Dweller In The Deep: Cthulhu Rising

Chapter 6

How could I have been injured by such a puny being? It is fortunate that any of me escaped into the ground to regenerate into what I am now. The vulnerable genes of the trees were malleable to such an extent: their flesh to my flesh. I am nearly complete, an indestructible beast, more massive by far than when discovered by the human in my starved state. Soon I will raise Great Cthulhu from the depths and earth will be a feeding ground, with the human race as a genetic waste, for us to use to shape as we choose, and as food.

For the second time this week Randolph woke sweating and shaking, this time after being struck on the head by one of the slimy, white once human beings. He remembered the banging on the door. It had been torn from the walls, but that was back in Nagoon. They were at the base of the biggest tentacle now, acting as sacrifice. This was an insignificant deity in the Great Old Ones' terms. The dream he had just had had told him everything. He even had its name: Ghyuugh L'Cheb. Cthulhu had been listening, watching, feeling, through Ghyuugh L'Cheb's senses, but was still trapped in deep R'lyeh by the star stones that surrounded him...for now. Ghyuugh L'Cheb would free him – and that would be the end of everything. As Randolph looked around, searching for his friend he realized the tentacle was coiling down towards them to claim its prize. He noticed another figure tied beside him; it was the man with the satchel. He turned to his left, but Jack wasn't there. Either he had already been eaten, or there was still hope. Randolph wrestled with the ropes that secured him, but he was too weak after the frantic journey through the jungle. His mind spun, as he thought of many different ways to escape – none of which would free him. The satchel lay twenty feet away from them. They heard a strangled cry from deeper in the jungle. Suddenly Jack shot out from the trees clutching an obsidian knife, slick with blood – or what passed for blood, but was now just a green puss slopping down onto the jungle floor. He darted towards them brandishing the knife, bringing it down on the rope with impact. It began to fray, but not quickly enough. The tentacle clutched the man from Nagoon and began to retract into the ground. Randolph was still tied to the man, and was dragged with him! Jack began to cut more frantically, Randolph and the Nagoonian screaming in unison. Jack's neck was corded as his tendons strained, the sweat dripping from his forehead clouding his vision. Finally the rope loosened and Randolph scrambled towards safety. Jack moved onto the tentacle, slashing wildly at the pulpy white flesh. Green puss oozed steadily from the wounds he was creating, but it did not loosen its grip on the man, however hard Jack stabbed. The formidable odor that was released from the wounds in the tentacle did not put Jack off. To no avail, the man screamed and flailed as he was dragged into the ground, and whatever horror lurked beneath. Jack stared into the hole, not knowing what to do next.

There was a rumbling, as without warning, the other tentacles and half trees began to withdraw underground. Jack heard his name being shouted from behind him.

"The Star Stones Jack, the Star Stones!" Randolph cried.

He threw Jack one of the circular stones from the satchel and Jack fingered the carvings.

"I think it would be better if we weren't here," Randolph said in a misleadingly passive tone.

As they burst from the slowly retracting jungle the half human things were waiting for them.

The last of the tentacles disappeared into the ground with a sucking noise. Silence. Randolph and Jack stared into the strange slitted eyes of the mob.

At that moment, a shower of dirt rained down upon them all as a tremendous roar came from behind them. Looking back Randolph saw a writhing mass of white flesh rising from beneath the jungle floor. The mouths of the thing gaped and dripped, the one eye staring unblinkingly at Jack and Randolph. It raged towards them, tentacles flailing as though they had minds of their own. When the thing was practically on top of them Randolph held up his Star Stone, and Jack followed his example. The beast stopped dead. A mental scream pierced Randolph's brain, and he was forced to his knees. His own scream joined the cacophony that only he could hear. Jack took a daring step forward, Ghyuugh L'Cheb slithered backwards. In its rage its tentacles flailed about, trying to break the impenetrable shield between it and the Star Stones. Striking out at anything that moved in its frenzied tantrum, it fell upon its own followers, who were torn to shreds in seconds. Jack pushed forward, forcing Ghyuugh L'Cheb further backwards. He began to walk at a steady pace, the searching tentacles of the ageless beast pulling back from around them, but still not being able to touch them. Randolph struggled up straight.

He shouted to Jack over the noise in his head "Herd it back from whence it came!"

Jack strode towards the thing, the screeching in Randolph's mind becoming unbearable. Ghyuugh L'Cheb was forced into the hole. Randolph, blind with pain, stumbled towards the hole, unlatching the leather straps of the satchel. With the last of his energy he flung the Star Stones in on top of the squelchy mass of white flesh, and the screaming stopped abruptly. The fragile walls of dirt caved in on the thing as it was reburied.

"Is it dead?" Jack asked eagerly.

"No, I don't know if it can die. But it's trapped." Randolph replied weakly.

They walked back to the wrecked village, Randolph trailing a little. "Merry Christmas." He said.

"What?" Jack asked.

"It's Christmas. Did you forget?" The men looked at each other's bloody, soot stained faces, and began to laugh.