Astanael

Category: Uncategorized

  • Masks – Unexpected help

    England, Hitchcock Manor, 22 February 1925

    – “Quick ! Follow me ! And do not, I said : DO NOT look behind you.”

    John
    couldn’t help himself. As he turn around, he felt more than he saw a
    cold shadow spreading around the flooded room. Slowly rising from the
    mud he woke into, a colossal snake was rising to the roof, dripping mud,
    algae and whatever was decomposing in these foul waters. Grotesquely,
    this creature had a human face that looked like the face of the spice
    shop owner Tefwik.
    – “Wha.. How .. Why !?”- “No time ! Come ! screamed Gavigan”

    Tefwik’s
    face split in two, revealing a protrusion of tentacles, mandibles and
    other unnamed appendices. John was paralyzed by the grotesque and
    terrifying sight of the creature slowly leaning to him, unable to giggle
    a toe. He could smell the foul and putrid stench of the abysmal cloaca
    ready to swallow his body and its soul, and yet his body wasn’t
    responding.
    Suddenly, he felt pulled back, and
    dragged in the mud against the flow, then saw the door close itself
    thanks to the undertow. That somehow rebooted his mind, and he soon
    could started to flee as anyone should reasonably do facing such a
    monstrosity. Grabbing his pistol, he shot some round behind as him and
    Gavigan were struggling to progress among the floating detritus. They
    heard loud banging noises on the door they left. John took a look at Sir
    Gavigan. He was dressed like the day they met him at the Penhew
    foundation, the exact same costume. As they reach the stairs, John
    noticed the entire manor was flooded. They could try to reach a window
    and jump outside, but there was a strange glowing fog that felt almost
    tangible outside. Sir Gavigan turned to him.

    – “We need power objects, artifacts, relics, anything of power !”
    – “hu… I dunno ! The attic ?”- “lead the way, this is your dream !”

    John
    climbed the stairs, followed closely by Sir Gavigan, just in time to
    hear a loud cracking noise in the corridor and a wave of mud coming
    toward them. He took position and let Edward pass him, then emptied his
    round in the mud, to no avail.
    – “Here ! I found something !”
    Following
    the voice, he ran in the fist room with the broken door and saw the
    most incredible gathering of magic tools. Everything was as he has ever
    imagined, whatever loosely related to the occult it was : walls and
    walls of leatherbound grimoires and massive books piled in dust covered
    huge shelves, chandeliers, ritual knives, cauldrons, African masks,
    bones, marking on the floor, robes, bottles of glowing fluids… They
    even was a living black goat munching a tapestry covered in occult
    markings !
    Sir Edward was already reading from a heavy black grimoire in his hands.

    – “Elhoim sabbaoth Nephren-Ka… Grab the sword ! Et Nyarl Ft’hagn sibbo Neth Ka..”
    John
    dropped his now useless gun and grabbed the sword, which started to
    glow and suddenly burst into flames ! Gavigan started to levitate and
    runes appeared all around him in the air, shining brightly like his
    sword. John heard the sound of the creature approaching and turned
    around turned around to face the door, raising his now blazing magical
    sword.

    As his brother William said, there is a time to think. And there is a time to act.

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook
    Excerpt from an ongoing run of Call of Cthulhu Campaign : The Masks of Nyarlathotep (London arc)

  • Tumblr

    I’m discovering Tumblr.

    I’s a vast and very interesting community, with little filters.
    That’s a blessing and a curse, but I’m willing to get along.For to find beauty you have to search the muddy waters.

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook

  • Scourge of the Oceans

    Imagine you’re resting at the very bottom of the oceans, watching
    falling pieces after piece of plastic garbage on your home all the
    frigging time, and you knew this pollution comes from the hairless
    monkeys above.

    Won’t you be mad? Mad enough to send dreams and manipulate the monkeys to reduce pollution? Or to extinguishes themselves?

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook

  • Shoggothla chaud

    A much better pun for a great Idea. Do not start your day off without your daily dose of cyclopean horrors beyond ages !
    ‘though it needs a better translation fro the english market… Hot cocthulhuoa ?

