Dark Tapestry

Enigmatic grays travel the Material Plane in search of knowledge and living specimens for research, yet little is known about their motivations or where exactly they come from. Stories of encounters with these creatures often take the form of poorly remembered nightmares from those who experience a gray’s sleep paralysis. Some abductees recall being brought aboard the grays’ vast, otherworldly vessels and subjected to nightmarish experiments, while others have vivid but terrifying memories of being confined in cramped, dark places that are seemingly alive. In spite of the differences in their experiences, those who have encountered grays universally find their presence alien, condescending, and sinister.  Grays’ movements and expressions are disturbing and inhuman, and their intentions remain inscrutable. Through telepathic contact with the beings, their victims detect a constant, unwavering malevolence. Beyond that, the grays’ faces and full, black eyes show little emotion. Their movements are efficient, and they frequently spend several seconds in deliberation before each move they make. They seem to communicate with their own kind using only telepathy, forgoing even body language or eye contact.

Known by various names on various worlds, but most often as “elder things” or “old ones,” these alien creatures are interested in creating lasting works of art, architecture, and even life (such as the dreaded shoggoths). They possess a boundless capacity for war and egotism. A typical elder thing is 6 feet tall from head to foot, with a 7-foot wingspan. Surprisingly heavy for its size, an elder thing generally weighs about 450 pounds.

Mi-go are both scientists and colonists—extraterrestrial travelers from deep space who view the universe as a canvas to be mastered and controlled. Their numbers on any particular planet can vary, but taken on a galactic scale, are mind-numbing in scope. Although a mi-go’s shape might suggest it is an arthropod, the creature is in fact a highly evolved form of extraterrestrial fungus. Mi-go communicate via a combination of clicking pincers and subtle shifts in the coloration of their bulbous heads. A typical mi-go is roughly the size of a human, but weighs only 90 pounds.

These eerie denizens travel the universe from their strange homeland of Leng, walking uncontested only when they disguise themselves as humans by wearing loose-fitting robes and wrappings about the head and face. Under these disguises, they have horned brows, clawed fingers, mouths full of tentacles, and crooked goatish legs with cloven hooves. Many scholars have argued over where the otherworldly realm of Leng lies— some believe it can be found among the Outer Planes, while others are convinced it can only be reached via a dimension of dreams. The denizens of Leng can travel to other planes freely, and often do so in strange, black ships, constantly seeking new breeds of slaves or trading rubies for unusual services or magical treasures. At other times, their visits are much more violent, focusing on abducting victims for use as slaves or worse. On Leng, these denizens have long fought a war against that realm’s monstrous spiders, a war that sometimes spills over into other worlds. A denizen of Leng weighs 200 pounds and stands roughly 5-1/2 feet tall.

Shantaks speak in a shrill voice that sounds like glass grinding against stone. They are intelligent creatures and cannot be trained as mounts—a would-be shantak rider must use diplomacy or magic to secure a shantak’s cooperation as a mount, and even then, shantaks have a tendency to deliberately strand riders in dangerous areas. Many shantaks have a strange and irrational fear of certain creatures, such as the faceless nightgaunts said to dwell in certain remote mountains, or specific types of harpies or gargoyles in more civilized regions. A shantak avoids confrontations with these types of creatures if possible. A shantak’s ability to travel the gulfs of space ensures that these scaly, bird-like creatures can be found on numerous worlds. Yet despite this unique ability, shantaks are generally quite reluctant to seek out new worlds unless faced with no other option, for a shantak knows well that an attempt to fly to an unknown world could easily result in being lost forever in the gulfs of space.

Yaddithians are an ancient race of scholarly starfarers. Bholes consumed their home planet long ago; the survivors fled to other worlds across the universe. It is rare to find a yaddithian less powerful than the wizard above.

YADDITHIAN CHARACTERS
Yaddithians are defined by their class levels—they don’t have racial Hit Dice. They have the following racial traits.
+2 Constitution, +2 Intelligence, –2 Wisdom.  
Slow: Yaddithians have a land speed of 20 feet.  
Darkvision: Yaddithians can see in the dark up to 60 feet.  
Defensive Abilities: Yaddithians have cold resistance 5 and the no breath ability.  
Claws: A Yaddithian has two claws that deal 1d4 points of damage each.  
Rugose: A Yaddithian gains a +1 natural armor bonus.  
Cosmic Mind: A Yaddithian gets a +2 racial bonus on Knowledge and Spellcraft checks. A yaddithian spellcaster who would store spells in a spellbook or familiar instead stores those spells in its mind (but must expend the normal resources to learn new spells).
Long-Lived: Yaddithians live for thousands of years; they gain no benefit or penalty from aging and are immune to magical aging effects.
Languages: Yaddithians begin play speaking Yaddithian. Those with high Intelligence scores can choose any language as a bonus language.

