My name is Randolph Carter

. . .  and I believe I have gone completely mad.


When the Great Old One Cthulhu first proposed the idea of me giving up my old life as an antiquarian to pursue a career as his slave in the pits of unending torture in the sunken city of R’lyeh, well, I was shocked to say the least. Out of my mind in pure mindless terror, in fact. As the Deep Ones gripped me about the wrists and throat and dragged me towards the murky depths I do believe I may have nearly shredded my own vocal cords with my shrieks. But a few million gallons of icy salt water as my undying corpse was dragged along the bottom of the sea floor towards my final waking nightmare and I am now capable of speech once more. Such as it is. But enough about me! I am here to talk about my boss, Cthulhu! The Great Blasphemer himself.

He is, as you young people would say it today, “All up in this skidoo and he digs the skinny on the puppy.”  I believe I have that correct. He so seldom allows me the chance to practice my non guttural whimpering forms of communication I may have some of that correct. But, I am sure you understand my meaning. He is a quite commendable being of immense and psychotic power and we are so fortunate he has decided to pay such insignificant specks of vile matter such as ourselves the tiniest sliver of his vast intellect and attention.  Indeed, he has decided he will help mold the destiny of the human race and its inevitable demise as he stands tall over the smoking ruins of this despised planet as the few chosen survivors dance frantically in blood drenched abandonment moments before he decides to devour them as well. Rejoice!

The Master has decided the best way for him to achieve this goal is to communicate with you by means of the Earth Engulfing Spiderweb. I believe that was what he called it. He even asked if I, his most despicable servant, might choose to be his Web Tamer. I told him I have no clue how to do that. After burying me under a mountain of flaming byakie excrement while playing the Greatest Hits of something called “The Bee Gees” on repeat, I suddenly recalled my intense desire to learn such a skill.