|Cthulhu Talisman on display at Miskatonic University|
I asked the old shaman if he could call forth the god he claimed dwelt beneath the sea, his reply was that his god, Cthulhu was dead, but still dreamed and spoke to men in dreams. Great Cthulhu could not live again until the stars were right, but the shaman could call to the sons of Cthulhu as proof of the reality of his religion.
I scoffed as any educated man would, daring him to follow through on his boast. The old shaman hobbled down to the water's edge, he traced a few cryptic symbols into the sand then began to chant a formula written on a tattered scroll. The chant grew into wild shrieking, "IA IA CTHULHU, N'YOG UN CTHULHU", as the old man waved about with a curiously carven little amulet.
My mockery turned to stark terror as the water began to boil and a thing stright out of nightmare broke the surface. The head that rose was like an octopus but larger than an elephant's, the eyes shone with ancient inhuman intelligence and fixed me with their gaze. I stood paralyzed as the thing dragged itself onto the beach with wiry arms ending in taloned hands large enough to crush an ox. The thing had stubby leathern wings folded to its back and a long sinuous tale that began to transform into legs as soon as it cleared the water.
I would have died there but for my trusted servant Giles. He rushed forward with a machete, hacking at the creature's newly formed legs. The beast snatched him up with blinding speed, Giles screamed briefly before the monster tore him in half. In that instant the thing's hypnotic gaze was turned from me and I fled into the jungle.
I ran until I thought my heart would burst from the strain, not stopping until I made the ship. I held my sanity long enough to order the captain to sail and then collapsed into a gibbering heap, crying out for mercy from the Spawn of Cthulhu.
(Excerpt from the diary of Bob Rothwell, dated march 9, 1908)