Tell me a story about Cthulhu, /x/.
>>17694964
That is not dead which can eternal lie,
And with strange aeons even Death may die
>>17694964
go read a book, faggot
... And then they all went insane. The end. <3
>>17694992
And then they were eaten by Cthulhu
>>17694964
It's called the ugly ayy lmao
There was once an Ayy lmao so ugly
Everyone died
>>17694964
rarglhflarghahgf huhuurgrrrghdghdg duurrrrrhghghgurr thuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun
the end
>>17694964
I want to fuck that Squid
bump, I'll tell you a story OP
Dope shit
>>17695166
Do tell.
>>17695183
prnaked diddd kidddo
>>17695183
DELETE THIS
He eats weeaboos for breakfast, lunch, AND dinner!
>>17695183
mods mods mods
Nyarlathotep... the crawling chaos... I am the last... I will tell the audient void...
I do not recall distinctly when it began, but it was months ago. The general tension was horrible. To a season of political and social upheaval was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger; a danger widespread and all-embracing, such a danger as may be imagined only in the most terrible phantasms of the night. I recall that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had heard. A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and out of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places. There was a demoniac alteration in the sequence of the seasons the autumn heat lingered fearsomely, and everyone felt that the world and perhaps the universe had passed from the control of known gods or forces to that of gods or forces which were unknown.
And it was then that Nyarlathotep came out of Egypt. Who he was, none could tell, but he was of the old native blood and looked like a Pharaoh. The fellahin knelt when they saw him, yet could not say why. He said he had risen up out of the blackness of twenty-seven centuries, and that he had heard messages from places not on this planet. Into the lands of civilisation came Nyarlathotep, swarthy, slender, and sinister, always buying strange instruments of glass and metal and combining them into instruments yet stranger. He spoke much of the sciences of electricity and psychology and gave exhibitions of power which sent his spectators away speechless, yet which swelled his fame to exceeding magnitude. Men advised one another to see Nyarlathotep, and shuddered. And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished, for the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare.
>>17695237
Never before had the screams of nightmare been such a public problem; now the wise men almost wished they could forbid sleep in the small hours, that the shrieks of cities might less horribly disturb the pale, pitying moon as it glimmered on green waters gliding under bridges, and old steeples crumbling against a sickly sky.
I remember when Nyarlathotep came to my city the great, the old, the terrible city of unnumbered crimes. My friend had told me of him, and of the impelling fascination and allurement of his revelations, and I burned with eagerness to explore his uttermost mysteries. My friend said they were horrible and impressive beyond my most fevered imaginings; and what was thrown on a screen in the darkened room prophesied things none but Nyarlathotep dared prophesy, and in the sputter of his sparks there was taken from men that which had never been taken before yet which showed only in the eyes. And I heard it hinted abroad that those who knew Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not.
It was in the hot autumn that I went through the night with the restless crowds to see Nyarlathotep; through the stifling night and up the endless stairs into the choking room. And shadowed on a screen, I saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and yellow evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments. And I saw the world battling against blackness; against the waves of destruction from ultimate space; whirling, churning, struggling around the dimming, cooling sun. Then the sparks played amazingly around the heads of the spectators, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than I can tell came out and squatted on the heads. And when I, who was colder and more scientific than the rest, mumbled a trembling protest about imposture and static electricity, Nyarlathotep drove us all out, down the dizzy stairs into the damp, hot, deserted midnight streets.
>>17695246
I screamed aloud that I was not afraid; that I never could be afraid; and others screamed with me for solace. We swore to one another that the city was exactly the same, and still alive; and when the electric lights began to fade we cursed the company over and over again, and laughed at the queer faces we made.
I believe we felt something coming down from the greenish moon, for when we began to depend on its light we drifted into curious involuntary marching formations and seemed to know our destinations though we dared not think of them. Once we looked at the pavement and found the blocks loose and displaced by grass, with scarce a line of rusted metal to show where the tramways had run. And again we saw a tram-car, lone, windowless, dilapidated, and almost on its side. When we gazed around the horizon, we could not find the third tower by the river, and noticed that the silhouette of the second tower was ragged at the top. Then we split up into narrow columns, each of which seemed drawn in a different direction. One disappeared in a narrow alley to the left, leaving only the echo of a shocking moan. Another filed down a weed-choked subway entrance, howling with a laughter that was mad. My own column was sucked toward the open country, and presently I felt a chill which was not of the hot autumn; for as we stalked out on the dark moor, we beheld around us the hellish moon-glitter of evil snows. Trackless, inexplicable snows, swept asunder in one direction only, where lay a gulf all the blacker for its glittering walls. The column seemed very thin indeed as it plodded dreamily into the gulf. I lingered behind, for the black rift in the green-litten snow was frightful, and I thought I had heard the reverberations of a disquieting wail as my companions vanished; but my power to linger was slight. As if beckoned by those who had gone before, I half-floated between the titanic snowdrifts, quivering and afraid, into the sightless vortex of the unimaginable.
>>17695252
Screamingly sentient, dumbly delirious, only the gods that were can tell. A sickened, sensitive shadow writhing in hands that are not hands, and whirled blindly past ghastly midnights of rotting creation, corpses of dead worlds with sores that were cities, charnel winds that brush the pallid stars and make them flicker low. Beyond the worlds vague ghosts of monstrous things; half-seen columns of unsanctifled temples that rest on nameless rocks beneath space and reach up to dizzy vacua above the spheres of light and darkness. And through this revolting graveyard of the universe the muffled, maddening beating of drums, and thin, monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes from inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond Time; the detestable pounding and piping whereunto dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic, tenebrous ultimate gods the blind, voiceless, mindless gargoyles whose soul is Nyarlathotep.
