IN STROLLED CTHULHU, Slapping slippery tents all over the floor growning, moaning, as atlantian doors slamed shut, into the antarctic laden, frost covered, dwarvish looking halls he sank, down a shoot the size of a giant moth, green jade inlayed, outlayed, brownish stains, so cold. Sliding deeper, hearing streams, gushing rapids, rolling tides,
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