Astanael

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  • Having decided that listening all day long to celestial music is quite
    silly, they decided to cut themselves from the main Isle and go their
    own way.
    No kender allowed aboard.

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook

  • 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

  • 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

  • Campaign “Shadows over Esteren”

    The Laochdrinn were a noble
    family from Baldh-Ruoch, Capital of the Reizh. Not a strong one, and
    quite young compared to the other branches but full of promises and
    excelling in the art of diplomacy. Edren was the eldest son, and his
    father Joachim did his best to give him the most complete education. He
    made it in the Sapience institution after doing his Ost, and learned
    Flux manipulation under the strict mentoring of the old Albus. Edren was
    doing well, learning fast and quite adept to build strong relationship
    with his fellow students with the help from his charming smile, which he
    got it from his mother Ellana, His twin brothers, Fredrich and Guivren,
    were still under tutoring, showing promises of a bright future and the
    youngest daughter, Guiniver, was destined to help the Laochdrinn form a
    strong alliance with the RochePiarde, one of the  most influent families
    of Baldh-Ruoch. He also took the strange habit of gathering every
    peeble, beedle of plant he found which has the slightest connexion to
    the Art of the Flux, the Occult or the Spirits.

    And then, they died.

    All
    but Edren perished during this fateful night. The family house was
    reduced to a smoldering pile of dust by the morning, consumed by a
    gigantic brasier. This was no ordinary fire. It didn’t emit heat and the
    strange, undefined color of the flames was definitively not something
    natural. Edren could do nothing but watch his life consume itself.
    Everything the fire touched was annihilated, even the water thrown by
    the bystander vaporized instantly. To this day, no one knows what
    happened, and why.

    As the eldest son, Edren was very self
    conscious of his responsibilities before the tragedy. In a instant, he
    lost everything. Father, mother, brothers and sister were no more. The
    two servants of the House, Janne and Lancet died too, and even his best
    friend from the university which was sleeping over : Oldelaf. Soon, the
    last peoples he knew cut their relationship with him. Rumors start
    spreading about malediction and ill omens, and soon, Edren became more
    and more isolated.

    Some would be destroyed forever.

    Not
    Edren. It took a while, but he bounce back. He quit the university, and
    began to make his living by gathering and selling what others cannot
    take the time to find : exotic plants,  location of unusual minerals,
    books and other “artefacts”. He takes pride in his ability to find what
    is rare and selling it to the right person. He made new friends and
    contacts. Life change a man, that is for sure, and Nowadays Edren is
    quite the opposite of Yesterday Edren. Since he lost everything, he
    began to ignoring the consequences of his acts more and more, to the
    point where he even endangers those who dare join him in one of his
    missions.

    He’s not reluctant to talk about the past, but is
    quick to change the subject. Even to those who know him for a while, the
    only sequel he kept from this tragedy is a persistent and violent
    phobia of fires.

    To be continued…

  • Bird of Paradise

    Last Christmas, my dear little sister brought me a gift from the
    Metropolitan Museum of New-York : a small case filled with color rayon. I
    did carry it with me everywhere but never had the time to test them.

    I
    was a fool to not test them sooner, for they are quite magnificent !
    The colors are so vibrant and shading is quite easy to do. I should try
    wet it with a brush to see if they can be watercolored…

    I’m not very skilled when it comes to coloring, so do not expect the next doodle to be like this one.

    Pencil and color crayons doodle on A6 sketchbook