Prophet of the Past
I rented a bin and got some buddies together to clean out the barn and lo! I stumbled across the original map that would morph into the world of The Second Apocalypse. I’m generally averse to discussing the world and plot of the series because I think a certain amount of ‘genesis neglect’ actually serves to make the series more believable, and therefore more immersive, but this! this comes straight from the Coffers. It’s gotta be thirty years old at least!
The magic I felt inking this, the sense of swooping grandeur, intricate melancholy. I remember feeling all of it boom in my heart and my bones: the mangled histories flung across mountains and plains, the vying nations and dying races, and the obscene evil that would consume it. The world was a new lover back then, charged with passions I can scarce recognize anymore.
That kid would be proud, I think, of what I’ve made of it so far. But what I wouldn’t give to relive a moment of that naïve intensity.
What a slog it’s been. A Slog of Slogs!