08-01-2012, 04:04 PM
First and foremost: Tell us about yourself, as a player:
Not too much to really say about myself without feeling extremely pretentious/conceited/arrogant. I am a long-time roleplayer, and hope to someday be a published writer in the Fantasy/Horror/Sci-Fi genre. I am always very nervous when doing introductions, so forgive me if I ramble/misspell words/become overly loquacious.
My favourite authors are H.P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allen Poe, Stephen King, J.R.R. Tolkien, whichever Norseman first chanted Beowulf before its Christianization, and of course, the Bard, Shakespeare.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I was born in the United States, and my primary language is English, although my spelling tends to fall more in line with British English due to my choice of authors in my early life. Hence, it is a mangled mess.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
Warcraft was one of the few games that did what I always wanted. It took fantasy and completely renewed it, taking tired old tropes and themes and instilling them with actual character and realism. Orcs that were the good guys, even if they were savage, Elves that weren't the best at everything and had purposeful societal flaws instead of incidental arrogance. Monsters became heroes, typical heroes would end up as villains. It was a dream come true.
Not to mention the fact that the Old Gods are pretty much the Great Old Ones from Lovecraftian literature.
How did you find us? Did anything in particular draw you to the server?:
A friend of mine, Bev, is a good friend of a GM here (I apologize for not knowing what name she goes by on these forums.) I had been wanting to play very badly, in an RP community that actually had majority RPers, instead of small pockets of guild RP in a server that was "RP" only in label.
I just had to read the rules and various ins-and-outs, and I was drawn in.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
Anything that isn't erotic, honestly. I am far too uncomfortable and awkward typing such things out, let alone imagining them. I am not certain of what you would classify as a "type" beyond that. I like exploring characters, not just my own, in fact, I prefer to get to know the characters of others, as for the most part, I tend to find my own somewhat uninteresting. Then again, I do know that I am extremely hard on myself, as other friends are always contradicting my initial opinions on my characters.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
It is far too difficult to answer with just one particular combo, or even just one of each. They all have their own fascinating lore, viewpoints, psychological struggles and implications...from a completely gameplay-based aspect, I enjoy melee classes that are bulky and hard to kill. From an RP-based perspective, my favourite of these is likely the Death Knight. A dark, twisted, warped hero, thrust unwillingly (or willingly) into villainy under the iron will of the Lich King, only to suddenly gain his free will back, to realize all the horrors he had wrought, and either seeking to redeem himself, or accepting this darkness and using it as a weapon against his foes, that is fascinating to me.
For races? I truly cannot say. If we are restricted to only the playable, I am torn between Orcs and Forsaken. Both have a very dark, twisted tale to them. The Orcs (for the most part) being forced to serve under a demonic legion that saw them only as fodder, only to have the repentant generations that follow them be marked as responsible for the sins of their fathers, forever seen as monsters by their foes regardless of their actions really strikes a chord with me.
The Forsaken are quite similar in this respect, bound under the will of a tyrant, only to gain freedom and find out that they can never return to the life they once had. They, too, are only regarded as monsters by their old families, almost completely dependent on the guidance of Sylvannas, the only one who (initially) accepts them for what they are.
If we put the non-playable in this, I would be here all day. I love everything about the Naga, even if they are elves. Especially the male designs. So freaking awesome.
What are your expectations of this server?:
RPing...that's about it. I love to RP, and I wouldn't mind a few larger events like taking down the Lich King or what have you, but understand that it's not a giant population, and that not everyone is going to want to do something like that AT ALL. So I honestly just expect an interesting roleplaying experience, which I am certain I will get.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
Is it tedious to say all of them? I am not exactly in love with rules in general, but it seems like the rules are less rules and more just...what should be done by good, reasonable, intelligent people.
Lastly, tell us a story! It can be short, it can be long; but most importantly, we want to see your work in action. Go!: Just to keep myself from getting in trouble, I will note that I have a DeviantArt called OverlordCthulhu. This story is The Shadow of the Sea, written in a heavily Lovecraft-inspired style:
Dear God! To only be accepted into the forgiving folds of oblivion! To have the bliss of ignorance! To not have the knowledge that I have, knowledge that no mortal man should know! For I have seen the horrors that lie beyond the veil…and mankind was not meant to gaze upon their secrets.
