Azhmodai Tapestries

It's the ultimate game and you're already playing, whether you want to or not!

“Ever Their praises, and abundance to the Black Goat of the Woods. Iä! Shub-Niggurath! Iä! Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young!” — H. P. Lovecraft, The Whisperer in Darkness

“Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog-Sothoth. He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. He knows where They have trod earth's fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread.” ― H.P. Lovecraft, "The Dunwich Horror"

There were, in such voyages, incalculable local dangers; as well as that shocking final peril which gibbers unmentionably outside the ordered universe, where no dreams reach; that last amorphous blight of nethermost confusion which blasphemes and bubbles at the centre of all infinity—the boundless daemon-sultan Azathoth, whose name no lips dare speak aloud, and who gnaws hungrily in inconceivable, unlighted chambers beyond time amidst the muffled, maddening beating of vile drums and the thin, monotonous whine of accursed flutes; to which detestable pounding and piping dance slowly, awkwardly, and absurdly the gigantic ultimate gods, the blind, voiceless, tenebrous, mindless Other Gods whose soul and messenger is the crawling chaos Nyarlatho

Illithid

"Blood for the Blood God!" “Skulls for the Skull Throne!"

All hail Lolth, the Demon Queen of Spiders, Queen of the Demonweb Pits!

Inspired by eastern orthodox schema monks, these vestments are de rigueur for the aspiring cultist!

"And where Nyarlathotep went, rest vanished, for the small hours were rent with the screams of nightmare." -- H. P. Lovecraft, "Nyarlathotep"

Beer is Magic and Magic is Heresy

"I think their predominant color was a greyish-green, though they had white bellies. They were mostly shiny and slippery, but the ridges of their backs were scaly. Their forms vaguely suggested the anthropoid, while their heads were the heads of fish, with prodigious bulging eyes that never closed. At the sides of their necks were palpitating gills, and their long paws were webbed. They hopped irregularly, sometimes on two legs and sometimes on four. I was somehow glad that they had no more than four limbs. Their croaking, baying voices, clearly used for articulate speech, held all the dark shades of expression which their staring faces lacked ... They were the blasphemous fish-frogs of the nameless design - living and horrible." --...

Camilla: You, sir, should unmask. Stranger: Indeed? Cassilda: Indeed it’s time. We have all laid aside disguise but you. Stranger: I wear no mask. Camilla: (Terrified, aside to Cassilda.) No mask? No mask! —Robert W. Chambers, “The King in Yellow”

"There flapped rhythmically a horde of tame, trained, hybrid winged things... not altogether crows, nor moles, nor buzzards, nor ants, nor decomposed human beings, but something I cannot and must not recall." - H. P. Lovecraft, "The Festival"

A parody beer label for Lovecraft and Cthulhu fanatics. "The nightmare corpse-city of R'lyeh...was built in measureless eons behind history by the vast, loathsome shapes that seeped down from the dark stars. There lay great Cthulhu and his hordes, hidden in green slimy vaults." — H. P. Lovecraft, "The Call of Cthulhu"

"In that secret cave in the bowels of Voormithadreth...abides from eldermost eons the god Tsathoggua. You shall know Tsathoggua by his great girth and his batlike furriness and the look of a sleepy black toad which he has eternally. He will rise not from his place, even in the ravening of hunger, but will wait in divine slothfulness for the sacrifice." - Clark Ashton Smith, "The Seven Geases"

We're all mad here

"Yig was a great god. He was bad medicine. He did not forget things. In the autumn his children were hungry and wild, and Yig was hungry and wild too." "All the tribes made medicine against Yig when the corn harvest came. They kept the drums pounding to drive Yig away." -- H. P. Lovecraft and Zealia Bishop, "The Curse of Yig"

"Cyäegha has existed since the dawn of time, and sleeps within a vast cavern underneath the mountain of Dunkelhügel, the "Dark Hill", in Germany. The inhabitants of the nearby farming village of Freihausgarten are descended from a cult who once worshipped Cyäegha. Cyäegha's worshipers draw upon the deity for vitality, but also greatly fear awakening the god for its wrath is said to be terrible."