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbookIdea
    kindly suggested by Onibri – (https://onibri.tumblr.com/ –
    https://www.instagram.com/claireblehaut/ –
    https://www.patreon.com/claireblehaut/memberships)     << Go check it out ! Now !

  • Colombages

    A nice place to rest, with friends all around.Rain has stopped and scents are bloomingI laid myself down, bare feet on the groundAnd decided to to produce a little drawing.

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook

  • Coffoggoth

    – “Waitress? I don’t mean to be rude, but I think there’s something in my cup.”- *tiny eldritch voice*
    – “Oooh ! So cool !”

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbookIdea kindly suggested by Onibri – (https://onibri.tumblr.com/ – https://www.instagram.com/claireblehaut/ – https://www.patreon.com/claireblehaut/memberships) << Go check it out ! Now !

  • Masks of Nayarlathotep – Harold’s madness

    London, Hitchcock’s manor. 1925.February the 21th
    Soundtrack : Layers of Fear OST, main theme

    Awnya words were kind, but the news was too heavy for Harold’s sensible artistic mind.

    James is dead.
    He
    is no more. Departed. Gone. Not with us anymore.The reality of the
    situation hit him hard. He wanted to face it, to revolt against the
    entire world, to howl and scream, but his body wouldn’t respond. He
    struggled to keep some coherency in his mind, but his thoughts has gone
    numb. As he felt into slumber, he saw a trace of guilt in Awnya’s
    beautiful face and understand the strange taste in the infusion she made
    earlier… Awnya gazed for while at Harold’s
    face, slowly stroking his long hair. At least he would rest, and maybe
    the narcotic will dilute the pain. She knew how important James was to
    him, maybe she should lay down with him, and ease him into consciousness
    in the morning. Yes, it would be a good way to…

    Harold’s eyes opens suddenly.

    She
    gasped. Franticly, she searched for her words, surprised by this sudden
    awakening. As she mumbled a quick excuse, she realized something was
    off. The face of Harold was blank, as if its mind was too. He stood up
    brusquely, made a few steps and stood still, staring at the painting of
    Aleister on the mantle chimney. Awnya tried to talk to him but he didn’t
    respond to her. After a few attempts to attract his attention, he
    started walking again, and goes to the stairs. As she followed him, she
    noticed his usual sluggishness was gone. He climbed up to his room,
    stared at his luggages, and with swift and precise movements, started to
    unpack his painting tools.

    Awnya lay
    herself on his bed and watched him dressing the easel. She saw him paint
    before, slow gentle touch of color. This was different, the strokes
    were quick and violent, spaying drops of paint everywhere. The silence
    were oppressing, heavy, tense. She had to break it. Without knowing if
    Harold could hear her, she started to tell everything. What happened in
    New-york, the Bloody tongue cults, the escape to London, and the
    Damocles sword upon James. The possession, Silas’ shadow, the arrival to
    the manor and the ritual, The Dreamlands, the cats of Ulthar, The
    Nightgaunts, Nodens… Her sister’s taking away.

    One
    by one, everything she told to Harold was painted, Soon the canvas was
    filled by a giant juxtaposition of scenes and portraits, and then the
    walls and furnitures around too were sprayed too with drops of colors,
    suggestively arranged. Hours by hours, this giant mandala grew larger
    and larger, but she still couldn’t see what he draw in the center. What
    was the nexus, the central piece that liked all the others.

    Her raging curiosity was devouring her, but she had to finish her story first.
    It has to be told. To be painted.

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook

    Excerpt from an ongoing run of Call of Cthulhu Campaign : The Masks of Nyarlathotep (London arc)

  • Our Lord and Savior the Great Cthulhu

    I tried to draw something different, starting with simples lines.

    And then.. tentacles !

    Pencil doodle for A6 sketchbook

  • Mean Request

    Sometimes i receive mean requests.I don’t understand those who are mean just for the sake of it.
    So here my twist on a “cultist eating a grilled pony with an apple in its mouth” request. Prepare to be stampeded !

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook

  • Blowing out some steam

    Had a medical exam a few days ago.
    Stress built up. The diet i had to follow before was atrocious.This is what It felt like once all was over.

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook