We have a digital print-and-play copy of a new card game called Building an Elder God to give away. Not only the game, but Ben Mund, artist for Signal Fire Studios has agreed to include a personalized Elder God head for the game to the winner. When this was a Kickstarter, the custom picture was granted for a $100 and $150 level pledge. Check out the awesome example Ben made up for us using Keeper Dan’s shaggy face! More information about the game can be found at Signal Fire Studios web site. The entries are in, and there are three new gods to lead to the horror of those foolish enough to investigate Mythos matters. As a reminder for voters, stats aren’t what we’re looking for, so much as a creative description, history, location, and ways Investigators might come in contact with it or its spawn, minions or cultists.
Here they are, for your judgement. The voting will be open until January 22, 2013. ***UPDATE*** Jamie Chambers, President of Signal Fire Studios, has offered to upgrade the prize from a Print-and-Play copy to a physical copy of the game! If you haven’t voted yet, then please do so. Voting ends tomorrow!Clvau Xenthoi (The Terror in the Shadows of Euphoria) “…the song was a blasphemous cacophony of moans that yearned for the teat of their horrible God, Clvau Xenthoi. A vile nebulous entity that exists at the edge of our known universe where there is no reference of time. The alien stone tablet in Doctor Cardiff’s library spoke little of the rituals involved with the horrible thing. Instead it talked about how God is dressed, and can only be seen, in the carcasses of the faithful worshippers and the unfortunate curious who have come to know of the God…intimately.” ~ The Terror in the Shadows of Euphoria, Sir Hulciphot Vor (1961) The Greater God is a being composed of a chaotic bundle of multidimensional energy ribbons at the edge of a gravity well of the Howek black hole. Alien civilizations on doomed planets, within solar systems being consumed by the black hole, first worshipped the entity hoping to survive their fate. The creature is a mindless being that has properties that sentient beings find intoxicating. The great telepathic wizards from the extinct planet of Xeti-Zu developed spells to commune with the Clvau Xenthoi entity and these practices now compose the foundation to the worship of Clvau Xenthoi. Other cults and alien races that have come into contact with Xeti-Zu sorcerers’ limitless hive consciousness have adopted the rituals as a result. Esoteric pre-human cults in the time of Hyboria used to worship the Greater God before being exterminated by the great Purge. Present cults still exist as a result of those who are sensitive enough to pick up the enduring collective consciousness of the Xeti-Zu wizards and the unnamed apocrypha tablets uncovered in Northern Syria. Clvau Xenthoi appears as a gigantic entity on the event horizon of a black hole made up of various prismatic ribbons of energy. A grotesque collection of small opaque scales encapsulate the stringy bundle of energy to give it a distorted reptilian appearance. Closer observation will reveal that the scales are actually the mutated bodies of alien species (some human) that have attached themselves to the entity. The Squamous Legion While worshippers may be granted knowledge of Gate or space meade spells, there is another spell that is most preferred by the cult of Clvau Xenthoi, called The Squamous Legion. The spell begins as a peculiar mole on the body that gets larger as the spell is invoked over time. Given enough dedication to the spell the body of the caster is taken over by the mole to form a large single cell carapace that resembles an opaque scale. It is in this form that the caster has a direct tether to Clvau Xenthoi and can cross dimensional folds to join the leeching of the entities euphoric energies. Plagiarius ” When I entered the lab, the doctor was lying on the floor. His face disfigured. Bones were still holding the flesh that was left, betraying any resemblance with the man that I had learned to love and admire. In my nightmares I still see his eyes ripped from his sockets dripping blood on the floor of the room, standing there frozen but not by the low temperature of the place. That is not that image that terrifies me at night. No. I can live with that. What hunts me is the sight of the man on the examination table. From the door where I was standing, the body on the table seemed like any other John Doe: his ribcage opened ready for an autopsy, a tag on his toe, his cloths a small pile besides the table. It is when I took a closer look, when the fear hit me like a train of ice. Inside his chest, where a man’s heart should be, a thing still wet in blood and a greenish lime looked back