The stars are right and the old gods are restles...
Nameless rites. Half-human abominations. Formless spawn from black gulfs of horror. Nightmare conspiracies and unspeakable cults. "As it squealed out its dominance and birth, its followers in the pews began to revert to their true forms, popping like chestnuts, splitting open like blood-swollen ticks..."
--Cult of the Black Swine "...what made him jerk his hand away was...