One of the creatures that was among the demons on the field was Great Cthulhu, high priest of the Great Old Ones and lord of R’lyeh. He sat slumped over in the grass, looking like a 50-foot-tall green mollusc as his face tentacles swayed back and forth with his snoring. [i]Grrrrrr ffffffuu, grrrrrrr fffffuu[/i]
“Sir, sir wake up, the game is starting.” Said a comparatively tiny fishman as he prodded Cthulhu’s leg.
The Great Old One snorted loudly as he woke up. With his dozen eyes he looked around to see the ball already being pitched. “Ah, thanks Fthagthlixu,” he bellowed as he quickly rose to his feet, rising to an even more enormous height. The stars weren’t quite right today, which always made him feel so sleepy. After all, at the ripe old age of 4.2 billion, he no longer had the sort of energy he used to. But that wouldn’t stop him from participating. He had his honour to defend, and besides he wanted to get some payback on the angelic bastards who created the Elder Sign and locked him up for a few thousand years.

When the ball was launched, he considered trying to catch it, but catching something so tiny with his giant hands would be a pain. Besides, some other demons were scurrying after it already. Instead, he stretched out his arms and made a gesture as if grabbing and opening a pair of curtains. Reality tore apart at his touch, opening a portal to the Realm of Madness, which he was forcibly sucked into as if by a vacuum before it closed again. Immediately, the same portal reopened a hundred yards above the ground and right above the path from home base to first base. Like a meteor, Cthulhu was ejected out and came hurtling downwards, looking to slam right on top of Thor and drive him into the ground before he could reach first base.