Appledore

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!Welcome to the Game. You are <b>Edgar Cole</b>, an amateur genealogist tracing your family history. During your researches, you find a puzzling gap in your maternal lineage. Three or four generations appear to have been erased from history, but eventually your searches turn up an an old interment record from the 18th Century that leads you to the small seaside town of Appledore, Devon, in the Southwest of England. [[Start]]

<<run UIBar.destroy()>>\ <<set $ritual = random(1,3)>>\ <<set $fisherman to true>>\ <<set $needjournal to false>>\ <<set $journal to false>>\ <<set $grave to false>>\ <<set $pub to 0>>\ <<set $readbook to false>>\ <<set $seengrave to false>>\ <<set $decoded to false>>\ <<set $needcode to false>>\ <<set $explore to 0>>\ <<set $dagon to false>>\ <<set $family to false>>\ <<set $knowledge to false>>\ <<set $count to 0>>\ <<set $intown to false>>\ <<set $lifeboat to true>>\ <<set $needgrave to false>>\ <<set $needthings to false>>\ <<set $libvis to false>>\ <<set $inbag to 0>>\ <<set $exit to false>>\ <<set $stolen to false>>\ \ <<set $star to false>>\ <<set $vials to false>>\ <<set $incense to false>>\ <<set $tome to false>>\ \<<set $chalice to false>>\ <<set $seaweed to false>>\ <<set $salts to false>>\ <<set $shell to false>>\ \ <<if $ritual is 1>>\ <<set $star to true>>\ <<set $vials to true>>\ <<set $incense to true>>\ <<set $tome to true>>\ <<elseif $ritual is 2>>\ <<set $chalice to true>>\ <<set $seaweed to true>>\ <<set $salts to true>>\ <<set $shell to true>>\ <</if>>

! Appledore Quay Saturday, September 8th, 1984. You have travelled here by bus from Barnstaple, the closest railway connection to the outside world. The journey was long, with many stops in out-of-the-way villages with strange names. Apart from the driver - a surly untalkative individual - and a small stray dog who you suspect might have pissed on your shoe during the trip, you were the only passenger. Once the battered old vehicle comes to a shuddering halt, you descend the rusty step, glad to be away from the smell of mouldy seats, diesel oil and damp dog, and survey your surroundings as the bus heads off into the evening sunset. Although this small town looks picturesque on the surface, it feels to you like Appledore's core may be rotten, and like a maggot hiding beneath the rosy skin of its namesake fruit, a dark secret lurks beneath its charming facade. With a slam of its door and a loud cloudy fart of Diesel smoke, the Bus lurches away from the roadside. There won't be another one until this time tomorrow.... If there is a tomorrow... [[Look around]]

!Appledore Quay <<set $intown to false>> The salty breeze whips your hair as you stand on the Quayside, gazing at the bobbing fishing boats. Colourful cottages line the other side of the road, with narrow streets and mysterious alleys skulking between them. At the top of the hill stands a church, its unlit windows gazing over the town with a vacant stare. At the far end of the Quay is a seemingly abandoned lifeboat station, its greasy slipway reaching out to the waves as if to beckon unclean, eldritch things from the depths. <<if $fisherman is true>>\ An old fisherman with a weathered face and unsettlingly familiar features is sitting on a bench, smoking a pipe. Do you: [[Visit the town|Town]] or [[Talk to the Fisherman|Inquiry]]? <<elseif $fisherman is false>>\ An empty bench looks out to sea. [[Sit on the Bench|Bench]] [[Visit the Town|Town]] <<if $lifeboat is true>>\ <<linkreplace "Visit the Lifeboat Station">>\ The doors are firmly bolted shut, and padlocked.\ <<set $lifeboat to false>>\ <</linkreplace>>\ <</if>>\ <</if>>\

<center><h1><b>::The Call of the Deep Ones ::</b></h1>\ <h2>:: The Darkness Below Appledore ::</h2>\ <hr width=50%> An interactive story by Kit Spherix Inspired in part by bits of the Cthulhu Mythos [[Next|Intro]] </center>

!The Fisherman You approach the fisherman, and decide to inquire about your lineage. "Excuse me, sir," you say politely. "My name is Edgar Cole, and I'm tracing my family history. I've found out quite a lot, but on my mother's side there seems to be a gap in the records around the turn of the 19th century. Do you have any knowledge of the Cole family?" The fisherman's eyes are cold and hard, and his gaze seems to pierce through you. "Coles, eh?" he rasps. "Them was a hardy bunch, always close to the sea. Some 'ud say <i>too</i> close. But some things is best left undisturbed." Do you: [[Thank him and move on|Town]] or [[Ask what he means|Inquiry2]]?

!The Town <<set $explore to $explore + 1>>\ <<if $intown is true>>You are in <</if>>\ <<if $intown is false>>\ <<set $intown to true>>\ You cross the road, and enter one of the narrow alleys between the houses. It leads to <</if>>\ a steep, cobbled street, with some dusty shops; you see a dingy looking pub, an antique shop with cobwebbed windows, and a small library among them. Up at the top end of the street is the Church. <<if $explore is 1>>\ The stray dog you encountered on the bus wanders round the corner, and sits down outside the pub as if waiting for opening time. <<elseif $explore is 3>>\ The stray dog by the pub looks hopefully at you and wags its stump of a tail, but you have no scraps to give it. <<elseif $explore is 5>>\ The stray dog sitting outside the pub gives a little whine, and lifts a hopeful paw. <<elseif $explore is 7>>\ The stray dog has gone, but a steaming puddle by the boot scraper in the pub's doorway shows it wasn't long ago. <<elseif $explore is 10>>\ Some people in robes are hurrying down an alley opposite the pub. <</if>>\ <<if $stolen is false and $inbag gte 4>>\ A robed figure bumps against you, apologises, and hurries off. You realise then that you've been robbed - all the items you've collected are gone, and the townsfolk are probably going to use them in the ritual. You'll have to find out where they're going... <<set $stolen to true>>\ <</if>>\ Visit the [[Pub]], [[Library]], [[Antique Shop]], or [[Church]]? Or go back to the [[Quay|Look around]]

!The Fisherman Intrigued by the fisherman's cryptic response, you press for more. "Undisturbed? What do you mean?" The fisherman leans closer, his voice barely a whisper. "The sea holds secrets, Mr. Cole. <i>Dark </i>secrets. <i>Awful</i> secrets. Secrets what you'd never want to believe. <i>Secrets</i> what some families carries in their <i>blood</i>." <<set $needjournal to true>>\ <<if $journal is true>>\ He casts a final, unsettling glance at you and says, "Have a look in that there book you got" before rising and shuffling away into an alley. Over his shoulder, he mutters, "By the way, your shoes smell of dog piss." <<set $fisherman to false>>\ <</if>>\ [[Leave the Fisherman|Look around]]

!Library You enter the Library, and immediately see that this is no ordinary library. The books are all ancient, in strange languages, and appear to have occult connections. It's well kept though, there is no dust, and no smell of mould. It's quite dark, and the silence is unnerving. You can hear footsteps approaching you from among the shelves. [[Leave|Town]] or [[Stay|Library2]]?

!Antique Shop You enter the antique shop. It's dusty, and the air smells odd. Not mouldy, but something about the place puts you on edge. Browsing around, a collection of maritime oddities piques your curiosity. Amongst them, you spot \ <<if $star is true>>a five-pointed star made of coral, <</if>>\ <<if $chalice is true>>a chalice carved from a large whale's tooth, <</if>>\ a cracked ship's bell and an old cork life jacket. <<if $journal is false>>\ There is also a weathered old journal with the name "Demelza Cole" etched on its cracked and worn leather cover. <</if>>\ <<if $needjournal is true and $journal is false>>\ <<linkreplace "Buy the Journal?">>\ You buy the journal and put it in your pocket, hoping it holds clues about your family history.\ <<set $journal to true>>\ <</linkreplace>>\ <</if>>\ <<if $needthings is true and $star is true>>\ <<linkreplace "Buy the Star?">>\ You buy the Coral Star, it's curious but may be significant. You place it in your backpack.\ <<set $star to false>>\ <<set $inbag to $inbag + 1>>\ <</linkreplace>>\ <<elseif $needthings is true and $chalice is true>>\ <<linkreplace "Buy the Chalice?">>\ You buy the Chalice and put it in your backpack. You may need it for something.\ <<set $chalice to false>>\ <<set $inbag to $inbag + 1>>\ <</linkreplace>>\ <</if>>\ [[Leave the shop|Town]]

!Church You walk up the street, to the iron fence surrounding the Church. Through the railings, you can see the graveyard surrounding the building; there is a gate in the fence just to your left. [[Go in for a closer look|Graveyard]] or [[Return to the Town|Town]]

!The Bench You sit on the Bench. <<if $readbook is true>>\ The sound of the waves starts to make you feel drowsy. This probably isn't the best place to fall asleep! <<elseif $readbook is false>>\ <<if $decoded is false>>\ You remember what the Fisherman said to you, and you take the journal out of your pocket, and inspect it. It's written in a strange looking language, using symbols instead of letters. It doesn't make any sense. You decide you need help with this. <<set $needcode to true>>\ <<elseif $decoded is true>>\ Taking the journal out again, you compare the strange symbols in it with the document the Librarian gave you. Slowly you decode the journal, and it reveals a chilling account. Demelza Cole describes a secret society in Appledore known as the Worshipful Order of Dagon, that appear to revere monstrous entities from under the sea. They call them "The Deep Ones." A wave of dread washes over you; you're not sure what this means, and decide you'll need help finding out. <<set $dagon to true>>\ <<set $readbook to true>>\ <</if>>\ <</if>>\ [[Stand Up|Look around]]

