In the account of the ancient sea written by a man who dared to delve deep into it, said that there resided a long forgotten creature called the Bal-sagoth. Slimy and shaped much more wrongly than our world would allow.
In his own words, "There glow'd two malevolent ember eyes, its lawless shapes abnormally juxtapos'd against each other. I suddenly felt a persistence of sweat down my nape, I hath felt the instinctual flight but its eyes compell'd to ensnare me into its terrible web of secrets. I learnt of things so dreadfully fat'd that even the most heroic amongst you wouldst tremble and quake in so short a time. I will not speak of them lest you all will lose your minds and upset all of your humors."
It did not repel me but rather invoked my curiosity. For what made an eccentric eighteenth century aristocrat with an inordinate taste for the sea suddenly lose his courage and desisted to tell secrets that would change the world?

It was rumored among a few of us that when the world was young, Bal-sagoth taught our ancestors acts so secret but powerful they shaped our world even today.
What acts were they and who were our ancestors?

As I pondered that under the sun on the polished wooden railings of my boat, I saw that the sea suddenly became misty. My ears went silent and a chill coursed through my veins.