DOWNTON ABBEY MEETS LOVECRAFT MEETS NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD in Deadtown Abbey.
It is a world few of us have ever known. A world of masters and servants, where everyone knows one’s place. A world of newfangled technology like telephones and motorcars. A world of vampires, werewolves, zombies, and monsters of the deep. At the center of his necropolis estate lives the Earl of Monroe, who must hold the family he loves
The graffiti was unlike any he had ever seen. Though just chicken scratches, it stood out from all the rest and as he stared, words began to become visible, and then a pattern developed; like one of those magic eye posters at the mall he’d seen as a child. He’d stare at the pixelated bits of nonsensical color, only to be surprised when an image of a sailboat would appear.
He forced his mind to focus, remembering that to see the hidden image you had to do the opposite of stare at the picture. Instead, you had to zone out, and let your eyes rest. It was easy to do in his almost double-vision drunken and loaded state.
Slowly, letters manifested, and then a full sentence.
He is rising.
As many of you know, every October we do 31 days of new RPG monsters for Cthulhu Roleplaying. Well, it’s time to ask for submissions again!! Do you have a beastie in your crawl that you want to get out? Are you feeling especially plucky and want to write a full scenario? Are you a fiction writer and have a terrifying tale for us? Are you an artist willing to trade your creation in exchange for early (SECRET DO NOT SHARE) access to this year’s submissions? Reach out today at [email protected]
I saw it just beneath the surface. An anglerfish, big as an orca. Larger. The dead white eyes, set just above the mouth lined with sabre-like teeth, seemed to regard me. Then I saw them, men, a dozen of them, writhing against the monster. No, not against it. Part of it. They gaped and reached and struggled against this thing that was part of them. Each face distorted pain, jaws dislocated from screaming, eyes threatening to escape their sockets. I reeled back. But then…they were gone. Then there she was. Dead five years but as full of life as during our happy years. Before the cancer. Arms and legs open, begging for me to join her in the water.
Alternative names: Sirens