>>17695252
>>17695246
wait, I don't get it, did nyarlathotep cause them to time travel?
I think that it's the fact that, perhaps not in that form, but that 4th dimensional creatures that we literally cannot comprehend who exist in a way that still affects a 3d space, is actually reasonable. For instance, if you drew a little stick figure man on a piece of paper, he is 2d, you are 3d, he would only be able to comprehend what was on that piece of paper, while you can comprehend what is outside of it. So if you put your finger on that piece of paper, all he would be able to see is the shadow left by your finger, a small dark circle, with fainter dark lines leading away up your finger until eventually it's no longer visible. He sees nothing wrong with this, until you use your other hand to erase him from existance. This is why they would be so terrifying if they existed. They have power over your dimension and you can't even comprehend them in order to protect yourself. Of course it's all conjecture, but i'd say lovecraft is the monster most likely to exist and an explanation for all other creepy unexplained stuff as well.
>>17695257
You're pretty cool Anon
>>17695257
That's funny, I just finished up recording a narration of this story like an hour ago.
>>17695433
it follows
>>17695281
Im pretty sure they were transported to the heart of the other gods, azathoth. In other stories it is referred to as the seething chaos at the center of the universe. That's what all the stuff about drums and flutes is referring to.
>>17695446
oh okay thanks
I fucking hate the lovecraft fandom
Holy shit
>>17695638
Please don't tell me its filled with autistic fanboys like sonic or someshit
>>17695707
Worse. It's filled with normie-tier hipsters.
>>17695718
Why do they have to ruin everything
>>17695707
by simply liking lovecrafts shitty stories they are more autistic than anything
>>17695707
It's filled with people who never actually read his work and are largely unaware that other writers did the same schtick much better. But they like spoopy video games and credit HPL with creating the atmosphere.
Once upon a time, the stars were right. The dead city R'yleth rose from the depths of the ocean and Cthulhu rose from his slumber. Then he saw some people on a boat and tried to kill them, but instead the boat ran over his head and he died.
The End.
>>17694964
Cthulhu is fiction.
THE END
>>17695433
Let us listen to it.
When age fell upon the world, and wonder went out of the minds of men; when grey cities reared to smoky skies tall towers grim and ugly, in whose shadow none might dream of the sun or of spring’s flowering meads; when learning stripped earth of her mantle of beauty, and poets sang no more save of twisted phantoms seen with bleared and inward-looking eyes; when these things had come to pass, and childish hopes had gone away forever, there was a man who travelled out of life on a quest into the spaces whither the world’s dreams had fled.
Of the name and abode of this man but little is written, for they were of the waking world only; yet it is said that both were obscure. It is enough to know that he dwelt in a city of high walls where sterile twilight reigned, and that he toiled all day among shadow and turmoil, coming home at evening to a room whose one window opened not on the fields and groves but on a dim court where other windows stared in dull despair. From that casement one might see only walls and windows, except sometimes when one leaned far out and peered aloft at the small stars that passed. And because mere walls and windows must soon drive to madness a man who dreams and reads much, the dweller in that room used night after night to lean out and peer aloft to glimpse some fragment of things beyond the waking world and the greyness of tall cities. After years he began to call the slow-sailing stars by name, and to follow them in fancy when they glided regretfully out of sight; till at length his vision opened to many secret vistas whose existence no common eye suspects. And one night a mighty gulf was bridged, and the dream-haunted skies swelled down to the lonely watcher’s window to merge with the close air of his room and make him a part of their fabulous wonder.
>>17695869
There came to that room wild streams of violet midnight glittering with dust of gold; vortices of dust and fire, swirling out of the ultimate spaces and heavy with perfumes from beyond the worlds. Opiate oceans poured there, litten by suns that the eye may never behold and having in their whirlpools strange dolphins and sea-nymphs of unrememberable deeps. Noiseless infinity eddied around the dreamer and wafted him away without even touching the body that leaned stiffly from the lonely window; and for days not counted in men’s calendars the tides of far spheres bare him gently to join the dreams for which he longed; the dreams that men have lost. And in the course of many cycles they tenderly left him sleeping on a green sunrise shore; a green shore fragrant with lotus-blossoms and starred by red camalotes.
>>17695803
>unaware that other writers did the same schtick much better.
Not really, it's just that most of Lovecraft's best works have nothing to do with "le ebin Cthulhu is going to eat us".That's only an impression carried by Mr. Derleth's works.
To get an example, you can read the Dream Cycle, vastly different from the things for which he is now known.
If you're lazy, you can just read the Colour out of Space, which is fairly short, and has the reputation of being one of his best works (the only shortcoming being the horrendous dialect sometimes used by one of the protagonists).
You'll probably end up liking at least one of his short stories/novels, since, on the contrary to what may have been said by some, "At the Mountains of Madness", "The Case of Charles Dexter Ward", "The Shadow over Innsmouth", and his wors from the Dream Cycle are vastly different.
The horror in his works stems rather from the implications than from the situation itself, since the themes of cosmic horror, or heredity are prevalent for him (although we can debate if the latter is part of the former ).
Please forgive my rather clumsy English.
(Just don't begin with Herbert West or very early works.)
He only comes when you crucify a woman who sucked off her new born on a beach with four other dudes on a beach in morning when it's grey and cloudy
>>17694964
You stun him with a boat, according to Harry Potter Loveforce
