The Lament of the Abyssal Architect

In the heart of the ancient city of R'lyeh, where the very stones whispered tales of the forgotten, there stood a towering structure, its arches and spires defying the laws of nature. It was the creation of The Architect, a man of great intellect and a soul twisted by the touch of the elder gods. His name was Enoch, and his passion was to build a monument that would echo through the ages, a testament to his mastery over the arcane arts.

Enoch was no ordinary builder; he was a master of the dark arts, a student of the forbidden lore that spoke of the Outer Gods and their minions. His obsession with the dark god Cthulhu was both a compulsion and a curse. He believed that by constructing a temple to the beast, he would gain favor and power beyond the ken of man.

The city of R'lyeh was a place of desolation, its inhabitants long vanished, their spirits claimed by the insatiable hunger of the elder gods. Enoch, however, saw the desolation as an opportunity. He toiled day and night, his hands deftly shaping the stone and wood into the form of Cthulhu's vision. The structure grew, a monstrosity that seemed to consume the very earth upon which it was built.

As the temple took shape, Enoch's sanity began to unravel. The whispers of the ancient city grew louder, and he heard the laughter of the Outer Gods, a sound that twisted his mind further. He spoke to the stones, to the wind, to the very earth itself, as if expecting a response from the dark god he sought to enslave.

The Architect's descent into madness was a descent into gallows humor. He would laugh at the absurdity of his situation, at the futility of his endeavor, as if the very act of laughter could protect him from the madness that clung to him like a second skin. "What a joke," he would mutter, "to think I could build a temple to Cthulhu and not be consumed by its power."

The townspeople who had once roamed R'lyeh, driven away by the dark god's presence, whispered tales of Enoch's madness. They spoke of the laughter that echoed through the night, a sound that made the very ground tremble. Some said it was Enoch's sanity, others believed it was the first stirrings of Cthulhu's influence.

One night, as the moon hung low and the stars were hidden behind a veil of clouds, Enoch stood at the pinnacle of his creation. The temple was complete, and it stood as a testament to his devotion. He raised his arms to the heavens, and with a voice that echoed like the roar of Cthulhu itself, he declared, "I have built thee, my master. Now, consume me!"

The ground beneath him trembled, and the very air seemed to crackle with energy. The temple began to glow, a blinding light that filled the night. Enoch, with a look of triumph on his face, stepped forward, ready to be consumed by the power of the dark god.

But as he stepped forward, the laughter of the Outer Gods grew louder. "What a joke," they chanted, "to think a mere man could build a temple to Cthulhu and escape its embrace."

The ground opened up, and Enoch was swallowed whole by the abyss. The temple, once a beacon of his devotion, crumbled into dust, its grandeur a memory. The laughter of the Outer Gods echoed through the night, a sound that would be heard for centuries to come.

In the ruins of R'lyeh, a new legend was born. The Lament of the Abyssal Architect, a tale of obsession, madness, and the gallows humor that can only exist in the shadow of the elder gods.