[Video]

[callada]

[The feed turns on to show Rosinante's face. He's usually pale, sure, but even more so right now, and his pupils are practically pinholes in his wide eyes. His hair is blowing wildly in the wind, only it looks like the wind is coming from below, and his other hand is pressed firmly to the hat on his head to keep from losing it. In the background, a dark sky with thick clouds that almost look like they're boiling sits over the top of an island with colorful pastel buildings. Oil street lamps are lit even though it should be daytime, and almost nobody is out on the streets.]

Found something I don't think I can make sense of on my own. Hate to put out a general broadcast for help but I don't know who's best trained to handle this.

[He's speaking with the sort of calm that implies he doesn't fully believe what he's about to show is even real. The camera pans away from his face and downward. What should be the sea, where the beach meets waves, instead is a deep precipice. The sand blows upward from his feet as the air rushes upward. Far below, the ocean waves slope downward and crash into masses of dark, spiked tentacles, and toothy jaws open only to yield more toothy jaws in some horrible monstrous recursion.]

Coordinates are attached to this transmission. Problem is, once you're here, I don't think you can leave. Not until this... stops.