One of the countless creatures bred and engineered by eldritch horrors from beyond the stars, yangethes have, over the eons, developed keen intellects and desires of their own. Unless slain by violence, a yangethe is immortal.

Creatures of burning light and strange geometry, shining children are a terror to behold. Beyond the flares of energy that constantly burst from their forms (particularly in beam-like gouts from their eyes and mouths), the creatures are vaguely humanoid, with strange hands that each bear four fingers. Occasionally summoned by powerful wizards in search of rare arcane knowledge, the shining children (who disdain individual names) communicate via telepathy, a psychic roar like metal tearing that sometimes resolves into strained and raspy words. Though they harbor many secrets, their greatest secret may be their own origin. Numerous theories abound—that the shining children are beings from another dimension, avatars of a dying star grown sentient, or creatures of light battling living darkness at the edge of reality. A shining child stands just over 4-1/2 feet tall and weighs 85 pounds.

Somalcygots are incredibly territorial; each claims roughly a mile-radius patch of desolate surface on a moon, asteroid, or similar airless terrestrial environment as its chosen hunting ground, and enters another’s territory only to mate. Somalcygots can digest nearly any organic matter, but because they usually live on barren terrain, they often go for long intervals without a meal. In order to preserve energy between meals, a somalcygot enters a trancelike hibernation during which it burrows in circles beneath the surface of its territory with unthinking repetition. When it detects another creature nearby, the somalcygot awakens and enters a frenzy to capitalize on the rare meal, fighting relentlessly until the prey either dies or escapes. Only rarely do somalcygots pursue prey beyond the boundaries of their claimed hunting grounds, a tendency that serves both to preserve the creature’s energy and to avoid needless conflict with other somalcygots that claim neighboring regions.  A typical adult somalcygot is 16 feet long and weighs 1,500 pounds.

Often called “heresy oozes,” vespergaunts are emissaries of the horrible god-things of deep space and are found primarily on befouled, remote planets.  A vespergaunt is 8 feet tall and 6 feet wide, and weighs just 50 pounds.

Lunar dragons frequently interact with mortals, spending long hours watching the activities occurring on planets that interest them.

Arrogant and proud, solar dragons see themselves as the originators of light and life in the vastness of space. They treat all living creatures as their own creations.

Void dragons have been tainted by long exposure to the terrible alien entities that dwell in deep space. Though some continue to struggle against the inevitable tide of annihilation, many have embraced the encroaching void and exist only to feed and destroy.

Vortex dragons are the undisputed masters of travel across the galaxies, serving as messengers and observers for the greatest outer dragons and godlike entities in the great beyond.

Guardians of history, time dragons are the most powerful of the outer dragons. Watchers and waiters, time dragons guard the universe against those that would interfere with the natural temporal order.

Oma soar through gas giants and the vast gulfs between planets on magical electromagnetic fields, feeding on cosmic materials strained from planetary rings and atmospheres with their energy baleen. Anything ingested by an oma is eventually sequestered in a surprisingly habitable second stomach before being excreted, and some alien creatures use oma as living starships, using telepathy to guide the colossi through the void. A typical oma is 150 feet long and weighs 250 tons.

