Shoggoth.net

Houston this is Mars Rover 1, we have found something that well, I don’t think we’re the first ones here…We’re in a cave but it has stone inscriptions of some sort of…wait somethings moving down here…Rawlings did you see that it looks like an insect only…ARRAAAGGGHHHHH…radio silence for 20 minutes…Houston, cough cough, this …is…Mars Ro….its taken over…its taking me home…cough…you have to shoot us down Houston…radio coms shutdown. 

The last communication from Mars 1 mission, 2045, the shuttle was shot down in re-entry. The wreckage, witnesses, and all materials were seized before the CDC were able to secure the site. The only evidence of the unknown force was witnesses claiming to see green signal smoke and a black helicopter leaving the site

Dedicated Re-animators

“How dare you judge my work”

– Herbert West

No doctor is complete without their helpers. Attending Physicians, and especially nurses. Skill and genius carry us all forward but without those smaller, meaner helping hands, no progress can ever be made. A certain Dr. West was a man of exceeding hubris but even he knew the above to be true.

After breaking the laws of the sane by reanimating the dead. West capriciously toyed with the mechanical parts and produced many abominations. Some were toys to satisfy his curiosity others were meant to aid his mighty work. Aid he needed but without those pesky protests that so often belch from the mouths of lesser minds.

West’s Nurses. Genderless fusions of legs and hands gathered from the aftermaths of West’s more vigorous creations. Infused with a will to aid in the work of defeating death. Even after the Good doctor’s disappearance, they still lurk in long forgotten haunts.

“…a thing all over hairy, all the face hayry & a long nose & I don’t know how to tell you the face looks w’ith two Leggs itt goeth upright & is about two or three foot high & goeth upright like a man…” – Elaine G. Breslaw, “Tituba’s Confession: The Multicultural Dimensions of the 1692 Salem Witch-Hunt,” published in Ethnohistory Vol. 44, No 3 (Summer 1997). 

Alternative names: Great God Pan, Husband to Witches, Witch King.

This mask of Nyarlathotep takes the shape of a goat with the hands and feet of a man, walking upright. A crown of flowers in constant bloom adorns his horns. In this form, he is the mate of the Black Goat of the Woods and her high priest (von Juntz, 1839). 

The being is held in reverence by witches that worship Mythos gods, especially those that follow the Black Goat. He is often called to lead sabbats, forcing followers to dance until they collapse from exhaustion. Such sabbats often involve a willing sacrifice giving themselves over to the He-Goat’s urges. Often these ritualized matings descend into frenzied orgies. 

First born of a Thousand Young

“The man screams dropping to his knees as his vocal cords rip and the cry splits into a roar. His dinner jacket swells and bursts at the seams, his body beneath breaking and bulging.

Popping and snapping, the man’s suit rips to accommodate the new form beneath. One last scream through torn vocal cords echoes and with a ground shuddering stomp, he now stands eight feet tall, matted fur covering his body and poking out through the tears in the black-tie dinner suit, horns curving out and up ending in a deadly point, hooves exploding through the brogues once worn on his feet and yellow goat eyes with a sideways slit pupil blinking with each turn of the head, accounting for everyone in the room.” — Daniel Gulliver – Holmouth Times

A new dimension-traveling threat for the Delta Green RPG.

It swims lazily through the air, propelling itself with waving fiber-optic fronds like some sort of vibrant deep-sea feather star, catching the currents of an ocean that human eyes cannot perceive. It’s a mass of vibrant, curling frills the size of a compact car, pulsating with a hypnotic array of nameless colors to a rhythm matching that of a heartbeat-

Your heartbeat, in fact, which begins to accelerate as you realize that the creature floating before you is drifting in your direction with speed one wouldn’t expect from something so delicate. You try to run, but it’s no use; your entire body feels as if suspended in water, and your feet cannot find any purchase on the ground.

Whatever otherworldly currents this creature swims through, you are now caught in them.

These strange, grotesque creatures were once human women, priestesses of The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young. Each was a matriarch of a cult or temple whose children and grandchildren also served the Outer Goddess. In their twilight years such priestesses are granted special favor to live on and serve their goddess as a Sacred Ewe of the Black Goat. It is considered the highest honor, granted to only the most devout and deserving servants. Such creatures are effectively immortal, although not invulnerable as they can be slain through violence or misadventure. 

“Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Gilman. Amanda, I and the rest of the staff at Sefton are here for your benefit. You understand that, right? Good. Now, for the record, I’m Dr. Theodore Gilman, chief psychiatrist at Sefton Asylum in Arkham, Massachusetts. Will you state your name and then tell us what happened?”

“Phagos” is the Greek suffix for “eating”, and “auto” means the self. The Autóphagos are  humans who devour themselves while becoming an appalling creature. Whether they are infected with a disease, cursed, able to transcend death and transform through intense self hatred or, instead, are preternatural creatures incubating as homo sapiens has not been  determined.