!The Pub <<set $pub to $pub + 1>>\ This is a dark and dingy place. It smells of sour ale and tobacco. Some of the townspeople are in here, drinking. They must be some of the local fishermen by their appearance - that, or they have a serious fetish for oilskins and wellies. <<if $pub is 1>>\ They don't appear to be a friendly bunch, though; all conversation stops and they stare at you, a stranger among them, with blatant hostility. One spits on the floor, and you're sure you hear the word 'Grockle' muttered. <<elseif $pub is 2>>\ They all turn away from you, you hear muttered words like "bloody strangers" and "He'll get what's coming to him". <<elseif $pub is 3>>\ The hostility of the locals is obvious. One says, "Yer, you. We don't want the likes of you yer, poking yer nose in where it aren't wanted. Get out now, while you can." <</if>>\ <<if $fisherman is false and $pub gte 4>>\ Sitting on his own in the corner is the weathered old fisherman you met on the Quay. He sees you, winks, and gives a nasty chuckle into his almost empty glass. <<if $dagon is true>> [[Talk to the Fisherman again?|Pub2]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\ [[Leave the Pub|Town]]

!The Temple Emerging from the tunnel, you realise that you are in the abandoned Lifeboat Station, and it is apparent that it is not being used for saving lives at sea anymore. The bloody harvest moonlight filters in through gaps in the boarded-up windows, casting long skeletal shadows that writhe across the uneven floor. The stench of brine and decay assaults your nostrils, a thick fug that hangs heavy in the air. Cobwebs, thick as fisherman's nets, drape from the rotting rafters overhead. They sift the bony fingers of moonlight into an eerie, shimmering sheen that reveals the macabre tableau before you. In the center of the room, a crude altar has been fashioned from driftwood and barnacles. Upon it rests a misshapen statue, carved from what appears to be whalebone. Its cyclopean eye, bulging and milky white, stares sightlessly out at the room. [[Next|Boathouse2]]

!The Ritual "You will be our voice," the leader tells you. "You have the knowledge to help us, and we need your help, Mr Cole." He hands you a glass vial of sea water, telling you it was collected from the farthest reaches of the ocean during a storm, and invites you to join the throng. You take it, and with the ancient Journal of Demelza Cole in your other hand, you join the other townsfolk holding their offerings in the centre of the room. Some also have vials of seawater, but there is also a star carved from coral, some incense, and the leader holds an ancient manuscript. You recognise the pnakotic sigils on it, and realise that this is what you will have to read during the rite. [[Next|Banish2]]

!The Temple Flanking the altar are flickering torches, their flames casting grotesque shadows that dance on the surrounding walls. These walls, once painted a cheery seaside blue, are now a bilious green, disturbingly streaked with what could be either mildew, dried blood, or something worse. Strange symbols, their geometry alien and unsettling, are scrawled on the walls in a luminescent substance that seems to pulsate with the outlandish rhythms of an otherworldly heartbeat. The room is cluttered with the detritus of a dark devotion. Fish skeletons, picked clean by scavengers, lie scattered on the floor like offerings. A tarnished brass diving helmet rests on a crate in the corner, its lifeless glass eyes reflecting the flickering torchlight back at you with a cold, accusing stare. You come to understand, now, that this place is being used as a Temple by the Dagon worshippers. [[Next|Boathouse3]]

!Library This place is starting to freak you out. The sound of approaching footsteps is getting louder, and suddenly from behind a shelf of books the Librarian appears. She's an attractive lady with short dark hair, and she gives you a friendly greeting. <<if $libvis is true>>"Hello again."<</if>> <<if $libvis is false>>"I'm Amelia Evans, the Librarian here."<<set $libvis to true>><</if>>\ <<if $seengrave is false>>\ <<if $needcode is false>>\ [[Ask her about the Library|Library3]] <<elseif $needcode is true and $readbook is false>>\ [[Show her the Journal|Library3]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <<if $knowledge is true>>\ [[Ask her about the Old Ways|Library6]] <<elseif $seengrave is false and $readbook is true>>\ [[Ask her about your family history|Library5]] <<elseif $seengrave is true and $readbook is true>>\ [[Ask her about the family connection|Library4]] <</if>>\ [[Leave|Town]]

!Library <<if $needcode is false>>\ You ask her about the Library. "It's not so much a library," she says, "All the public books have long gone. All this is my personal collection, but sometimes people need my help with things. I'm a folklorist, you see, and I've been studying rural and coastal traditions and superstitions." You thank her, and [[leave|Town]]. <</if>>\ <<if $needcode is true>>\ "I'm Edgar Cole, and I'm tracing my family history," you say. "During my research, I came across this book. I wondered, with your knowledge of such things, if you could help me translate it?" You show her the Journal. She takes a look at the book, and says "Curious. It's been written in Pnakotic - that's a kind of hieroglyphic language. Certain peoples used such techniques to hide their secrets from prying eyes, years ago. I haven't seen anything like this in a long time." She hands you an old document, with symbols and English letters on it. "I'm rather busy at the moment," she tells you, "but I've been working on translating this, and it might help you work out the meaning yourself."\ <<set $decoded to true>>\ <<if $tome is true>>\ She hands you another ancient old tome - "Oh, and this other old book has some more pnakotic writing - you might find it interesting as well." <<set $tome to false>>\ <<set $inbag to $inbag + 1>>\ <</if>>\ You thank her, and [[leave|Town]]. <</if>>\

!Library "So," Amelia says, "You've seen the Anchor Grave, then. We're actually related - I'm an Evans, and so is Stafford, the old fisherman - He's my Grandfather, and his Grandmother married a Cole after her first husband was taken... I mean, after her husband died at sea. Her second child was Demelza, your ancestor. <<set $family to true>>\ Thanking her for the information, you [[leave|Town]].

!The Crypt Even the brooding church, a silhouette against the bruised twilight sky, can't contain the oppressive aura emanating from the crypt. Its entrance, separate from the main building, is a gaping maw carved into the base of the crumbling stone hillock upon which the church perches. A wrought iron gate, once locked shut to bar the way, is now twisted open by some unknowable force. Beyond the skeletal bars, a single, flickering torch casts an anemic glow, revealing a set of moss-slicked steps that plunge into the hungry darkness. Taking your lantern from your backpack, you light it, and tentatively enter the forbidding portal. [[Next|crypt2]]

!Graveyard <<if $inbag gte 4 or $ritual is 3>>\ <<if $knowledge is true and $seengrave is true and $family is true and $drogna is true and $stolen is true>>\ <<set $exit to true>>\ <</if>>\ <</if>>\ A sign tells you that this is the Church of St Mary and St Mungo. Clouds of midges hover over the mist-dampened grass. You are in the graveyard. There are many old weathered memorials and gravestones, some so faded they are illegible, and some so overgrown with tangled weeds that they almost seem forgotten. The brooding church appears to have two forbidding entrances; one into the main building itself, and the other appears to be stairs down into what is probably the crypt. [[Look at the Gravestones|Stones]], [[Enter the Crypt|Crypt]], [[Go into the Church|Chuurch]] or [[Return to Town|Town]]

!The Church You take a lantern from your backpack and, turning it on, push on the ancient oak door. Warped by decades of neglect, the door groans open on hinges that shriek like tormented souls. A tide of stale, fetid air rushes out, carrying with it the scent of decay and a nameless dread. The light of your lantern struggles to pierce the inky blackness beyond the threshold. Stepping inside, you find yourself in a vast, echoing chamber. Cobwebs, thick as shrouds, drape from the skeletal rafters, catching the faint light in an obscene dance. The pews, once polished and welcoming, are now mere husks, gnawed by time and shrouded in tattered remnants of faded hymnals. [[Next|chuurch2]]

!Library You ask Amelia about the history of your family name in the town. "It's always worth having a look around the graveyard, up by the church - some of the old stones are very interesting," she says. "But be careful, the ground is very unstable, and of course there are the local rumours that the place is haunted..." <<set $needgrave to true>> You thank her, not really believing the ghostly rumour, and prepare to see what else you can find around here. [[Leave|Town]]

!Graveyard You decide to have a closer look at the gravestones. A thin veil of sea mist clings stubbornly to this necropolis, as if the very souls of the departed cling to the weathered headstones and moss-coated obelisks. Age has rendered many of these monuments illegible, their inscriptions devoured by the relentless hunger of time. Others, choked by a labyrinth of weeds, surrender to oblivion, their names lost to the indifferent earth. <<if $needgrave is true and $seengrave is false>>\ One monument, though, is shaped like a ship's anchor, appears to be better tended, and it piques your interest. [[Look at the Anchor|Colestone]], [[Enter the Church|Chuurch]], [[Enter the Crypt|Crypt]] or [[Return to town|Town]] <<elseif $needgrave is false>>\ [[Enter the Church|Chuurch]], [[Enter the Crypt|Crypt]] or [[Return to town|Town]] <</if>>\

!The Ritual Henry, the leader of the gathered townspeople, approaches you. "You will be our voice," he tells you. "You have gathered the knowledge to help us, and we will have your help, Mr Cole, whether willingly or not." He hands you a glass vial of sea water, telling you it was collected from the farthest reaches of the ocean during a storm, and as the town's mayor hands Amelia a pearl necklace, he escorts you into the midst of the crowd of townsfolk holding their own offerings in the centre of the room. [[Next|Summon2]]

!The Temple The rotting wooden monstrosity that serves as a door - a grotesque parody of carpentry hewn from unmentionable old ships timbers - groans upon its rusted hinges, the terrible sound a blasphemy against silence itself. The air within, thick and stagnant as a dead man's breath, swallows the tortured shriek whole. The townsfolk, their faces pallid and eyes glazed with a dreadful anticipation, shuffle inwards like drunken puppets pulled by unseen strings. Here, in this charnel house of rotten wood and unholy atmosphere, a \ <<if $ritual is 1>>banishing <</if>>\ <<if $ritual is 2>>summoning <</if>>\ ritual or ceremony is about to take place. <<if $ritual is 1>>\ You realise that an attempt to banish Dagon and his Deep Ones is a perilous undertaking, a desperate gamble against entities that exist beyond human comprehension. This ritual is not for the faint of heart, for the wrong step could bring madness or worse. There is no escape, however, you will be made to take part. <</if>>\ <<if $ritual is 2>>\ Summoning Dagon and appeasing the Deep Ones is a dark pact, a twisted dance with entities that crave humanity's destruction. This ritual is best left unattempted, for the consequences are dire. You understand that these people are inviting madness and horror into their world, but you have no choice but to take part. <</if>>\ <<if $ritual is 3>>\ <</if>>\ <<if $ritual is 1>>[[Join the Ritual|Banish1]]<</if>>\ <<if $ritual is 2>>[[Join the Ritual|Summon1]]<</if>>\ <<if $ritual is 3>>[[Watch the Ritual|Botch1]]<</if>>\ or [[Run and Leave Town|Do a Runner]]?