Of all the strange and malefic denizens of the void between the stars, few cause the same terror as this titanic race. They hail from a mad star whose light cannot be seen by conventional telescopes, and the smallest of these behemoths stand nearly 30 feet in height. Humanoid in shape, their immense bodies have rubbery flesh that seems to wriggle and seethe like a half-solidified ooze. Tremendous draconic wings, murderous taloned hands, and a tentacled visage that evokes the alien gaze of an octopus complete the being’s monstrous shape.
This malevolent race has a name, yet it is no name known to the sane. Among mortal scholars, they are known merely by the name of their greatest priest—they are the star-spawn of Cthulhu. The star-spawn of Cthulhu have a strange, mutable anatomy—their form is not fixed. They can absorb parts of their bodies or enlarge others at will, a trait they often use on their claws or tentacles to dramatically extend their reach in combat beyond what might normally be possible for a creature of the same shape and size. Despite this mutable shape, the star-spawn’s forms generally don’t deviate far from that of an octopus-headed, winged humanoid, likely because of the powerful links their otherworldly minds have to their overlord and master, who lies dead but dreaming in the lost city of R’lyeh. Although they typically appear as immense humanoid creatures with rubbery hides and octopoid heads, the star-spawn of Cthulhu are not any more aquatic in nature than they are terrestrial—that they’re often associated with a planet’s oceans lies more in the simple fact that oceans often cover the majority of a planet’s surface. The creatures themselves, being equally at home on land, at sea, or in the depths of space, make no real distinction between such regions, choosing them as the sites of their cities and temples for purposes only they can know.
Servants of the alien gods of the void, they work upon the worlds they invade to wipe them clean of indigenous life in preparation for the eventual time when the deep void expands to replace all that exists with its strange realities. The star-spawn of Cthulhu hold little malice toward indigenous life—they simply can’t proceed with their plans for a world while such life exists. Just as a human might move into a house thinking it to be abandoned, only to discover colonies of ants dwelling within the building’s walls, the star-spawn work to eradicate indigenous infestations. Their methods seldom vary from world to world—those whose intellects they can influence via dreams and nightmares they besiege as the victims sleep, seeding the growth of destructive cults and societies. These groups in turn further the star-spawn’s agenda, preparing the world and bringing it to the brink of destruction. When such worlds are poised to tear themselves apart from within through unrest, civil war, excessive pollution, or genocide, the star-spawn mobilize their cults to end all things. The only reward such cults may receive for their (sometimes unwitting) aid is the dubious honor of being among the final few to be eradicated, for the star-spawn have no interest in and feel no responsibility toward their pawns.
The fact that the star-spawn’s plans to bring about the eradication of life span centuries or even millennia should not be mistaken for sloth or lassitude—the star-spawn are inhumanly patient, and the preparation of the universe’s worlds must precisely follow an unknowable schedule, for only when the exact cosmic convergences are in place and the stars are right can they make their final moves to end all things. This time frame does give some worlds a chance to discover the star-spawn’s influence and to delay or even defeat their world’s star spawned doom, but such tales of triumph are rare in the face of the void’s relentless tides.
The star-spawn of Cthulhu war with many other strange races out of time and space, including elder things and the servitors of other Great Old Ones. They have also been known to use these creatures—and other races such as the mi-go—as pawns, slaves, or minions to promote their immortal agenda. Though the star-spawn themselves hail from a distant world deep in the void and can be found on countless other realms as gods and monsters, their lord Cthulhu dwells upon a distant planet far removed from any commonly visited world. Yet while Cthulhu lies imprisoned in the corpse-city of R’lyeh deep under a great ocean, his dreams resonate still in the minds of his star spawn, and from there touch upon the dreams of many slumbering poets and philosophers on countless worlds. Guided by their knowledge of their master’s great plan, and updated by his far-reaching dreams, the star-spawn of Cthulhu proceed inevitably toward their goals.

Yarthoon is among the least powerful of the kaiju, yet even she is of staggering size and capable of unleashing devastation on an apocalyptic scale. Known as the Moon Grub to kaiju scholars, Yarthoon does indeed dwell upon the moon itself, where she spends much of her time in a frozen reach of ice and snow, created, in part, by her presence and the effects of her freezing breath over the course of centuries. (Note that although Yarthoon’s exhalations fill the region with freezing mist, the Moon Grub herself has no need to breathe and can exist comfortably in the vacuum of space.)
Were Yarthoon content to remain upon the moon, there would be little known about the frozen kaiju; unfortunately, the larger world her home orbits is a constant fascination for her. Indeed, certain events have been known to specifically attract Yarthoon’s attention, whether they’re intentional calls such as powerful rituals led by apocalyptic cultists, or accidental lures that occur when powerful effects of magical cold occur. The exact nature of these attractions varies, and even the most learned scholars argue over what exactly it is that draws Yarthoon to visit the world. None, however, dispute the devastation Yarthoon unleashes, if unintentionally, when she visits the world. Unlike many kaiju, Yarthoon seems not to purposefully seek out civilizations to destroy, but her immense size and her freezing breath wreak havoc nonetheless. Fortunately, Yarthoon’s visits to the world typically last for only a few days before she slithers off into the sky like an eel swimming through water to return to her den on the moon.
Yarthoon has a complex relationship with Mogaru, the Final King. Often, Mogaru’s devastation on a region is enough to lure Yarthoon down from the moon, in which case she often clashes with the more powerful kaiju. Likewise, Mogaru’s ability to sense kaiju often results in him coming to investigate a region that Yarthoon has decided to visit. Yet the two kaiju never seem willing to finish a fight against the other, and rather than deliver a death blow when the chance rises, each seems content to let the other flee. The one thing that seems to unite the two kaiju is their shared hatred of Lord Varklops, and the two kaiju have teamed up several times to drive off the three-headed fiend more than once.
Although Yarthoon is the least powerful of the known kaiju, the Moon Grub has been remarkably resilient. Time and time again, Yarthoon has returned after suffering what seemed to be a complete defeat, at either the hands of powerful heroes or the claws and fangs of fellow kaiju. Scholars of these immense monsters have theorized that Yarthoon may not be a unique creature, and that in its hidden lair on the moon, multiple Moon Grubs writhe and dream. Others posit that Yarthoon is but the larval stage of a kaiju, and that while only one may live at any time, numerous other eggs lie in a hidden crèche on the moon, waiting to hatch and release replacement Moon Grubs as needed.
Yarthoon is 250 feet long from head to tail and weighs 14,000 tons.

