When gilled things from the crushing depths with disturbingly quick fingers clamor along the silty sea floor to the coast and make their gibbering ascent among the rocks and rotten timbers of shipwrecks long since forgotten to peer dimly at the surface world through glazed eyes peering only just above the oily surface of the water, the locals who remember the old ways know a fell moon is on the rise and make their preparations.
To the butcher’s first, for Deep Ones are satiated firstly by fresh and savory meats; and then the brewery, for what sanity is left among the villagers is best armored in a pint of beer or cider. Their supplies thus prepared, they make their way to the shore, that uneasy and wavering battlefront between the waking and the watery world, and there they make their encampment. Tonight, under the bloated, vile red moon, the Deep Ones and the natives put aside their animosity and make temporary alliance in the face of their common foe: those damn bastards from Arkham will, in a scant few hours, do battle our Innsmouth Icthies, and by Dagon and the Deeps, won’t our boys give the Fhtagn Irish a thumping THIS year. The Stars Are Right (and anyway we’re due for a win eventually). Now gather round and someone start grilling these sausages- the game’s not going to tailgate itself.
Anyway, this is a t-shirt. Or hoodie. Or the like.
NOTE: this design includes black outlines. If you choose to print it on black fabric, these outlines and edges may blend in, sinking into the shadowy depths of your shirt or hoodie, hungry and waiting. Waiting and listening, patiently passing nameless eons until such time when a primitive ape species whose optical sensory organs and neural processing (if you can call it that) evolved to rapidly identify shapes based on edges and outlines tries to wear it. And then… maybe it won’t be so hungry anymore.