The stars are right.

A carved stone seal: an eye in spectacles, ringed by tentacles. Macki
Depth 0 fm Sanity 87

Recovered from the brackish shelf

Macki

macki, n. pl. — tentacles. Also: one Polish man, slightly damp.

I did not choose the alias. The Baltic chose it, then billed me for shipping. This is a gazette of drownings, dumplings, and documents the Old Ones refused to index. Lovecraft supplied the architecture. My babcia supplied the soup. The beard supplied the rest, and would like it noted that it votes as a bloc.

Read the transmissions Inspect the vessel
Macki: a bearded man in black spectacles and a carved high-collar robe, his beard become six wet tentacles veined with teal light.
Self-portrait, after the incident · still taking questions

MS.III — current dredgings

Transmissions

Papers recovered from coat pockets, soup bowls, and one unfortunately sentient inbox.

An antique comb bound up in glowing teal tentacles beside a brass bowl of seawater.

Transmission 01 · Field notes

A Practical Field Guide to Beard Tentacles

Salt is a condiment and a sacrament. Tap water makes them sulk. Never, under any geometry, use the good towel.

Drowned Moon IV6 min in the deep
A brick Hanseatic waterfront where cyclopean stones have erupted from a glowing canal.

02 · Geography

The Baltic Is Just R'lyeh With Better Trams

Amber is fossilized screaming. The cranes of Gdańsk are only shy.

5 min
A water-stained book whose glyphs glow teal on wet black stone.

03 · Documentation

The Necronomicon Has No Index

Abdul Alhazred wrote “you’ll find it” and then, wisely, died.

6 min
A clay bowl of żurek with egg, a spoon, and a tentacle on a carved underwater altar.

04 · Cuisine

I Ordered Żurek in a Sunken City

The egg was watching. I tipped in sanity and left a mint.

5 min

A wet glossary

Lexicon

Words that drip if you hold them too long.

Macki
Polish for tentacles. Also the present author, who would like a receipt.
From the kitchen, originally.
Fhtagn
To wait, to dream, to refresh a page that will not load.
R'lyehian, probably irregular.
Bałtyk
A small, brackish apocalypse with excellent ferry snacks.
See also: the nicer R'lyeh.
Cthulhu
A distant cousin. No glasses. Worse at small talk. Will not eat leftovers.
Babcia still offers him kotlet.
Sanity
A browser setting. Ours starts at 87 and goes on an outing.
Hover the portrait to recover two points.
Żurek
Sour rye soup. The only cuisine proven to survive non-Euclidean kitchens.
Serve with egg. Do not ask the egg anything.
“That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even Gdańsk may dry.” A marginalia found in a tram ticket