!The Pub You approach the fisherman, saying "Hello again. Would you like another beer?" He nods, and as you go to the bar to get the beers in, the rest of the locals leave in a group as if they have an appointment to keep. It might be something to do with fishing, or could be something more sinister. [[Take the beers back to the table|Pub3]]

!The Pub You take the beers back to the table, and engage the fisherman in conversation. He's a lot friendlier this time! "I've found out quite a lot since we met on the Quay," you say. "I didn't get your name, though." "I'm Stafford Evans," he says. "I think you prob'ly met my granddaughter, 'Melia. She works in the Lib'ry. She knows a lot about the (he hesitates and looks around)... 'Old Ways' and things like that. Hidden things. Things what ought to <i>stay</i> hidden, if y'know what I mean. 'Lest, o'course, ye think ye can do zummat to help..." <<if $seengrave is true and $family is true>>\ "Maybe she's told you you're related to her. Well, boy, that makes me your Great Great Granduncle. Me grandma, Rosie, married a Cole, and that's where you descend from. I'm guessing you needs some help... Well, now we're <i>fam'ly</i>, I s'pose I ought to help ye. [[Ask him more|Pub4]] <</if>>\ [[Leave the Pub|Town]]

!The Pub "The 'old ways,' whispered in hushed tones and dreaded by those clinging to the light, were a forgotten pact with entities older than time. They spoke of mysterious rituals described in forbidden texts, sacrifices offered under alien constellations, and forbidden knowledge that promised power at the terrible price of sanity. It was a universe where humanity was but a speck, a plaything for slumbering gods whose slumber was a fragile thing, easily disturbed by the hubris of man delving into secrets best left buried" Stafford tells you in a quiet voice. "On the night of a harvest moon - like tonight - the townsfolk would give a sacrifice to ...something, in return for good fishing. It hasn't been this way for many a long years, but now it's all starting over. In my opinion, it needs stopping, but I don't know how. Maybe Amelia can help... She knows about rituals and stuff." <<set $knowledge to true>>\ <<if $shell is true>>\ As he talks, you spot an ancient seashell on the windowsill. <<linkreplace"Take the shell?">>\ You take the shell when no-one is looking, and hastily stow it in your backpack. <<set $inbag to $inbag + 1>>\ <</linkreplace>>\ <</if>>\ [[Leave|Town]]

!Library You ask Amelia about the 'Old Ways'. "Ah," she says, "The old ways. Yes. I've collected a lot of information about the rituals and things... Certain objects are needed for them, and if we remove these things from their places, it might stop the ritual." <<set $needthings to true>>\ "Stop the ritual?" you ask. "Yes - Tonight is a Harvest moon, so the townsfolk will be off to their hidden temple to perform a sacrifice or whatever they're planning tonight. Try not to get involved, or you might end up being the sacrifice." <<set $drogna to true>>\ [[Leave|Town]]

!The Temple As your eyes adjust to the gloom, you discern movement in the shadows at the back of the boathouse. Something, low to the ground and glistening with an unnatural sheen, scuttles behind a pile of overturned lobster cages. The fetid smell intensifies, a sickly sweet cloy that makes your stomach churn. A sound, like dripping water but deeper, more rhythmic, echoes from somewhere in the unseen shadows beyond the cages. You are not alone in this place. Something watches you from the darkness, something hungry and alien, and it hungers for more than just worship. [[Next|Temple]]

!The Ritual Henry, the leader, approaches you. "You will be our voice," he tells you. "You have gathered the knowledge to help us, and we will have your help, Mr Cole, whether willingly or not." He hands you a stick of chalk, and as the town's mayor hands Amelia a pearl necklace, he escorts you into the midst of the crowd of townsfolk holding their own offerings in the centre of the room. [[Next|Botch2]]

!The Ritual Sweat slicks your palms as you chant the final lines of the ritual. The air crackles with eldritch energy, the fetid stench of the Deep Ones intensifying. A guttural shriek erupts from the shadows, the statue of Dagon vibrating with a malevolent light. [[Next|br1.2]]

!The Ritual The wind howls like a banshee, whipping salty spray against your face. The rickety boathouse, once a haven from the storm, now trembles under the onslaught of Dagon's fury. The offering, a priceless, pearl-encrusted compass rumored to have belonged to a legendary pirate, lies cracked and useless on the floor. The chanting, once a desperate plea, sputters out on parched lips. [[Next|br2.2]]

!The Ritual The chanting reaches a fever pitch, the words blurring on your tongue. The air in the boathouse crackles, a sickly green luminescence emanates from the makeshift altar. Across from me, Stafford, the weathered fisherman, sways erratically. His eyes, once a clear blue, are now clouded and yellow. Suddenly, Stafford shrieks, a sound that tears through the night like a banshee's wail. He spasms violently, his body contorting in ways human anatomy shouldn't allow. The chant dies in your throat,to be replaced by a primal scream of terror. [[Next|br3.2]]

!The Ritual Relief washes over you as the final syllable of the chant leaves your lips. The fetid air in the boathouse seems to clear slightly, the oppressive feeling lifting. Had we done it? Had we actually driven back the Deep Ones? [[Next|br4.2]]

!The Ritual The chanting falters, replaced by a choked gasp as Amelia crumples to the floor. The air crackles with an unnatural energy, the stench of brine intensifying. Your heart hammers against your ribs as the remains of the sigil on the floor writhe with a malevolent light. [[Next|br5.2]]

!The Ritual A cold sweat slicks your palms as you utter the final incantation. The air crackles with a malevolent energy, and the makeshift altar groans ominously. Silence. Has it worked? [[Next|br6.2]]

!The Ritual Relief, thick and syrupy, fills your mouth as the final words of the chant sputter from your lips. Silence. No earth-shattering roars, no monstrous tentacles tearing through the boathouse. You've done it. Dagon and the Deep Ones are banished. [[Next|bd1.2]]

!The Ritual The chanting reaches a crescendo, the words from the ancient manuscript resonating in the very stones of the boathouse temple. A blinding light eruptes from the sigil drawn on the floor, momentarily banishing the stench of brine and the oppressive silence that had clung to the town for weeks. The light fades, revealing a swirling mist above the altar, and a collective gasp escapes everyone's lips. [[Next|bd2.2]]

!The Ritual Relief washes over you as the final syllable of the chant passes your lips. The air in the boathouse temple crackles and settles, the oppressive feeling lifting. Had you done it? Had you actually driven back the Deep Ones? Exhausted but exhilarated, you turn to Amelia, the librarian - and your distant relative - who'd acted as the conduit of power for the ritual. A wide smile stretches across her face. "We did it!" she exclaimes, her voice trembling with a mixture of relief and awe. [[Next|bd3.2]]

!The Ritual The final words of the chant rip forth from your throat with a jagged tearing, leaving your voice raw. Silence. No earth-shattering tremor, no monstrous form erupting from the depths. Disbelief turns to cautious hope. Has it worked? Could it be possible, against all the odds stacked against you? Amelia, pale and trembling, stirs beside you. "Did we...did we do it?" she rasps. [[Next|bd4.2]]

!The Ritual Relief washes over you like a tidal wave. The chanting has ended, the air hangs heavy but free of the oppressive presence of Dagon. You've done it. You've actually driven back the Deep Ones. A shaky laugh bubbles up from your throat. You are alive! Amelia, the librarian, your relative - and Stafford's Granddaughter - who had bravely offered herself as the conduit of power, sinks to the floor, tears streaming down her face. "We did it," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. [[Next|bd5.2]]

!The Ritual The final incantation rips from your lips, a desperate plea echoing in the cavernous boathouse. Silence. Now, a sound like tortured metal groaning fills the air. The makeshift altar pulses with an unnatural light, the stench of brine thickening. A figure emerges from the swirling mist - not the monstrous Dagon from the legends, but something far more unsettling. Tall and slender, it resembles a Deep One, yet differes in crucial ways. Its skin shimmers with an unsettling bioluminescence, and its eyes glow with an intelligence far too keen. Beside it materialises another, then another, until a circle of these alien beings surrounds you all. [[Next|bd6.2]]

!The Ritual The last echoes of the chant hang heavy in the air, only to be replaced by an unsettling silence. You held our breath, bracing for the earth-shattering roar, the monstrous form erupting from the depths. But nothing happenes. Minutes tick by, agonizingly slow. Then, a low growl rumbles through the floorboards, vibrating through your very bones. Your relief battles with unease. The silence is broken, but not in the way you've anticipated. Have you failed entirely? Or worse, have you angered Dagon by your attempt? [[Next|sd1.2]]

!The Ritual The chanting reaches a crescendo, the words vibrating through the floorboards of the boathouse. A blinding light erupts from the sigil drawn on the floor, momentarily drowning out the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. When the light fades, a colossal figure materialises in the center of the chamber. [[Next|sd2.2]]

!The Ritual The final guttural syllable rips from your tortured throat, echoing in the cavernous boathouse. <i>Silence</i>. Has it worked? The air remains thick with the stench of brine, the oppressive feeling hanging heavy. Sarah, pale and trembling, mirrors your trepidation. [[Next|sd3.2]]