Of all the Great Old Ones, Yig is without a doubt the most benign. Yet those so foolish as to expect kindness from the so-called Father of Serpents would do well to think again, for Yig does not suffer fools and is as likely to devour those who beseech him for help as he is to provide aid. Even his most devout worshipers realize he may simply wish to feed at times, and on these occasions no amount of devotion can protect a supplicant from death.  Yig appears as a scaled, humanoid creature with a serpent’s head and lashing tail, but he can appear as any serpentine creature if he so wills. In his true form, Yig stands 14 feet tall and weighs 1,100 pounds.

YIG’S CULT
Yig is primarily worshiped by nomadic societies and those who live with a close connection to the land; veneration of him is all but unknown in urban areas. Although Yig often makes his presence known through the actions of serpents, serpentfolk rarely worship him, preferring their own, more sinister deity. Yig’s cult is associated with cycles (the cycle of seasons, the cycle of birth and death, and other manifestations of repetition in the natural world), procreation, and serpents, and his sacred symbol is a coiled rattlesnake with a crescent-shaped mark upon its head. His temples rarely take the form of constructed buildings and are often nothing more than a forest clearing, a ring of standing stones, or the mouth of a large cave. Unlike most of the Great Old Ones, Yig tends to take notice of those who worship him. This is, however, as much a bane as it is a boon for those who offer the Father of Serpents worship, for just as he may protect his flock when they are endangered, his retribution for slights is swift, and communities that fail to properly worship him often find their crops failing, their livestock sickened, and their children born with crippling deformities. You can model such unfortunate creatures by applying the mutant creature template. In addition to the normal changes wrought by this template, such mutants invariably bear a unique birthmark somewhere on their body—the crescent moon shape that all of those touched by Yig bear.  Yig’s clerics have access to the domains of Chaos, Community, Protection, and Scalykind, and to the subdomains of Defense, Dragon, Revelry, and Venom. His favored weapon is the punching dagger.

Black Butterfly, the Silence Between, arose from the spaces between the stars. Solemn and serene, she never acts rashly, relying on the wisdom of the cosmos to guide her to the appropriate solution. She believes that the true nature of the multiverse lies in the gaps and silences between thoughts and ideas, so she never focuses on one topic or idea for too long, lest in narrowing her view she should lose sight of the space beyond the idea’s edge.  On Elysium, Black Butterfly’s hidden realm is nestled in the constellation that leads to Desna’s palace. Her realm is relatively simple for an empyreal lord, with no grand palace or bright colors. Instead, it is a quiet respite from a plane of riotous passions, a gentle void, breathable by creatures of all sorts, with pockets of solid shadow for those who prefer ground beneath their feet and dotted with simple shelters. Her realm is so difficult to find that even planar scholars and other residents of Elysium can’t agree exactly where it lies, though travelers through silence and darkness, even on other planes, sometimes make their way into her realm in times of desperation, able to find momentary succor so long as they are respectful and quiet.  While few beings can match her knowledge of the alien monstrosities that dwell in the deepest reaches of interstellar space, Black Butterfly refuses to share much of it, as she worries that widespread knowledge of her greatest nemeses, the Outer Gods and the Great Old Ones, would serve their interests rather than hers. She often journeys from her home in Elysium to subtly battle the interests of these foes and other forces of evil, or to assist those in need without revealing her presence.  

