I did a short interview with AIPT comics about Basileus, check it out:
Book one of the engaging fantasy tale recently funded via Kickstarter.
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Sade Olutola

if i look back, i am lost
Keni
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occasionally subtle
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Love Begins
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@thevasthumanwaste
I did a short interview with AIPT comics about Basileus, check it out:
Book one of the engaging fantasy tale recently funded via Kickstarter.
This is the final cover for the first BASILEUS book. We have now achieved 180 percent funding thanks to many gracious readers, but there still remains 1 week to secure a copy for yourself! GO to https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/basileus/basileus-book-one to check it out, maybe order a book.
Less than 24 hours remain on the kickstarter! Go check it out if you have not!
This is the final cover for the first BASILEUS book. We have now achieved 180 percent funding thanks to many gracious readers, but there still remains 1 week to secure a copy for yourself! GO to https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/basileus/basileus-book-one to check it out, maybe order a book.
still time to check out the kickstarter !https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/basileus/basileus-book-one
Heed the wisdom of the budgie, check out the Basileus kickstarter! https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/basileus/basileus-book-one
Me, discovering we are 90 percent of the way to our funding goal! Continue to tell your vague acquaintances at the office, random people on the street, and your most despised political rivals about BASILEUS (on kickstarter)
This is not the door that appears in BASILEUS (live on kickstarter!!! www.kickstarter.com/projects/basileus/basileus-book-one) but I like to imagine it is, perhaps a back entrance. A wizard must have many points of egress.
Pictured: You, after reading the second or third greatest fantasy comic you got off KICKSTARTER (https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/basileus/basileus-book-one?ref=project_bsky)
87 pages of bloody fantasy adventure, following two petty criminals as they cut their way through a crumbling world.
If you are a large format, hardcover comics enjoyer, please head over to kickstarter and have a look at BASILEUS. Then, tell your friend who also loves fantasy adventure!
testing print brushes
Uz entered the tavern in celebratory fashion, emanating a broadness of affect ignored by his fellow patrons. "What err in Reason's flawless chain, what lurid faery light, tempteth a man from his tight, warm bed, to this drink-sodden plight?" He sang, reeling only slightly.
His fingers found a counter hewn from what seemed to him the most luxurious, ancient, and finely worked wood slab available to human craftsmen. "I desire elderberry, but would accept any wine a fine publican such as yourself has to offer." He sank into a heavy lean, immune to the nearby scowls.
The drink provided (a questionable decision), Uz now set about to the harassment of anyone near enough to receive it. He scanned around for something of interest, passing swift phrenological judgement over the common criminality here. Hungry, sullen eyed. The shingles rash of a city in ill health.
His sweeping analytical gaze ended with a delightful challenge, a man so lumpy and disfigured it was not possible to determine much at all about him from the various ratios of facial features and cranial bone structures that one with such a talent can utilize to form a quick judgement.
Ambling artfully over, Uz made a sloppy introduction. "My friend, you look a fearsome fellow, like you have seen the clash of the shield wall." The man's face was unreadable due to an unfortunate collaboration of disfigurement, a spider's web of ugly scars, paralyzing certain facial muscles,
A nose almost entirely missing, along with his left eye, which he had unmercifully neglected to cover with any sort of accessory. The man's one good eye turned inscrutably toward Uz, and his broad shoulders pivoted at the same time, to confront their interrogator.
Uz ran his tongue along his teeth in a subconscious soothing action, revealing, if only to you dear reader, that some part of him might sense the tension in the dingy drinking hall, though his vibrating pupils still fixated almost as a challenge upon the lone dim bulb that stared back.
A surprisingly soft and oddly up pitched voice emerged from the creature, "Would that were the case my little friend!" Uz sensed some mirth from his tone. "I am merely an irresponsible slave, playing out a mid-life career change." He leaned in close now, paralyzed face wearing the ghost of a smile,
"You see, upon first capture I must have been quite a nuisance, hollering about liberty and spitting at all the noble consumers of servant flesh, browsing as they do in the markets here. Very soon I had made my escape, not bothering to even remove my shackles. However..."
"...quickly I was apprehended by the reeve and his comrades, and marked so I would no longer be able to masquerade as a free man. That is how I lost my nose, and gained this distinctive visage."
