised Himmler on numerous occasions and even consulted with Hitler several times. Great value is placed on his occult predictions. He does so on his own terms, however, the Tibetan does not ‘perform on command’, nor would even the head of the Gestapo consider trying to give the monk orders. Indeed, only the Fuehrer seems to have the force of will to match the Green Glove’s dominating presence.
Whatever the Green Glove’s purpose is, it is not serving the Third Reich. Although he has lent his considerable powers to Germany, although he has allowed his adepts to become guinea pigs of the SS, the Green Glove’s ultimate loyalties lie elsewhere. There are some who wonder exactly what the true nature of the Adepts of Agarthi is, and who… or what… they ultimately serve.
The Green Glove has been seen all across Europe, visiting the oldest and most ancient of sites. He has been involved in recovery operations organized by the SS to capture mystical artifacts and eldritch texts. There are even reports that he has been seen far behind enemy lines, stalking the streets of London and Moscow in pursuit of whatever dark purpose has drawn him down from the roof of the world.
Description: He wears a traditional Tibetan robe and sandals. He carries an incense staff and has a hand-carved bone necklace draped on his chest. His head is shaven revealing a small black swastika on his upper forehead. He his is often seen wearing a Tibetan monk ceremonial headdress.