BLACK BUTTERFLY’S FAITH
Black Butterfly is the patron of distance, silence, and space. The Silence Between’s worshipers include those for whom distances are essential, such as parted lovers or explorers (particularly those who brave the unfathomable depths of outer space), as well as those who appreciate her connection to silence, such as the deaf and the mute. Worshipers of Black Butterfly are encouraged to perform anonymous acts of charity without speaking to the recipient of their kindness, for the reason that such unseen gifts help foster the perception that good things sometimes happen to good people for no other reason than that they deserve it. Black Butterfly’s most sacred spaces are isolated monasteries and shrines high atop mountain peaks, deep underground, or even floating on asteroids in the void of space—these latter redoubts typically have potent magic to enable her worshipers to live and breathe with ease. She teaches her followers that the greatest good lies in performing quiet anonymous acts, and her faith abhors loud spectacles on holy days.  Black Butterfly’s holy symbol is a black-winged butterfly with a white star for a body on a field of purple. Her favored weapon is the starknife. She grants access to the domains of Chaos, Good, Liberation, and Void, and access to the subdomains of Azata, Freedom, Revolution, and Stars.  

The strange and silent Great Old One known as the Herald of the End Times has spent most of its existence in hibernation, waking for short periods of time after his worshipers rouse him or as the result of singular cosmic events. These periods of wakefulness never last for long, but ancient texts speak of a time when Rhan-Tegoth shall waken fully from his slumber, heralding the dawn of the end of all worlds.  While records of Rhan-Tegoth’s waking periods and his activities during those times are rare and unreliable, rumors still persist of certain chants and rituals that are capable of temporarily waking the Great Old One from his slumber. What reasons might exist for stirring Rhan-Tegoth from his sleep can only be guessed at, for the Great Old One will usually simply consume any foolish enough to rouse him from slumber.  Rhan-Tegoth appears as an aquatic arthropod in shape, yet closer inspection leaves no doubt in the viewer’s mind of the Great Old One’s truly alien nature. His body measures 10 feet from tip to tip, and his legs span 24 feet. The Great Old One weighs 2,000 pounds, but this weight increases to 10 times this amount when he is in statue form. The fact that countless statues of Rhan-Tegoth exist makes it difficult to determine which of them is in fact the actual slumbering god, so care should be taken in proximity of any depiction of the Herald of the End Times.

RHAN-TEGOTH’S CULT
Rhan-Tegoth is worshiped by primitive tribespeople who do not understand the strange terrors caused by the unusual statue they have stumbled across, but he is just as often venerated by fanatics who know full well the creature’s significance. Cultists take delight in placing the hibernating Great Old One in public venues for display— this act eventually ends in disaster for the region and Rhan-Tegoth transitioning to other realms, leaving behind desolation and madness as a reminder of his visitation. Rhan-Tegoth’s clerics have access to the domains of Chaos, Evil, Repose, and Void, and to the subdomains of Ancestors, Dark Tapestry, Entropy, and Stars. His favored weapon is the sickle.

Hastur is the most mysterious of the Great Old Ones. In fact, the entity known as Hastur might actually be an Outer God. The physical manifestation of this entity is known as the King in Yellow, and though most consider this creature—a vaguely human-shaped figure draped in a yellow cloak—to be synonymous with Hastur himself, many scholars believe that the King in Yellow is nothing more than an avatar used by the true Hastur to move among the denizens of the physical world. Hastur himself is said to dwell upon a distant world called Carcosa on the shores of the monstrous Lake of Hali, and his power on a planet is strongest when the baleful light of Carcosa’s star is visible in that planet’s night sky.

HASTUR’S CULT
Hastur’s cult is primarily composed of decadent nobles, playwrights, and aristocrats who have grown bored with life and have sought out increasingly deviant, bizarre, and self-destructive methods of achieving gratification in life. His temples are opulent and excessive—opera houses, manors, and the like that contain hidden chambers for pastimes best indulged in secret. His cultists are particularly eager to bring innocents into their fold, exposing them to the Yellow Sign so that their bodies and minds can serve as portals through which the King in Yellow may walk the world. Hastur’s cult is associated with decadence, disorder, and nihilism, and its symbol is the Yellow Sign. The least varieties of these symbols are nonmagical—and somewhat inaccurate—representations of the sigil, though the more powerful cults possess methods by which they can craft fully functional Yellow Signs. Unlike those created by Hastur, a cult-created Yellow Sign can be resisted with a successful DC 23 Will save (as if it were a 9th-level spell). Hastur’s clerics have access to the domains of Chaos, Evil, Rune, and Void, and to the subdomains of Dark Tapestry, Language, Stars, and Wards. Hastur’s favored weapon is the rapier.

