The stars are right and the old gods are restles... Nameless rites. Half-human abominations. Formless spawn from black gulfs of horror. Nightmare conspiracies and unspeakable cults. "As it squealed out its dominance and birth, its followers in the pews began to revert to their true forms, popping like chestnuts, splitting open like blood-swollen ticks..." --Cult of the Black Swine "...what made him jerk his hand away was the feel of the eye. It was soft and pulpy to the touch like the flesh of rotting fruit that you ...
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The stars are right and the old gods are restles... Nameless rites. Half-human abominations. Formless spawn from black gulfs of horror. Nightmare conspiracies and unspeakable cults. "As it squealed out its dominance and birth, its followers in the pews began to revert to their true forms, popping like chestnuts, splitting open like blood-swollen ticks..." --Cult of the Black Swine "...what made him jerk his hand away was the feel of the eye. It was soft and pulpy to the touch like the flesh of rotting fruit that you could sink your finger into..." --The Eldritch Eye "I suppose I went a little mad at the sight of the Dark Young hatching from those writhing corpses-wriggling, gelatinous things like squirming oyster-gray pupae..." --The Horror of Many Mouths "...there was a searing hot pain inside her skull as the brain leech made itself known, suckling her brain, slurping and devouring it in soft pink globs --The Brain Leeches Thirteen tales of loathsome realities where mankind is an endangered species and primordial evil rises from sunken crypts and dark dimensions.
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