!The Ritual The final syllable of the chant dies in your throat, leaving an unsettling silence in its wake. Have you contacted Dagon, or have you merely angered him further? The air thickens with the stench of brine, and a sense of dread coils in your gut. [[Next|sd4.2]]

!The Ritual The final words of the chant hang heavy in the air, to be replaced by an eerie quiet. Have you succeeded? A collective breath catches in your throats as the makeshift altar pulses with an unnatural light, the stench of brine thick and cloying. Then, a chuckle echoes through the boathouse – not the earth-shattering roar you anticipate, but a low, almost amused, dirty sound. Smoke swirls around the altar, coalescing into a figure cloaked in shimmering seaweed, its face obscured by a crown of barnacles. It is unlike any Deep One the forbidden texts describe. [[Next|sd5.2]]

!The Ritual The final, guttural chant rips from your throat, echoing in the cavernous boathouse. Silence. Then, a pressure builds in the air, the very room seeming to buckle under an unseen weight. The flickering torchlight distorts as a colossal shape materialises from the churning vortex above the altar. [[Next|sd6.2]]

! You make a run for it. Panic gnaws at you like a starving rat. The chanting from the boathouse echoes across the water, a chilling counterpoint to the rhythmic crash of waves against the pier. Your heart pounds in your chest, like a trapped bird desperate to escape. You'd heard the whispers - the fear simmering beneath the surface of everyday life in this small coastal town. Dagon, the ancient Deep One, is stirring, and a desperate ritual is the only thing keeping the monstrous entity at bay. But your mind is made up - you won't be a pawn in their fateful game. A sense of self-preservation takes you over. Grabbing your meagre pack of supplies, you steal away under the cover of night. The harvest moon, leering like a ghastly bloodshot eyeball in the sky, casts long, skeletal shadows, fueling your fear. Every rustle of leaves, every cry of a startled seabird sounds like pursuit. [[Next|lt2]]

! You make a run for it. Just past the last flickering streetlight, a hand clamps over your mouth, stifling your scream. Through the haze of terror, you recognise Stafford, the old fisherman. His normally impassive face is etched with worry. "Don't be a fool, Cole," he rasps, his voice tight. "Dagon won't differentiate between believers and unbelievers if he's unleashed." His words wash over you, the truth sounding bitter to your ears. Your plan, fueled by naive bravado, has crumbled. [[Next|lt3]]

!You make a run for it. "There has to be another way," you plead, desperation cracking your voice. Stafford shakes his head, a single tear tracing a path down his weathered cheek. "There isn't. The ritual is our only hope. But…" he pauses, his eyes searching yours. "There's an old legend. A hidden cave at the mouth of the bay, said to be protected by a powerful magic. A last refuge, if the ritual fails." Hope flickers within you, a fragile flame in the darkness. "Where?" He gives you a cryptic description, a series of landmarks only a lifelong resident would recognize. "It's dangerous," he warns. "But it might be your only chance." With a heavy heart, you leave him behind, the rhythmic chanting a constant reminder of the threat looming over the town. The journey is a nightmare – treacherous cliffs, howling winds, and the omnipresent fear of unseen eyes watching from the churning water. [[Next|lt4]]

!You make a run for it. Finally, after hours of struggle, you find the cave. It is barely visible, a dark maw hidden amongst jagged rocks. Taking a deep breath, you step inside. An eerie stillness greets you, broken only by the eerie dripping of unseen water. You navigate the cavernous space, hope dwindling with every turn. Then, you see it – an inscription carved into the wall, shimmering with an otherworldly glow. You reach out and touch it, and a wave of memories from elsewhere floods your mind – ancient wards, rituals of protection, a desperate plea for help from a long-forgotten civilization. Tears well in your eyes. You aren't alone. Others in the past had faced this same desperation, clung to this same fragile hope. Maybe, just maybe, this new found knowledge could be used to create a new defense, a different way to fight the coming darkness. [[Next|lt5]]

!You make a run for it. Leaving the cave, the first rays of dawn paints the sky in fiery hues. The boathouse remains silent, the chanting deafening by its absence. You wonder, has the desperate, last-minute ritual worked? Has Dagon and the Deep Ones been \ <<if $ritual is 1>>banished<</if>>\ <<if $ritual is 2>>summoned<</if>>\ ? Or has the ritual failed, condemning the town and all within to unknown horror? The town holds its breath, waiting for the answer. The air crackles with a tension thicker than sea fog. You know now that your journey has just begun. Whether we now face Dagon's wrath or a new, unforeseen threat, the fight for survival has just taken a new turn, armed with the knowledge of the past and the desperate hope for a future. [[End]]

!The Ritual "You have dared to summon us," the lead figure says, its voice a chorus of whispers that seem to originate from the very ocean itself. "A foolish act, mortals, but one that has piqued our curiosity." Terror coils in your gut, twisting your very soul. You haven't banished Dagon; you've summoned a different faction of Deep Ones. Amelia, pale and trembling, clutches an ancient seashell in her hand, her promised offering. "We meant you no disrespect," you stammer, your voice barely a croak. "We sought only to protect our town." The lead Deep One studies you, its otherworldly gaze seeming to pierce your very soul. "Protection comes at a price," it finally rasps. "A higher purpose." [[Next|bd6.3]]

!The Ritual It gestures towards a nearby window, revealing a horrifying sight. Gigantic, serpentine creatures, unlike any Deep One depicted in the forbidden texts, are thrashing in the churning water. They are monstrous, their forms a grotesque blend of leviathan and eel, their eyes burning with an insatiable hunger. "These are the true harbingers of oblivion," the lead Deep One proclaims. "They hunger for all life. We, the guardians of the deep, hold them at bay. But our power wanes. You, mortals, can offer us a lifeline." The proposition is chilling. You have been offered an alliance, not with benevolent protectors, but with another monstrous faction locked in an eternal struggle. An alliance where humans become pawns in a cosmic war for the fate of the world. [[Next|bd6.4]]

!The Ritual Amelia's voice, barely a whisper, breaks the silence. "What do you want from us?" The lead Deep One extends a glistening appendage, its touch cold and alien. "A bridge. A conduit between your world and ours. A constant flow of… sustenance… to fuel our fight." The weight of the decision presses down on you. Acceptance means a horrific pact, a slow surrender of our humanity to sustain these monstrous guardians. Refusal means facing the leviathans ourselves, a fight we are certain to lose. [[Next|bd6.5]]

!The Ritual The Deep Ones wait, their bioluminescent eyes gleaming with an unsettling patience. The fate of the town, perhaps even the world, hangs in the balance. The choice before you is a monstrous one, a dance with entities beyond human comprehension. In the flickering torchlight of the boathouse temple, you are forced to confront the horrifying truth you have unearthed – sometimes, the only way to fight monsters is to become one. [[End]]

!The Ritual A booming voice, deep and resonating, echoes through the boathouse temple. Not the guttural roar you feared, but a voice that holds a strange melody within its power. The flickering torchlight dances as a figure materialises from the shadows – a humanoid form cloaked in shimmering seaweed, its face obscured by a crown of barnacles. It is unlike any Deep One the forbidden texts had described. "You have dared to challenge the dominion of the Deep Ones," the figure booms, a low rumble vibrating the floorboards. "An act of audacity… and desperation." [[Next|bd5.3]]

!The Ritual Your heart hammers against your ribs; this isn't quite the victory you'd envisioned. The figure tilts its head, its eyes, pinpricks of bioluminescent light, seeming to pierce through you. "You offer a meager tribute – a necklace of trinkets that hold no value to us," it continues, its voice laced with amusement. "But your desperation… it intrigues me." The figure extends a hand, long and skeletal, adorned with glistening pearls. Amelia, trembling, holds out the offering - The Mayor's prized necklace. The pearls pulsed with a faint light as the figure grasped them, absorbing them into its seaweed cloak. [[Next|bd5.4]]

!The Ritual "Very well," the figure rumbles. "We shall offer a proposition. You appease us with regular offerings, sacrifices both grand and small. In return, we shall offer protection from a greater threat, one that stirs in the abyss beyond Dagon. A force that would consume all, were it permitted to do so." [[Next|bd5.5]]

!The Ritual The weight of the proposition settles on you like a leaden cloak. Was it a pact with the devil, or a desperate bargain for survival? The silence stretches out, heavy with anticipation. You have banished Dagon, but a new, more insidious threat has taken its place. You are no longer prey to the Deep Ones; you are their wardens, forever bound to appease a monstrous entity in exchange for a precarious protection from an even greater horror. The ocean holds its secrets close, and the price of disrupting its balance is a terrifying servitude. The future is uncertain, forever teetering on the edge of a knife. But for now, at least, the town is safe. [[End]]

!The Ritual And now, a guttural growl echoes through the boathouse temple with a deep bass resonance. Your feelings of relief evaporate, to be replaced by a bone-deep terror. But the sound isn't the monstrous roar you expected. It is lower, rawer, a sound that speaks of primal hunger and ancient rage. From the churning vortex that pulses above the altar, a single, grotesque tentacle emerges. But this isn't the sleek, glistening limb of Dagon that the texts describe. This is different. This is a deformed, crooked thing, covered in barnacles, writhing flagellae and razor-sharp spines, and pulsating with an unnatural luminescence. [[Next|bd4.3]]

!The Ritual Another malformed tentacle eruptes from the vortex, then another, and another. The air grows thick with a fetid stench, a suffocating miasma of decay. These aren't Deep Ones as you knew them from those ancient texts – these are twisted parodies, monstrous reflections fueled by the botched ritual. Panic seizes you. You haven't banished Dagon, you've opened a corrupted gateway - a festering wound in the fabric of reality. Amelia screames as one of the twisted tentacles lashes out, narrowly missing her. [[Next|bd4.4]]

