Jul 07, 2006 14:07
Blame Matt, not me. He came up with the idea of Eldritch cows.
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Deep in the trackless wastelands of Northern Wisconsin exists a terrible legend. Natives speak in hushed voices of Yg'nmuglth. A shambling, loathesome beast it is, only barely bovine. All udders and eyes in unreasonable numbers, leaking its dreadful, milky suppuration across unnamed fields. All that touch this foul succor are permanently transformed into udders. Legends tell of a man who drank of its horrible lactations. Upon the last swallow, he tried to scream, yet all that was heard was a bubbling ululation, as his teeth had transformed into vile udders, bursting forth from his mouth like so many pulpy pink tentacles. He was not seen or heard from since, but furtive whispers tell that he was taken in by the local Cult of C'thulhu. They sacrificed him in one of their horrid ceremonies, but not before he gave to them a single bottle of this man-milk, which, to this day, they keep in their damnable refrigerator, so that they might present it to the Great Devourer upon his awakening. Truly Yg'nmuglth is deservant of the soubriquet, Teat Of The Damned.