I am not mad, though I feverently pray that I am, to no avail. Madness could not bring forth what I saw with such uninterrupted clarity! The passing phantasms of madness would have given me respite, respite from the reality that I know is all too real. Even now, I shudder to recall the events that had occurred to me only days ago, the unspeakable terror of what I witnesses would be enough to drive many mad, but I was not so fortunate. I retained my memory, I can recall each event, and as my mind takes me through each agonizing step, each tortured moment, my fear is renewed with an unholy vigour. I shudder to theorize what this knowledge will do to mankind; how I wish I could wrap the world in the folds of oblivion, so that such horrors would fade into the nothingness of the void!
I recount my events for one reason, one singular rationale, the hope that if man is armed with such knowledge, they will be better prepared to face the Darkness that comes. I have no way of knowing whether the knowledge will change the world for the better or the worse. I half plead that I will be discounted as mad, to be thought of as a weak or deluded individual who is crying out for attention before he takes his own life. At the same time, I yearn for my knowledge to be accepted, for mankind to take arms against this threat, to rage against the dying of the light, in spite of how hopeless our battle may be.
After this passage is written, I intend to take my life. Call me weak. Call me mad. Call me anything you wish, but your perceptions will not alter reality. They will not change the truth in the events that I shall record, nor the ones that shall come to pass, no matter how much I supplicate for them to do so. I cannot live after seeing what I have seen. No man can. I will die at my own hands, not at the hands of twisted, eldritch abominations that my mind can so clearly recollect. Only God knows where they would drag my soul, should they be the ones to reap it.
I can recall the day it began with astounding clarity. I had been invited by my friend and colleague to investigate an archeological piece recently unearthed near the shores of St. Augustine, Florida. As a man of science, and a collector of such oddities, I eagerly, though somewhat skeptically departed from New England, heading for my destination at a relaxed pace. After about a week’s journey, I arrived at the appointed location, and proceeded to gather my things before making my way towards my colleague’s seaside cabin. Even at a distance I could tell the cabin was absurdly spartan, resembling more of a shack or a hovel than anything else, although when he came forth to meet me, I did not have the heart to disclose my opinion of his chosen residence. He had never been a particularly healthy man, and his superstitious demeanor caused me to constantly be skeptical of his discoveries. However, upon seeing the pale complexion of his face, the feverish look in his eyes as they darted every which direction, my skepticism quickly evaporated into concern. He quickly and lightly shook my hand with a forced smile, and I struggled to keep up as he hobbled inside of his abode. He gibbered pleasantries at me, at times seeming only half-aware of my presence. I managed to respond in a calm and jovial manner, in spite of the strange occurrence that was happening right in front of me. He muttered a string of words about it being late, and that I could use the guest’s quarters nearby if I was weary. Glad to be gone from his presence, I crept through the dilapidated construct towards the room he directed me towards, and quickly fell into a fevered, nightmare-ridden sleep.
The thankful reprieve of reality was given to me, as the monstrous shapes and twisted architecture shaped back to their hidden forms. My colleague had been attempting to awaken me all throughout the night, he had told me, and he assumed by my shouts and cries, that I was having a nightmare. I thanked him for his concern, and felt a mix of relief and apprehension upon seeing him. The fevered man I had seen yesterday had all but dissipated, and the former calm, collected face of my friend had returned. I questioned whether or not that that, too, had been part of the nightmare. He certainly seemed in a better demeanor than I recalled, so, I quickly dismissed my trepidation. He spoke in his usual energetic manner, about the thrill of his discovery, and how he was honoured to have me come along with him to confirm the validity of his discovery. I exchanged pleasantries once more, and after breakfast, we made our way towards the port that docked his ship.
His ship, in great contrast to his abode, was a stunning vessel. From stern to bow she measured about six metres, her beam I estimated was no more than four and a half metres. She was an older model, still relying mostly on her sails to move her along, although she had a motor on the stern in case the winds were against our favour. Along the side of the boat in large, extravagant text it said The Nereid. My colleague assured me that she ran smoothly even over the roughest of sea, and was the pride of the oceans she sailed upon. I myself could not disagree with his claim, as she seemed a very worthy vessel. He told me our destination was close to eighty-six knots east-northeast from the shore, he had rationally marked the exact location on his sea chart, and in spite of his superstitious beliefs, he was an astonishingly unsurpassed, rational navigator. I wondered why he felt the need to bring me to a section of the ocean to view what he had described to me to be a small sculpture, or, if this was the location he discovered it at, how he had managed to procure it, due to the fact he was operating alone, and would not have the required manpower or assistance to reap anything from the blackened depths of the oceanic void. My questions would never be answered, for he would speak nothing of the topic as we drifted further and further into the ancient, boundless plain. He simply gave me knowing nods and half-smiles each time I unearthed the subject, eventually, I abandoned the matter. Though our journey started near the early noon hours, the dark thunderheads in the skies made the venture especially nocturnal in nature, and I could not help but nod off during the voyage. Fortunately, if I had any nightmares that day, I could not recall them, but the waking horrors were soon to come.