!The Ritual Frantic, you scramble back, searching for anything that could help. Your eyes land on the ancient journal, lying open on the floor. With a desperate hope, you flip through it, searching for a counter-ritual, a way to seal the perverted gateway to unknown horror you've opened. But the pages are blank. No answer, no salvation. You are condemned. The boathouse temple groans as the gateway pulses, spewing forth an unending stream of these corrupted Deep Ones. They swarm towards you, their misshapen forms driven by a single, insatiable hunger. [[Next|bd4.5]]

!The Ritual There can be no escape, no glorious last stand. You will be devoured, another sacrifice to the unintended consequences of your arrogance. The ritual hasn't brought you victory – it has unleashed a nightmare beyond your wildest dreams, a tide of twisted creatures that will rise from the depths and consume everything in their path. [[End]]

!The Ritual Suddenly, a booming voice echoes through the chamber, not the guttural roar you'd anticipated, but a deep, resonating sound that seems to emanate from the very ocean itself. The air shimmers, and a colossal form materialises before you. It isn't Dagon, with its monstrous tentacles and cyclopean eye. This entity is different. It resembles a giant, glistening seashell, its surface swirling with an otherworldly light of indescribable colours. [[Next|bd3.3]]

!The Ritual "You have challenged the dominion of the Deep Ones," the booming voice reverberates. "An act of audacity, worthy of respect." The shell pulses softly, and tendrils of shimmering light reached out, wrapping around the last remaining vial of seawater as Amelia holds it aloft. "The veil is thin," the voice continues. "Dagon stirs, but others lurk beyond. You have shown courage, mortals. This offering, a token of your world, will serve as a warning. A beacon to those who would exploit the depths." The tendrils retract, taking the vial with them. The colossal shell pulses once more, then shimmers out of existence. A silence descends on the boathouse temple, broken only by your ragged breaths. [[Next|bd3.4]]

!The Ritual You have not banished the Deep Ones, not entirely. But you have achieved something far greater. You have established a fragile truce, a thin line in the sand drawn with a single vial of seawater. The future remains uncertain, but you are no longer simply prey. You have become guardians, to remain forever vigilant, forever aware of the horrors that lurk beneath the waves. And perhaps, just perhaps, your act of defiance has served as a warning, a message echoing through the depths that the surface world would not go down without a fight. [[End]]

!The Ritual The leader - You now know his name to be Henry - lights the incense, and lets its smoke fill the room. Henry holds the manuscript up so you, the medium of banishment, can read aloud a beseeching invocation of cleansing in the old language from beyond time. Even if you are successful, the boathouse will likely be left in ruins. You may be left shaken, possibly with lingering madness from peering into the abyss. You know that banishing Dagon may not be a permanent solution, merely a postponement of the inevitable - the Deep Ones may still seek a way back, and the memory of your defiance may anger Dagon further. The townspeople all begin to sway from side to side in a sickly rhythm as the power of the chant takes hold of their minds. [[Next|Banish3]]

!The Ritual Henry turns from you, and presents the sacrifice - a pearl necklace that belonged to the town mayor's grandmother - to the statue of Dagon. The ancient manuscript reveals that this necessary step is to distract Dagon's attention from the true purpose of the ritual, but the next step must be performed very quickly while the ancient deity's scrutiny is focused elsewhere. [[Next|Banish4]]

!The Ritual With surprising speed, an elderly man holding the coral star bends down, and draws a five-pointed star on the floor with it. You and four others place your vials of seawater on each point of the star, and then you place Demelza's journal and the ancient manuscript in the centre. You begin to intone the banishing chant, your voice rising in power and command as the star begins to glow with a shimmering, eldritch light. [[Next|Banish5]]

!The Ritual The rhythmic chanting gets louder, faster, louder, faster. As it reaches a crescendo, the disciples standing watch at the points of the glowing star smash the vials of seawater one by one, calling upon the power of the ocean depths to repel Dagon. With each vial shattered, the air crackles with eldritch energy. You all prepare yourselves for the final moment. [[Next|Banish6]]

!The Ritual You hold your hands aloft, silencing the chanting assembly. Henry smashes the statue of Dagon; a blinding flash of light sears your eyes, an earth-shattering crepitation deafens all present, and ever so slowly the echoes fade into silence, leaving only the disturbing afterimage of the glowing star and an ominous rushy whistling of tinnitus filling your ears. <<set _dest = random (1,6)>>\ <<if _dest is 1>>[[Next|bd1.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 2>>[[Next|bd2.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 3>>[[Next|bd3.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 4>>[[Next|bd4.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 5>>[[Next|bd5.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 6>>[[Next|bd6.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 7>>[[Next|sd1.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 8>>[[Next|sd2.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 9>>[[Next|sd3.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 10>>[[Next|sd4.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 11>>[[Next|sd5.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 12>>[[Next|sd6.1]]<</if>>\

!The Ritual Amelia comes to stand by your side; she has been chosen to act as the conduit of power. She clutches the mayor's pearl necklace in her shaking hand, a tribute to the Deep Ones. Henry takes some phosphorescent salts from an earthenware jar, and uses them to trace a strange sigil on the floor. The sigil, which resembles the tentacles of some strange leviathan from the depths, starts to glow with an unearthly light as the gathered townsfolk begin to chant in a strange, ancient sounding language and Stafford places some seaweed in the centre of the sigil. [[Next|Summon3]]

!The Ritual The chant increases in intensity, the people begin to sway to its unsettling rhythm as its power takes hold of their minds. Henry hands you a coral chalice, telling you, "Now". You pour the vial of seawater into the chalice and hold it aloft, intoning the name of Dagon, and then pour the water on the sigil. A loud hiss and clouds of vapour rise, and a swirling vortex forms above the crowd. The sigil begins to writhe with a sickly phosphorescent light, and a monstrous form begins to coalesce beneath the tumultuous swirling vortex. [[Next|Summon4]]

!The Ritual A deep bass rumble begins to insinuate at the egde of hearing, and the boathouse temple floor trembles, as if a distant earth tremor has shaken the ocean floor. The smell of the sea fills the room, and Amelia throws the pearl necklace into the swirling vortex of vapours, shouting "O Dagon, accept our offering and draw near". [[Next|Summon5]]

!The Ritual The rumbling and shaking intensify, among the noise and the tumult faint whispers can now be heard. The Deep Ones are gathering, and you feel your mind slip sideways as their influence pushes you to the very edge of madness. The chanting reaches a crescendo as the whole building shakes violently, people are staggering and falling, and Amelia grasps your arm for support. <<set _dest = random (1,6)>>\ <<if _dest is 1>>[[Next|bd1.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 2>>[[Next|bd2.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 3>>[[Next|bd3.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 4>>[[Next|bd4.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 5>>[[Next|bd5.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 6>>[[Next|bd6.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 7>>[[Next|sd1.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 8>>[[Next|sd2.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 9>>[[Next|sd3.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 10>>[[Next|sd4.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 11>>[[Next|sd5.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _dest is 12>>[[Next|sd6.1]]<</if>>\

!The Ritual Instead of the grotesque form of Dagon, a figure coalesces from the mist. Tall and slender, its form shimmeres with an ethereal light. Its voice, when it speaks, echoes with the sound of crashing waves and whispered secrets of the deep. "You have dared to challenge the dominion of the Deep Ones," the entity booms, its voice both powerful and strangely calming. "Your courage is noted, mortals." [[Next|bd2.3]]

!The Ritual Your terror gives way to cautious hope. This isn't the monstrous entity you expected. Perhaps there is a chance for reason, for negotiation. Amelia, chosen for her pure spirit, steps forward, the mayor's prized pearl necklace clutched in her hand. "We meant you no disrespect," she says, her voice trembling slightly. "We only seek to protect our town from the wrath of Dagon." [[Next|bd2.4]]

!The Ritual The entity studies the necklace, a flicker of amusement crossing its features. "Dagon is a force of nature, a harbinger of chaos. He cannot be truly banished, for he is as much a part of this world as the tides. But he can be contained." The mist swirls, revealing a vision of a colossal stone structure, its base anchored in the ocean depths, its peak piercing the clouds. "This is the Watchtower," the entity booms. "Maintain it, honor it, and it will serve as a ward against Dagon's fury." [[Next|bd2.5]]

!The Ritual With a final, echoing laugh, the entity dissipates. You are left with a daunting task and a flicker of hope. The Deep Ones haven't been vanquished, but a powerful guardian had been awakened. The future remaines uncertain, but you are no longer prey. We are now the watchtowers, forever vigilant against the chaos that lurks beneath the waves. [[End]]

!The Ritual Elated, you stumble towards Amelia, who lies unconscious on the floor. As you reach for her, a wave of nausea washes over you. The stench of brine, ever-present during the ritual, intensifies and is now laced with a metallic tang. Amelia moans and stirs. "Is it over?" her voice weakly rasps. "It's over," you confirm, helping her to her feet. But even as you do, you notice a flicker of movement in the corner of your eye. A single, bioluminescent scale, shimmering with an unnatural light, lies glistening on the floor. [[Next|bd1.3]]

!The Ritual Panic claws at your throat. You thought you'd banished Dagon, but a piece, a fragment, has remained. A cold dread settles in your stomach. Could this fragment be enough for Dagon to return? Or worse, would it fester and grow, a cancerous tumor within the very heart of the town? [[Next|bd1.4]]

!The Ritual Outside, the first rays of dawn paint the sky in soft hues of pink and orange. As you and Amelia emerge from the boathouse temple, the fresh sea air tastes like ashes in your mouth. The oppressive feeling that had hung over the town has gone, replaced by an unsettling emptiness. The townsfolk, those that have survived the ritual, gather around you, their faces etched with worry. They are eager for news, for reassurance. "We banished them," you declare, your voice hollow even to your own ears. [[Next|bd1.5]]

!The Ritual But as you look out at the calm, glistening surface of the ocean, the silence seems deafening. Have you truly won? Or has the banishing ritual simply bought the town some time, a fragile peace before the storm? A single, bioluminescent scale is a small price to pay for victory, but the weight of it feels heavy in your hand, a chilling reminder that the Dagon and the Deep Ones are never truly far away, especially in those places where the borders between worlds are thin. [[End]]

