The moon was full. Laughter echoed through the dirty little coastal town of Fathus. This place was perfect, or at least it was for one man.
This "man" was, however, more than man. He was, as he liked to put it, "enlightened". No one else, save a few, shared in his view of enlightenment, yet he didn't care. Not everyone could see the truth, and not everyone deserved to, at least in Kravim's mind.
The figure known as Kravim moved his way from shadow to shadow, in the spaces between. To others who may have caught a glimpse of his movement it was but a twisting of the shadow, a paranoid fear, irrational. No one suspected such a being like Kravim to be among them, and they never thought about it. To do so was bad luck.
Kravim chuckled at the thought, full of himself as usual. Imagining the fear he could cause just by moving by, appearing as a shadow that others swore had moved…only to shrug it off. Yet the real enjoyment came from knowing otherwise, and that was all Kravim needed.
Kravim's black robe was lined with contrasting white runes and symbols etched along the robes edges. To many, the robe itself was a testament to blasphemy; going against every common belief and against the standard of morals and values just by displaying a collection of symbols.
Amusing, thought Kravim as he shifted slightly to fit through an awkward space, Morals? Values? Who claims me blasphemous? Blasphemy is subjective to one's belief…these fools can't even hold to their own "values", evident in their lustful actions and partying!
Thinking himself clever, he gave an audible sneer. He didn't care if anyone heard him, they couldn't stop him if they wanted.
Yet, he couldn't help thinking to himself, if his robe was blasphemous in itself, he was surely the epitome of all things heretical.
A lich.
Wrought in evil magic, and sustained by it as well, he was undead. In an attempt to continue his life to forever continue his arcane studies, Kravim had damned himself to a soulless existence. Most undead had no minds, no will of their own, but that's where it was different for a lich. They had a vile intelligence that was never to be reckoned with. He didn't care, however, he was immortal, and he had seen more things than elves could ever boast, even with their ridiculous life spans.
Kravim thought back, to that fateful day when what was left of his essence was bound to a phylactery, which he had stored in a very secret place.
He thought back again, this time in a more recent time. He had been searching for 500 years for forbidden and long-forgotten arcane secrets, until he came across the ultimate tome. A tome so blasphemous, merely standing in the same room with it put you at risk of inquisition.
For 200 years now, the self-proclaimed Archlich Kravim had devoted his time and very existence into the Arcana vertu Cthulu, or "Magic of Cthulhu".
Cthulhu. A being of such might, the gods marked him as exile, and all things pertaining to him as heretical and blasphemous.
Cthulhu was a beast of terrifying power, and no less terrifying in form. Kravim had hunted for two centuries now to uncover the secrets to raising his "Master" from the depths, and he had finally discovered it. He had even raised a cult, one that now stood strong with 4 liches at its command, Kravim being the head and 400 members along the Barren Coast. This Son's of Cthulhu even boasted the membership of vampires.
Kravim finally came to his destination of the docks. Few boats were here today, or at anytime, which made this even easier.
Fathus was located along the Barren Coast; a place that was better than its name gave it off to be. Fathus, however, was not by any means a gem along the Barren Coast, nothing to be proud of, and most of the time wasn't even mapped by even the most detailed cartographers.
What was so unique, and unknown to most everyone, was that the depths almost immediately off of shore from Fathus pulsated with dark energies. Its secrecy was kept due to ignorance on the part of many churches, and to the very specific magic needed to detect it.
The dark energies, known as an Abyssal Node, were a gateway, one to Kravim's master, the gateway to Cthulhu.
He had heard many times of the tempting and almost irresistible "Call of Cthulhu". He had never noted it, until 200 years ago, when he felt it. It was so powerful, and promised so many things, it was truly irresistible. Now he was answering the call, and he would be rewarded.
As Kravim emerged from the shadows, so did three other figures, all similarly clad in black vestments. These were the Silent Three, the other liches of the cult.
All three bowed in unison to Kravim, and all of them removed their cowls.
Skin stretched tight over bones, and no eyes in which to speak of, liches were not the friendliest things people could ever meet, far from it in fact. A lich's very existence was based off of dark magics that naturally made them evil, and you could feel it by standing in their presence. Their eyes glowed and eerie green, which sat as two small dots in rather large black sockets that formerly, housed eyes.
