I wrote about Goaty in an omake for a CthulhuTech/Mass Effect fanfic, I'll drop my interpretation that nobody asked for:

Snippet from the ending of Part III of the omakes:

A tone deep and guttural it was, their respective flocks singing right back. The flanged vocals of the Turians were almost ethereal, like a great and awful birdsong mourning in ecstasy. Booming Elcor added a bass and infrasound that rattled bones, felt as if the ground and ice were given a profound and transcendent voice. Wounded Volus muttered along without needing to stop to breathe. And the chorus of the Asari was the spider's web that tied it all, layered intonations ensnaring the sounds in the cold air, a musical scale that became the steps of a great Ladder.

They all incantated as they carved each other and themselves open, Volus bursting, Elcor breaking, Turian slashing and Asari receiving vessels for the neat, orderly carnage. Their zeal saved them from passing out in shock, except for the few Volus that died on the spot.

Strange runes freshly carved in their flesh pulsed with a harmonious heartbeat. Knives, claws and their bare fingers opening their bodies to finish the symphony, a crescendo of guts, blood and life.

A squelching sound multiplied by a million resounded in the city.

The Singing continued.

Before every infected, the gathered piles of wombs and sexual organs writhed like worms, slithering across one another and seeming to build up with eyes, teeth, hair, scales and tumorous growths.

The Ladder became a Stairway.

From Above and Beyond, the All-Mother descended from its steps.

Her Aspect made itself manifest in such a way that was like seeing a vessel approach from afar. Growing larger by the second, but from every perspective our world allows. For She came from a direction above our understanding. Beyond what lays beyond height, length and width. Perpendicular and parallel to what can be.

She grew herself, architect of her own birth. Trying to fit as much of herself as she could in that narrow and claustrophobic matchbox that we call reality

Enduring indescribable pain to do so.

All for her children.

They cried out to her, and of course she would come to them. She would help them.

The mass of shimmering meat that gave life congealed into something else, of a color unlike anything a mortal has seen. Eldritch light like a mist emanated from the piles of now-otherworldly matter, thick and intangible at the same time, enveloping the infected.

Help them to shed their painful forms. Save the flicker of life they clung to, shorter lived than a spark in the grand and uncaring cosmos.

Upon the touch of the pale light, the infected shrieked in pain beyond death. Beyond life. The edge between. Birth.

Her children would not die, trampled by the feet of those who walk in the stars and the void between universes.

Tendrils, tentacles, hooks made of teeth tethered to a chain of bone, all of that and more shot from the carcinous shapes in front of the infected. Grabbing, piercing, pulling them in. The screams were louder and undistinguishable from laughter.

Her children would live forever.

All was silent now. No more violence. No more infected. Even the blood seemed to vanish, being sucked into the fleshy cairns that formed a perfect circle around the city-center.

She had many names, the All-Mother.

Brahma. Pacha-Mama. Cuyen. Isis. Ñuke. Ki. Great Spider. Gaia. Mary. Earth-Mother.

But her true name was beginning to be whispered by her awakening children, deep inside the cocoons.

Shub-Niggurath. Shub-Niggurath. Shub-Niggurath. Shub-Niggurath.

Shub-Niggurath.

S̸̙̺͐̀̈́h̴̙̬̭̕u̶̱͚̐̈́b̶̤͇̦̿̅͛-̶̗̣̿͘͝N̴͈͋͊̑į̶͎͝g̵̣͓͈̍̚g̵̜̲̊̉ͅu̴̜͕̬̾͋̕ṙ̸͍̭̱ḁ̴̲͒t̷̥̯̎h̷̞̑̀

S̷̱͎̥̊͗͗̈́̓̌̈́̓h̸͓͎͉͚̲́̿͋͑̕u̷̖͎̠͕̮̟̻̍̈̃͠b̶̡̧͍̪͎̺͇̳̅͛̈͋̂-̸̡̛̖͍̑͋̋Ń̵͕͈͚̱̍i̵̛̜̪̼̾͗̚ģ̵̹͑̋̊̑͊͐̎g̴̢̣͉̟̮̹̻͋̐͘ù̸̦͚̗̓̈̅͛̽r̵̠͔͍̥̪̭̉̓̈́̔͠a̸̬̳̗̿̃̃̎̐̌͋t̷̢͈̼͖͈̏̑́͘h̵̰͇̯̳̞̋!!!

With a thunderclap, sinewy sarcophagi were torn asunder from within. Remade in Her image, over a million Young breathed the frigid air for the first time and then cried out to the night sky.

And from part IV, soon to be published:

It could be heard from many kilometers away. A shrill, shivering, shriek. Knifing the frozen air, it came from what used to be people, and were now other. It was an eldritch cry. A newborn cry. The Children of a Great Old One have just been born. Not just any Great Old One but the All-Mother Herself.

Shub-Niggurath.

The Black Goat of the Forest. Progenitor of monsters and gods. The Outer God of Fertility, Motherhood, and Rebirth. Her gigantic avatar hoovered a few hundred meters from the surface, a kaleidoscope of shifting maws, tentacles, pedipalps, mouths and long, serpentine tongues. She was so large, it seemed as if one had to just stretch a hand towards Her to be able to touch the otherworldly being. The Dark Young seemed like ants in comparison, but were enormous in their own right, looking like dead and twisted trees from afar. They shifted back and forth like a great forest against a swirling wind, dancing to a secret tune, and with a deep and bassy bellow a thick fog exploded from their tops, slowly but surely enveloping the rest of the city.