#solvpilen

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The Fall of “Baby Face”

“You’ll never take me alive, Injun whore!” proclaimed the 19 year old outlaw, Pete “Baby Face” Atkins as Moonbeam slowly advanced on the young horse thief. “You stole from the Kiowa,” the woman intoned darkly in a voice both calm and forbidding, “and for that you must pay!” The teenage desperado swallowed and, panicked, went for the sixgun at his side, but the warrior maiden was like lightning. She leapt forward, seized Pete’s right wrist with both hands, and swung him over her lithe body to send him crashing into the dust. He lay on his back, groaning, as Moonbeam’s pet mountain lion cub sniffed around him. He raised his head to see the formidable long legged form of the female brave standing over him, arms akimbo.

“Please, ma’am,” begged the youth, tears beginning to course down his filthy face, “don’t hand me over to your people! Don’t let them burn me alive, or cut off my balls, or stake me out in the sun covered in honey for the soldier ants to find!” Moonbeam looked down on the baby-faced rustler, a puzzled expression on her face. “And please, ma’am,” the defeated outlaw continued, “please don’t scalp me!” And the young man suddenly burst into tears. Moonbeam reached out an arm and hauled the babbling and sobbing boy to his feet. She took his gun and pushed it into the belt of her flowing buckskin dress, and then removed the bandana from the neck of the cringing bad man. She spun him around and used the cloth to tie the terrified Pete’s hands behind his back. “You have been reading too many dime novels, young man,” the female warrior told her prisoner impatiently as she bound him. “Now take me to where you have hidden the Kiowa horses. Then I will decide what to do with you.”

My interpretation of the story behind Manestrale Slar Til, Solvpilen #22 (November 1976). Solvpilen was the Norwegian language version of Zilverpijl, or Silver Arrow, the adventures of a Kiowa chief, and his formidable female sidekick, Moonbeam. Both characters were the creation of Belgian artist Frank Sels, whose originals were written in Flemish.

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Moonbeam has appeared frequently in another of my blogs, Women In Charge, in fm bondage interpretations of covers to the Swedish language comic Solvpilen, or Silver Arrow. The character is a somewhat stereotypical female Native American who is sister and sidekick to the Silver Arrow of the title, wise and brave chief of the Kiowa. Although very sexualised, and frequently illustrated in damsel in distress scenarios, Moonbeam is nonetheless skilled in unarmed combat and not infrequently comes to Silver Arrow’s rescue also. Dressed in a tight, flowing, slit buckskin dress, Moonbeam often graced the cover of Solvpilen, frequently depicted throwing sundry outlaws, Indians and renegade cavalry troopers over her shoulder. She is therefore very much of her late 1970s/1980s time - a strong but not too strong female character, feisty and able to look after herself, but fundamentally subservient to the main man. Moonbeam is therefore not the best example of a strong female comic book character, but her kick-ass abilities do earn her a place in this blog.

The above cover is somewhat atypical in that Moonbeam is shown in customary jiu-jitsu mode, but her garb is less sexy and more realistic. There is also the slightly surreal addition of the warrior maiden’s pet mountain lion cub, Tinka, who accompanies Moonbeam everywhere and never seems to grow up.

The title began as Zilverpijl, a Flemish language creation of the Belgian artist Frank Sels in 1970, which rapidly gained popularity in the whole of Scandinavia (including Finland), and was also translated into German. The series ran until 1986 but never broke into the English language comic book world which is a shame, as its stories were well plotted, contained much factual information about Native American life, and the cover art in particular, was very dynamic.

The cover featured is to Solvpilen #1 (January 1972)

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The Capture of Miguel

Miguel took one look at Moonbeam as the female warrior pushed the door to his shack wide with bang of rocking hinges and strode into the shabby abode, and decided discretion was the better part of valour. “Adios, senorita!” he called out at her with a cheeky wink and headed to the empty window of the rear wall of the cabin. However, the sometime vaquero, who so loved the style of the wrangling west, was laden down by his spurs and silver guns. He was no match for the Indian woman’s speed, honed hunting both buffalo and outlaws. As Miguel scrambled for the exit, his spurs jangling, and sombrero obscuring his vision, a lithe brown leg shot out from behind the folds of Moonbeam’s thigh length buckskin dress. The moccasined foot connected hard with the Mexican’s shin and he tumbled into an ungainly heap on the floor!

