The Dark Undersea
"There was once a man in Norway, who was a master of the pen and of the looking glass. And he had ventured often down the fjord, to look at the azure coast of his beloved home. He looked as the sun reflected on the waves. He had went down the fjord day and night, and wrote of what he saw. He had many times called the workers and spent his fortune to dig there. He was convinced something grand awaited him had he just dug low enough. And one day he hiked down the fjord, and came back neither by the night, and neither by the day.
When the townsfolk went to look for him, they found him encamped, staring at the sea in glee. He came back for supplies now only, ensnared completely by the sea. And one day, he neither came back for supply, and neither was present at his campsite. And he never came back again. The folks assumed, the sea which he had loved had claimed him in a storm. And the town wept for him, but as years went, and went, and he never came back, he had been forgotten.
And one day, he came back, not aged a day to an unfamiliar town. And he entered his old home, where only a widow after him remained, old and forgotten just as him. And she asked, why did he ever leave. He starred at her, as if pitying her, and then answered. 'I learned why the Britons, instead of coming to Denmark and Norway and Sweden, built their empire across the ocean.' He then went into his old room, in which his writing were kept, unheeding the calls of his once beloved. And he shut the door, and lit a flame."
When the townsfolk went to look for him, they found him encamped, staring at the sea in glee. He came back for supplies now only, ensnared completely by the sea. And one day, he neither came back for supply, and neither was present at his campsite. And he never came back again. The folks assumed, the sea which he had loved had claimed him in a storm. And the town wept for him, but as years went, and went, and he never came back, he had been forgotten.
And one day, he came back, not aged a day to an unfamiliar town. And he entered his old home, where only a widow after him remained, old and forgotten just as him. And she asked, why did he ever leave. He starred at her, as if pitying her, and then answered. 'I learned why the Britons, instead of coming to Denmark and Norway and Sweden, built their empire across the ocean.' He then went into his old room, in which his writing were kept, unheeding the calls of his once beloved. And he shut the door, and lit a flame."
Bremerhaven in the Hanseatic City of Bremen, German Confederation.
1857
- Allow me to give my forward condolences, dear Friend. -
- Ah thank you, thank you. Well, my imminent passing shouldn't be any cause for a dour mood, please take a seat so we can talk. -
The noble gestured to a pair of chairs made from leather next to a glass coffee table, this arrangement was overlooked by a large glass window in which was a stunning visage painted itself. It was of the stormy sea in the distance over grassy plains, which as if they were a sea themselves, undulated under the wind's touch.
- Very well, I can spare a minute. -
The traveller went over and sat down on one of the chairs, with the noble following closely. Before taking a seat, the noble poured a fine cognac to glasses which were already on the table.
- So, how come you know already? Was it by them? -
- No, no, I needed neither to sacrifice to the shadowed cleric or to annoit hearts for the cyst. -
The noble took a few sips from his glass, rather clearly delighting in keeping his friend in the dark.
- Hmm, if not by them..? -
- Perhaps my wife will be able to give you the answers? - The noble mused before turning around in his seat. - Bianca, if you could, I'd like you to meet someone. -
A woman dressed in clothes which obfuscated the proportions of the body, strode over. Her face was as pale as porcelain, with a neutral bend of lips, her nose small, and eyes large, although the eyelids were closed. There wasn't a single hair on her face aside from the eyelids and neatly made eyebrows. Her brown hair naturally fell down everywhere else, masking her ears and sides of head.
- This is my beloved Bianca. Ah, I could stare at her eyes for ages... -
The noble though made a gesture more akin to a seller presenting a new horse.
- Hmm, I see, I presume the Thran of Salamanca are in uproar? -
- I assure you friend, they have little more to talk about this, for I have already bonded her. -
- Then? By Gods, why do you must play this game? -
- Bianca, could you give me the goblet? -
The noble demanded. The woman without even a word of acknowledgment or change of expression handed the noble an ornate goblet, dotted with fine emeralds, which coupled with the stain glass of which it was made, gave it's inside and fabric close to it a deep green glow. The noble bent over it, and opened his mouth.
His throat began to violently move, as if something inside it moved, before an unhumanly gurgle came from it and into the goblet he began to vomit. Though it was neither food nor drink escaping his body, instead it was at first the body of a tear shaped arthropod, continued by about two meters of centipede-like body, ended by a tail of a spider. The main body sported scorpion like appendages, and on top the carapace a singular human eye.
- Joys of fatherhood? -
The traveller asked. To which the noble nodded.
- Joys of fatherhood, - He again turned to his wife. - Bianca, please take young Adelbert to a substitute bed, he should start getting used to it. -
The woman covered the goblet, in which Adelbert coiled, by her palm and outstretched fingers, before quietly walking away.
- Joys of fatherhood indeed. -
The noble looked as his wife exited the study.
- You have a son, then why do you need these? Do you even know to whom they are addressed? -
The traveller picked up a handful of letters which were laying on the table.
- By the High Ones, no, no, I don't, do I look like someone who wants all sorts of Faestunes attaching themselves to them? -
- That answers one question... -
- Ah, right. I presume you know how ichneumonids work? -
The traveller gave a silent nod.
- Some I will utilize likewise, someone needs to look after the building while Adalbert grows, and I am afraid my beloved Bianca would be overwhelmed. Some perhaps will become food to the Doggered ones, they must have fresh meat too from time to time. -
- You've planned out everything? -
- Quite so, I presume you won't stay to see it? Or for my passing at least? -
- No, I must be in three places at once, truth be told. I must just today string up Johansson, meet with Schmitt and Walecki, and give orders to Novodvornikov. I've loitered enough in fact. Fare well my friend, and have a good death. -
- I've made sure of it, did all the necessary sacrifices for the Maw. Safe journey to you my friend. -
The traveller stood up, and exited the scene. The noble remained, seated before the glass window, slowly sipping on his cognac. The port of Bremenhaven was busy, and his honored guests could start to arrive at any moment...
OOC:
If you made it this far, I must presume the above must have picked your interest in some capacity. I'd love to explain more, alas, what is a good Lovecraftian story without that wonderlust leading to inevitable doom. As such, I'm afraid you will need to find out all this by yourself.
Though I will not lie, the world, especially once you start to unveil it, is hostile, and your character can, and sometimes will, meet an unfortunate death. Many times sometimes. Perhaps you may even find yourself in a recursive loop of death. Such risks are natural to such pursuits.
Ah, but it seems you have some correspondence to answer to if you are interested further:
And if you are truly ready, seal it by reading: