For Gold & Glory: Card of the Week: Cosmic Horror

Back in the day, I opened three packs of Italian Legends—this was the best card I pulled, and I still have it. If only I'd have kept the Tabernacle I pulled from the one pack of English Legends I opened...

When the Stars are Wrong

Some people say that one’s fate is determined by the stars. One’s personality, they say, is influenced by which stars were in the sky during one’s birth. The positions of the sun, the moon, and the wandering stars against the backdrop of the fixed stars further influence the events of one’s life. I don’t know if such things are true—and I suspect that at least for the most potent of mages, they cannot be. For how can the stars of one world influence a mage when he or she travels to another world with different stars?

The skies beyond our worlds do hold power, though, even if it is not the power described by the astrologers. Those among us who have witnessed the Bad Moon rise cannot doubt its power to strengthen the undead hordes. Those of us who summon the light of the Blood Moon to hamstring our foes cannot deny its effect on the very ley lines of the land. A Falling Star flung from the skies is as undeniable a display of power as can be imagined. But despite the power of these things, they are still understandable.

Sometimes, however, the stars align just so...and something else comes down from the skies.

From what I remember—but that’s the problem. I don’t have any clear memories of that night. How am I to know what was really there, and what my mind made up to shield itself from the truth? But from what I think I remember, the night was cold. Not yet winter-cold, but a damp sort of cold that feels even worse. The wind howled in the leafless dead trees, but the skies were clear. No moon, Bad or otherwise, rose to rival the stars themselves. And the stars, they undulated and flashed in a weird sort of rhythm. To look too long at their pulsations made me nauseous, but I could not look away.

Soon my discomfort became more than just physical. There was something out there in the blackness, beyond the stars but still horribly close. What it was I could not see, but I knew that it was older than the hills—older than the world—older than even the stars themselves. And now its attention was focused on our world. I imagine that I myself was too insignificant to matter to such a thing, but even in its indifference I was doomed.

The dread, the nausea, the panic grew and grew, and just as I felt I must surely die should it worsen...I saw it. Or whatever part of it that my mind could make sense of. As vast as a mountain, it blotted out the light of the stars from whence it came. Great slavering maws of teeth, glaring eyes, tentacles wriggling like worms in the gut of a sick animal—these are all that I could make out of it, and only in impression. What it actually looked like, I cannot even dream of. And the sound—at once a whirring hum-buzz and a deep rumbling like an earthquake and nothing in between, a sound not meant for human ears. But full of malice and scornful indifference, as if I were an insect at the foot of a bored child hearing my impending doom in the idle laughter.

I threw myself to the ground and cowered in the cold mud, but even then I knew it was futile. How could it not pass over me? But despite my frenzied screams, pass over me it did. After an amount of time—moments? Hours? Days?—its presence began to fade. Perhaps the stars changed so it could not remain here. Perhaps it grew tired of the game. I fled—not to safety, for nowhere can be safe from such a thing—but because I could do nothing else but flee.

It was months later, once my feverish nightmares settled again into uneasy dreams, when I came to a horrifying realization. Perhaps my encounter with the thing had created a connection between it and myself, but I knew how to call it back. So thoroughly that I could do it without thought. Initially unaware of what I was doing, I found myself twisting threads of mana just so, and the stars...responded. As soon as I realized what I was doing, I shoved the mana away, tried to shove the knowledge from my mind. But it’s still there...waiting for when I’m weak or stressed or desperate. Waiting to seize control and call the Horror’s attention again.

Eldritch Abominations

The Cosmic Horror is not unique, nor is it isolated to Dominaria or any other known plane. Tales from distant worlds usually decline to give these beings names: “Nameless Ones”, “Old Ones”, “Elder Gods”, and such. Occasionally one is named, but such names tend to be mere approximations of sounds that people cannot vocalize—thus, Cthulhu or Ktulu in place of the alien and unpronounceable true name. More commonly, if they must be named in the specific, they are given titles such as “The King in Yellow” or “He Who Walks Behind the Rows”.

The big bad of Eldritch Abominations: the OG, if you will. Ia! Ia!

The Insanity of Calling on Horrors

No sane mage summons the Cosmic Horrors to fight their battles for them: it is too much of a risk. They are indeed powerful, but their power can seldom be reliably directed only at others and not oneself. Furthermore, the mana needed to twist the stars into the proper configuration to call them is also needed to maintain said alignment. Such a cost can be paid, but not reliably and not for long, and the mana used to pay it cannot be used for other purposes.

I don't think you can make a good deck with Cosmic Horrors, but you can at least make a thematic Lovecraft one. Cultists! Sacrifices! Rats (in the Walls)! Ghouls (who ride the night-wind)! And (of course) Cosmic Horrors!