Information


Shoggoth has a minion!

Azrukhal the Maere




Shoggoth


The Nightmare Aeanoid
Owner: Possum

Age: 6 years, 3 weeks, 3 days

Born: July 22nd, 2016

Adopted: 5 years, 11 months, 3 weeks ago

Adopted: August 24th, 2016

Statistics


  • Level: 2
     
  • Strength: 10
     
  • Defense: 10
     
  • Speed: 10
     
  • Health: 10
     
  • HP: 10/10
     
  • Intelligence: 12
     
  • Books Read: 12
  • Food Eaten: 1
  • Job: Unemployed


CREDITS

profile template (c) helix (get it)
other credits go here

Something wicked this way comes...

"We shall see that at which dogs howl in the dark, and that at which cats prick up their ears after midnight." - H.P. Lovecraft

Travel between dimensions takes a lot out of someone, even demigods. He emerged as a shadow in a strange white room that was very narrow. There wasn't much in it, except for some metallic sort of basin that he was behind, and another basin not far from it, with a shiny tube hanging about this second basin. How very, very curious. There were noises coming closer to this room that he now found himself in. Those noises! whatever it is that comes close, I must devour it. It has been too long since I ate. He waited, a shadow on the wall behind a shiny basin.

The man from Georgia never saw it coming. One minute, he was entering the bathroom stall on an international flight from Athens, Georgia to London, England - with one stop in New York, which they had just left - and the next minute, he felt something wash over him, a cloud of darkness. The creature examined itself in the shiny panel above the basin with the metal tube and practiced moving his newfound face. It was black in color, as black and as soul-less as space itself. Two eyes peered into the panel, which, after searching the now-deceased businessman's memories, he learned was called a "mirror". The pupils of these eyes were slit, and the irises of a color the man's memories recognized as "indigo". The soft, stringy mass atop his "head" - "hair", apparently - was "olive", or so the memories informed him. He was standing in front of a "sink", as a shadow he had been behind a "toilet", and he was now wearing the man's "clothes", more specifically, a "grey" "suit".

The creature continued to look himself over in the mirror. His facial features were also new to him; never before did he recall having "ears", funny little disc-like parts on either side of his head. He had a wet, slimy thing inside his face-hole, that is, a "tongue" inside his "mouth". Mouths were what were used to devour things in this universe, he realized. How very curious indeed! And such bizarre things, these "arms", these "hands"! He quickly skimmed through the man's memories so that he would properly fit in whenever he decided to leave this "bathroom". Now he needed to practice "speaking".

"Huh. Huh. Heh. Loo. Lao. Low. Heh. Low. Hell. Hell-low. Hello." Well, that was easy enough. Perhaps one more glance through the man's memories wouldn't hurt. Ah, yes. . . He could see everything about the various greetings, insults, farewells, and colloquialisms. He studied how to walk, how to sit, how to eat - eating, apparently, was just as important in this universe as it was in his - how to evacuate what remained of the food he ate, which apparently involved sitting as well. Two lessons in one, how wonderful! Once last attempt at speaking. "Hello. My name is..." and there he drew a blank. What could he possibly call himself here? In his world, not one being had a proper name. He searched for an answer. According to the man's memories, his name was Mr. Michael Patterson, of Savannah, Georgia. He was a husband, a father, a relatively successful businessman, and now he was dead.

"Hello. My name is..." The word that came from the creature's newfound mouth sounded nothing at all like "Michael Patterson," instead, it sounded like a cat being strangled by a large dog, who was being flattened tail-first by an eighteen-wheeler. The driver of which was suffering from cardiac arrest, and a rather nasty bout of flatulence. His name, as close as it could be understood in the dead businessman's language, was Shoggoth.

Shoggoth emerged from the bathroom silently, still testing the limitations of his new face. If anyone on the flight had cared to look at the pitch-black man in the smoke-grey suit, they might have thought him to be an illusion; no person could be that dark. Sure, there were vampires in the world, most with impossibly-white skin, but a man whose skin was on the entirely opposite side of the spectrum? What on earth could he possibly be? If anyone on the plane had cared to notice, they might have seen that his shadow was rather odd - it possessed long, tentacle-like appendages. Humanity, thankfully, has a way of ignoring that which it cannot possibly understand.

Having learned all he could from the dead man, Shoggoth cast aside the memories. The last remaining traces of Mr. Michael Patterson, aside from his suit, disappeared like so much smoke out of a window. The creature - despite all of his external appearances, Shoggoth was still a creature of indeterminate origin - seated himself in the vacant spot left by Mr. Patterson.

Hours later, he emerged from the terminal with Mr. Patterson's luggage. He picked up a newspaper from a homeless vagabond, threw some change, and examined every page. Shoggoth would need to find himself a residence if he was to ever find out what it was exactly that brought him to this universe in the first place.

Pet Treasure


Dripping Elder Tome

Big Red Jellyfish

Cthulhu Mooshiboi

Pet Friends