22: Ace of Spades
Frank lay on the cold floor for roughly an hour, starring back at the statues listlessly like they were some puzzle he couldn’t unravel no matter how much time was given to him. In the end, a voice in the back of his head whispered to him, the only logical course was to decide what he wanted. What did Frank expect from existence in Carcosa, and which of these strange deities would provide?
His eyes drifted slowly over to the strange blue idol, reflecting the light from the fire at weird angles that seemed to at times form complex kaleidoscopic patterns across the curved walls. They glinted like gold, a worthless item in the city but still a potent symbol. Never in his life, before or after washing up here, had Frank been wealthy. Never had he been given influence over a