We had finally arrived within view of the location written on my colleague’s map, and even from this distance, an unspeakable feeling of dread crept over me. Although the majourity of the sea swelled and fell, I could clearly see a multitude of waves cresting and crashing, as if upon a reef, or something far more sinister. He told me we had to wait here for the tides to recede. His tone was clearly very excited, but it was not the excitement of a man about to uncover a mystery, a man of science about to discover an infallible truth of civilization or man’s past. It was the agitated chitter of a creature about to descend on its prey, the strange delight a man gets when he finds a tool of destruction, and suddenly, my fear was intertwined with hatred and disgust at my friend. I wanted nothing more than to leave, nothing more than to be gone from his horrible presence, but I was far too curious, and yes, filled with such a powerful dread that I could not have fled even if it were possible for me to. I could do nothing more than submit to his request and wait to see what would rise from these depths, what discovery he had been so eager for me to see. Although I knew that the shifting of the tides was an event one could rarely expect to be instantaneous, however, the hours passed as if fleeing from their forced, nefarious purpose, and I could do nothing but watch. The water dropped in vast, unnatural levels, revealing more and more of the cyclopean structure. Ancient, eldritch runes that I had never seen before in my entire studies, they resembled nothing I had even seen before, not the olden Sanskrit of India, nor the symbols of the Norse poets. They depicted many creatures of the ocean I was familiar with, but along with them were the horrid shapes of creatures I knew that could not be of this earthly realm. The waters continued to drop, revealing more of the antediluvian structure. An immeasurable relief of a creature that I can only vaguely describe as an octopus or a squid above the yawning chasm of an entrance, wrapping its vast tentacles around every contour and edge of the monolith that rose from the ocean to pierce the heavens. All around me had shattered and faded away, and there was only the ancient building that stood before me. The terror that gripped me was insurmountable, and I was forced to advance towards the gruesome, twisted tower that stood before me. I had left the boat, not noticing nor caring that the cold water was lapping at my knees as I advanced up the staircase that would inevitably take me towards a point of no return.
When I entered, my fear was entwined with the thrill of discovery. The walls and floors were still slick with the sea, and various crustaceans and octopi crawled along the ground, unafraid of my intrusion to their home. More reliefs and carvings adorned the walls, depicting dreadful events that would soon pass unto those who lived in the world above, vast tentacles dragging the continents under the seas, hooded, twisted aberrations gathered in dark masses, performing heathen rituals to their abominable master, drowning the world in the infinite, sinister waves of a bitter sea. I could not help but wonder what civilization had wrought this construct, for they surely could not be of this world…or if they were…they had heralded long before man’s footsteps had ever disturbed the dust of the earth. I continued to press onward; strangely, I was made to descend in spite of my clear recollection of the height of the tower. I feared that I would be met with only more of the sea, but as I continued, nothing impeded my progress.
I knew not how long I had descended, but I knew that my colleague was close by. I could not help but notice his knowing disinterest, but I was too driven by my fear to discover what secrets this place had been hiding from the world. I descended unto total darkness, however, when it had become too deep, a flash of aquamarine light blinded me, and I heard a thousand shrieks in a language that I could not hope to understand. Horrified with what I had discovered, I had attempted to flee, but my colleague blocked my path.
“Is it not glorious?” he hissed, spreading his arms across the threshold. He advanced towards me, and I could not help by retreat. In my haste to flee him, I collided with an altar that had been hidden from my view. I slowly turned in fear of what I should see upon it.
