Oh deary deary me. I only went and made a zine. A whole one, no less. It's got pages and pictures and diseases and death. It really is the deluxe service we're talking about here.
I started making it after reading this excellent article by Matt Jackson and seeing what The Manor had been achieving. It was all far too exciting to not jump in on. So a few weeks and a number of favours later and we have this monstrosity. It's still filtering through the brave proof readers but is essentially finished. The PDF is in front of me now, occasionally mocking me with its spurious spelling, goading me into another editing pass. But I'm strong.
So strong in fact that I jumped the gun and stuck it up for sale. If it's for sale it can't possibly be edited more. What a pity. And once these pesky grammar crimes are tidied it'll start making its way to the post office and out into the wild, alone for the first time.
By Friday it will be out of my hands. I hope it looks after itself.
As I woke up today I realised I hadn't described what the zine was in the slightest. This is what I get for making rash decisions while tired. Essentially The Undercroft is going to lean towards horror and unpleasantness. This specific edition deals with new diseases and methods for inflicting them, lawyers, and an adventure to an old kings tomb with a nasty twist.