Cursing, Miguel tries to regain his feet, only for a second elegant female leg to swing out hard and accurately, to clip the man on the chin and down he goes for a second time. Moonbeam stands over her quarry, arms akimbo. “Had enough, Sanchez?” she demands. “Are you ready to admit that it was you, not Silver Arrow, chief of the Kiowa, who led the raid on the Sante Fe stage last month?” The Mexican cowboy looked up at the fierce woman wearily and put his hands together in supplication. “I know not how you found me, conchita,” he replied, “but, yes, I admit that raid was mine, and yes, I do surrender…” Moonbeam looks at the outlaw suspiciously as he unsteadily gets to his feet and unbuckles his gun belt, allowing his expensive six shooters to fall noisily onto the wooden floor of his cabin. Meanwhile Moonbeam has picked up a coil of rope from where it lay on a barrel in the corner. Without being asked, Miguel turns around and places his hands behind his back as the warrior Kiowa squaw approaches him. “We go to the sheriff in San Antonio,” she tells him and begins to tie the man’s wrists. “I look forward to your attempt to get me to American justice, senorita,” Miguel remarked slyly as Moonbeam bound him, “it is a long way indeed to San Antonio from here!” The female brave said nothing, but angrily pushed her captive outside and towards the waiting horses.

My interpretation of the story behind the cover to Bandekrig i Mexico, in Solvpilen (November 1980)

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The Missing Rifles

“But Moonbeam, this is ridiculous!” Silver Arrow protested as he and his blood brother Falcon, swung ignominiously from trees, suspended by strong rope tied under their arms and with their hands bound behind their backs. The Kiowa woman looked up at her erstwhile partner knowingly. “How so, my brother?” she retorted. “I caught you in the company of these two rattlesnakes uncovering the cache of arms stolen from the fort.” The warrior maiden indicated noted swindlers Jake Barton and Harry Sawyer, similarly suspended and tied up, with a toss of her raven maned head. Silver Arrow looked both angry and frustrated, astounded that he, along with three others, had been captured and bound so easily by a single squaw, even if that squaw was Moonbeam. He eyed the Winchester repeater rifle in her hand, part of the new stock of supplies brazenly spirited out of Fort Apache. “You are a true warrior, Moonbeam,” he said through gritted teeth, “but in this you are mistaken. Falcon and I tracked these villains to this lair and were on the verge of capturing them when you began shooting into the ground at our feet.”

Moonbeam considered Silver Arrow’s handsome and earnest features before turning to her paleface outlaw prisoners. “So, you skunks,” she addressed them, “what say you? Is this chief of the Kiowa speaking true? Is it just you two who are the thieves?” Jake and Harry continued to sway gently in the breeze. They gave each other guilty sideways looks. At last Jake spoke. “We ain’t sayin’ nuthin’, ma’am,” the nervous looking conman replied, “either way it seems our goose is cooked. I reckon you just goin’ to have to work out if you believe the redman and his sidekick or not.” Moonbeam frowned. These fools would be if no help, the female Kiowa warrior reasoned. It seemed she had a decision to make…

My interpretation of the story behind this cover to Vapnene Som Forsvant, in Solvpilen #49 (1981),

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Moonbeam to the Rescue!

The young warrior glared out from the undergrowth at the tepees of the Kiowa, arrogantly guarded by dismounted troopers of the Seventh Cavalry. Why the paleface army had broken the longstanding truce between her people and the settlers, Moonbeam did not know. All she did know was that her friend Little Elk, princess of the Kiowa, was in the foremost tepee, along with her tame cougar pet, Brave Heart. Clearly the braves had been confined to their lodges because there was no man of her people to be seen, and the soldiers stood three abreast outside each tepee, armed and grim, to prevent any escape. All but one: the tent containing Little Elk which was guarded by one bored looking bluecoat: the cavalry felt but a single guard would be sufficient to prevent a mere squaw’s escape. As darkness fell, Moonbeam stood up, her long buckskin dress flowing in the early evening breeze, her brown and shapely legs taking her nonchalantly towards Little Elk’s abode. At her approach, the soldier stiffened and then relaxed with a grin, eyeing Moonbeam’s legs. “What are doing out after dark, squaw? Head back to your lodge!” he ordered. Moonbeam smiled at the man submissively and murmured something about wishing to borrow a recipe from the princess. The soldier frowned, noticing the Comanche style battle knife at the young woman’s side. “I said git!” he said, raising his voice forcefully and then made a sudden grab for the knife from its sheath. “And I’ll have that!”