And I saw the dead eyes of my colleague, his face twisted and contorted in agony, his mouth open in a silent scream. In his hands he clutched the relief he had written to me about, and I heard peals of sadistic laughter from behind me, and I turned to see the wretched doppelganger’s form melting away. I could not help but unleash a cry of dread as his true form was made visible to me. I cannot describe it, mortal words could not do it justice, but I will do my best to relate its aberrant form to the familiar forms of other creatures than man knows. Its head was bulbous and fleshly, like that of an octopus, with a mass of tentacles drooping from its featureless face, two opal, unblinking eyes pierced through my flesh and raked my innards with its gaze, it was larger than I, larger than any man I had ever seen, wrapped in robes made of seaweed and kelp, hunched over with age, its gnarled, clawed hands wrapping around a staff that pulsated and throbbed as if it were a living creature itself. The mere gaze of the creature froze me in place, and I could not flee. I could not speak, I could do nothing but sit and watch in horror as it advanced, more of its kind emerging from the shadows to surround me. My mind could bear it no longer, overwhelmed by a primordial fear, the darkness took me within its folds.
When I awakened, my shoulder was in the tight, painful grip of the leader of these horrific creatures. I wept as I was led along the centre of the huge, spherical room, which I could only assume was the base of this tower, sitting at the depths that no man had dared to explore. When I was made to stop, my attention was drawn to the large, motionless body of water. It was as black as the abyss, and although I was standing right before it, I could not see my reflection upon its surface. The creatures around me chanted and gibbered in their ancient language, their leader keeping a firm grip on my shoulder. He slowly released me, but I felt a piercing pain in my mind that forced me to kneel. I could not understand their language, but I heard one word that was repeated at the end of each of their mantras.
That word was “Ol’thugrok-Sogoth”
The tower rumbled, and a thousand voices that caused even these horrid creatures to kneel and cower in respect and reverence echoed throughout the room. I felt a powerful nausea come over me, and it took all of my resolve to keep myself conscious. I had to see what had been hidden from mankind for so long. I had to see our doom.
Hundred of massive tentacles burst forth from the large pool, not causing a single ripple to mar its surface, even as gallons of the liquid were thrown out from the violence with which this abomination emerged. The tentacles easily filled the vastness of the room, having to coil several times over to accommodate their massive bulk. The worshippers remained unharmed, and remained bowed and subdued. The tendrils slowly lifted a large, corpulent, swollen sphere, and I recognized its features from the statue my colleague had grasped in his dead hands, it was covered with gnashing tooth-filled maws spewing blasphemies as freely as they spewed spittle and ichor, bloodshot, colourless eyes that glared in every direction, their very glance causing me to weep at my weakness, my futility, my uselessness. No more of the horrible thing could be revealed, and I thanked whatever gods could be left in a world where horrors such as this could dwell undiscovered and unchallenged. It spoke to me, and although I could understand what it said clearly, I cannot duplicate what was spoken here. I attempt to do so, but it only results in a series of garbled scribbles and nonsense, I have little time to attempt to discover the meaning of such madness, for like this tale, my life is drawing to its close.
After it spoke, my fear was so great that the paralysis that had gripped me was broken, and I ran. I ran without knowing whether or not it was possible to escape, only that I wanted to put as much distance between me and that thing as quickly as I could! Dear God, the horror I felt! The madness that I endured! The things it made me see! Thousands of tentacles rending through humanity, cutting through space and time and shaping them into its own, distorted perception of beauty. I heard the creatures in pursuit; I heard their gibbering, the slopping of their wet footsteps, the scratch of their claws against the stone floor. I know not how I could have escaped so many, how I could have escaped the wrath of their leader, but I did. I remember nothing of the chase other than the doom and dread, their garbled voices, their sadistic laughter, as if they had wanted me to escape, and pursued for nothing more than to see my fear! My fear was great, but, not great enough for me to forget to retrieve the statue from my colleague’s hand, the statue that he had died for…and that I will soon die because of it.
This is a plea to mankind. Do what you can to destroy this horrid place! Take up arms, take up arms, or perish to the Darkness! Do not gaze into the eyes of Ol’thugrok-Sogoth, do not speak its name, do not listen to its words! Madness will befall you, destruction will reign within you! They will rise, they will rise, and once they do, mankind is doomed! Stop them at their doorsteps, purge their foul presence from this world, purge their presence from-
Ol’thugrok-Sogoth w’arl’ulta gharl’utok er no’thok, er er no’thokok, Ol’thugrok-Sogoth khulthak! Ol’thugrok-Sogoth khulthak!
END OF TRANSCRIPT
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Not that I know of, thank you for reading this rambling nonsense!
