Tag: CallofCthulhu

  • Mountain of the Black Wind

    We hear the drums echoing tonight
    We speaks only whispers to avoid detection
    It’s coming in, on July 21th 1925
    Its moonlit wings reflect those stars that guide towards annihilation
    We stops at the entrance near the top
    Hoping to find some old forgotten clue to stop this blasphemy
    It turned to us as if to say
    “Hurry, boy, my son’s waiting there for you”

    [Chorus]
    You’re gonna take a lot from us and drag us up to you
    There’s nothing that ten thousand men or more could ever do
    I curse the coming of your offspring tonight
    Gonna see the Bloody tong take offerings on the Mountain of the Black Wind (Ooh)

    /* Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook – Porte-mine sur carnet A6 */
    /* Parody of Africa by Toto © Jeff Porcaro & David Paich */
    /* Masks of Nyarlathotep is a Chaosium RPG campaign for Call of Cthulhu designed by Larry DiTillio Lynn Willis */
    /* I’m sorry */

    Au loin les tambours résonnent fortement ce soir
    Nous ne parlons qu’en chuchotant pour ne pas être repérés
    Il arrive, en ce 21 juillet 1925.
    Ses ailes éclairées de lune reflètent ces étoiles qui nous guident vers le néant
    Nous sommes près de l’entrée secrete du sommet
    espérant trouver un indice oublié pour empêcher ce blasphème.
    Il s’est tourné vers nous comme s’il disait
    “Dépêche-toi, mon garçon, mon fils t’attend là-bas”.

    [Chorus]
    Tu vas nous prendre beaucoup et nous traîner jusqu’à toi
    Il n’y a rien que dix mille hommes ou plus ne puissent faire.
    Je maudis l’arrivée de ta progéniture ce soir.
    Ce soir la langue Sanglante accepte les offrandes sur la Montagne du Vent Noir (Ooh).

  • The Dee sanction 2/4 – A Doll

    A doll of rags and tatters, made of clay and human hair lousily arranged in a huge hairdo.It bears a striking resemblance with the Queen. It should be cute, even with this poor craftsmanship. Look at this little ruff!
    Yet… I find it sinister. Is it the eyes?

    /* Second of a 4 part commission illustrating a Cthulhu Hack RPG supplement for the Dee Sanction ( www.kickstarter.com/projects/a… )
    ( The Dee sanction: thedeesanction.com/ ) */

    Une poupée de chiffons, faite de cire et de cheveux humains rassemblés en une imposante coiffure.
    Elle
    ressemble de façon troublante à la Reine. Elle devrait être mignonne
    cette poupée, même avec sa facture grossière. Regardez-moi cette petite
    fraise!
    Et pourtant… Je la trouve sinistre. Serait-ce ses yeux ?

    /*
    Deuxième partie d’une commission de 4 illustrations pour un supplément
    JDR de Cthulhu Hack pour le setup Elizabethain “The Dee Sanction” ( www.kickstarter.com/projects/a… )
    ( The Dee sanction : thedeesanction.com/ ) */

  • The Dee sanction ¼ – Tudor Muggers

    Muggers, that was bound to happen. These streets aren’t as they used to be.
    A tragedy, really. A raw, and brutal event. Sadly more and more common.
    Yet, there’s something new. These eyes…What’s up with these eyes !

    /* First of a 4 part commission illustrating a Cthulhu Hack RPG supplement for the Dee Sanction ( https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/allrolledup/the-dee-sanction-adventures/ )
    ( The Dee sanction: http://thedeesanction.com/ ) */

    Des brigands, ça devait arriver. Ces rues ne sont plus aussi sûres qu’avant.
    Une tragédie. Un acte brutal et violent. C’est triste, et malheureusement courant ces temps-ci.
    Et pourtant, il y a quelque chose d’autre. Ces yeux… Qu’est-ce que c’est que ces yeux ?

    /* Première partie d’une commission de 4 illustrations pour un supplément JDR de Cthulhu Hack pour le setup Elizabethain “The Dee Sanction” ( https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/allrolledup/the-dee-sanction-adventures/ )
    ( The Dee sanction : http://thedeesanction.com/ ) */

  • Masks of Nyarlathotep – Underground

    Cairo, Egypt. March 1925 the 20th? 21th?

