Shitstoforo

DESCRIPTION

There are forces far displaced from us; beyond the scope of time and space. Which transfigure the deepest reaches of our unconscious and alchemically transmute our minds, the stars, the void betwixt them, even the air itself. These forces have come into place long before we are born and will continue to spread their entropic chaos long after we have perished and have been brushed aside indifferently by an unbiased wind, millions of years after our ragged, rotting wood of our casket has given away to our bloated husks. And these forces, formed in the primordial void, have taken forms, every few millennia, to either guide, manipulate, or beguile us into sentience for agendas we cannot and will never comprehend. Through these innumerable masses of Daemons, Gods, Spirits and various species of inter dimensional ranks, A lone being rose from the brashness of limited sentience, to reincarnate itself throughout time to guide this stupid and benighted existence towards the True Manifest. This Creature is known as Shraa'Ku, The Deathless Master, in the old tongue. In his current form we know him only as Shitstoforo.

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THE BRAINLESS, PERFECT, FORMLESS
Nothing was witnessed in that first horrible display of creation in that Time before Time. Disgusting, worm-like creatures, wraiths of the slain, species all across the multiverse, whisper in darkened crevices of how evil a deed it was to create the contractual lie that is sentience. None were able to stop it. An evil beyond any magick or any force was let loose. From this, fragments of The One split into a thousand different versions of itself. Out of the many formless and chaotic consciousnesses came one to rise into complete form before all the others. Back then it had no name. No face, save only form. It crashed as a meteor onto some nameless world in the deep gurgling stomach of the disgusting beast that is the multiverse. It wept in the weary, sunbleached deserts of this prison. It wailed at it's existence and cursed the very air it was enslaved to breathe. But in this torment, this existential inferno, a spark was lit. A spark that grew into a flame. And this flame was let loose, a thousand lonely cries, a thousand torments, a thousand cries of creation rent itself from it's tortured body and swept up all around. The very matter it stood on was consumed, and thus came the realization- the lucidity within a dream: It was God. And thus it conceived of a plan. A very special plan for this existence. To form itself across the aonsand make itself the agent of chaos, of light, of raw, and pure freedom, through inevitable entropy. Thus, Shitsoforo was born.

ZOOBS
The form of the Gods were shaped by Zoobs, they are of their most holy substance. From this, Shitstoforo is made, and from this, he will crumble into. His bones are zoobs. His liver is zoobs. His damn tongue is zoobs. His ass is zoobs. Zoobs on my mind, baby. Zoobs on my mind.