Deep within his grave, Cthulhu rests. No longer alive, but not truly dead. Sleeping, but never idle. From his tomb of stone, in the darkest depths of the Pacific, he calls out to us with his mind. Seeking.
Most cannot hear the call. Our minds are shackled by mortal walls and our limited perception of reality. Some hear the call in their dreams and are driven to madness; senses unable to cope with the sheer force of his will. The rarest of souls are those who can truly comprehend the call and answer it. These few, the Chosen of Cthulhu, create a sort of psychic connection to the Great Old One himself.
No one can say for certain why these individuals can form a connection that others cannot, but there is some consistency in the pattern. It only happens in the most violent and chaotic times and places. And the Chosen themselves are people who have embraced that chaos during their time on this Earth. As the bond with Cthulhu grows stronger, a Chosen will undergo great change. They develop immense powers of both the mind and body, elevating them above mere mortals. Their physical appearance alters as well; mutating, growing, and changing in horrific ways.
Upon death, like Cthulhu himself, his Chosen do not truly die. Instead they wait, in the spaces between reality, for the return of the Great Old One when they too will be revived to bring chaos to the world once again.