This was the moment the female warrior needed. She laid hold of the soldier’s forearm as he reached out towards her waist. With one easy movement, the warrior turned away from her assailant, pulled the man by his arm until his unbalanced upper body rested on her back and with an almighty heave, she hoisted the man over her shoulder, flinging him to the ground with a thud. While the man looked up, dazed and in pain, Moonbeam pulled out her knife and knelt next to her victim, holding it to his throat. “You want this Comanche blade, soldier?” she hissed. “Shall I give it to you?” “No, no, you Injun witch, I give…” Moonbeam’s strong hand clasped his mouth, interrupting the man’s surrender to her. The entrance flap to the tepee was pulled open and there was a grinning Little Elk holding it wide while Moonbeam, having resheathed her knife, gagged her captive with his own yellow cavalry scarf. She then bundled him through the entrance and flung the soldier face down onto the ground. Wordlessly Little Elk flung her rescuer a coil of rope and then fell to gathering up some simple supplies into a buckskin bag while Brave Heart looked on. Moonbeam tied the soldier’s hands behind his back, bound his ankles and then tied his limbs together in a tight hogtie. “Are you prepared, princess?” she asked her friend. “We must begin our trek to Canada now!” Little Elk nodded, then took up a strip of cloth to blindfold the cavalryman. “You are not worthy to gaze upon a princess of the Kiowa!” she told the terrified looking prisoner imperiously. Then women and cougar crept from the tepee and into the welcoming woods beyond the lodge.

My interpretation of the story behind this cover to Solvpilen, a Swedish language comic from the 1970s and 1980s, created by Belgian artist Frank Sels. The comic featured the exploits of Kiowa warrior Siver Arrow, who was assisted by a tough female sidekick named Moonbeam. The story, published in November 1982, translates from the Swedish as Escape from the Camp of the Blakjen.

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Secret Weapon

Moonbeam had circled around the perimeter surrounding the ranch house., silently observing everything. The Kiowa warrior was convinced Silver Arrow was within that magnificent wood and brick structure, the prisoner of El Diablo, the rapacious landowner and part time outlaw gang leader, who had taken to kidnapping the young chieftain in order to force the Kiowa from their ancestral lands. Moonbeam, the best tracker in the village, had been sent by the tribal elders to locate their leader who had travelled in good faith to Diablo’s den in order to try to negotiate an agreement between his people and the greedy horde of owlhoots the rancher had gathered in order to pounce on the Kiowa. Moonbeam counted eleven well-armed guards. There would be many more desperadoes hidden within the complex. A frontal assault was out of the question, she knew, but a night attack by twenty of the most skilled braves would likely catch the gang unawares and allow them to free Sikver Arrow.

Moonbeam turned and made to hurry to her horse in order to ride like the wind back to the Kiowa lodges with this information. As the female brave began to move away from the ridge where she had spied out the ranch, there was a flash of blue in the corner of her eye. Too late, she saw the leering man grinning foolishly at her, six gun drawn. It was the twelfth man! Cursing herself, Moonbeam raised her arms. “You clearly want to meet El Diablo, senorita,” the man sneered, “now you shall!” The safety catch of his revolver clicked ominously as he motioned her forward. Suddenly there was a snarl behind them, half kitten, half mountain lion. The outlaw turned instinctively in the direction of the sound. As he did so a small tawny shape leapt through the air. It’s front paws landed squarely in the back of the gunman toppling him forward. As the man fell, Moonbeam put out a tanned and lithe leg and the man tripped head over heels landing in a crumpled and moaning heap on the rough ground, his gun spinning away from him and under some scrub. Moonbeam grinned broadly at the puma cub standing before her, looking extremely pleased with himself. “Thankyou Korat, my little friend!” she told the delighted animal.

Later, as Moonbeam gagged the glaring Mexican as he lay, furious, on the ground after she had first tied his hands and legs, the young woman gave her captive a slight smile. “Korat is my secret weapon, senor, worth at least two of your six guns.” The man turned his angry gaze to the purring feline, who growled back when he caught the man looking at him. “Come, Korat,” Moonbeam said briskly, standing up, “we must away. This cur has delayed us long enough!” Woman and pet hurried down the trail while the bound and gagged outlaw gazed after them helplessly.

My interpretation of the story behind this cover to Solvpilen #15 (April 1978).

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Moonbeam and the Yellow Bandana

Moonbeam held the soldier’s gaze. She could not see his expression, as his yellow bandana was pulled up over his mouth, but his eyes narrowed in a cold stare of hatred and fury. “Out of my way, Injun gal,” he told her slowly, his voice slightly muffled, “this’n ain’t no concern of yours.” The Bowie knife glinted dully in the low sunlight. The Kiowa maid braced herself. “You are wrong, soldier,” she replied evenly, her heart pounding and her mouth dry, “those munitions are meant for my people’s reservation. I cannot let you take them.” The blue uniformed man laughed cruelly. “Guess it’s gonna be a long cold winter for your folks then, squaw, now out of my way!” the renegade cavalryman snarled. Moonbeam knew what was coming. She had fought knifemen before, although never one in the clothing of the United States army. As the soldier raised his knife hand and brought in arcing round, seeking the young woman’s abdomen in a vicious sweep, Moonbeam swung her leg and met her opponent’s wrist with her moccasined foot. The blow sent the knife spinning from the man’s hands and caused the soldier to lose balance, tumbling him onto the ground. He lay on his back but before he could rise, the Indian warrior was upon him. The woman sat astride him, his own knife suddenly in her hand. She punched him hard in the face with her free fist then grasped him by the hair, pulling his head towards her and the blade.

