Chapter I: Introductions
Well—this is my farewell to our world. I, you could say, have royally fucked up. And this is why, and very much how, you shouldn’t royally fuck up.
My name is Liam Turner. I’m from Bloomington, Minnesota, thirty-eight, and worked as a consultant for the police. What’s even better, is this is all irrelevant as you won’t find any trace of me anywhere beyond these pages.
But before I dig in, there are some necessary background bits you need to know.
Beyond our time and space lies a world called the Dreamlands. It contains the Great Old Ones: Cthulhu, Azathoth, Yog-Sothoth, and many others. They are god-like creatures, aliens of horror. All lurking. Preying. Sleeping. Well, probably sleeping.
You hopefully are familiar with these monstrosities, and if you aren’t, buy an omnibus for fuck’s sake. Thirty dollars is worth knowing what terrors are out there.
They first appeared in stories written by Howard Phillips Lovecraft (more widely known as H.P. Lovecraft) and other writers in the early nineteen-hundreds. Weird horror tales inspired by their dreams. Written for—fun. Now, I know what you’re thinking; fiction, but I, and many others disagree. In fact, We bet our lives on it. They are stories of non-fiction — fantastical visions of worlds and things that exist beyond.
Beyond our senses.
Our concepts.
Our reality.
Luckily, to my knowledge, our version of Earth is guarded against the Old Ones. The Elder Sign, a symbol of protection, keeps us safe from that despicable world. But—beyond the Dreamlands, with the wicked Nyarlathotep and the blind idiot god, Azathoth, lies a realm just as malign and arguably more. For beyond the beyond, lies the world of Arkai.
Nobody and nothing is safe from this world. I mean, if I wasn’t, why would you be?
Its composed of Eight beautiful, yet equally toxic dimensions and they are as fantastical as they are poisonous. Even the pursuit of them creates a painful void in your soul, causing a hunger for more until you’re nothing but a husk. A hollow, wishing you could go back to ignorance. Back to working. Back to a boring life. But—it’s gone. The job, not the ignorance. I would know, for I fear that I am almost there.
A fate brought me to a place worse than death, my fellow friends. Brought by the book. Brought by a dancing witch. Brought by a pull of a trigger. Brought by—.
Sorry. I got ahead of myself. Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? With a friend of a friend.
