Shoggoth

The yellowed paper map crumbles to pieces and falls to the chipped stone floor as you unfold it from the aged leather journal. You glance down the two corridors and sigh. At every juncture, the map has led you steadily downward, and it seems unlikely that your course would suddenly change. Tucking the journal back in your pack, you descend the shallow steps, the sound of stone chips crunching beneath your feet. The walls of the staircase shift closer with every step, and soon your shoulders are brushing the cool stone. You have to duck to make it down the last few steps, but mercifully the walls open up into a large chamber. As you stretch and shrug off your pack, you notice that the walls are rimed with a thin layer of frost. In the center of the room is a low stone plinth, inscribed with a series of characters that you can’t identify. Five medallions set into the surface of the stone gleam at you in the low light cast by your head lamp.  You dig into your pack and pull out the journal, flipping to a dog-eared page near the end. The plinth matches the diagram drawn there in ancient ink. You’ve made it!

You begin to pull supplies for the ritual from your pack. Short white votive candles to be placed above each medallion, a length of hemp rope to encircle the plinth, and a small gold brooch, sourced from a pawn shop back home. You worry briefly that one of these items might be wrong. The journal has sparked a quiet obsession in you, but you’ve never been able to decipher the language. As you prepare the space, you hope that the carefully illustrated diagrams will lead you through the ritual.The votives don’t want to balance on the curved edges of the plinth, but with some encouragement from a lighter, you’re able to conform the candles to the rough stone. You tie the rope tightly around the plinth, and then drop the brooch into the center, noticing for the first time that the top is made of a glass-flat onyx, gleaming faintly purple in the dim light. You take a deep breath and begin circling the plinth, lighting a candle on each rotation, the journal balanced in your other hand. When all 5 candles are lit, you attempt to read the inscription ringing the strange altar. Strange sounds come easily to your lips. As you finish, the length of rope begins to smolder, and the golden brooch melts into a fine sheen across the surface of the plinth.

For a long moment, nothing happens – you’ve missed something. But then, as the heat in the chamber rises, the onyx softens and begins to rise like a soap bubble. A luminous green eye slides into view and regards you for a moment. And then another. And then a third. The soap bubble lengthens and twists into a mass of dark tentacles, bedecked with hungry eyes. As the tentacles continue to pour out of the altar, you glance down at the cover of the journal, held loosely in one trembling hand. As the words of the ritual came unbidden to your lips, the meaning of the ancient language is now easy to comprehend. The strange runes stamped into the leather cover read “At the Precipice of Pleasure: Summoning Shoggoth for Solace and Satisfaction”

• made in Gemany
• velvet like surface holds lube exceptionally well

1. 

   Shoggoth

   €161.00

   Incl. 19% VAT, plus shipping

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