In the days of old, when human civilization was still young, the ancient gods were worshipped. They were given sacrifices of prayer and smoke, gold and silver, and displays of excellence. They did not ask for much — not like the bloody-mouthed demon gods that threaten the world today. Yet, even with these horrors of the outer worlds threatening the modern world, mankind has turned its back upon the old ways. No longer do they practice sacrifice, no longer do they build edifices to honour the gods. In this fallen age, the only gods are gold, and power, and the sword.
And yet, even as their temples have fallen into ruin, the old gods of the ancient world have not, themselves, disappeared. They still smart when offences are made against them, when their names and memories are profaned, when their icons are looted and desecrated. And when their rage grows strong enough, they send the Kraken of the Deep to deliver their vengeance upon the mortal world.
A leviathan of the deepest, darkest parts of the oceans, the Kraken has hunted in the underwater darkness since before even fire was discovered. Though it has eyes, the light means nothing to it. Though it cannot breathe the air, it has dug through stone to stuff its beak before. Though it cares nothing for the lives of other earthly creatures, it has always honoured the gods of the ancient world. They know the way to speak their will into its mind, to make it obey their wishes. And the Kraken is content with a life of hunting and eating whatever is smaller than itself.
No ship is safe from the Kraken of the Deep, no coastal town or city. Not even the banks of large rivers. Even the caves beneath the mountains are not safe, for the Kraken knows all the secret underground oceans by heart. It can sneak up through subterranean rivers and strike in the darkness of hellish caves. Only in the desert can one escape the divine wrath of the Kraken.