A lesser Great Old One, Yig.
He took the form of an enormous ancient serpent, roughly 1,400 feet long and fresh green in color, with a crest resembling a king cobra's and batlike wings sprouting from his back.
The Father of Serpents, Bad Medicine.
Moreover, apart from Cthulhu's sons and daughters, he was one of the few remaining Beyond Ones among the Lower Great Old Ones!
"Stop, King in Yellow! Your singing gives us headaches! It's tormenting us!"
Yig, who currently looked like a monster with a serpent's head and a human body, transformed once more into the enormous Father of Serpents.
His scarlet pupils gleamed with golden light as he stared at that wretched poet drunkenly singing at the summit!
"Yes! I've never heard art so utterly devoid of artistry!"
"Even human children's nursery rhymes are more interesting than this!"
"You can't even compare to the artists in ant societies! Even the Deep Ones have more artistic talent than you!"
With the Father of Serpents speaking up, someone had finally taken the lead.
The first bird to stick its head out-and draw gunfire-had appeared.
And now the rest of the flock, those Great Old Ones who had been angry but dared not speak, finally lost their patience too!
Standing atop the planet's atmosphere, they unleashed deafening soul language, one after another, to denounce Hastur!
"Oh! Adoil! My brother! What's happened to you?"
Just then.
A sudden shout drew the attention of the many Great Old Ones.
A multitude of gazes laden with mad mutterings turned toward that swamp-covered region.
There stood the tentacled Great Old One Asamoth and his friend Natzador, founder of Dinosaur civilization, holding a strange being whose entire body resembled sludge, their faces filled with horror.
Their faces, covered in either bandages or tentacles, displayed precisely