Dunwich

Water sloshed against the great wharfs of Dunwich. The Capital of NeoAngila. The gloomy, mist covered kingdom along the northern Atlantic coast. A land of feuding well-to-do Anglian Houses and isolated Appalachian towns.

The haunting spires and Victorian streets of the Capital were locked in another long night. Thieves slunk into the wards of the rich, revolutionaries plotted in pubs and the cults of the catacombs prayed for the return of the Old Ones.

From the docks cruised an armored hunting trawler named The Quincy. Smoke roaring from its chimney. Captain Klay, a KrakenHunter, exhaled as he scanned the ocean. Time for another long night.

The ocean was as smooth as glass. The moon shined bright in the sky like a pale orb. Beams of white light pierced down into the depths. The perfect night for hunting Krakens.

The Quincy cruised across the glassy plains.

At the prow of the ship was a rotating harpoon cannon. The sailor gripped the controls with white-knuckled anticipation as he scanned the water.

In the past, Dunwich had been constantly harassed and tormented by Krakens, serpents and other horrors of the deep. Long were the ballads of Anglo sailors caught at sea fighting monsters.

The Quincy headed for deep water. Its spotlight scanned the calm black depths. Without the men and women who patrol the coast, NeoAnglia would be a landlocked nation. Unable to trade with the riches of West Africa or Europa. They would be locked with only Franco to the north for company.

The Quincy searched for its prey. The sputter of the engine, the spray of salt, and occasional cry of a gull were the only sounds as the crew waited for fresh terrors. Cutlasses hung on their hips as they went about their duties in silence.

Klay felt his heart pound in his ears. He breathed slowly.

“Sir!” called one sailor.

He saw it immediately. A shadow trailing twenty-foot long tentacles like a bundle of cables. Just below the surface; a massive Kraken. With golden eyes the size of dinner plates.

Six men set out on a moonlit night. None would return.

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