!The Ritual But panic begins to gnaw at the edges of the ritual. The air in the cramped boathouse hangs heavy with the stench of brine, and the desperate chanting of the townspeople becomes more frantic. You have been tasked with drawing the sigil on the floor – the key to summoning and binding Dagon – and you feel the weight of fear pressing down on you. The flickering torchlight casts grotesque shadows that dance across the hastily drawn symbols. Your hands tremble, the chalk slipping in your sweaty grasp. The ritual demands precision, but doubt is chipping your confidence away. Are you truly ready to unleash such a powerful entity, even to banish it? [[Next|Botch3]]

!The Ritual Across from you, Stafford clutches an ancient seashell, the supposed offering to appease Dagon. His face, usually ruddy and confident, is pale and drawn. He fumbles with the shell, his eyes darting nervously towards the churning vortex that has begun to form above the makeshift altar. Suddenly, Amelia lets out a shriek. "It's not a full moon!" she cries, her voice cracking. "We can't perform the ritual without a full moon!" [[Next|Botch4]]

!The Ritual A collective gasp ripples through the crowd. Henry, who'd supposedly unearthed the ritual from a dusty tome found in Amelia's collection, stammers, "But… but it said… any offering under the light of the moon…" The chanting falters, replaced by a tense silence. The vortex above the altar pulses ominously, a churning gateway threatening to unleash something far worse than Dagon's wrath. [[Next|Botch5]]

!The Ritual Fear turns to chaos. A burly fisherman lunges for Henry, accusing him of hiding the true nature of the ritual. A brawl erupts, spilling sacred powders and scattering the carefully arranged offerings. In the pandemonium, you trip, sending the chalk flying. The sigil, already imperfect, is now ruined, a grotesque parody of the symbol from the forbidden text. A deafening roar echoes through the boathouse as the vortex rips open wider, spewing forth a geyser of seawater that slams into the makeshift altar. [[Next|Botch6]]

!The Ritual Tension descends, heavy with dread. The townspeople huddle together, fear etched on their faces. Had they angered Dagon by their botched attempt? Or worse, had they inadvertently opened a gateway to something even more horrifying, something the ritual was never meant to summon? A single, glistening tentacle reaches down from the swirling vortex, dripping with an otherworldly luminescence. The townspeople watch, frozen in terror, as the future of the town hangs in the balance. <<set _botch = random (1,6)>>\ <<if _botch is 1>>[[Next|br1.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _botch is 2>>[[Next|br2.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _botch is 3>>[[Next|br3.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _botch is 4>>[[Next|br4.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _botch is 5>>[[Next|br5.1]]<</if>>\ <<if _botch is 6>>[[Next|br6.1]]<</if>>\

!The Ritual A single, glistening tentacle erupts from the churning vortex above the glowing sigil. But it isn't Dagon's. It is smaller, more delicate, its tip pulsing with an unnatural luminescence. Another tentacle followes, then another, until six of these smaller limbs writhe in the air. Terror turns to confusion. These aren't the monstrous Deep Ones of legend. These are… emissaries? A shiver runs down your spine. You haven't banished Dagon, you've opened a dialogue with something else. [[Next|sd1.3]]

!The Ritual A frail voice echoes through the chamber, emanating from athe swirling vortex above the sigil. "You have dared to try and summon the Deep Ones," it raspes, the voice like a chorus of whispers carried on the ocean breeze. "A foolish act, mortals, but one that has… intrigued us." The voice holds a strange curiosity, devoid of the expected rage or malice. You haven't appeased Dagon, but perhaps you have piqued the interest of a lesser entity, a messenger from the depths. [[Next|sd1.4]]

!The Ritual Amelia, pale but resolute, stepped forward, clutching the Mayor's necklace as an offering. "We mean you no disrespect," she says, her voice trembling slightly. "We seek only to protect our town." The whispers swirl around us, a tense silence settling over the boathouse temple. What would be the price of this unexpected audience with a denizen of the deep? Would they offer a bargain, or unleash a wrath even Dagon wouldn't dare to contemplate? [[Next|sd1.5]]

!The Ritual The future was uncertain, the silence deafening. But for the first time since the ritual began, the oppressive fear that had gripped the town for weeks began to lift. We hadn't achieved a complete victory, but we hadn't met the expected demise either. The encounter with the Deep Ones wasn't over, but it had taken a turn we never could have predicted. We had stumbled upon a fragile understanding, a tentative doorway to a world beyond human comprehension. The ocean's secrets remained veiled, but a single encounter had cracked open the door, leaving us forever changed. [[End]]

!The Ritual It isn't the monstrous Dagon from the forbidden texts, with its grotesque tentacles and cyclopean eye. This entity is far more majestic. Its form shimmers with an otherworldly light, its body composed of swirling currents and dancing bioluminescent creatures. A voice, like the deep rumble of a distant earthquake, echoes through the room. "You have dared to summon the guardians of the deep," the entity booms. "A bold act, mortals. Speak your purpose." [[Next|sd2.3]]

!The Ritual Relief washes over you. You haven't unleashed Dagon's wrath, but awakened a powerful protector. Amelia, chosen as the conduit of power for her pure spirit, clutches the mayor's prized pearl necklace, its gems shimmering in the entity's light. "We are a small town," she begins, her voice trembling slightly, "plagued by nightmares and whispers of the deep. We seek your protection, your guidance." [[Next|sd2.4]]

!The Ritual The entity studies the necklace for a moment, a flicker of amusement crossing its features. "The veil between worlds is thin," it rumbles. "Dagon stirs, but he is not the only threat lurking in the abyss. We offer knowledge, mortals, a chance to understand the forces that stir beneath the waves." With a gesture of its luminous form, a phantasmagoric projection of a map materialises in the air, depicting the ocean floor and trenches unseen by human eyes. Strange symbols pulse on the map, marking locations of power and potential danger. [[Next|sd2.5]]

!The Ritual "These are the watchtowers," the entity boomes. "Maintain them, honor them, and they will serve as beacons, warding off malevolent forces and keeping the balance of the deep." The knowledge floods your mind – ancient leviathans slumbering in the abyss, restless currents that could unleash tsunamis, forgotten ruins holding unimaginable power. The responsibility is daunting, but the alternative – facing the unknown alone – is far worse. [[Next|sd2.6]]

!The Ritual As the entity fades back into the swirling vortex, the translucent map shimmers and dissolves. Now you aren't just protected; you are entrusted with a vital role, guardians of the surface world, forever linked to the enigmatic beings of the deep. The future remains uncertain, but you are no longer prey. You are now partners, forever vigilant against the chaos that lurks beneath the waves. [[End]]

!The Ritual Then, a sound unlike anything you've ever heard fills the room. Not a monstrous roar, but a symphony - a chorus of clicks, whistles, and bioluminescent pulses that seems to vibrate through the very water itself. Light emanates from the churning vortex above the altar, coalescing into a magnificent display. Before you, shimmering and iridescent, swims a colossal whale. But this is no ordinary creature. Its skin is etched with intricate runes, its blowhole pulses with an otherworldly glow. It is a creature of legend, a guardian of the deep, and it has answered your call. [[Next|sd3.3]]

!The Ritual Relief washes over you, so sudden it almost knocks you to your knees. You haven't banished Dagon, but you have summoned a far more benevolent entity. Amelia, tears glistening in her eyes, steps forward, her hand outstretched. "We mean you no disrespect," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "We only seek to protect our town." [[Next|sd3.4]]

!The Ritual The whale's immense eye, shimmering with intelligence, locks with hers. A series of clicks and whistles fills the room, a language both terribly alien and yet strangely beautiful. A translucent image flickers into existence, depicting the coastline and a series of glowing points beneath the waves. As you watch, the whale's voice, translated into a language your human mind can comprehend, fills the chamber. "These are the ley lines," it booms, the sound resonating in your bones. "Maintain them, honor them, and they will serve as a ward against Dagon's influence." [[Next|sd3.5]]

!The Ritual The knowledge floods your mind – specific rituals, offerings of respect, a responsibility to keep the ocean clean. It is a daunting task, but a welcome one. The future remains uncertain, but you are no longer isolated. You are partners with a magnificent entity, forever bound to protect the delicate balance between our world and the wonders of the deep. [[End]]

!The Ritual Suddenly, a grotesque parody of a human hand erupts from the churning vortex above the altar. It is skeletal, its fingers elongated and tipped with razor-sharp claws. Another hand follows, and another, until a monstrous, mutated figure has materialized before you. It is unlike anything depicted in the forbidden texts. Its skin hangs in loose flaps, revealing pulsating flesh beneath. Its one visible eye, a milky white orb, fixates on you with predatory hunger. Dagon's mocking laughter echoes through the boathouse as the monstrosity lumbers towards you, its every movement a grotesque caricature of human motion. [[Next|sd4.3]]

!The Ritual Panic seizes you. You haven't banished Dagon, you've opened a corrupted gateway, a festering wound in the fabric of reality. Amelia screams, her voice a desperate plea lost in the cavernous echo of the laughter. There is no time for desperate prayers or heroic last stands. Driven by primal terror, you lunge for the ancient tome lying open on the floor. Frantically, you flip through the pages, searching for a counter-ritual, a desperate attempt to seal the hellish portal you've accidentally opened. [[Next|sd4.4]]

!The Ritual But the pages are blank. No answer, no salvation. You are condemned. The monster reaches for Amelia, its mutated claws glinting in the flickering candlelight. A choked sob escapes her lips as she braces for the inevitable. [[Next|sd4.5]]

!The Ritual Suddenly, a deafening crack echoes through the chamber. A blinding light erupts from the sigil on the floor, enveloping both the monster and the swirling vortex. The room shudders, and the very air crackles with raw power. When the light fades, the boathouse is empty. The monstrosity, the vortex, even Amelia and the townspeople are gone. Silence reigns, broken only by the rhythmic crash of waves against the pier. [[Next|sd4.6]]

