Despite “Bloody Thursday” being a scant eight months ago, you sail from San Franciso aboard the USS Innsmouth. Captain Barnes follows the coast to avoid being caught up and lost inside the strange grey fogs that come and go without meteorological reason.

The crew is made up of a curious blend of swarthy stern faced sailors that are closed mouth to a man. You’ve never had problems getting folks to talk- especially blue collars but these men will not speak with you outside of terse one word answers.

Left alone, you find yourself outside, staring across the choppy points of a restless ocean. Thunder breaks over head, leaving a ghostly echo that slowly dissipates under the sound of rising winds. Black clouds appear suddenly, smothering the sky. A flash of soundless lightning illuminates the water underneath the ship. As torrents of rain hammer you unmercifully, you hear chanting from the stern of the ship.

“Kittyuk-Kittyuk, Malchia Dagon.”

Do you investigate the chanting? Or take shelter from the storm?