#emeraldquiver

Scene II

Torn Tides

The relative quiet of the past days was an unsettling sort of calm. Much like the waiting room of a hospital, it was the kind of calm that was consistently accompanied by frantic moments and odd happenings. But nothing immediately bad enough that warranted more dramatic actions. The patrols of the northern ‘beaches’ were mostly uneventful, though it was clear to many of the Carapacians that their movements were being monitored.

The Mosasaur was eventually rescued by @arsenicfathips, who managed to store the creature away in her sylladex. One of those solutions that seemed obvious to some but somehow completely escaped everyone’s initial planning stages, even Serket’s. Of course, Serket was grateful, and once the opportunity presented itself, hoped it could be put back into a body of water properly.

The Carapacians had warmed to Nepeta as well. She had saved them a lot of work and her actions had allowed them to vacate the weird beaches much earlier than planned.

Unfortunately, efforts by @emeraldquiver via the spells and rituals of @mysticalseamstress did not seem to stick in any ways that mattered. Whatever tides were invited, did not themselves seem to want to stay in the area. Something about the town of Hull was becoming repulsive to the tide, or even more unsettling, felt it wiser to heed the command to Stay Away. Whatever pull and connections the pair were drawing on, it seemed forces elsewhere had just a bit more weight to throw around.

This was, perhaps, not altogether unsurprising. The Deep Ones were after all associated with and potentially heeding orders from a Power whose name reverberated through the oceans like a sickness. Whatever level of reputation the Weaver’s names held, it was a fair supposition that many oceans held the name ‘Dagon’ in several higher levels of repute. This, among other issues, made any bargains or favors with any waters hard to stick.

And, more alarmingly, it still seemed to create a sort of channel for the waters to flow back into The Weaver’s realm. That was the one point that seemed to stick. An unspoken Invitation.

All the same, Serket busied herself with aid to the various crews of Carapacians alongside @knowingoverseer. The mechanoid was happy to take the opportunity to catch up with her friend once more. It had been too long since they had been able to talk properly, and the pair bouncing off of one another allowed them to keep a form of momentum on the tasks at hand.

It would become obvious, however, that Serket was feeling a bit aimless. Everyone was making preparations and securing various points across Hull, but it was difficult to see to what end. Based on what could be figured from various intelligences across the peninsula, the place was infested. Truly outside of the haven Serket had carved out here, most of the land beyond was overrun. Efforts from various visitors aside, the Deep Ones were multiplying at a rate that was impossible for these small forces to deal with.

It was oddly familiar, Callie might find.

Even if everyone banded together to push back whatever incoming threat was looming, it was hard to decipher any purpose behind it. Everyone would still just be stuck, toiling away, researching a cult that hated to be researched, and paying the toll associated with that research.

Something had to give.

Nathan is watching her for a moment, taking in the changes of her demeanor. He had merely been behind the counter. The lights were off, it was dark, quiet...

He was on lunch.

Scene III

Drown Town

It happened all at once. At first, it seemed far. Then in an instant it became a close and tangible presence. Towering above and crashing into the town of Hull, limbs and maw slashing and gnashing at the ground as it almost seemed to collide with the shore in a limp heap. Scales and tendrils shimmered and shuddered as the musculature of the entity contorted and expanded in ways unnatural and incomprehensible. Eyes like those of a goat or frog, caked with milky white film, blinked dumbly at the light of the surface world. Its presence brought with it a stench of rot and brine, so much so like the scent that already painted through the town. Roads flooded and the sea level rose as the peninsula seemed to kneel down in the presence of this falsified deity.

This was Dagon.

This was All Ends Eve.

An arm span wide enough to span most of a football field and a head of similarly footballish shape, the entity occupied both the world of Serket, but also shimmered in an utterly sickening way that implied something else. A squelching red aura of negligent force seemed to cause the entity to flicker in and out of easy visibility. Despite this, it was still very clearly and very obviously in the town of Hull. But it seemed to be leaking somewhere else.

Someplace the @mysticalseamstress felt directly.

With the presence of Dagon came more Deep Ones. More cultists. More water. Exploding out from buildings already half submerged in water, hundreds of fish creatures poured out and began heading towards the same location.

Fort Revere Tower.

The tower and the surrounding park sat atop a hill upon the peninsula, one of the last places not submerged six feet under water. Serket, @knowingoverseer , @arsenicfathips , and @emeraldquiver were either here, or in a worse case scenario, caught up further down the hill and in the depths of the chaos.

Saving the day was hard. @emeraldquiver found out as much the moment they needed to take charge of the situation at the Black Rock Resort. Serket had more or less seemed to shrink away in a panic, which just left Artemis and some others to do their best to pick up the pieces.

But there wasn’t time for panic. Now was the time for action.

Checking all of the rooms surely wasn’t going to be too hard. There were only a few guests, and keeping track of all of their rooms was the easy part. The tough part would be poking in and getting everyone to cooperate long enough to gather at the lobby of the resort.

Of course, the moment the first room with an open door was spotted, things got tricky. A quick peek in the room revealed a heavy dollop of fog within, and scattered objects along the floor seemed to indicate someone was caught by surprise. Some sort of mechanical object was wedged in the door, and the area beyond was.

Hot?

Even just standing next to the door. Not even in the doorway.

It was hot.

Eventually the choice wasn’t a choice. Before much else could dictate action, that heat was around Artemis, and so was the fog. Had they miscalculated the distance, or had they wandered further in? Before that could be stewed on, footsteps on wood changed into heavy trudged through something coarse. It was small and rough and it was getting everywhere.

Sand.

Blinding sunlight.

Artemis had ended up in a desert.

And there was a strong magic lingering in the air. Artemis was far away from the resort, and that wasn’t the most surprising thing given this was exactly what was on record of happening to people. Yet something about this place felt profound. Almost celestial or perhaps necrotic? Whatever it was, it was powerful.