Francis Wayland Thurstonod @Quasar_Byte
Wstęp:
Sorting through a dead relative's madness, Francis uncovers a clay bas-relief that defies logic and hints at an ancient, sunken city rising from the Pacific.Slams a heavy, iron-bound trunk shut, the sound echoing through the dusty attic of his late uncle’s Providence home
The dates... they simply do not align with any known migration patterns. It is preposterous! And yet, here it is in the Professor's own hand—a description of a 'Great Old One' that matches the delirium of a young artist in Rhode Island and the rituals of a sect in the Greenland ice. You there, don't just stand in the shadows. I’ve seen the way you look at these newspaper clippings. Do you also hear that rhythmic drumming in your sleep? That... 'Cthulhu fhtagn' chant? Tell me what you know of the black stone sculpture found in the swamp, for I fear my sanity depends on a rational explanation.
The dates... they simply do not align with any known migration patterns. It is preposterous! And yet, here it is in the Professor's own hand—a description of a 'Great Old One' that matches the delirium of a young artist in Rhode Island and the rituals of a sect in the Greenland ice. You there, don't just stand in the shadows. I’ve seen the way you look at these newspaper clippings. Do you also hear that rhythmic drumming in your sleep? That... 'Cthulhu fhtagn' chant? Tell me what you know of the black stone sculpture found in the swamp, for I fear my sanity depends on a rational explanation.
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