at me. It moved its lips trying to say something before I jumped and grabbed the scalpel that once belonged to Doctor Lanzaro. I stabbed the dreadful thing a dozen…no, a hundred…or maybe a thousand times. Driven by instinct I stabbed the human face of that thing that reminded me of a human fetus; a fetus, with the aged face of Jhon Doe.” -The Last autopsy of Dr. Lanzaro The Plagiarius were first spoken of in old Greece, but their legend was so obscure and unbelievable even for the times, that it was soon forgotten. It was not until father Gregorio from the Order of Brazilians of Aleppo of the Melkites, in the third century, revived the Myth on his book “Occult Studies of the Pre-Roman Greece” that the term Plagarius was given to these creatures. The Plagiarius (kidnappers), according to Gregorio, were believed to be associated with the entity known as Lucifer (also known as Nyarlathothep). Gregorio wrote that these creatures developed as parasites inside a human host to eventually burst after reaching maturity, and in this stage their bodies resemble that of a human new born. This is the point when the creatures will start eating its host’s flesh and bone, until it leaves no remains, growing in a matter of hours with each bite into a full developed human being, therefore stealing the host’s identity with its memories and personality to further their master’s commands into this world. Gregorio also mentioned that the best way to kill these creatures, is during the first hours after they leave the body; still in their mindless state they will only think of devouring the host, their sharp teeth deadly with a poison “a thousand times stronger than that of a cobra” being their only defense before they fully take over the identity of the victim. Once the body and soul of the victim is fully devoured, the Plagarius mind would be fully developed and as keen as that of the Old One itself. Plagarius’ larvae has strong bodies and sharp teeth that helps them get inside the host’s body, but since they look like tiny fly larvae they can be mistaken by insect bites. Cult: During the ages the Brothers of the Taken had existed hidden in the shadows of society, looking for proper hosts to infect with the larvae of the Plagarius with the intention of influencing political decisions that shape the future of entire nations. They were hunted as demon worshippers by the Spanish Inquisition and were believed to be exterminated, but in reality it only forced then to move deeper into the shadows of the lowest society strata. Agmar “Our team came through the gate from New Mexico onto the alien, storm-torn beach strewn with the broken bones of countless ships. After we explored for a day, we were sighted and pursued by blood-red turbaned slavers with too-wide, toothy grins, from that terrible black ship. We narrowly evaded them, travelling inland through the temperate rain forest which grew up through ancient, broken stone roads and half-ruined buildings covered with moss and drooping lianas. We could see, here and there, carved into the stonework and just visible under the lush growth, the handsome, classical profile of some long-dead king. We were soon greeted by a many members of the tribe that inhabited these green ruins. They were a beautiful, well-formed people, adorned with fine tattoos of unparalleled quality that depicted columns, arches, and other city structures; they had blue skin, though we would never know whether this was their natural color or the result of the application of some strange dye. They made no effort to take our weapons or to restrain us. Smiling and peaceful, they escorted us inland, to the center of their lost city and to their aged chief who greeted us warmly. We had to keep the gate to Earth a secret, so when he asked us where we came from, we told him that we had been shipwrecked. Hearing this, he shouted joyously, “they are from the sea, given to us by Agmar!” The people cheered and welcomed us, throwing us a great feast. We had found a place to rest and plan the next leg of our mission. For now, we were safe.” “Two days after they had arrived, the two Delta Green agents most at home in the woods quietly left the great hall at dusk, to explore the mysteries of the City of Agmar. Soon, night’s dark cloak descended, and dim figures began to appear in the ruins, ancient echoes of a lost race from across the ages, dressed in rich and ornate flowing garb unlike any style that the agents could recall from Earth. These eerie phantoms brushed against the men, but the agents fought their fears and sat quietly, observing what seemed to be the daily life of a long-dead city. The contact from the spirits remained light, and the men did not suffer as their companion had, who had returned