“Don’t scalp me, please, Injun gal!” the soldier jabbered, blind panic now showing in the once hard eyes over the bloodied bandana. “The name is Moonbeam.” the female brave replied coldly, sending her fist into his face a second time. She sat back on her haunches, straddling him and watched in satisfaction as his head hit the dust once more.

*

The next morning a yawning sentry on the wall of Fort Kiowa rubbed his eyes in disbelief. Suddenly wide awake, he hurried down to the courtyard as the dawn slowly illuminated the scene outside and he pulled open the gate. There, huddled on the arid earth close to the entrance of the fort, lay a blue uniformed figure, his hands tightly tied behind his back and his bound wrists lashed to his ankles in an excruciating hogtie. He was gagged with his own yellow bandana. “Holy shit,” breathed the sentry as he looked into the frightened and defeated eyes of the captive. He bent over to find a roughly made sign around the defeated soldier’s neck. It read: This is the renegade deserter you seek. He is a thief and a coward and was captured by Moonbeam of the Kiowa.

My interpretation of the story behind this cover to Solvpilen #19 (May 1978), featuring the story Den Glemte Skatten (The Forgotten Treasure)

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Moonbeam and the Prospector

“Now, Injun gal,” Loco Pete snarled, raising his rifle and advancing on Moonbeam as she pressed herself fearfully against the trunk of the tree against which he had flung her, “the question is whether I just plug you now for trespassing on my claim, or find a way to persuade you to tell me who you are workin’ for…” Pete leered and the young squaw realised quickly he was going to go for his second choice. The man’s rifle lowered momentarily as he crept towards the seeming,y defensive girl until a strong brown leg shot out from the folds of Moonbeam’s flowing buckskin dress. Her moccasined foot connected hard and accurately with Loco Pete’s solar plexus. “Uff!” he gasped as the blow forced the air from his lungs. He collapsed onto the grass, clutching his stomach. In an instant the Native American female warrior was on her feet. She seized Pete’s rifle and stood over him. The prospector’s eyes filled with water as he begged her for his life, eyeing anxiously both the rifle and the Sioux knife at the woman’s belt. “Please don’t torture me, miss,” he whined, “I would never have hurt you really.”

Moonbeam motioned the defeated white man to rise. She contemptuously tore of the bandana from round his neck, put down the rifle and tied the unresisting prospector's hands behind his back with the yellow cloth scarf. She spun him round to face her, but, shamed at his easy capture by a woman, Pete avoided her dark eyes. “Talk!” Moonbeam ordered him. “Explain why you would greet a visitor with death or violence, when all I sought was water for my steed.” Loco Pete raised his head to meet her gaze at last. “You speak English?” he asked, eyes wide. “You ain’t no savage?” Moonbeam was tempted to strike the old coot, but instead tied him to the tree with her lasso and went to fetch water for her horse. Answers to her questions could wait.

Moonbeam is a character in the Silver Arrow comic book, published in Danish as Solvpilen between 1970 and 1986. She was the female sidekick to the title’s main character and was the creation of Dutch artist Frank Sels.

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Moonbeam

The Apaches were fast, but Moonbeam was like lightning. As the edge of her right hand slammed into the Adam’s Apple of one brave, her left leg kicked out, connecting with the wrist of the other, sending his knife sailing through the air until it landed behind some rocks. Moonbeam crouched, gazing down to where the older warrior was slumped on the ground, choking. The younger brave looked on aghast. “Father!” he cried, wide eyed as the other man gasped for breath. “Yield, young buck!” the fighting squaw ordered the boy. His arms fell to his side, but his anxious eyes remained fixed on the stricken form of his father. Moonbeam gathered up some rope and quickly pulled the younger man’s hands behind his back in order to tie him up. “Your father will recover,” the female warrior told her prisoner as he continued to stare desperately at the other brave, “but I will bind you both and take you as captives to the lodges of my people to answer for your crimes to a council of Dakota elders!”

Moonbeam is a character in the Silver Arrow comics, created by the Belgian artist Frank Sels and published in Danish as Solvpilen between 1970 and 1986.