It was my great pleasure to reply to your hidden dimension...but for the sake of repeating such well deserved praise...I shall repost it here as well.
Ah...
Leafing through each new installment of the amazing and matchless Low Roads epic is sort of like settling in with the most delicious meal at your favorite restaurant...you just get filled with that delightful sensation that you’re in good hands. So I tuck my napkin into my shirt collar, try and remember to use cutlery, and savor the activation of my salivary gland as I dig in to a most exquisite meal.
Extremely kind of you, my good Deeto! As always, it's the greatest pleasure to hear from you! Twice as nice in stereo! XD
Pallet-tickling is entirely apropos for the TTC, and I couldn't be more pleased with your happy turns of phrase! Delighted (and relieved) that you have your napkin knotted firmly, as this chapter turned out to be rather moist (from Angie's perspective, at least!)
Even from the cover the Low Roads always seem to grab my attention, almost like the aroma wafting wonderfully from the succulent feast as it is placed upon my table.
And like the mighty 17 that came before...this chapter is no exception, and certainly does not fail to impress and tantalize.
A most treasured compliment! I seek to intrigue with every aspect of the storytelling... being aware of all the plot-points makes it difficult to guess when I've succeeded. That this chapter opens with the denouement to the preceding one couldn't help but compromise some of its freshness... however, I did want to sum-up events before heading in new directions. We're reached roughly the one-third mark, plot-wise... where the second act would begin in a three-act play. I felt it necessary to stop and assess; we may not see many of these characters again for some time, and I thought it important that their circumstances to be clear in everyone's mind.
The first few pages spare us the chatter of text and let the reader soak in the artwork to remember what twisted roads have brought us to the current calamities at hand. And as always, when the text does make its grand arrival, it is with the same gregarious spirit that blessed all of the Low Roads episodes with such grace and charm. Cymbals clash, percussion booms, and the symphony of LBH begins.
So very good of you to say so! I did like the idea of opening this chapter quietly, without a lot of busy exposition. The tone at this point should be a touch morose (not to mention exhausted!) A quiet opening does run the risk of bewildering those who haven't followed events closely, and while the Low Roads readers might profit from opening recaps (I provided them regularly in "Spectacles of Doom"), I prefer that the chapter changes be more ambiguous than didactic. Once it's finished and can be read unbroken (as I hope future visitors to the forums will continue to do), the story should unwind as a novel does rather than in serial fashion. That's how I always envisioned it should be experienced, the way I feel its structure offers the most impact. Unfortunately, with the present months-long gaps between postings, it sure seems more serialized than of a whole piece.
Twitching remains of the wiggling tentacle harkens back to memories of The Blob, and thoughts of terrifying alien extremities that continue to carry out their fiendish purpose even after their disembodiment. Eesh **quivers**
Spot on! That "goo on a stick" moment was meant to echo the early scene from Steve McQueen's Blob, absolutely! The '50s sci-fi movie is my favorite flavor of pop culture, and while the genre doesn't lend itself to easy referencing in the Low Roads, I sure won't pass up any opportunities! The very notion that Sid could detach "emissaries" that act independently and are yet beholden to him (are, indeed, still a part of him) finds its inspiration in '50s sf film: note a similar instance in "Attack of the Saucer Men", where an amputated alien hand still summons vigor enough to cause havoc; likewise, the Venusian's bat-like control devices from "It Conquered the World" were issued from its own conical frame. And, of course, the '50s - early '60s were the initial spawning ground for cinematic protoplasmic tissue! The H-Man maintained a runny continuity, yet could distinguish itself into a ghostly assemblage of its multiple ship's-crew origin. Caltiki tore itself into scuttling mini-globs toward the end of the flick... independent entities, or a single beast of many parts? Such tactics make for compact iconography... dictator and troops in one simple package!
“Jen may be as lovely as a lily, but she’ll never be as fragile” is a line worthy of the Bard himself. So rarely does such poetic prose grace the pages of a comic project, especially in communities dedicated to naughty eroticism. This series of yours is truly something that sets itself apart and gleams forth with the brightness of your dedication, your amazing capacity for language, and your unique and vigilant spirit.
