Created by Roger Lecureux and Andre Cheret, Rahan is a comics caractere published in Pif Gadget Magazin for the first time, about 1969. Rahan is a hero of more 180 stories, short (11 pages) or great (about 40 pages) all stories is now in 24 books (only in french version for the moment) more 3500 pages in total. Adapted in cartoon for TV (26x 26 minutes) only in french to. Rahan is very popular in France,he is a classical comics. Just now Rahan have a lot of news, new stories from a new editor and any product about this hero: Toys, pictures, statuette, expose ... and some projects: films and new cartoons ... If you have a editing in a no french language, please contact me with message or an .

Â	Rahan by Xilam in vidéo You can see the first pictures for the new Rahan's cartoon by Xilam on You tube ... And in English !!! See now on You Tube And you opimion on Rahan.org' s chat (in english or in french).	Â

 

All about new book (june 2008): La horde des bannis (The horde for banned) In french only

Summary of Crao's son (all pages only in french for the moment):

Bd Company Chans Viwap Com Jpg Best

Instead of a photograph, the file unfolded into a layered image of a street she recognized: the lane behind BD, the brick wall with chipped paint, the alley lamp that always hummed. But in the image the lamp glowed a different color—an impossible teal—and the alley bristled with symbols stitched into the mortar: arrows, waves, and a looping character Maya had seen once on a rusted toolbox and never understood. At the bottom, a line of tiny, precise script read: "When the viwap stops, listen."

At first, nothing obvious happened. But then people began returning to the old machines, not to rebuild a product line but to listen. The machines were designed to harvest tiny vibrations—footsteps, the whisper of a wrench, the cadence of a welder’s torch—and stitch them together into a crude kind of memory. BD’s factory had always held other sounds: the lullaby a night-shift worker hummed, the laughter that leaked from the break room, the argument over pay that fizzled into quiet resolve. Viwap had been meant to route those traces into a communal archive—an impractical, sentimental project that had been shelved when investors wanted scalable metrics instead of murmurs. bd company chans viwap com jpg best

"Chans," the founder had written years before, in a note Maya found later in a leather journal. "Not channels. Chans—shared stories. The company is a vessel for them. Viwap is the gate." Instead of a photograph, the file unfolded into

In the valley where old factories whispered and neon hung like fruit from rusted signs, there was a small company everyone called BD. BD made things nobody outside the town could name precisely: fittings for machines, a tiny silver sensor that blinked like an insect, software patches that arrived as midnight emails. What mattered to the town was that BD paid wages and kept a corner diner open. But then people began returning to the old

That night, at eleven, the speaker clicked. A soft mechanical breath escaped. Somewhere else in the plant, machines she had thought entirely dead hummed awake, as if an old orchestra had been cued. The relay sent a pulse to a disconnected terminal that lit up with a single word: CHANS.

For the town, the chans were a mirror. Longstanding disputes softened when arguments replayed back in the cadence of shared labor, when apology was heard as a mechanical echo rather than a brittle phrase. Strangers became familiar through the tapestry of small, mundane sounds. A night watchman’s humming taught the clockmaker’s apprentice a rhythm for a new gear; the diner’s owner heard in a machinist’s sigh the exact inflection that made her famous apple pie taste like childhood.