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Dark Mythos
PROFILE
[O]utside the ordered universe [is] that amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the center of all infinity — the boundless daemon sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time and space amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin monotonous whine of accursed flutes.
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Unnamable, shrouded, terrible one! Thou hunter behind clouds!
Struck down by thy lightning bolt,
Thou mocking eye that stares at me from the dark:
Thus I lie writhing, twisting, tormented, With all eternal tortures,
Hit by thee, cruelest hunter, Thou unknown god!
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And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished, for the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare..
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Unable to resist, utterly powerless to control his movements, he was diving headlong towards that ravening chaos, that age-old intelligence which was Cthugha.
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With only a slight churning to mark its rise to the surface, the thing slid into view above the dark waters. Vast, Polyphemus-like, and loathsome, it darted like a stupendous monster of nightmares to the monolith, about which it flung its gigantic scaly arms, the while it bowed its hideous head and gave vent to certain measured sounds.
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Ever Their praises, and abundance to the Black Goat of the Woods. Iä! Shub-Niggurath! Iä! Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young!
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He was very squat and pot-bellied, his head was more like a monstrous toad than a deity, and his whole body was covered with an imitation of short fur, giving somehow a vague sensation of both the bat and the sloth. His sleepy lids were half-lowered over his globular eyes; and the tip of a queer tongue issued from his fat mouth.
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The centre of each picture was, it was obvious, the being know as Gla'aki. From an oval body protruded countless thin, pointed spines of multicolored metal' at the more rounded end of the oval a circular, thick-lipped mouth formed the centre of a spongy face, from which rose three yellow eyes on thin stalks. Around the underside of the body were many white pyramids, presumably used for locomotion.
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Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog-Sothoth. He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. He knows where They have trod earth's fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread.
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Vaguely cone-shaped, Zoth-Ommog is said to have four sucker-lined arms similar to those of a starfish, a tooth-filled maw resembling that of a theropodian dinosaur, and a great mane of tentacles.
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Kthanid is physically identical to his sibling - Cthulhu - a colossal humanoid with stubby bat-wings and sporting a growth of octopoid tentacles from his lower face - in every way but one: his eyes are a deep gold in colour. Kthanid also radiates an air of benevolence to all who those in his presence. He bears a great hatred for the Great Old Ones for they had killed his family while he lay sleeping.
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Ghroth is an Outer God that resembles a rust-colored moon with a single gigantic red eye that it closes to avoid detection. It's made up of molten iron, ash, and gas, and splitting the surface are cracks or faults. Below its crust are vast seas, which are used to form a giant eye.
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A monster of vaguely anthropoid outline, but with an octopus-like head whose face was a mass of feelers, a scaly, rubbery-looking body, prodigious claws on hind and fore feet, and long, narrow wings behind.
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The gate below opened and shut, and I crept shaking to my door and bolted it, but I knew no bolts, no locks, could keep that creature out who was coming for the Yellow Sign. And now I heard him moving very softly along the hall. Now he was at the door, and the bolts rotted at his touch. Now he had entered. With eyes starting from my head I peered into the darkness, but when he came into the room I did not see him. It was only when I felt him envelope me in his cold soft grasp that I cried out and struggled with deadly fury, but my hands were useless ... I knew that the King in Yellow had opened his tattered mantle and there was only God to cry to now.
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