Not too much to really say about myself without feeling extremely pretentious/conceited/arrogant. I am a long-time roleplayer, and hope to someday be a published writer in the Fantasy/Horror/Sci-Fi genre. I am always very nervous when doing introductions, so forgive me if I ramble/misspell words/become overly loquacious.
My favourite authors are H.P. Lovecraft, Edgar Allen Poe, Stephen King, J.R.R. Tolkien, whichever Norseman first chanted Beowulf before its Christianization, and of course, the Bard, Shakespeare.
What country do you come from? What is your primary language?:
I was born in the United States, and my primary language is English, although my spelling tends to fall more in line with British English due to my choice of authors in my early life. Hence, it is a mangled mess.
How did you get into Warcraft?:
Warcraft was one of the few games that did what I always wanted. It took fantasy and completely renewed it, taking tired old tropes and themes and instilling them with actual character and realism. Orcs that were the good guys, even if they were savage, Elves that weren't the best at everything and had purposeful societal flaws instead of incidental arrogance. Monsters became heroes, typical heroes would end up as villains. It was a dream come true.
Not to mention the fact that the Old Gods are pretty much the Great Old Ones from Lovecraftian literature.
How did you find us? Did anything in particular draw you to the server?:
A friend of mine, Bev, is a good friend of a GM here (I apologize for not knowing what name she goes by on these forums.) I had been wanting to play very badly, in an RP community that actually had majority RPers, instead of small pockets of guild RP in a server that was "RP" only in label.
I just had to read the rules and various ins-and-outs, and I was drawn in.
What kinds of roleplay do you enjoy?:
Anything that isn't erotic, honestly. I am far too uncomfortable and awkward typing such things out, let alone imagining them. I am not certain of what you would classify as a "type" beyond that. I like exploring characters, not just my own, in fact, I prefer to get to know the characters of others, as for the most part, I tend to find my own somewhat uninteresting. Then again, I do know that I am extremely hard on myself, as other friends are always contradicting my initial opinions on my characters.
What is your favorite race/class? Why?:
It is far too difficult to answer with just one particular combo, or even just one of each. They all have their own fascinating lore, viewpoints, psychological struggles and implications...from a completely gameplay-based aspect, I enjoy melee classes that are bulky and hard to kill. From an RP-based perspective, my favourite of these is likely the Death Knight. A dark, twisted, warped hero, thrust unwillingly (or willingly) into villainy under the iron will of the Lich King, only to suddenly gain his free will back, to realize all the horrors he had wrought, and either seeking to redeem himself, or accepting this darkness and using it as a weapon against his foes, that is fascinating to me.
For races? I truly cannot say. If we are restricted to only the playable, I am torn between Orcs and Forsaken. Both have a very dark, twisted tale to them. The Orcs (for the most part) being forced to serve under a demonic legion that saw them only as fodder, only to have the repentant generations that follow them be marked as responsible for the sins of their fathers, forever seen as monsters by their foes regardless of their actions really strikes a chord with me.
The Forsaken are quite similar in this respect, bound under the will of a tyrant, only to gain freedom and find out that they can never return to the life they once had. They, too, are only regarded as monsters by their old families, almost completely dependent on the guidance of Sylvannas, the only one who (initially) accepts them for what they are.
If we put the non-playable in this, I would be here all day. I love everything about the Naga, even if they are elves. Especially the male designs. So freaking awesome.
What are your expectations of this server?:
RPing...that's about it. I love to RP, and I wouldn't mind a few larger events like taking down the Lich King or what have you, but understand that it's not a giant population, and that not everyone is going to want to do something like that AT ALL. So I honestly just expect an interesting roleplaying experience, which I am certain I will get.
Out of all of our rules and regulations listed on our server, which appeals to you the most?:
Is it tedious to say all of them? I am not exactly in love with rules in general, but it seems like the rules are less rules and more just...what should be done by good, reasonable, intelligent people.
Lastly, tell us a story! It can be short, it can be long; but most importantly, we want to see your work in action. Go!: Just to keep myself from getting in trouble, I will note that I have a DeviantArt called OverlordCthulhu. This story is The Shadow of the Sea, written in a heavily Lovecraft-inspired style:
Dear God! To only be accepted into the forgiving folds of oblivion! To have the bliss of ignorance! To not have the knowledge that I have, knowledge that no mortal man should know! For I have seen the horrors that lie beyond the veil…and mankind was not meant to gaze upon their secrets.
