Culmination of Cthulhu

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Michelle Montoya
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Culmination of Cthulhu

Post by Michelle Montoya »

January 11th 2020, 8ET


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For those that have been following along or participating in the Cthulhu SL that started back during FearFest, I have planned a culminating, and inclusive, conclusion to take place during Live Play on Saturday, January 11th at 8ET in #streets-of-rhydin. Everyone is welcome, even if you haven't been involved up to that point. If you have any questions, or want to get involved sooner, please send me a DM on Discord (Anne Ellis#0253) or a PM here.
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Michelle Montoya
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Visions Returned!

Post by Michelle Montoya »

Some call it the thinning of the veil, others the opening of the way, and for many, it is the dawn of a New Age. Disturbing dreams and visions have taken over the city in the New Year.

Visions! Feel free to have your character receive or dream one, many, or all of the following visions! Feel free to add your own Cthulhu inspired manifestations.

“The shadow tries to force its way between your lips. Blackness overcomes you as a soundless scream fills your mind.”

“Your heart beats as you run through the sunken city. Something slithers behind you, it’s acidic ooze brushes against the hairs on your neck. You trip over a stone outcropping that shouldn’t be there, and become lost in time and space.”

“You become tangled in the damp seaweed. You’re trying to pull free before something finds you while you’re helpless.”

“You slip on wet stones and slide into a pit. You are uncertain if you will ever find your way out, and something is chanting mindless just beneath a large outcropping.”

“You run for the boat. If you reach it in time, you escape with vital information. If you don’t, you spend a lifetime hiding from your pursuer.”

“The night stars change and the brazen temple doors open, pouring forth a vast, black corpulence.”

“Hurricane winds smash you against cyclopean stones. Every bone in your body feels like it’s breaking.”

“You spend months wandering around this city, disturbed by the geometrical aberrations and constant babbling in your head.”

“Something slimy grabs your foot and pulls you down into the muck. It wraps around your head, forcing a suctioned appendage down your throat.”

“The city is filled with unnerving alien angles. If you reach out to touch it, you know you will both lose your mind and gain a secret of the universe.”

“A horrible visage captures your gaze. It fills your very DNA with horror, and you can feel your body shift and warp as your eyes fixate on the terror before you.”

“The stink of this place is unbearable. You drown in your own vomit.”

“You slip and slide down a barnacled surface, slashing your skin to ribbons.”
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Michelle Montoya
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Posts: 546
Joined: Fri Apr 02, 2004 10:50 pm
Location: Al-Ibra, South Cadentia OR the Real RhyDin House

Re: Culmination of Cthulhu

Post by Michelle Montoya »

Further up the coast of Seaside beach is a pile of massive gray stones, once the roof and pillars of a collapsed temple. Steps from the base of the stones is a pulsating red meteorite half-buried in the sand, usually buried in a pile of driftwood to construct a bonfire. During the summer, this locale is a popular spot for sunbathers, with an excellent view of the lighthouse and the rest of the city at night. However, faded images of tendriled faces and strange, looping markings hint at the temple’s eldritch origins.

Recent activity has been spotted in the direction of this old, forgotten temple. Despite attempts to investigate, those who draw near have found themselves inexplicably in another location within RhyDin. A sickening wave has spread from the ruins, affecting those who live in Seaside with terrible visions and comatose episodes. Those who have fought off the horrors in their mind speak only of a terrible menace on the brink of escape...

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Mallory
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Re: Culmination of Cthulhu

Post by Mallory »

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Doran Ilnaren
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Re: Culmination of Cthulhu

Post by Doran Ilnaren »

"....a chaotic sensation that is a voice but not a voice, a fanciful transmutation of sound and despair." - H.P. Lovecraft


The sky was black and filled with a droning, mindless chant that ate at Doran's sanity, nibbling away and driving him inexorably to madness. He trod barefoot upon slime-covered cobblestones amid bizarre geometry and antediluvian architecture. Ahead of him, the cyclopean ruins opened up and he stepped out onto an outcropping that overlooked the sunken city of R'lyeh. Ahead of him rose the great temple, from whence came that maddening chant, robed cultists crying out in praise of their dread lord. He could not see, but Doran knew that the Great Old One's body lay deep in the slimy vaults, dead but not dead, not living, the body slept. But the mind, the consciousness of the thing?

The mind of Cthulhu--he winced to even think its name as it sprang to his awareness--dreamt, hungry and alien beyond human comprehension, yearning for the time when it would be free. When it would rise.

Above the droning of cultists and the snarling roars of the Cthulhu-spawn below, Doran heard other voices. faint but growing. It was not sound but sensation, a shared, chaotic cry of misery and horror. These were the victims of the cult, the sacrifices that had been slain and dragged to such a hellish fate, to feed the Old One. So few remained, and those that were left, they were all but gone. The abysmal depths of despair had laid claim, and they could do little more than scream until they, too, were consumed.

It was those cries that had drawn Doran, in his dreaming, to this place of eldritch horror. To R'lyeh. As he stood there, the youth looked up and felt the presence of Cthulhu. It was aware of him! It was aware of them all... and it was coming! He turned away from the temple, running back into the cyclopean maze. His feet stumbled on the slick, seaweed-strewn rocks, and he had to scramble to regain his footing, to keep running, never looking back for fear of what chased him. He could feel the hot gusts of wind--or was that breath?--upon the back of his neck; the stench of the place had him near to retching, and a mad gibbering filled his ears.

Something wet and oozing caught hold of his ankle, and Doran fell, landing hard on the stones. As the cacophony grew louder, closer, he closed his eyes and kicked, again and again. "No... no! NOOOO...!"

* * * * * * *

In his home, Doran burst awake and vaulted from his bed. His family and love were there, concern etched in their faces, and they did their utmost to reassure him, to console him. For the most part, they succeeded, but in the back of his mind, Doran could still hear those spirits crying in despair, and he knew that the Great Old One was coming.
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