"They struck it off somewhat swiftly, at least they tried to." He made a slow pass with his finger, as though it were a stubby blade. "Though good sense would caution most from further transgression, being idealistic, I once again escaped captivity.
"Initially I thought myself very clever indeed, but did not calculate for the distinctive visage occasioned by my missing nose. A brief flight, and captured once more." He sat back in his spoked chair, causing it to sigh as if mimicking his own restful affect. Steepling his hands,
"The slavers were at a loss for what to do, and I found great mirth in their debates, the profusion of rhetoric they laid before each other in deciding what next to do with my insolence. Finally they decided to take my eye, reasoning that a one eyed man might still work,"
"but with a spirit made much dispassionate by the loss of the full glory of binocular vision. This was foolish, of course. Slavers and merchants believe only in the material, and so think that some percentile lost of the sight of our rich world would dispirit a man such as me."
"But I am no petty merchant, I am an idealist, and with no nose and one eye I could still sense, with a more elevated organ, Liberty calling out to me." He stood then, awkwardly. "And so, here I am now! Happier than you could imagine! Once again, untouched by whip or shackle,"
"Chained, not to the tin mine, to the plough, but instead to the galley of open adventure, driven by the salt wind of freedom!" His fist was now raised. "To the juice of the vine!" Uz added, wryly. "Yes! The nectar of unhesitating passion! Imprisoned by my own ambitions!"
Uz flinched slightly at a particularly unstable wobble in the man's stance. His eyes then glazed somewhat as he reflected on the den of delusion and despair he had wandered into. He was again reminded why he hated returning to this, the city of his birth.
Rising, Uz patted the large man on the shoulder, "An excellent story, well told, I feel like I was there shackled right beside you. Fair winds and free trade to you, my friend, I have been inspired to find my own freedom."
Anyway I didn't finish this, but the joke is the noseless man is recaptured before he even leaves the boozer.
Extract from a journal collected in the ruins of the former Vancouver convention centre, following the recivilizing of the peninsula, and the mass execution of the occupiers.
I had been sure to save the videos before, inevitably, internet access was finally and permanently cut. Though in an instant a great majority of human output over the last century evaporated from our collective consciousness, locked forever in scattered data storage warehouses that would never again experience the caress of the great network, I had fortuitously planned far in advance for this exact point in our history.
And it was inevitable, governments burdened with immense debt, essentially promises that were impossible to keep even as they were made, could no longer maintain the premise of their governance, and so, just as with the instantaneous evaporation of that century of accumulated data, so too did the social fabric suddenly cease to be, as easily as one flips off a light switch.
It seemed nothing should change, yet it did, cataclysmically. A man being a coordination of wills, a fascis of ambition, must be altered entirely when the options available to him change so dramatically. But, I blessed my future transformed self with a plan, a new purpose for a new world.
The final days of the global empire were as lecherous as any previous, building to a near fever pitch, a desperate orgy of consumerism, delusion, hypocrisy, greed and other reptilian drives, barely rational. At some point in this mad carnival I, who was by no means immune to modernity, consumed a certain article of content (which is what we in those days called artifice, or the handiwork of man), almost entirely against my will, that would set my transformation in motion. It would be my salvation.
It was a simple advertisement, unremarkable at the time, for an overly expensive piece of consumer electronics, barely concealed within a young woman's comedy skits, that exploited as their subject her dubious claim to a supposed mental illness. In this perplexing video deception, her cartoonishly large eyes zipped around from beneath heavily manicured lashes as she breathlessly described the features of an excessively engineered luxury product, as if she had discovered it entirely by accident. She pranced lightly through her immense, undecorated mansion, describing how critical this product was to her life, how its innovation amounted to an existential revolution.
Watching, her dense lies and transparent manipulations...
TBC
Copy of drawing by Dante Gabrielle Rosetti.
Little illustration for the Simon Roy Extended Universe tm
"Prometheus or impostor, Mesmer's career was at an end; the day of trough and baton, of the Hotel Bullion and the coat of lilac silk, was succeeded by a day of obscurity, and of such exile as foiled ambition obtains in its native country."
From Braid on Hypnotism, 1890