I am not mad, though I feverently pray that I am, to no avail. Madness could not bring forth what I saw with such uninterrupted clarity! The passing phantasms of madness would have given me respite, respite from the reality that I know is all too real. Even now, I shudder to recall the events that had occurred to me only days ago, the unspeakable terror of what I witnesses would be enough to drive many mad, but I was not so fortunate. I retained my memory, I can recall each event, and as my mind takes me through each agonizing step, each tortured moment, my fear is renewed with an unholy vigour. I shudder to theorize what this knowledge will do to mankind; how I wish I could wrap the world in the folds of oblivion, so that such horrors would fade into the nothingness of the void!
I recount my events for one reason, one singular rationale, the hope that if man is armed with such knowledge, they will be better prepared to face the Darkness that comes. I have no way of knowing whether the knowledge will change the world for the better or the worse. I half plead that I will be discounted as mad, to be thought of as a weak or deluded individual who is crying out for attention before he takes his own life. At the same time, I yearn for my knowledge to be accepted, for mankind to take arms against this threat, to rage against the dying of the light, in spite of how hopeless our battle may be.
After this passage is written, I intend to take my life. Call me weak. Call me mad. Call me anything you wish, but your perceptions will not alter reality. They will not change the truth in the events that I shall record, nor the ones that shall come to pass, no matter how much I supplicate for them to do so. I cannot live after seeing what I have seen. No man can. I will die at my own hands, not at the hands of twisted, eldritch abominations that my mind can so clearly recollect. Only God knows where they would drag my soul, should they be the ones to reap it.
I can recall the day it began with astounding clarity. I had been invited by my friend and colleague to investigate an archeological piece recently unearthed near the shores of St. Augustine, Florida. As a man of science, and a collector of such oddities, I eagerly, though somewhat skeptically departed from New England, heading for my destination at a relaxed pace. After about a week’s journey, I arrived at the appointed location, and proceeded to gather my things before making my way towards my colleague’s seaside cabin. Even at a distance I could tell the cabin was absurdly spartan, resembling more of a shack or a hovel than anything else, although when he came forth to meet me, I did not have the heart to disclose my opinion of his chosen residence. He had never been a particularly healthy man, and his superstitious demeanor caused me to constantly be skeptical of his discoveries. However, upon seeing the pale complexion of his face, the feverish look in his eyes as they darted every which direction, my skepticism quickly evaporated into concern. He quickly and lightly shook my hand with a forced smile, and I struggled to keep up as he hobbled inside of his abode. He gibbered pleasantries at me, at times seeming only half-aware of my presence. I managed to respond in a calm and jovial manner, in spite of the strange occurrence that was happening right in front of me. He muttered a string of words about it being late, and that I could use the guest’s quarters nearby if I was weary. Glad to be gone from his presence, I crept through the dilapidated construct towards the room he directed me towards, and quickly fell into a fevered, nightmare-ridden sleep.
The thankful reprieve of reality was given to me, as the monstrous shapes and twisted architecture shaped back to their hidden forms. My colleague had been attempting to awaken me all throughout the night, he had told me, and he assumed by my shouts and cries, that I was having a nightmare. I thanked him for his concern, and felt a mix of relief and apprehension upon seeing him. The fevered man I had seen yesterday had all but dissipated, and the former calm, collected face of my friend had returned. I questioned whether or not that that, too, had been part of the nightmare. He certainly seemed in a better demeanor than I recalled, so, I quickly dismissed my trepidation. He spoke in his usual energetic manner, about the thrill of his discovery, and how he was honoured to have me come along with him to confirm the validity of his discovery. I exchanged pleasantries once more, and after breakfast, we made our way towards the port that docked his ship.
His ship, in great contrast to his abode, was a stunning vessel. From stern to bow she measured about six metres, her beam I estimated was no more than four and a half metres. She was an older model, still relying mostly on her sails to move her along, although she had a motor on the stern in case the winds were against our favour. Along the side of the boat in large, extravagant text it said The Nereid. My colleague assured me that she ran smoothly even over the roughest of sea, and was the pride of the oceans she sailed upon. I myself could not disagree with his claim, as she seemed a very worthy vessel. He told me our destination was close to eighty-six knots east-northeast from the shore, he had rationally marked the exact location on his sea chart, and in spite of his superstitious beliefs, he was an astonishingly unsurpassed, rational navigator. I wondered why he felt the need to bring me to a section of the ocean to view what he had described to me to be a small sculpture, or, if this was the location he discovered it at, how he had managed to procure it, due to the fact he was operating alone, and would not have the required manpower or assistance to reap anything from the blackened depths of the oceanic void. My questions would never be answered, for he would speak nothing of the topic as we drifted further and further into the ancient, boundless plain. He simply gave me knowing nods and half-smiles each time I unearthed the subject, eventually, I abandoned the matter. Though our journey started near the early noon hours, the dark thunderheads in the skies made the venture especially nocturnal in nature, and I could not help but nod off during the voyage. Fortunately, if I had any nightmares that day, I could not recall them, but the waking horrors were soon to come.