Known to some as the Dreamer in the Deep, Great Cthulhu is the mightiest of the Great Old Ones. Cthulhu is represented often in artwork—particularly in sculpture, painting, and poetry, for his influence is particularly strong among such sensitive and creative minds. In these eldritch works of art, he is depicted or described as having a vaguely humanoid frame, but with immense draconic wings and an octopus-shaped head. His actual form is somewhat fluid—the Great Old One can shift and reshape his exact countenance as he wills, allowing him to occupy a smaller space than one might expect for a creature that stands over 100 feet tall. It is fortunate indeed that Cthulhu is currently imprisoned on a distant planet within the sunken city of R’lyeh. There, the Great Old One slumbers away the eons in a state neither quite dead nor living, held in stasis by ancient magic and the potency of the Elder Sign, yet at times the city rises from the sea and the doors to his tomb open, granting Cthulhu limited mobility before he must return to his tomb.

CTHULHU’S CULT
Although Cthulhu is imprisoned on a far-f lung world, his dreams span the gulfs of existence and are capable of touching upon the sleeping minds of sensitive or artistic souls, inspiring them with insane visions and driving the creation of all manner of eldritch artistry. In such ways, his cult spreads like a night-borne virus of the dreaming mind across all worlds on which sapient life dwells. Cthulhu is worshiped by various aquatic races and folk who dwell along coasts, but also among certain decadent or fringe societies of artists, poets, and philosophers. When they form, his cults are secretive and careful to hide their allegiance to the Great Old One, meeting only in desolate and otherwise abandoned locales hidden from society’s notice. Central among his cult’s beliefs is the prophecy that one day, the stars will be right and Great Cthulhu shall rise from his corpse-city to usher in the end times, wiping clean all worlds to make them ready for his kind. The cultists believe they might be spared this fate through proper obeisance and fealty, when in truth Cthulhu is unlikely to notice the difference between those who worship him and anyone else. Cthulhu’s cult is associated with cataclysms, dreams, and the stars, and his sacred symbol is a complex rune surrounding an open eye. Cthulhu’s temples are monolithic structures of a stark and cyclopean architectural style, but most of his faithful lack the resources to build such temples and instead make do with what they can, hiding away personal shrines in underground chambers or in shacks or glades in the remote wilderness. Cthulhu’s clerics have access to the domains of Chaos, Evil, Madness, and Void, and to the subdomains of Dark Tapestry, Insanity, Nightmare, and Stars. His favored weapon is the dagger—often one with a curving blade.

Tawil at’Umr is unusual among the Great Old Ones, for it is a physical projection of the will of one of the most powerful of the Outer Gods—Yog-Sothoth. As a sort of avatar of this deity, Tawil at’Umr pursues its own goals throughout the Material Plane and dimensions that intersect it in ways mortals can never fully understand. Tawil at’Umr is just as likely to react to attacks against it with its formidable combat prowess as it is to ignore its attackers or simply relocate to another point in the multiverse—its reasons for doing so are as inscrutable as its plans for reality. Some scholars theorize that Tawil at’Umr is little more than a side effect of Yog-Sothoth’s presence upon reality when the Outer God brushes up against this universe. Even if this is the case, Tawil at’Umr’s knowledge of reality is vast, and many have sought the avatar out to learn its secrets.  Tawil at’Umr appears as a cloaked figure of approximately the same shape as the observer, yet larger— when viewed by a humanoid, it stands 12 feet tall. When it casts its cloak aside, it is revealed as a seething mass of protoplasm capable of taking many shapes and forms, several of which should not be able to exist.

TAWIL AT’UMR’S CULT
Very few even know about the existence of Tawil at’Umr, much less worship this Great Old One. Most who would venerate it instead worship it in its true form, Yog- Sothoth. Those who choose to exalt this less-powerful but highly-focused avatar tend to do so as individuals, and no organized cult to Tawil at’Umr is known to exist. Those who specifically seek to devote themselves to Tawil at’Umr typically do so out of a mistaken impression that worship matters to the avatar.  Tawil at’Umr’s symbol is a black spiral inside of a hexagon, and his favored weapon is the dagger. The Great Old One grants access to the domains of Chaos, Knowledge, Travel, and Void, and to the subdomains of Dark Tapestry, Exploration, Night, and Stars.