!The Ritual Relief washes over you, followed by a chilling realisation. You haven't banished Dagon; he's taken what he wanted. Whatever resides beyond the gateway now holds a piece of your world, a piece of you. The nightmare is over, for now, but the price of your desperation is a terrifying unknown. The ruins of the boathouse remain as a monument to your folly, a silent testament to the horrors that lurk beneath the waves, and the devastating consequences of tampering with forces beyond human comprehension. [[End]]

!The Ritual "You mortals," the figure booms, a deep, resonant voice that vibrates through your bones, "have dared to challenge the dominion of the Deep Ones. A bold act…" It pauses, the air crackling with anticipation. "… and a foolish one." Disappointment and dread coiles in your stomach. You haven't banished Dagon, but called on something far more insidious. Amelia, pale but determined, holds out the mayor's prized pearl necklace, offering it to the entity. [[Next|sd5.3]]

!The Ritual "We mean you no disrespect," she says, her voice surprisingly steady. "We only seek to protect our town." The figure studies us, its bioluminescent eyes burning. "Protection comes at a price," it rasps. "A tribute, both grand and small, delivered on the nights of the full moon. In return, we shall offer… security." [[Next|sd5.4]]

!The Ritual A twisted kind of bargain. Not annihilation, but a slow servitude, a constant reminder of the power that lurks beneath the waves. A chilling silence falls between you. "What happens if we refuse?" you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper. A cold smile seems to spread across the figure's obscured face. "Then," it booms, its voice dropping to a menacing rumble, "you test the wrath of the Deep Ones. Choose wisely, mortals." [[Next|sd5.5]]

!The Ritual The weight of the decision presses down on you. Is this a pact with the devil, or a desperate chance for survival? The future holds an unsettling uncertainty. The boathouse, once a symbol of the town's livelihood, now stands as a constant reminder of your pact with the unknown, forever teetering on a knife's edge. You are not conquered, but forever bound to appease a monstrous entity in exchange for a precarious protection. The ocean holds its secrets close, and the price of disrupting its balance is a terrifying dependence. [[End]]

!The Ritual It isn't Dagon. This entity is a colossal leviathan, its obsidian scales gleaming with an otherworldly sheen. Its eyes, burning embers the size of ships, scan the room, locking onto you with an intelligence that sends shivers down your spine. You aren't in the presence of a mindless beast, but a calculating predator. The leviathan let out a booming bellow that rattled the very foundations of the boathouse. The words that resonated from its throat were a chorus of voices, each distinct, each filled with a chilling malice. [[Next|sd6.22]]

!The Ritual "We… we mean you no disrespect," she stammered. "We only seek protection from the rising darkness… the deep ones... from Dagon." A ripple of amusement seems to pass through the leviathan's colossal form. "Dagon is but a pawn in a grander game," the eldritch voice echoes. "A game we intend to win. But pawns can be useful." [[Next|sd6.4]]

!The Ritual The entity lowers its head, studying us with its burning eyes. "You offer a… curious proposition," it booms. "Perhaps you mortals can serve a purpose. But your loyalty will be tested." With a flick of its massive tail, the leviathan sends a wave crashing through the boarded-up windows of the boathouse. "The first test begins now," it booms. "Deliver to us a sacrifice – the heart of your leader. Only then will we consider your… usefulness." [[Next|sd6.5]]

!The Ritual The air crackles with unspoken threats. You have become pawns in a cosmic war, forced to choose between betraying your own leader and facing the wrath of these monstrous entities. The price of our desperation is a horrifying servitude, a dance with forces beyond human comprehension. The future stretches before you, a dark and uncertain path, with the fate of ther town and perhaps the world itself hanging in the balance. [[End]]

!The Ritual "Foolish mortals," the terrifying entity booms. "You have dared to summon not one, but a council of the Deep. Speak your purpose before we return you to the depths from whence you came." Terror threatens to consume you. You hvedn't banished Dagon; you have awakened a far more terrifying power structure. Amelia, her voice trembling, holds out an ancient seashell, the symbol of our desperate plea. [[Next|sd6.3]]

!The Ritual One by one, you smash the vials of seawater. With each shattered vial, the boathouse groans and shudders. A monstrous claw, glistening with bioluminescent slime, tears through the pile of lobster cages. Then another, and another, until a horrifying form begins to emerge – a colossal squid-like creature with glowing eyes and a deep maw ringed with razor-sharp teeth. [[Next|br1.3]]

!The Ritual Panic surges through you. You've miscalculated. This isn't Dagon – it is something far worse, a herald perhaps. The air shimmers, and a sickly yellow light fills the room. The gateway, meant to banish the Deep Ones, is tearing wider, a portal to an unspeakable abyss. [[Next|br1.4]]

!The Ritual You slam the ancient tome shut, the force of it knocking you back. A blinding flash erupts, momentarily engulfing everything in white. When the light fades, the boathouse becomes silent. The monstrous form has vanished, replaced by a swirling vortex of churning yellow light. The floorboards beneath it are already buckling, consumed by the growing gateway. [[Next|br1.5]]

!The Ritual Amelia, who had volunteered to carry the offering, lies unconscious on the floor. You grab her arm, dragging her towards the crumbling doorway. You stumble out just as the boathouse implodes. A colossal wave of yellow light engulfs the structure, followed by a deafening boom that echoes across the bay. [[Next|br1.6]]

!The Ritual Looking back, you see only a swirling vortex of energy where the boathouse once stood. It pulses with an unnatural rhythm, growing wider by the second. The ground beneath you trembles. The ritual has failed. You haven't banished the Deep Ones; you've opened the door wider. Tears stream down Amelia's face as she clings to you. "What have we done?" she whispers, her voice raw with terror. You have no answer. A horror beyond comprehension has been unleashed, and humanity is about to face the true wrath of the Deep Ones. [[End]]

!The Ritual A monstrous boom shatters the night. The boathouse shudders violently, sending debris raining down. Through the splintered window, you see it – a colossal wave, taller than any building, cresting on the horizon. It isn't water, but a writhing mass of tentacles, colossal and glistening. Dagon's wrath, embodied in liquid form, is upon you. [[Next|br2.3]]

!The Ritual Panic surges through the gathered cultists, their eyes wide with terror. The promises they'd made, the arrogance of believing they could control a god, suddenly feel ludicrous. They aren't appeasing Dagon; they are ants disturbing a sleeping giant. A deafening roar echoes as the wave crashes upon the coastline. The boathouse splinters into a thousand pieces, tossed aside like a twig in a raging river. You cling to a piece of debris, the world a swirling vortex of seafoam and howling wind. [[Next|br2.4]]

!The Ritual Around you, screams are torn from throats by the churning water. The monstrous tentacles lash out, snatching cultists and dragging them into the churning depths. In the distance, you see flashes of light – the town, succumbing to Dagon’s wrath. Then, a searing pain rips through your leg. A colossal tentacle, thick as a tree trunk, is wrapped around your body. You look up into a single, cyclopean eye, the size of a houseboat, filled with an unimaginable rage. [[Next|br2.5]]

!The Ritual For a fleeting moment, you see a twisted parody of something resembling understanding within that monstrous eye. You haven't offered enough. You haven't worshipped enough. You are simply not worthy. Then, the world goes dark. [[Next|br2.6]]

!The Ritual The storm ragedsfor days, scouring the coastline clean. When the sun finally emerges from the tattered clouds, it shines upon a landscape of utter devastation. The town is gone, nothing but a scattered field of debris marking its place. The boathouse is nothing but splintered wood scattered across the seabed. Dagon's wrath has been swift and merciless. Somewhere, deep beneath the churning waves, a broken, pearl-encrusted compass rests on the ocean floor, a silent testament to the arrogance and the terrible price paid when humans try to bargain with gods. [[End]]

!The Ritual Stafford's skin stretches and warps, scales erupting across his flesh. His limbs elongate, morphing into glistening tentacles. A horrifying transformation unfolds before your very eyes. This isn't just a grotesque metamorphosis; it is utter madness. [[Next|br3.3]]

!The Ritual The monstrous parody of Stafford lunges, its tentacles lashing out. You scramble back, tripping over a stray piece of driftwood. Its razor-sharp claws rake across your arm, sending a searing pain through you. A primal roar emanates from the transformed fisherman, a sound that resonates deep within your own skull. Your vision swims, a maddening chorus of whispers filling your ears. Is this the Deep Ones' language? Is it madness taking hold? The line blurs. [[Next|br3.4]]

!The Ritual A horrifying realization dawns on you. The ritual hadn't just possessed Stafford; it is trying to possess you too. The whispers grow louder, promising power, promising a place among the Deep Ones. A part of you, a new, twisted corrupted part, craves that power. But another part, a sliver of sanity, fights back. Images of loved ones, of a life on the surface, flicker in your mind. You can't succumb. You mustn't. [[Next|br3.5]]

!The Ritual With a surge of adrenaline, you grab a nearby oar. Stafford, or whatever it was now, lunges again. This time, you are ready. The oar connects with a sickening thud, knocking the creature back. But the victory is short-lived. The Stafford-thing, with a maddened screech, lunges again and again. The boathouse echoes with the sounds of our fight, a desperate battle for your very soul. [[Next|br3.6]]

!The Ritual The outcome, whether you will succumb or find a way to banish the Deep Ones' influence, remaines a horrifying unknown. One thing is certain – the night is far from over, and the true horror has only just begun. [[End]]

!The Ritual A guttural growl from the shadows sends shivers down your spine. The hulking statue of Dagon remaines, but it no longer pulses with an evil light. Stepping forward cautiously, you peer into the inky blackness behind the altar. There is nothing there, just a sense of unsettling emptiness. [[Next|br4.3]]

!The Ritual Elation turnes to dread as you emerge from the boathouse. The familiar scent of salty air hadsbeen replaced by something altogether different – a cloying sweetness that stings the nostrils. Dawn is breaking, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. But the light reveales a horrifying scene. [[Next|br4.4]]