    It was the first spot of light they saw from a while. More a blurry grayish speck, hanging in a far away roof. Narayan reached Hachim with his saber to stop him and laid the unconscious old man he was carrying against the wall of the chamber. His shoulder was aching, but still dry. No blood spilled. good. He squat next to the entrance, his blades ready to slit whatever would came from the tunnels. Hachim drop himself in the middle of the chamber, panting heavily.

    Hachim was exhausted. He tried to count their steps, but failed to estimate the distance in theses tunnels. A miles? Two? Time was dilating to the point of madness in the dark. He felt some carving on the wall here and there, surely some hieroglyphs. The stones were old, disjointed here and there. Who knew there was such an network under his hometown? Since they fell through the hole at the mosque’s cave, they haven’t seen a single light. Theses tunnel were man-made, not like the ones earlier, dug by some unknown monster he tried his best to not think about.

    Hachim whispered “Narayan, could you check if the oulema has woken up? I’m dying to ask him some questions.”

    Narayan bend over to check upon the old men when a ray of light drop from the roof and hit Hachim with a splashing sound. Some kind of luminous moss has suddenly fell from the roof and covered him from head to toes. He straightened up and try to shake it up. The roof was glowing too and they could see each over clearly now.

    – “Wha!? Nardin’! What was that!”  

    – “Silence!”

    Narayan went tense. The screams of Hachim had echoed loudly in the tunnels.

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook

    ***

    Le Caire, Égypte. 20 ou 21 (?) Mars 1925

    De la lumière. Pour la première fois depuis leur chute, la monotonie du noir fut rompue par une vague luminescence grisâtre semblant provenir d’un point du plafond plus haut. Narayan toqua Hachim du plat de sa lame pour l’arrêter puis s’employa a déposer confortablement le vieil home qu’il trimbalait contre le mur. Son épaule le faisait souffrir. Il passa rapidement la main dessus. Sec, donc pas de sang. Bien. Il s’accroupit juste a coté de l’entrée, le sabre prêt à réagir a ce qui pourrait arriver près des tunnels. Hachim se laissa bruyamment tomber au beau milieu de la pièce.

    Hachim tentait de reprendre son souffle, au bord de l’épuisement. Il avait perdu le compte de ses pas au bout de plusieurs centaines. Quelle distance avaient-ils parcourus dans ces tunnels ? Un miles ? deux ? En absence totale de lumière, la perception du temps était horriblement déformée. Il avait bien senti du bout des doigts plusieurs hiéroglyphes ici et là mais sans parvenir à les traduire. ces pierres disjointes étaient vielles, si vielles… Qui aurait cru l’existence d’un réseau souterrain sous le Caire même ! Ces tunnels étaient clairement construit de main d’homme, pas comme ces trous visqueux par lesquelles ils étaient tombés depuis sous la mosquée. Hachim chassa des pensées de son esprit, il ne souhaitait vraiment pas penser à quels monstres  avaient pu creuser de tels tunnels.

    Il se tourna dans la direction où il supposait que se trouvait Narayan et chuchota :

    – “Est-ce qu’il est réveillé ? J’ai vraiment besoin de lui poser des questions.”

    Narayan se pencha vers l’oulema quand un trait de lumière surgit du plafond et fondit sur Hachim, suivi d’un éclaboussement sonore. Hachim se releva d’un bond, il était maintenant couvert d’une curieuse mousse luminescente qu’il essaya vainement de secouer. Le plafond brillait aussi de la même lueur bleue-verte. Au mois, ils pouvaient enfin se distinguer l’un l’autre.

    – “Que !? Nardin’ ! C’était quoi !”  
    – “Chut !”

    Narayan crispa sa main sur sa lame. Les cris d’Hachim résonnaient fort dans ces tunnels. Trop fort…

    Criterium sur carnet A6

  • 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)

  • Masks of Nyarlathotep – The burnt house that wasn’t

    London, St John’s wood – February the 19th, 1925

    – “I made more tea”, said Martin.
    Allen
    and John started to rummage through their notes, looking for their
    buried teacups. Since his visit to Sir Gavingan, Martin had trouble
    concentrating or simply thinking straight, When he heard a knock on the
    door, he went for it with the teapot still in his hands. What happened
    with this interview ? He couldn’t remember. And why the headaches ?
    It
    was Sean at the door, returning from his home after a long and
    eventless slumber. After an awkward moment where Shaun pointed the
    teapot in inquiry, they went back to the salon. The other two had
    finally managed to retrieve their teacups under the massive pile of
    papers on the table, and martin began to pour the warm liquid. Sean
    dropped himself heavily in Martin’s chair, and passed on the invitation.

