[ WP ] An Eldritch Abomination awakens to find Humanity somehow became more powerful then it .

They rose swift from the forest, once again into the ancient bowers which had been their haunts, and occasionally their home in times long since passed. They stretched, their movements fluid as water and swift as the wind, seeming to pass from one position or one place to another never truly occupying the space in between, as if their very existence was some queer trick of mind or light. Their eyes now glowed with mischief and a kind of predatory hunger. Thin, fair lips drew back to reveal teeth that seemed to glow in the light of the stars, white as virgin winter snow. They turned their eyes towards the world they had been absent from for so very long. 
 
 They had abandoned this place, this foreign world, long ago as their world was stricken by civil war and strife, and foul magicks tore it asunder. A few scouts had returned on occasion, to see what remained. The people of this land upon which their tribe had arrived had still told stories of their people, of wicked grins and glowing eyes coming from the forests, of the beings that performed the shifting of skins, of forms, as easily as a man might change jackets. They had used them as a symbol of the wild places where man would not dare to tread. And the scouts had indulged in some mischief as was natural, committing the acts of very acts of kidnapping and replacement that the stories had told of. But man made very poor servants, slow to grow and quick to die, a flicker of a candle in the wind outlasts their life span, and they were weaker, slower, and stupider than any amongst the kind of the invaders. Still, they were entertaining for a brief while. And died soon enough that their novelty was scarcely done before their life ended with it. 
 
 Still, even the scouts had not been here in many ages. Last they told of men coming to the shore of the wild places with great ships carved with dragons. Perhaps those men yet remained... or at least their descendents. Now, near the place of the last scouts they looked around at the world around them... and found it alien. Their noses as they detected a strange acrid smell and their sharps eyes glowing with wickedness were lidded quickly, and hands thrown up to protect. 
 
 The land was bright, and for a brief moment they wondered if they had come when the great orb of fire in the sky of this pathetic mortal world had not yet taken its leave. But no, it remained night, their exclusive domain, which they had always ruled. And yet all around light glowed. One of their number reached his life magick deep into the soil and found that the trees that grew their were not the ancient wood that the scouts had known, but quicklings still foreign to the soil. They looked at the world, their arrogance shaken as they paused to try and comprehend this strange land. Then they shrugged and began leaving the wood. The world was even more queer, with woods being a scarcity and stone dominating the landscape... but not the stone of the high mountains that stretched their roots to the world's core... but a kind of... patterned rock. Some was black as night, well night in the old times, and some was nearly white. All was strange. And now higher than trees rose many monoliths with strange skeletons of hard metal and translucent planes like ice making up much of it. And now they saw something queerer still... carriages, chariots, moving without any clear beast. They glowed strangely, eerily, as they made their way down the tar black stone paths, a kind of fireless light erupting from lidless eyes and spewing acrid smoke as they moved. Inside dwelt the quicklings, children of men. 
 
 The visitors from another world set down a white, and soon decided to cross the black river that was stone... or tar... or perhaps some strange material dragged up from a realm unknown to even the kind of the strangers. As they crossed a carriage barreled along, spewing smoke and light like a great fire. The leader of the shifting spirits gathered his fury and prepared to unleash the wrath of a thousand storms on the quickling and his strange chariot shell. He sent out tendrils of magic in preparation... and was struck with fear, as his cold heart chilled to rival the frosts of the far north. The chariot contained within it the ancient bones of the mountains that were anathema to the visitors, melted down from the dust that settled in rocks or along the mountain into a more solid form. The scouts had told of weapons made of this material... but never like this. Never so pure, forged so strongly. Barely was there time to dart away from the roaring thing that was so horrid, even moving like the swiftest of winds. Now fear struck the hearts of all the foreigners... presently they turned back to the woods and reopened the door to another world through which they came. The Queen would not like this.