!The Ritual The once vibrant coral reef, visible from the shore, is now bleached white, devoid of life. Fish with grotesque mutations, bulbous growths and gaping maws, float listlessly on the surface. The normally playful dolphins that frequented the bay are gone, replaced by monstrous, tentacled creatures that slither through the water with unsettling grace. [[Next|br4.5]]

!The Ritual Terror chokes you as you realise the true cost of the ritual. You haven't unleashed a monstrous wave or a ravenous beast. You've unleashed a silent corruption, a slow and insidious plague that is transforming the very fabric of the ocean. Panic surges through the small coastal town as news of the transformed marine life spreads. People huddle together, fear etched on their faces. Fishing, the lifeblood of the community, is now an unthinkable pursuit. The once pristine beach becomes a dumping ground for mutated corpses, the stench of decay thick and suffocating. The once clear water has turned an unnatural murky green, a constant reminder of the lurking horror beneath the surface. [[Next|br4.6]]

!The Ritual You are all trapped. The Deep Ones might not have manifested in a grand display of power, but their influence is undeniable. They have poisoned our waters, twisted our wildlife, and turned our paradise into a nightmarish parody of its former self. The question isn't whether you've defeated the Deep Ones, but how long you can survive in the world they've created. The boathouse ritual might have banished a physical entity, but it has condemned you all to a slow, agonizing death by a corrupted sea. [[End]]

!The Ritual A monstrous, tentacled claw erupts from the sigil, followed by another, and another. But something is wrong. These aren't the sleek, glistening forms of the Deep Ones from the forbidden texts. These creatures are grotesque parodies of life, their flesh a sickly green, their limbs twisted at impossible angles. Panic claws at your throat. They've failed. Worse, they've twisted the ritual, creating something far more horrifying. The creatures screech, their voices a cacophony of chittering clicks and guttural roars. [[Next|br5.3]]

!The Ritual The first to mutate is Old Man Henderson, the lighthouse keeper who'd offered his rickety boat as a sacrifice. A sickening gurgling sound escapes his throat as his skin ripples and pulses. His eyes bulge from their sockets, transforming into milky white orbs. He lunges at the creatures, a horrifying hybrid of man and monstrosity. [[Next|br5.4]]

!The Ritual Chaos eruptes. The boathouse becomes a scene of carnage. The mutated townsfolk, their minds fractured by the botched ritual, join the fray. Amelia, thankfully unconscious, remained untouched for now. You scramble back, adrenaline fueling your movements. You have to get out of here, warn the town. But as you reach the door, a monstrous form blocks your path. It is Stafford, the weathered fisherman. Now, his face is a grotesque mask of tentacles, his once gnarled hands tipped with razor-sharp claws. [[Next|br5.5]]

!The Ritual Tears well in your eyes. These aren't mindless beasts; they were the townsfolk, twisted beyond recognition. But you have no choice. Grabbing a stray oar, you fight back, a desperate struggle against the tide of madness. The sound of sirens pierces the night. Rescue, or perhaps just another wave of destruction? It is hard to tell anymore. As the first streaks of dawn paint the sky, you stand amidst the carnage, the stench of decay and mutation thick in the air. [[Next|br5.6]]

!The Ritual The Deep Ones might not have arrived, but their influence has poisoned the town. We aren't facing an invasion from the depths; we are facing ourselves, twisted and broken reflections of humanity. The boathouse ritual hasn't opened a gateway to another dimension; it has opened a Pandora's box of terrible mutations, and the true horror has only just begun. [[End]]

!The Ritual Relief washes over you, so intense it almost makes you dizzy. Then, a low, guttural chuckle echoes in the cavernous chamber. A single, cyclopean eye, pulsating with an unnatural light, materialises in the swirling mist above the altar. Dagon. He hadn't left. He'd simply been toying with you. [[Next|br6.3]]

!The Ritual "You amuse me, mortals," boomes a voice that seems to vibrate the very stones of the chamber. "You think a flimsy chant and a trinket of a sacrifice will appease me?" The eye narrows, and the air grows thick with a suffocating pressure. Panic claws at your throat. You'd offered the mayor's prized pearl necklace, a symbol of the town's prosperity. Apparently, it wasn't enough. "You promised more," Dagon rumbles. "More offerings, more servitude." A horrifying grin, lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth, splits the swirling mist. [[Next|br6.4]]

!The Ritual Your mind races. Promises made in desperation – how could these townsfolk possibly fulfill them? Dagon's amusement turns to impatience. A colossal tentacle, dripping with luminescent slime, lashes out from the mist, narrowly missing you. "More entertainment, then," Dagon growls. [[Next|br6.5]]

!The Ritual The boathouse lurches violently as the ground beneath it begins to churn. From the depths of the churning earth, monstrous, scaled figures rise – Deep Ones, their forms a grotesque blend of fish and man. Claws scrape against the stone floor as they fixate on us, their eyes glowing with a predatory hunger. You are trapped, surrounded by Dagon's wrathful minions. There is no escape, no fighting back against such overwhelming power. A choked sob escapes Amelia, who'd volunteered as the conduit. There is nothing left but to face the consequences of your hubris. [[Next|br6.6]]

!The Ritual Dagon's laughter echoes through the chamber, a chilling sound that promises a slow and agonizing demise. You've failed to appease the Deep Ones, and now the town will pay the ultimate price. Your broken pact has unleashed a horror beyond comprehension, and the screams that will soon erupt from the surface are a grim testament to your folly. [[End]]

!Anchor Grave <center>TO THE MEMORY OF YE CREW OF YE SLOOP "WOOL PACKET" WERCKT ON THE BAR 21 SEPTMBR 1866 EUSTACE COLE STANFORTH EVANS MATTHEW BRAUNTON JAMES COPNER A. HEARN ERECT'D 1867 BY DEMELZA COLE 'ETERNAL FATHER, STRONG TO SAVE, WHOSE ARM HATH BOUND THE RESTLESS WAVE'</center> <<set $seengrave to true>>\ [[Enter the Crypt|Crypt]], [[Go into the Church|Chuurch]] or [[Go back into town|Town]]

!The Church High above, the stained-glass windows, once vibrant with depictions of saints and angels, are now fractured and dulled. The depicted figures leer with grotesquely distorted faces, their limbs twisted into unnatural angles, as if yearning to escape their confines and writhe free into the shadowed nave. Dust motes dance in the wavering lantern light, forming phantasmagoric shapes that shift and writhe in the perpetual twilight. In the distance, a lone gargoyle, long since dislodged from its perch high on a crumbling pillar, leers down – a grotesquely grinning sentinel guarding some unspeakable secret. [[Next|chuurch3]]

!The Church A sickly, green luminescence emanates from the altar, its source shrouded in an unsettling darkness. The air crackles with a faint, electrical tension, a tangible sense of malevolent power that presses down upon your sanity. Every creak of floorboard, every whisper of windblown dust, seems a chilling portent of something monstrous stirring from an unseen slumber. <<if $vials is true and $needthings is true>>\ On the altar are some glass vials of seawater. <<linkreplace "Take the vials?">>\ You take the vials, and place then in your backpack.\ <<set $vials to false>>\ <<set $inbag to $inbag + 1>>\ <</linkreplace>>\ <</if>>\ <<if $salts is true and $needthings is true>>\ On the altar are some phosphorescent salts in a jar. <<linkreplace "Take the salts?">>\ You take the jar of salts, and place it in your backpack.\ <<set $salts to false>>\ <<set $inbag to $inbag + 1>>\ <</linkreplace>>\ <</if>>\ [[Leave|Graveyard]]

!The Crypt The air around the entrance hangs heavy and stagnant as you descend the steps, thick with the reek of decay and something far older, far more primal. Cobwebs, fat and obscene, drape the jagged edges of the opening like tattered funeral shrouds. A cold tendril of wind, reeking of the grave and things best left forgotten, snakes out from the depths, carrying with it a chorus of whispers that seem to originate not from the crypt itself, but from some abysmal void beyond. These whispers, in a language older than time and sanity itself, speak of forgotten horrors and a hunger that thirsts for something more than mere flesh. [[Next|crypt3]]

!The Tunnel The silence within the tunnel is almost worse than the crypt. It is a heavy, oppressive silence, broken only by the dripping of unseen water and the occasional, distant scrape of something scuttling against the unseen walls. The very air feels thick and heavy, pressing down on you with a suffocating weight. Every fibre of your being screams at you to turn back, to flee the unholy presence that seems to emanate from the inky depths. But a morbid curiosity, a chilling sense of destiny, tugs you forward, urging you deeper into the heart of the darkness. [[Next|Boathouse]]

!The Crypt Then, nestled in the shadowed corner of the crypt entrance, you see it: the tunnel. A ragged hole, barely visible amidst the clinging tendrils of cobwebs, gapes in the rough-hewn stone like a toothless maw. An unnatural blackness pulses from within, promising secrets best left buried. An unseen energy crackles around the opening, a malevolent presence beckoning you forward with the promise of forbidden knowledge. It is a promise that whispers of madness, a chilling enticement that threatens to unravel the fragile threads of your sanity in exchange for a glimpse into the abyss. <<if $incense is true and $needthings is true>>\ By the entrance, you spot some Incense made of grave dirt and crushed seashells. <<linkreplace "Take the incence?">>\ You take the incense, and place it in your backpack.\ <<set $incense to false>>\ <<set $inbag to $inbag + 1>>\ <</linkreplace>>\ <</if>>\ <<if $seaweed is true and $needthings is true>>\ By the entrance, you spy some seaweed. <<linkreplace "Take the seaweed?">>\ You take some of the seaweed, and place it in your backpack.\ <<set $seaweed to false>>\ <<set $inbag to $inbag + 1>>\ <</linkreplace>>\ <</if>>\ <<if $exit is true>>\ [[Enter the Tunnel|Tunnel]] or \ <</if>>\ [[Leave|Graveyard]]