McHumans by Strange Kevin

Author:Strange, Kevin [Strange, Kevin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Strangehouse Books
Published: 2013-06-13T05:00:00+00:00

By the look of the seething throng of slaves far below the grand platform that loomed above Great Cthulhu's banquet hall, every last living human in the flooded world had been gathered in Deep R'lyeh to witness the coming of the Old Ones. They'd been herded into a semi-circular area that resembled the floor of the great Roman Colosseum, except instead of dirt or sand on the ground, they stood on the same damp, slimy grey stones that made up the rest of weird R'lyeh.

Madness seethed through the crowd in waves as the alien angles proved too much for their small human minds to comprehend. Depending where they stood, or where they cast their eyes, the huge spiraling pillar upon which Great Cthulhu sat seemed to rise hundreds of feet into the air, and other times to plunge far below them. But no matter which direction they looked, the masses of starved, broken, defeated humans saw hideous, unfathomable beasts in all manner of shapes, sizes, colors and genders.

The monsters towered over the feeble vestige of humanity, perched atop a huge stone grandstand surrounding Great Cthulhu's spiral pillar, giving them a marvelous view of the day's events. Slimy grinners, fang-toothed barkers, many-faced howlers, jittery spinners and hoards of wet things that defied any sane description jeered at the human slaves standing below them, and praised the Old Gods far above. Even now, miles overhead (or down below, depending on the angle) ancient Yog Sothoth shifted patiently between dimensions, slowly opening the doorways into an unimaginable number of between places, the places where the Old Ones dwelt, silently waiting for this moment. Its gargantuan, jellyfish-like body appeared and disappeared into that beautiful unearthly color that drove sane men to tear out their eyeballs and jam sharp objects between their ears. It was a beautiful sight, but not the main attraction.

Soon enough, the jeering monsters and the hysterical humans all quieted down as the host of the evening's events took center stage in front of Great Cthulhu's humongous stone throne. All eyes were on the figure as he raised his hands, commanding the attention of all in attendance.

This figure was, of course, Nyarlathotep, the personification of the Old Ones and mouthpiece of the Elder Gods.

He stood, in this incarnation, a tall, slender black man. Not dark skinned, black skinned. He looked like a shadow; a dense, colorless smear against the light. The only parts of his body not resigned to this inky blackness were his eyes, which glowed a preternatural white against the darkness, and the red of his lips and mouth, like a fresh wound, a gash sliced into his obsidian, featureless face.His voice boomed out, carried by the weird angles inside the huge, domed, subterranean lair of Cthulhu, the nightmare amphitheater beneath sunken R'lyeh that served as his banquet hall. “We've won!” he exclaimed. “The world is ours! Humanity's final vestiges tremble before us broken and mad.” He gestured to the slave pit, where the humans stood shamed, covered in filth, dressed in the tattered remnants of their short reign on planet Earth.

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