Before life, before the stars, before the universe as we know it now first came into being, there were the Old Gods: creatures of unfathomable power and abtruse shape who bent the very fabric of nonexistence to their will, whispering truths maddening to the mortal ear into the far reaches of the cosmos. From their prisons outside of time, they slid their murky tendrils into the collective consciousness of the universe, driving it slowly toward madness, toward the void, toward the state of perfection it had once been.
But the unthinkable happened. One of the Old Gods developed a consciousness beyond its rhetoric of nothingness. Unable to tolerate its own existence any longer, the eldritch being known as h'hthumvv'l annihilated itself ripping apart its monstrous form to sink into the emptiness from which it came. However, an Old God is not so easily vanquished, and millenia upon millenia later, h'hthumvv'l was reborn in the form of a mortal, capable of thought, of feeling, of love.
That's what Penelope says anyway. It's her story and she's sticking to it.

Penelope is © Me