“That is not dead which can eternal lie And with strange aeons even death may die.” -- H. P. Lovecraft

A parody beer label for Lovecraft and Cthulhu fanatics. "I think their predominant color was a greyish-green, though they had white bellies. They were mostly shiny and slippery, but the ridges of their backs were scaly. Their forms vaguely suggested the anthropoid, while their heads were the heads of fish, with prodigious bulging eyes that never closed. At the sides of their necks were palpitating gills, and their long paws were webbed. They hopped irregularly, sometimes on two legs and sometimes on four. I was somehow glad that they had no more than four limbs. Their croaking, baying voices, clearly used for articulate speech, held all the dark shades of expression which their staring faces lacked ... They were the blasphemous ...

“It seemed to be a sort of monster, or symbol representing a monster, of a form which only a diseased fancy could conceive. If I say that my somewhat extravagant imagination yielded simultaneous pictures of an octopus, a dragon, and a human caricature, I shall not be unfaithful to the spirit of the thing.” ― H.P. Lovecraft, The Call of Cthulhu

"In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming."

"Shocking and uncouth black things with smooth, oily, whale-like surfaces, unpleasant horns that curved inward toward each other, bat wings whose beating made no sound, ugly prehensile paws, and barbed tails that lashed needlessly and disquietingly. And worst of all, they never spoke or laughed, and never smiled because they had no faces at all to smile with, but only a suggestive blankness where a face ought to be. All they ever did was clutch and fly and tickle; that was the way of night-gaunts." -H.P. Lovecraft, The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath

“Ever Their praises, and abundance to the Black Goat of the Woods. Iä! Shub-Niggurath! Iä! Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young!” — H. P. Lovecraft, The Whisperer in Darkness

“Ever Their praises, and abundance to the Black Goat of the Woods. Iä! Shub-Niggurath! Iä! Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young!” — H. P. Lovecraft, The Whisperer in Darkness

"Nyarlathotep...the crawling chaos...I am the last...I will tell the audient void...." — H. P. Lovecraft, "Nyarlathotep"

"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." — H. P. Lovecraft, "Nyarlathotep"

“The Thing cannot be described - there is no language for such abysms of shrieking and immemorial lunacy, such eldritch contradictions of all matter, force, and cosmic order. A mountain walked or stumbled. If I say that my somewhat extravagant imagination yielded simultaneous pictures of an octopus, a dragon, and a human caricature, I shall not be unfaithful to the spirit of the thing. A pulpy, tentacled head surmounted a grotesque and scaly body with rudimentary wings; but it was the general outline of the whole which made it most shockingly frightful.” - H. P. Lovecraft, "The Call of Cthulhu"

“Ever Their praises, and abundance to the Black Goat of the Woods. Iä! Shub-Niggurath! Iä! Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young!” — H. P. Lovecraft, The Whisperer in Darkness

“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.” - H.P. Lovecraft, Supernatural Horror in Literature

“The Thing cannot be described - there is no language for such abysms of shrieking and immemorial lunacy, such eldritch contradictions of all matter, force, and cosmic order. A mountain walked or stumbled. If I say that my somewhat extravagant imagination yielded simultaneous pictures of an octopus, a dragon, and a human caricature, I shall not be unfaithful to the spirit of the thing. A pulpy, tentacled head surmounted a grotesque and scaly body with rudimentary wings; but it was the general outline of the whole which made it most shockingly frightful.” ― H. P. Lovecraft, "The Call of Cthulhu"

Along the shore the cloud waves break, The twin suns sink behind the lake, The shadows lengthen In Carcosa. Strange is the night where black stars rise, And strange moons circle through the skies, But stranger still is Lost Carcosa. Songs that the Hyades shall sing, Where flap the tatters of the King, Must die unheard in Dim Carcosa. Song of my soul, my voice is dead, Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed Shall dry and die in Lost Carcosa. —"Cassilda's Song" in The King in Yellow Act 1, Scene 2

"You know where you are? You’re in the dungeon, baby. You’re gonna die!!!"

"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." — H. P. Lovecraft, "Nyarlathotep"

Camilla: You, sir, should unmask. Stranger: Indeed? Cassilda: Indeed it’s time. We have all laid aside disguise but you. Stranger: I wear no mask. Camilla: (Terrified, aside to Cassilda.) No mask? No mask! —Robert W. Chambers, “The King in Yellow” Have you seen the Yellow Sign?

"It was a terrible, indescribable thing vaster than any subway train-—a shapeless congeries of protoplasmic bubbles, faintly self-luminous, and with myriads of temporary eyes forming and unforming as pustules of greenish light..." - H. P. Lovecraft, At the Mountains of Madness