When the Stars are Right

Chapter V:

In the House of the Worm

Native fishermen on a desolate island far to the south of this empty stretch of sea,

sometimes range this far to fish, but they always stop at a certain point, though the waters are

swelled with silvery scales. There is something wrong in the air, something that confuses the

mind and makes all directions seem the same. Black moods come over those who venture too far

into those waters. Depression; confusion, strange ideas. Men have murdered their shipmates in

those waters, and vessels have simply disappeared.

There are mutterings that a great monster, a serpent, has been seen from time to time.

Such is the legend, and the fishermen have heard it in their ears since they were young, as have

their grandfathers. Great sounds supposedly emanate from the depths, and those sleeping in the

bellies of ships mark those sounds, far louder and harsher than the cry of any whale.

“The serpent is angry.” The old ones say with a chuckle when the sound is heard in the

black ocean night. But their laughter is never for very long, and they quit those waters as quickly

as possible if dawn is kind enough to smile upon them once more.

Out beyond the horizon, and the sight of any fall of land, lies the desolate shoulder of the

deepest sea. Undotted by islands, a barren and merciless stretch of vacant and staring water that

stretches for thousands of miles in any direction, lies between the ancient home of the Incas and

the scattered islands of the Rapa Nui, a mighty race now long vanished from the earth. And yet,
this emptiness that roams over the endless leagues was not always so; once, princely island

kingdoms held sway over a vast moraine, and vessels bearing the satraps and edicts of mighty

lords roamed the main, bringing the will of earthly kings to the far corners of a young world.

Then, calamity.

In an age long forgotten, from the stars fell the Old Ones, great and terrible beings from

beyond the veil of heaven, entities that hailed from the unknown and unknowable reaches of

nether space, creatures that existed beyond the reach of life or death or even time. They laid

waste to the mighty kingdoms of the earth; they caused the great island kingdoms to fall into the

sea. It was they who, for ages without number, held sway over this world as they had once their

own; but there came at last a great change, and the Old Ones began their long slumber.

They vanished from the ken of men, but they left mutterings of themselves behind. Here,

in the song of the locust, or there, in the gibbering of the tree frog; old things that remained

unchanged since the time of the elder gods, there were clues, riddles, puzzles, signs. In the long

unbroken calculus of a thousand thousand years, what was once so encrypted might yet find

itself illuminated and revealed, to those wise and genius and daring and mad enough to attempt

such a fallen purpose.

So it came to pass that in a once great city, known by men as R’yleh, when men walked

the earth and knew of that place, now rests five thousand fathoms beneath the brooding surface

of the vacant and ever-moving sea. Its great skyline is now adorned with crazed and startling

colors of coral and anemone; her streets patrolled by armies of glaring octopi. Great black fish

with smoldering red eyes glide above sleek cobble stones that have not known the sun for a

hundred thousand years. The city rises toward the center, where there is a great hall, which once

hosted games and festivals of the most splendid kind; its true name long forgotten, now this once
happy place is spoken of only by a scattered brethren of a mad order. This place is holy to them,

and they call this place the House of the Worm.

The place is named for its guardian, but it is holy to these worshippers, because of what

slumbers within. The great white serpent that guards the place lies coiled five times around the

great hall; he himself is one of the Great Old Ones who came from the sky when man was new

upon the earth and the stars were yet few. Since the Dream Time, when the Old Ones began their

long repose, he has waited and watched over his lord and master, that slumbers within the hall of

the lords that he himself deposed, in a city that he banished to the deeps.

For long ages he has kept his dumb vigil, until now, when out from across the water

comes a song. It filters down to the great crypt like a ray from the drowned sun; down through

miles of silt and raining matter, a thin vibration that is sensed rather than heard, felt rather than

understood. Within the Great Hall of R’yleh. The House of the Great Worm, something stirs.

The greatest of the Great Old Ones has muttered in his sleep. Such a long dream, however, one

does not stir from easily. But now the great worm senses something else; even in his deathlike

sleep, in his otherworldly dreaming, his lord and master begins to draw strength and power from

those earthly things around him. Here and there, a shark or a squid suddenly ceases its movement

and begins to drift languidly, as the Dread One leeches the life from around him to do what must

be done; and to do that, he will need strength. Out through the water goes a wave of death, a

great unseen sphere that grows, and claims the life of all earthly things that live within it; all the

things that grow or writhe or swim in the sunken city of R’yleh.

The ocean floor begins to shake, almost imperceptibly, at first; then, with a noticeable

tremor; and finally, a temblor of considerable power shakes the sunken city, toppling ancient

spires and masonry that survived the sinking of the city, and long ages beneath the sea. From
within the House of the Worm comes a great sound, one that is so vile and terrible that the great

worm suddenly looses his eternal coils, and writhers away from the hall that he has protected for

so long, for his vigil is over.

From within the hall, the voice of his master has sounded. The Dread One has cried out in

his sleep, but he has spoken. Those who worship and revere him the world over will know what

to do, now, to bring their master alive and to full awareness, once his great cry reaches them.

Yes, once they hear it, they will know it for what it is, and rejoice:

The Call of C’Thulhu.