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Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. CTHULHU!!! This challenge I am going to work on my inner Cthulhu and destroy everything!!! Goal 1: Strength Cthulhu is obviously a giant destructive force that leaves others quivering in its wake. So I am going to continue my Juggernaut training. I will most likely scale this to at least 2 times a week due to the holiday craziness and a need for a stronger focus on other areas. Juggernaut 2X a week min Goal 2: Malleable Anatomy Cthulhu is a shape shifting giant mountain full of slimy goodness and tentacles. I am going to pick up some more yoga this time. I have a few yoga videos in mind and my goal is Yoga 30 mins 3x a week Goal 3: Madness Manipulation Cthulhu is sleeping in his sunken city but he is also manipulating the dreams of others and it is said that the ones unlucky enough to see him will plunge into madness. I am going to focus on channeling a little of my own madness and practice drawing more this month. My goal is to practice at least 30 mins 3x a week. Bonus points for Cthulhu fan art Goal 4: Mental Manipulation Cthulhu can also read and manipulate the mental functions of others. So I am going to share in this like minded state with joining the Discworld reading book club here on NF. This month we are reading Guards! Guards! It will be our first one so feel free to jump in here:

October 13, 1928 I received a strange telegraph yesterday. It contained a set of coordinates – latitude and longitude, I presume. Now if that was the biggest oddity of the night then I believe I wouldn’t be writing in this journal right now. But the rest of the message was only a small snippet that claimed, “Charlie, it is too late for me. They’re coming.†It was sent by Amelia. My dear colleague has been deceased for nearly a year, ever since the Pinehurst Asylum incident. I can’t talk about it. The tragedy is still too recent. So it was only natural for me to be so inclined as to investigate, to uncover the perpetrator of this tactless hoax. It was then that I discovered that the company which delivered the telegraph to my residence doesn’t exist. No record of it to be found anywhere. And not a soul has heard of it. But yet this morning a brown paper wrapped parcel awaited me on my doorstep. It too was from the company that does not exist. The package was some kind of tome – undeniably old and foreign. The heavy black cover holds no words and offers no information, while the hundreds of pages inside contain only illegible markings – the likes of which I have never seen. I fear that I may have to travel to the coordinates to uncover the unsavory truth behind this. The dig is well ahead of schedule - and I am certain that my assistants and colleagues will get on just fine in my short absence. But may god have mercy on the scoundrel who set this up – for I will not.