Azathoth, the blind idiot god that bubbles and blasphemes in the center of the universe came to me with a mad non-diatonic piping that made my bones tremble with the horror of a forgotten past buried centuries ago, and told me to go on leave. In the taste of the air, in the sound of the wind, Hastur tells me to leave. In the stagnent pools and the crashing waves, great Cthulhu tells me to leave. In the form and reality of everything around me, Yog-Sothoth tells me to leave. In the non-form and chaos of everything around me, Eris tells me to leave. As Grandma always used to say, "Don't fuck with the Elder Gods".