    And then the house vanished.

    There was no sound, no
    movement, no nothing. It simply wasn’t there anymore. They were now
    sitting in the charred remains of what was a house a long time ago.
    grasses and roots had begun to take over the site, every lasting piece
    of wood was weathered and charred. Their belongings were intact, but
    everything else that was originally in the house was now decayed, broken
    or badly burnt.

    They stood motionless for a while, shocked and
    disturbed by the astonishing situation, and only regained their
    composure when a sudden gust of wind threaten to disperse the piles of
    their precious notes.

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

  • Azazoth – Harry Dutrefle

    After what happened to his
    cousin Locke, Harry needed rest. The things they fought up in Montana’s
    mountains were not a problem, but seeing his pal going like that… That
    was too much.

    Unfortunately, isolation was a bad idea. The
    thoughts of the imminent coming of Azazoth never left his head and drove
    him further into madness, to the point he had to be committed in
    Helena. Violent by nature, he had to be restrained, which aggravated his
    condition.

    Then Hal, which kept tabs on him, moves him to a very
    nice and competent place, where Harry slowly began to heal. He still
    has a long way to recovery, but he keeps getting better and better each
    day.  

    And who knows? Maybe one day he will reveal where did he hide the extraterrestrial explosives devices he got from Garisson?

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook
    Player Character from finished Call of Cthulhu Campaign : The Azazoth Offspring

           
           

  • Azazoth – Oscar Couteau

    Oscar Couteau was a lucky man.

    He
    was bestow multiples good fortunes, and was the owner of several
    textiles industries. He has a beautiful wife and wonderful friends. And
    then, fate struck. Curiosity lead him to venture into the company of
    occultists, and all changed after this catastrophic séance in New
    Orleans. Blood everywhere, missing bodies… One by ones, the others
    were found exsanguinated all around the country.. until only he and
    Choura were left. They searched, and fled to the very edge of the world,
    looking for a cure, a weapon, something, anything that could get rid of
    the invisible pursuer, they even venture the Dreamland. The trail of
    bloodless bodies were becoming closer and closer, and in top of that,
    they were forced to stop the impending doom of some cosmic horror
    apocalypse!

    If only he hadn’t put theses glasses.

    He knew
    it, theses glasses reveals the hidden. And in Tibet, while time itself
    was destroyed, he saw the infinite madness coming through the gate.

    He saw Azazoth, gouge his own eyes with his hands and died.

    Choura
    and Oscar never found his body, only his clothes were left. And a
    strange mask made from white paper. At least they managed to get rid of
    the invisible killer.

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook
    Player Character from finished Call of Cthulhu Campaign : The Azazoth Offspring

  • Singeries

    Bad Idea #765 :

    – Fighting a inebriated 500 pounds albinos gorilla with only a tire changer. While raining.

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook
    Excerpt from the “Singeries” Call of Cthulhu scenario by Tristan Lhomme edited by Sans-Detours

  • Azazoth PCs – Carl Ayerdal

    Carl has a friend. Not any
    ordinary friend, ‘though, he’s pal with Hal Jordan, the owner of Ferris
    Aircraft. Hal is a prominent man in New Orleans and in business circles
    in general, furthermore, they did go to France together some years ago.
    Also, Carl did marry Hal’s sister.
    So when Hal ran into troubles with the strange fate of Sydney Bretz, who could he have called but Carl ?

    A lot happened.

    And
    now, as he returned to his New-York apartment, his own family seemed
    like strangers to him. He didn’t told them about the fate of his New
    Orleans friend, nor about the feats they accomplished and how they saved
    the world from total annihilation, or so they think. He even hide the
    loss of his thumb during this apocalyptic finale in Tibet. He hide it
    because of hope. The hope that the amniotic liquid contained in the
    extraterrestrial brain cylinder found in Garisson can heal his wounded
    flesh as he had before.

    Will it work?  

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook
    Player Character from finished Call of Cthulhu Campaign : The Azazoth Offspring