Once upon a time, there was a land – low and forested, with
many rivers and lakes and teeming with life. This fair land was a hunting
ground for humans and mighty predators of the forest, and the climate was
Far to the North – well, West – a diabolical plot was hatched
among the people inhabiting an otherwise perfect continent, it’s northern tier
a glaciated land, frozen and dire. For they looked at these lands and coveted
them, knowing that beneath that mighty Ice was a fair land, pregnant with possibility.
Practitioners of a fell Sorcery unknown to the happy
inhabitants of that fair land in the East, the grim folk of the West over many
thousands of years did contrive to melt the mighty ice and push back the
boundaries of their lands.
By various Arts, they manipulated the Sun and the Earth
until the Ice began to loose its grip on the land, torrents of water filled
lakes and rivers to overflowing and remade the face of the Land.
Conveniently, the released waters found their way into the
seas, and, as is the nature of such things, the sea began to rise, drowning the
fair, low-lying lands of five continents, and possibly one other, but we don’t
count Mu nowadays, never mind what the mythical inhabitants say, assuming such
are around, of course. But then they wouldn’t be mythical. Despite what Mr.
Cayce says, they don’t exist, so - mythical. I wouldn't be so sure about Atlantis, either.
And still the foul Sorcerers of the West were unsatisfied,
pursuing the retreating Ice nearly to extinction, and several species of game
with it, until finally the ice was penned up in remote mountain ranges and the
culmination of all their efforts lay fair beneath the Sun.
Indiana was born.
Soon immigrants from around the world began making their
ways to the fair land in the heart of the mightiest Continent of all until finally,
after many millennia, from the Eastern landmass arrived the builder of the finest
home in the fairest of Lands, where once had been only Ice.
Hoosiertoo had arrived in Heaven on Earth. Rolling prairies, mighty rivers, a couple of swamps - hey no place is perfect! - and rolling hills.
But wither Doggerland, and fair Lyonesse? Whither the fabled
civilizations – Atlantis, and (I’m pretty sure it’s mythical) Mu - now lying
beneath the waves?
Far to the East, in coastal cites adjacent to drowned lands,
the ruined peoples of the East conspire reclaim their drowned lands and to
rebuild their once-mighty Civilizations. After 11,000 years, and despite the
best efforts of the Sorcerers of the West, the Eastern Warlocks have found out
Far beneath the seas, the rumbling of great, smoking furnaces.
In the Heavens the Sun begins another great cycle. The Eastern Warlocks know
that the best efforts of the Western Sorcerers, futilely dumping tons of foul
carbon into the air in a vain attempt to fight off the inevitable, will fail.
The great Ice will return…
Doggerland will rise again.