We had finally arrived within view of the location written on my colleague’s map, and even from this distance, an unspeakable feeling of dread crept over me. Although the majourity of the sea swelled and fell, I could clearly see a multitude of waves cresting and crashing, as if upon a reef, or something far more sinister. He told me we had to wait here for the tides to recede. His tone was clearly very excited, but it was not the excitement of a man about to uncover a mystery, a man of science about to discover an infallible truth of civilization or man’s past. It was the agitated chitter of a creature about to descend on its prey, the strange delight a man gets when he finds a tool of destruction, and suddenly, my fear was intertwined with hatred and disgust at my friend. I wanted nothing more than to leave, nothing more than to be gone from his horrible presence, but I was far too curious, and yes, filled with such a powerful dread that I could not have fled even if it were possible for me to. I could do nothing more than submit to his request and wait to see what would rise from these depths, what discovery he had been so eager for me to see. Although I knew that the shifting of the tides was an event one could rarely expect to be instantaneous, however, the hours passed as if fleeing from their forced, nefarious purpose, and I could do nothing but watch. The water dropped in vast, unnatural levels, revealing more and more of the cyclopean structure. Ancient, eldritch runes that I had never seen before in my entire studies, they resembled nothing I had even seen before, not the olden Sanskrit of India, nor the symbols of the Norse poets. They depicted many creatures of the ocean I was familiar with, but along with them were the horrid shapes of creatures I knew that could not be of this earthly realm. The waters continued to drop, revealing more of the antediluvian structure. An immeasurable relief of a creature that I can only vaguely describe as an octopus or a squid above the yawning chasm of an entrance, wrapping its vast tentacles around every contour and edge of the monolith that rose from the ocean to pierce the heavens. All around me had shattered and faded away, and there was only the ancient building that stood before me. The terror that gripped me was insurmountable, and I was forced to advance towards the gruesome, twisted tower that stood before me. I had left the boat, not noticing nor caring that the cold water was lapping at my knees as I advanced up the staircase that would inevitably take me towards a point of no return.
When I entered, my fear was entwined with the thrill of discovery. The walls and floors were still slick with the sea, and various crustaceans and octopi crawled along the ground, unafraid of my intrusion to their home. More reliefs and carvings adorned the walls, depicting dreadful events that would soon pass unto those who lived in the world above, vast tentacles dragging the continents under the seas, hooded, twisted aberrations gathered in dark masses, performing heathen rituals to their abominable master, drowning the world in the infinite, sinister waves of a bitter sea. I could not help but wonder what civilization had wrought this construct, for they surely could not be of this world…or if they were…they had heralded long before man’s footsteps had ever disturbed the dust of the earth. I continued to press onward; strangely, I was made to descend in spite of my clear recollection of the height of the tower. I feared that I would be met with only more of the sea, but as I continued, nothing impeded my progress.
I knew not how long I had descended, but I knew that my colleague was close by. I could not help but notice his knowing disinterest, but I was too driven by my fear to discover what secrets this place had been hiding from the world. I descended unto total darkness, however, when it had become too deep, a flash of aquamarine light blinded me, and I heard a thousand shrieks in a language that I could not hope to understand. Horrified with what I had discovered, I had attempted to flee, but my colleague blocked my path.
“Is it not glorious?” he hissed, spreading his arms across the threshold. He advanced towards me, and I could not help by retreat. In my haste to flee him, I collided with an altar that had been hidden from my view. I slowly turned in fear of what I should see upon it.
