R'lyeh
In the farthest reaches of the encircling ocean, where the briny surface currents meet the great wall of ice and plummet into the deep, there is an abyss under the black sea. Past the roots of icebergs the currents plunge, leaving behind the world of light, shedding colors one by one.
The pressure increases relentlessly, and the ice-chilled currents pass a lifeless zone where even the merfolk cannot breathe and only certain strange squid drift in sluggish dreams.
Finally, in this gloomy realm, there is a colorless plain of slimy ooze. The carcasses of sea-creatures slowly decompose, playing host to disgusting coiling throngs of boneless hagfish and spiny, long-legged crabs.
Yet the current is pulled even deeper: over jagged, rocky cliff into a crack of even deeper darkness, so cold that the water would freeze but for the merciless pressure that squeezes the very mind into strange and warped shapes. Down into the chasm, past the ghostly lures of vast and monstrous great-jawed fish of stunning ugliness.
Deeper into the abyss, the current is met by pillars of strange gases rising from the cracked rock, half obscuring the brooding Cyclopean basalt blocks that lean at subtle and surreal angles. In the center of the city, spanned by arching bridges, there is a cleft where even the aboleths do not venture.
This is the ancient city of R'lyeh. There has been some disturbance and unrest lately, as a strange Atlantean has come among the slaves, pale, pudgy, and uncanny, always appearing where he was not expected and speaking of the death of the Pantokrator and the advent of a new era. Nyarlathotep this Atlantean called himself, but whence this outlandish name hailed from, none knew to say.
Among the aboleths, the powers were split in their opinion. Most disdained this arrogant Atlantean, yet some were swayed by the impelling fascination and allurement of his revelations. In the year 63,123,288 Nyarlathotep's enemies, worried about his ever-increasing fame and popularity, decided to take action.
Nyarlathotep was again speaking to a crowd of slaves and lesser aboleths, capering on top of a bridge that spanned R'lyeh's central chasm. As was his fashion he proclaimed a vast change; a time, drawing near, in which the hidden stars themselves would be shaken.
Of a sudden a group of five aboleths, among them the notorious L'grss, closed in on the crowd, followed by a large mass of those degenerated slaves known as lobo guards. The aboleths began to bend their vile minds upon Nyarlathotep, adding to vast pressure of the deep a mental component.
The Atlantean prophet let loose an unholy shriek, and an even greater sense of foreboding settled on the scene. The towers of R'lyeh swayed in the grip of an earthquake, and the chasm suddenly gaped wider, ripping apart the bridges in tumbles of Cyclopean blocks.
Nyarlathotep also fell, and the aboleths moved to the chasms edge, driven by cruel curiosity.
Suddenly, with uncanny speed, five pallid rubbery arms shot upwards up out of the darkness and wrapped themselves around the stunned aboleths. Even their vast size did not avail the hapless creatures as they disappeared into the deep, wailing and gibbering.
In their place a monstrous octopoid head rose out of the widened chasm, while the prophet Nyarlathotep stood on its pale dome and shouted out his damnable prophecies in vile ecstasy: "Iä! Iä! Yöt-Webbogoth hath come!"
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