That's enormously kind of you! Truth is, the prose aspects of the comic will always trump the visual ones. I'm not a particularly strong artist. Polished illustration, alas, is not my thing. My style is simple to the extreme; I draw just well enough to convey those aspects of storytelling directed by the text. Any sketch will have to be awfully damned awkward before I ever consider chucking it and starting over! Scripts, on the other hand, always receive the most meticulous attention; re-casting verbal ideas and polishing statements often takes weeks, and I never proceed before a read-through seems flawless. Now... if I could just get this stuff onto the page without errors! Typos and misspellings are my bane, and I never seem to catch 'em all! I had to redo all the color-work on page 25 of this chapter because I'd left the "S" off "skellington" and was forced to reletter the sentence! How can that happen! I proof-read this stuff incessantly! Ideally, of course, a third party should handle that. But one-man-shows must put up with occasional substandard work.
Page 7 has to be one of my very favorites, of the entire series. Something about the fond parting of our phantasmic couple just works so wonderfully well.
I'm awfully pleased that scene resonated with you! The love relationship between Sparrow and the Moon Knight is the one piece of overt romance in the series thus far (Jen and Billy are too firmly settled to suit the purpose; all their awkward uncertainties are behind them); it's the sort of material I've never been particularly expert in handling, and your words really boost my confidence! Happily, the fetish venue lends itself to a wide variety of coupling opportunities; without this element, I might never have tried to tackle romance at all.
I love the curvy trails of stone and earth, mud and dust. Something about the way you render the landscapes gives this entire tale the grandest of scopes, even in its most pedestrian of moments.
Very good of you to say so! I find natural landscapes easier to draw than structured, designed architecture (one needn't fret so much about discipline and symmetry in the arroyo or woodland); ergo, much of the action finds itself within them. That won't do for the entire series, of course... particularly not as urban settings figure (and will increasingly figure) so importantly in the plot. Even so, the action will never stray far from wild, untrammeled territory. It's the farm-boy in me, I suspect... I walked everywhere (especially through wilderness) as a youngster!
Klept’s nasty value of a soft touch is quite the delightful scene. Although they may feel rancor for the boogeys, they certainly are quick to imitate their wicked methods, eh?
Thank you! It's quite true... Tabor County is rife with imitators! The bogeys inherited their antics from the elemental woodland spirits and now pass them on to Low Roads rascals and staid town burghers! From the base and clay-like to the nuanced and civilized... and why not! Such treasured fetish notions are worth passing along!
And do Angie and Fiona never get respite from the shennanigans? LMAO.
I desperately hope not! They'd better not shirk! I depend on them to carry much of the plotline hereafter!
The Manequi spite and spirit reads more like satire than fiction to me. Although the Low Roads pace often seems careful and controlled, moments such as these are Swift indeed. LOL. And their fight scene on page 25 is practically mythological in its portrayal. I love it.
Supremely savvy, my good Deeto! The Manequi spring from "Gullivar's Travels", inspiration-wise... rowdy, undisciplined Yahoos are their sires (with a hint of Houyhnhnm to honor the equine portion of the equation). The original impetus (before Swiftean revision) filtered from one of my early unrelated text story featuring a calf with a human head. You're quite canny here, too... I'm mad for mythological half-animals (fauns, harpies, centaurs, etc.) and often work them into my own scenarios while skirting an Olympic setting. Actually, mythological Greece is ripe for fetish exploitation; it's a venue I'd like to try sometime... assuming I ever finish with this confounded Low Roads series!
And the three course meal that ensues in both struggle and after math is more than filling, but is an absolute culinary delight, scrumptuous in every detail. The say that the finest of cuisine is judged both in terms of taste and presentation, and this scene is as tastefully presented as any gourmet could hope for! Transported by tongue and touch to a golden land of tickles and teases? Delicate torture which alters the very fabric of reality. These are the snacks for which my palette pines. Having tasted the sweet nectar of the Low Roads, never again will my appetite be slaked by the common bone or morsel. My only regret is that such copious confections leave me far too full for dessert!! Although I should curse you for spoiling my senses with the finest delectations, I am still far to drunk on delight to be anything but pleasantly plump on this bountyless feast.
Flake me with a fork, serve me lightly garnished.
For I am done.
LBH – you have accomplished the impossible, yet again. I will not even inquire as to the timing of the next meal. I shall simply digest, relishing the flavors still heavy on my tongue, and fondly allow my hunger to return until your next masterpiece is baked to perfection.
Fondly and forever a fan of your fantastic feathery feasts, feets, and feats.
LMAO.
The supremely talented Bandito does me great honor! He certainly deserves to be well fed, and I'll always do my best to serve up the most tempting tidbits my poor pantry can manage! Though when he says he's done, we well understand that's only metaphor... Bandito will never be satisfied as long as there are Chix left unbounced and tickling space left to explore! Fondest of thanks for everything, my good friend!