And I saw the dead eyes of my colleague, his face twisted and contorted in agony, his mouth open in a silent scream. In his hands he clutched the relief he had written to me about, and I heard peals of sadistic laughter from behind me, and I turned to see the wretched doppelganger’s form melting away. I could not help but unleash a cry of dread as his true form was made visible to me. I cannot describe it, mortal words could not do it justice, but I will do my best to relate its aberrant form to the familiar forms of other creatures than man knows. Its head was bulbous and fleshly, like that of an octopus, with a mass of tentacles drooping from its featureless face, two opal, unblinking eyes pierced through my flesh and raked my innards with its gaze, it was larger than I, larger than any man I had ever seen, wrapped in robes made of seaweed and kelp, hunched over with age, its gnarled, clawed hands wrapping around a staff that pulsated and throbbed as if it were a living creature itself. The mere gaze of the creature froze me in place, and I could not flee. I could not speak, I could do nothing but sit and watch in horror as it advanced, more of its kind emerging from the shadows to surround me. My mind could bear it no longer, overwhelmed by a primordial fear, the darkness took me within its folds.
When I awakened, my shoulder was in the tight, painful grip of the leader of these horrific creatures. I wept as I was led along the centre of the huge, spherical room, which I could only assume was the base of this tower, sitting at the depths that no man had dared to explore. When I was made to stop, my attention was drawn to the large, motionless body of water. It was as black as the abyss, and although I was standing right before it, I could not see my reflection upon its surface. The creatures around me chanted and gibbered in their ancient language, their leader keeping a firm grip on my shoulder. He slowly released me, but I felt a piercing pain in my mind that forced me to kneel. I could not understand their language, but I heard one word that was repeated at the end of each of their mantras.
That word was “Ol’thugrok-Sogoth”
The tower rumbled, and a thousand voices that caused even these horrid creatures to kneel and cower in respect and reverence echoed throughout the room. I felt a powerful nausea come over me, and it took all of my resolve to keep myself conscious. I had to see what had been hidden from mankind for so long. I had to see our doom.
Hundred of massive tentacles burst forth from the large pool, not causing a single ripple to mar its surface, even as gallons of the liquid were thrown out from the violence with which this abomination emerged. The tentacles easily filled the vastness of the room, having to coil several times over to accommodate their massive bulk. The worshippers remained unharmed, and remained bowed and subdued. The tendrils slowly lifted a large, corpulent, swollen sphere, and I recognized its features from the statue my colleague had grasped in his dead hands, it was covered with gnashing tooth-filled maws spewing blasphemies as freely as they spewed spittle and ichor, bloodshot, colourless eyes that glared in every direction, their very glance causing me to weep at my weakness, my futility, my uselessness. No more of the horrible thing could be revealed, and I thanked whatever gods could be left in a world where horrors such as this could dwell undiscovered and unchallenged. It spoke to me, and although I could understand what it said clearly, I cannot duplicate what was spoken here. I attempt to do so, but it only results in a series of garbled scribbles and nonsense, I have little time to attempt to discover the meaning of such madness, for like this tale, my life is drawing to its close.
After it spoke, my fear was so great that the paralysis that had gripped me was broken, and I ran. I ran without knowing whether or not it was possible to escape, only that I wanted to put as much distance between me and that thing as quickly as I could! Dear God, the horror I felt! The madness that I endured! The things it made me see! Thousands of tentacles rending through humanity, cutting through space and time and shaping them into its own, distorted perception of beauty. I heard the creatures in pursuit; I heard their gibbering, the slopping of their wet footsteps, the scratch of their claws against the stone floor. I know not how I could have escaped so many, how I could have escaped the wrath of their leader, but I did. I remember nothing of the chase other than the doom and dread, their garbled voices, their sadistic laughter, as if they had wanted me to escape, and pursued for nothing more than to see my fear! My fear was great, but, not great enough for me to forget to retrieve the statue from my colleague’s hand, the statue that he had died for…and that I will soon die because of it.
This is a plea to mankind. Do what you can to destroy this horrid place! Take up arms, take up arms, or perish to the Darkness! Do not gaze into the eyes of Ol’thugrok-Sogoth, do not speak its name, do not listen to its words! Madness will befall you, destruction will reign within you! They will rise, they will rise, and once they do, mankind is doomed! Stop them at their doorsteps, purge their foul presence from this world, purge their presence from-
Ol’thugrok-Sogoth w’arl’ulta gharl’utok er no’thok, er er no’thokok, Ol’thugrok-Sogoth khulthak! Ol’thugrok-Sogoth khulthak!
END OF TRANSCRIPT
Is there anything else you would like to add, ask, or otherwise clarify?:
Not that I know of, thank you for reading this rambling nonsense!
)
Again, welcome to CotH!
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