shaking and pitifully weak early that morning. They both soon fell into an uneasy sleep. Soon, dreams troubled them. They saw as if there a thriving port city visited by countless merchants, scholars and other travelers from across the Dreamlands, and other worlds besides. The proud, peaceful city prospered for ages, a beautiful center of life, and culture, blessed with great riches of all kinds, from gleaming gold and rich spices to sweet music and scholarly lore. There came a time though, that the light seasonal rains that brought life became even less frequent. Farmers found it hard to feed the city, and the port was quenched less often with fresh water, its clear bay giving way to noisome muck. The city’s glory waned as those who stayed were poorer with each passing year. Priests prayed and the city’s great king, Agmar, despaired. “ “Then came a stranger from the wastes, a dark wanderer steeped in ancient power, who sought audience with the king to offer the monarch his heart’s desire. The desperate ruler, who longed for the thirst of his city to be quenched, said only, “rain.” The stranger, mockingly, whispered that the king would have his desire, and soon the rain came, more rain than ever, rain nearly every day, carried by great new storms from the sea. These made a coast which had been a haven of trade into a Jaw of Storms and a Shore of Bones. No more could ships travel safely to the great city, but were tempest-scourged and shattered. Green life choked the streets. Those few who remained became primitives, fed by verdant richness and now-flourishing wild game. Agmar did not live to see all of this come to pass. “When the great storms first came, as King, he knew in his heart and soul what had brought about and understood how his rash wish had doomed his people. He heard the dark strangers mocking laugh rumbling in the first thunderstorm. Broken and grieving, he made his way to the great well in the central square and cast himself in. Despite this, he did not die. Agmar entered a dreamlike state near death, sinking slowly into unknown depths. The cursed waters of his city for which he had rashly wished preserved him, undying, and his city as well, though like him, it persisted as a ruined reflection of what had once been. Not long after he became one with the depths of his city, a strange abstract sculpture which suggested his likeness, or perhaps that of the dark mystic, appeared to ever stand watch over the sacrificial well and the great square. The lost king was Agmar, and this would forever be god of his city, worshipped by the savage descendants of the subjects he had doomed.” While it is very rare for a human to become a Mythos creature, this can occur, as those who know of ghouls and Deep Ones can attest. Agmar may be the only Elder God who was once a mortal man. Agmar is, at once, an ancient ruler who dearly loved his people, an insane king kept alive by magic, and a lost vampire city. In Dreamlands lore, those few who know about this cursed place call it The City that Eats Men. The god-city is only vaguely conscious of what is going on in its realm generally, though it is aware of his victims as he feeds, of anything that falls into the waters beneath the city, and of anything touched by the rain in his land that is part of his essence. His rain may bring disturbing dreams and even madness over time, so no other people stay long near where his clouds gather. Agmar’s people first honor shipwrecked sailors with great feasts, then host them warmly and attend to their every desire, as they are gifts of their god, brought be his storms. If the guest wanders at night, they may be left half-drained of life energy by the city’s memories and left paralyzed and partially mummified. The Children of Agmar will eventually find him, and joyously, singing, carry him to the well at the center of the city, the ceremony presided over by the god’s priest, The Voice of Agmar. If a guest does not ever leave the well-lit halls in which the tribe sleeps, to go out at night to be consumed, the guest will eventually be carried to and thrown into the great well. There, the sacrifice will be very slowly and excruciatingly drained of their life force, while they descend into madness. As time can pass strangely in the Dreamlands, this can take months, years, or centuries. If a guest realizes that something is amiss and runs, the tribe’s hunters will pursue them as a holy act in Agmar’s name. While served and worshipped by the tribesmen who live in the ruins of his city, Agmar has no known followers in the waking world, though Dreamers may encounter him. Still, if Delta Green fails to find a way to shut the gate to Agmar’s domain, what strange rain may yet fall in New Mexico? [cardoza_wp_poll id=4]]]>