Kravim was different however, his eyes didn't hold a soft eerie glow, but were more vibrant and wild. They glowed white, and seemed to shift like two little balls of lightning, constantly snapping and twisting as if to match his quick paced thoughts.
"Brothers, we stand here as a testament to a new age, as the foundation for a new order. Come, let us begin."
Kravim loved to keep it short and sweet. His voice was commanding, if a bit raspy, from the years of use, yet it held a kind of weight that was subtle, yet commanding.
The Silent Three replaced their cowls along bone-dry heads and moved toward the sea with extreme ease, as they floated across the ground, and the sea when they reached it.
Kravim followed behind, watching all three. He could feel their presence, and their "excitement", as liches could not feel, yet there was something there.
The Abyssal Node could be felt even stronger than before, yet only by him. He had long ago upon discovering the necessary magic to detect such a node enchanted himself to permanently feel the pulse and swirl of Abyssal Nodes.
Kravim held his hand into the air, and though they weren't looking, they all stopped as if they had been.
It was time.
"Begin brothers! Let us waste no more time!"
The four created a diamond formation, and the Silent Three moved their hands in mystic passes as dark words fell from what was left of lips. The magic was heavy and could be felt and was amplified by the arcane Symbols now etched into the air. This was it. All the years Kravim had been searching, and training, and teaching, and his time was at hand.
The Ritual of Depths had begun.
Kravim waited, like he was supposed to. His underlings would reach a certain part of the ritual that would require true power, and then the ritual will truly begin.
As the silent three continued to chant, their symbols moved toward the center of the diamond and warped together before plunging into the depths. Lightning cracked, but not from the sky. The ocean, the dark ocean, for brief periods as the symbols submerged themselves and encountered the source of the Abyssal Node, would light the entire ocean with a crack of corrupt lightning.
The time had come.
Kravim began his part of the Ritual, and his hands moved dramatically, almost violently as they went through the motions. His words were heavier and darker than the rest, and carried with them the magic to summon an exiled god.
An hour passed, and the continued chanting. The thundering and rumbling of the ocean depths began to crescendo in might and force. No one noticed, no one would. The ritual's first part was one of concealment, they were in their own world, and no one could see them, nor hear them, or feel the rumble and quaking of the sea.
The final syllables dropped into the ocean depths, and a low hum was held among the four liches. They waited patiently as the symbols submerged.
Kravim tried to hold his breath, but remembered he didn't even breathe anyway.
A final rumble occurred, this one lasting longer than all the others and the brightness remained, only to fade away into blackness, a blackness seemingly darker than the sea was before, if that was possible.
The water bubbled and shifted and was thrown into violent upheaval. Not even the spell to hide them could do so now, and waves began to increase in size and intensity. The docks were decimated while people ran in fear, screaming. None of them could run fast enough..
The four liches floated away, tapping into the magic of a ring each of them wore for levitation. They were silent as they watched.
All seemingly at once, a massive tidal wave rose straight into the air, like a sheet of pure murky shadow, and fell onto Fathus. Torrents of water rushed through everything, moving what it could, destroying what it couldn't.
The very awakening of Cthulhu was devastating, and to Kravim, beautiful.
A mass of writhing scaled bodies could be seen in the waters below, lined with spines and ridges across their backs. They all surged as if wrestling to move out of the way of what was to come.
Suddenly it was there.
Cthulhu had risen.
Its form was truly terrifying. The writhing bodies were actually eight massive tentacles, which were all larger than anything the ocean could put forth. Its massive head was that of an octopus, yet its eyes were different. Instead of the bulbous eyes of a normal octopus, its eyes were set, as if in sockets, and above them was a rigid brow that bore spines. Its eyes gave off a hint of maniacal and malicious intelligence, and looked as if they pierced right into your soul.
Excellent, my children, the voice echoed throughout all of their consciousnesses, intangible, yet somehow there.
You've risen me from my slumber, and you will all be rewarded in due time. Yet come, my children, this world of mortals calls for a new master, and I will answer its call.
Cthulhu had risen.
The world would see its end.