#monstronomicon

One can imagine the gods of the cosmos to be unconquerable. Vast entities of radiant power, their mesmerising flesh forms woven from the matter of the stars, their wills encompassing space and time with laughable ease, their contempt towards lessers forms of existence almost palpable in everyday dread of the feeble mortals. And yet, the old adage that there is always a bigger fish holds true even for such incomprehensible monsters - nature, even if we use the term very loosely when it comes to such beings, still follow its simple forms. Predators that hunt other predators exist after all, and Iod is one of them. An endless traveller across the vastness of the cosmos, he seek the glory of the challenging hunts, drawn towards luminous souls and potent energies, seeking out gods of the aeons to put them down with his spear wrought by the essence of the slayed divinities. There is no escape, for he can travel through time and planes of existence. He slip through Dreamlands into reality, he sniff the aether of the diagonal spaces, he knows where his chosen prey is, and prowl endlessly in pursue to finally catch up and fight a true struggle of cataclysmic proportions. Stars dwindle, systems shatter and the tormented space scream in the duels. Som far Iod emerged victorious on all his hunts - and we can only be grateful that we will never be his prey, as unworthy and minuscule as we are.

Most unique of the Outer Gods, the bringer of mortals demise is an entity of its own peculiarities. Not lost to the distant stars, nor bound by ancient spells and chains of forgotten wars. Neither entombed nor sleeping in some soporific slumber, waiting for the right stars to shine upon the mortal realms. Active and filled with endless malignancy, he is the servant of his creator, the great blind idiot god Azathoth, fulfilling the mad, spastic wishes without question and with obvious glee. Master of million forms, immaculate manipulator and puppet master of hundreds of cults, secret societies and networks of occult growth, he is the ultimate architects of the downfall of lesser species - puny, laughable mortals with their dim little candlelights of souls, littering the cosmos with their asinine believes of superiority. Endlessly powerful, eternal and beyond the scope of mortal ken, his only weakness is perhaps his own pleasure and joy he takes from bringing madness and shattering the sanity of mortals - even more than simply granting them death and sweet oblivion that comes with it. Perhaps only this keeps the earth rolling as his personal playground before the wishes of his great creator or other mighty entities of the distant cosmos will finally push him to snuff out the final lights on this globe to make place for the ascension of more worthy beings...

From a distant planet it came. Voracious, ravaging, unyielding. It proclaimed itself a god, and who would dare to gainsay it, when its powers were many and all crossing the boundaries of mortal keen? The Shan embraced it willingly, awed by the carnage it wrought and by the malignant hunger it casts into the air by its sheer presence. It is beautiful to behold and terrible to withstand - an avatar of coalescing fibrous matter, plantlike and blossoming like a flower, given manifested strength and potency from the otherworldly will that shapes its corporeal flesh. It is The White God, The Many Limbed, the Strangler of the Cosmic Forests - it demands worship and will get it one way or another - either through fear or awed supplicants eager to please it uncanny hunger.

At last. Took nearly 3 years. It was a huge journey for me, starting for abominable attempts with ink and watercolors (look at this and feel free to laugh!) to fully fledged digital drawing that I can be proud of. I learned so much during this time, getting into mediums and skills I never thought I’ll dare to tackle. The book is still cooking - while all the art is made and all stories are written, now it just needs to be assembled, edited and formed into an actual entity! It will take some time, but not much so... Soon. For now enjoy the new cover art for the book! Brand fresh from the realm of flesh.

Few remember him, which is apt. For Byatis is the God of Forgetfulness. Those who are caught in his cyclopean gaze forget all, their mind turning to an all-consuming void that rips every memory out like weeds off a fertile garden. Those who foolishly turn to face the abominable entity and lock their gaze to the abyssal eye are lost forever, guided by the voices that pluck at their souls to turn steps towards the maw of the great old one, becoming the source of his imperishable vitality. It bears great spite towards humanity and once free of his imprisonment it might be the first bringer of desolation to the frail cities of men. For one daring, bold and impossibly shortsighted warlock of yore managed via great enchantments and potent sacrifices to bind the beasts of many names to his bidding, forcing Byatis to enhance his arcane potency, grant vision and eradicate the minds of his opposition. But in its enslavement, Byatis grew stronger, fed the mortal flesh and minds of countless sacrifices, until it regained its full powers, easily braking the tethers of the ancient rites to consume its jailor. Now, trapped under the castle, too bloated with energies to move, it rests in a stupor, digesting the monstrous magic that bound it in the first place. Once done, it might wake once more in the future unknown, to rip the hills that lay upon it now and burst from the very ground like szejtan of old, casting its baleful gaze upon the world ripe for the harvest of souls and minds.

I am working on currently on the glorious visage of Ut'Ulls-Hr'Her - the Great Horned Mother. I will keep exploring one of these three, so help me pick which one you like most!

Interested in the MONSTRONOMICON project, an Atlas for the Cosmic Horror? Come visit it here!

But some are evil indeed. Some know our weaknesses, our vices. Some study our minds and souls to better reign them to their will, to manipulate, to lie and obfuscate. To toy with us, make us their puppets... Actors in plays they wrote ages ago. To what end, to what purpose? It is not for the pawns to know the movements of the King.