The old ones were. The old ones are. The old ones shall be. They walk the earth when the walls between worlds weaken and the gates of Yog-Sothoth swing wide. At twilight they walk, and in the mists of the morning before the accent of the sun. When the moon and sun cross paths on the Dragon’s head and again upon the Dragon’s tail, they walk.
“We like the money that jingles but we’d rather have the type that folds.” — Fats Waller, Groll Mobster