Innsmouth

 The rotten fish smell of Innsmouth no longer sickened him. A part of him loathed the town and it's vile inhabitants. That part of him, the human part, was weak and frightened, it begged him to run screaming into
the rain until the town was far behind.
    In the street below his open window a priest read from a scroll. The words were older than mankind and
not meant to be voiced by men but the words came easy to the priest. The flabby, drooling, lips spoke with
authority, rising above the din of the storm.
  "Pha'tgn Uig'liu Dagon"
  "Ia Ia Mg'nui CTHULHU"
  "Dagon yath'lei"
  "Ug'liu DAGON"
 They were coming up the stairs. Shambling, bleating, many crawled on limbs more suited to the slimy sea floor. The door opened. No, he would not run from Innsmouth, he would take Dagon's sacrament and reveal his true self, then he would live forever amid the terrible beauty of the Deep Ones.