Hungry, it waits.
From dreams it came
Silently it waits
Chaugnar Faugn its name.
Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook from my Great Old Ones series for an upcoming Elder Gods Tarot project:
Hungry, it waits.
From dreams it came
Silently it waits
Chaugnar Faugn its name.
Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook from my Great Old Ones series for an upcoming Elder Gods Tarot project:
Severn Valley, England 1924
Willhem
has always been wary of the swamp behind the hills. Sighting of strange
lights at night, unsolved disappearances and the general creepiness of
the place kept on alert all senses of the locals. So when he noticed a
black stain between the reeds, he cautiously bend over the edge to
investigate, without setting as little as a toe in the dark water, ready
to jump back at the slightest move.
It was not enough. In the
blink of an eye a tendril pierced his chest. stronger than steel and as
black as the void between the stars.
He tried to call for help
but only manage to emit a faint gurgle as his own fluids filled quickly
his lungs. Soon he couldn’t breathe anymore and he felt his heart stop,
his body shook and struggled a brief moment to finally lean on the black
rod in a final convulsion. He died, but did not fade. His thoughts and
his senses were still there, and his mind was struggling to understand
why.
– “Am I still alive ? Why I am still alive ? What is happening ?”
– “You are dead. You are mine. You will serve me”
He took a look around, but see no one.
– “Who’re you ? Are you in me head ? Whaddya want from me ?”
– “I am Glaaki, Lord of the Lake. My seve runs now through you. Obey and be rewarded, Resist and be destroyed.”
Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook
The
natives were among the last to flee the sinking island of Kaiku. Most of
the reputed library content and their few belongings were already safe
in the ship’s hull, but the imminent demise of what they always believed
to be an island came sooner than expected. They grabbed all the
remaining stuff they could find and fled to the surface, running like
hell in the flooded corridors. Ol’timey Index could hear nothing but his
heartbeat, one hand clutched on his cane and the other to the last
books of the Island.
They didn’t have time to look back on their homeland as it disappear in the waters. In a matter of minutes, all was gone.
Catching
their breath, they lined on the ship’s rail and looked on the vast see,
filled with mud and detritus, slowly spreading to the ocean. Old Index
shudders and look at his family. So many were gone… Some tears dripped
and many fell to their knees. With the tension of the last few days
suddenly gone, everyone was breaking down. Index knew what has to be
done.
– “Hey y’all ! Stop crying for a second and lookey what i got there !”
All
turned their eyes upon the old geezer as he held high his hand in the
blazing sky the Rose of Kaiku, the very soul of their people. In the
blazing sunlight, the magical rose changed colors again. Now it was
shining brightly a vivid nuance of copper. At this very moment, they
knew they did it. The Walker was among them and they hear his wisper in
their soul. They did it ! Now’s the time to set sail to a new home,
their home !
KAIKU INDEPENDENCIA !
—–
Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook
The
natives were among the last to flee the sinking island of Kaiku. Most of
the reputed library content and their few belongings were already safe
in the ship’s hull, but the imminent demise of what they always believed
to be an island came sooner than expected. They grabbed all the
remaining stuff they could find and fled to the surface, running like
hell in the flooded corridors. Ol’timey Index could hear nothing but his
heartbeat, one hand clutched on his cane and the other to the last
books of the Island.
They didn’t have time to look back on their homeland as it disappear in the waters. In a matter of minutes, all was gone.
Catching
their breath, they lined on the ship’s rail and looked on the vast see,
filled with mud and detritus, slowly spreading to the ocean. Old Index
shudders and look at his family. So many were gone… Some tears dripped
and many fell to their knees. With the tension of the last few days
suddenly gone, everyone was breaking down. Index knew what has to be
done.
– “Hey y’all ! Stop crying for a second and lookey what i got there !”
All
turned their eyes upon the old geezer as he held high his hand in the
blazing sky the Rose of Kaiku, the very soul of their people. In the
blazing sunlight, the magical rose changed colors again. Now it was
shining brightly a vivid nuance of copper. At this very moment, they
knew they did it. The Walker was among them and they hear his wisper in
their soul. They did it ! Now’s the time to set sail to a new home,
their home !
KAIKU INDEPENDENCIA !
—–
Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook
On the other side of the bridge begin the land of Kalishima, the Great
Kami of Red Mountain. It is rumoured that he hates fire so much that no
traveler who dares to light a flame in this woods will ever be able to
find a way out.
Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook
New-York, Juju Boutique, January 1925
The article of James Benneth was aimed to create a little confusion in Harlem. Just a dirty paper in a tabloid, who would care ?
The
peoples of Harlem care. A lot. What was aimed to be a simple police
raid became a risky expedition right in a middle of racial riots never
seen before. Nonetheless, the evidences were too strong and the raid had
to be done.
Against all odds, it went smoothly. Two police cars
full of strong young officers put Silas N’Kwane, the boutique owner, in
custody and found the secret entrance to the cave under the rug. Then
all hell break loose. The cultists viciously ambushed the men outside,
while screeches and howls came from below. Some of them definitely not
human. The policemen were well armed and easily dispatched the cultists,
All but one : Mukunga, the leader, wouldn’t fall. He took so many
bullets and still won’t die. He sliced William and Franck with his
pronga, chocked Donald to death, without so much as a flinch on his
face, and keeps walking, unfaded by the rain of bullets.
Caught
in the boutique between the massive murdered and the hellish howls from
the hole, the men began to panic. Clip after clip, they emptied all
their weapons, screaming in disbelief :
– “Why won’t you DIE !?”
Pencil doodle on A6 Sketchbook with a touch of color pencils
Boston, January 1925.
Since
the Juju Boutique incident, James was not the same anymore. Now and
then, entire part of his memories went blank. And during these
black-out, it was as if someone, or something, took control of his body and do things. Bad things.
The strange dreams keeps coming and sometimes he heard a familiar voice
behind him. He took a trip to Boston, to resource himself, but only
manage to burn his contacts. Now’s the time to make low profile.
He had the choice : discard the clues he witnessed in his madness and be freed from the black stain.
Or get all the clues and mysteries but get to be the host of the dark spirit of Silas N’Kwane.
Does truth always prevails over his own life ? Over the lifes of others ?
pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook with a touch of color pencils
“Take me to your [Leader/Supreme Guide/Regulation Authorities/Great Buffoon] or be [prepared/ready/mildly amused] to [face/affront/experience] the [Complete Annihilation/Utter Destruction of Doom/Great Tickling of Death]”
Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook
I would like to live in one of these. Lot of work, but rewarding.
Ink nib on A6 sketchbook