It is February 13, 1922. Three days ago, Oxford professor of archaeology Emundr Ragnarsson was found dead in a London hotel room. At first, it was assumed that his death was a natural one, but there are too many questions surrounding it. Who has been following the professor around Oxford? What happened on his last field expedition, that was cut short and declared a failure? What does his work have to do with a mysterious blight affecting plants around the country? And how did he drown, miles from the harbor and with no other sources of water nearby?
This is a momentous time in history. The first World War has been over for nearly four years, and the Roaring Twenties have started to truly Roar. Women are gaining the right to vote across the Western world, the Harlem Renaissance is getting started in America, cinema is about to make the leap to color and sound, and automobiles are increasing exponentially in number. New styles of art and fashion are transforming the cultural landscape. A number of colonies and client states are gaining the right to self-govern from Imperialist powers. The world is changing, but the scars of the Great War are there to be felt.
In the wake of the war’s destruction, and under the coming alignment of the stars, an ancient cult begins to move after a long period of dormancy. Its members are those who sought out the dark corners of the world where the light of science and reason does not shine, and searched for enlightenment in the deep instead of the heavens, and embraced darkness and madness as the true fate of mankind. Some two thousand years ago, they established themselves on a remote, rocky island in the North Sea, where they practiced their dark rites and worshipped the vast, alien malevolence that lurks beneath the earth and under the ocean. What little remains of them in historical record hints at a profane fertility rite, where twisted vegetation, polluted animal life, and monstrous human offspring were encouraged to grow. They believed that this was the true course of the world: eventually, the entire Earth would be sick and gray and half-dead, and then the will of the gods below would be done and humanity would have fulfilled its ultimate purpose.
The cult’s numbers waxed and waned over the centuries, reaching a peak during the early medieval period, and eventually dispersing throughout the world as history made its way to modernity. They lived alone on their island for centuries, capturing and converting or sacrificing the passengers of unfortunate ships, and, at their peak, staging raids on nearby settlements. Their shadowy reign would come to an end, however, in the late thirteenth century, when the underground well that was the focus of their worship was sealed through the work of a powerful witch. The island was abandoned, but the cult survived, waiting for the time when they could return to the source of their power.
That time is now. The stars are in place, the signs are apparent, and their temple was recently opened by an enterprising archaeologist, whom they have just murdered to protect their secrets.
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