Astanael

Tag: cthulhu mythos

  • Nyogtha again

    ‘Leigh strode to the center of the room, staring at the chair that stood on the black circle of stone. “You work here?” he asked slowly.
    “Yes. It’s quiet—I found I couldn’t work upstairs. Too noisy. But this is ideal—somehow I find it very easy to write here. My mind feels"—he hesitated—"free; that is, disassociated with other things. It’s quite an unusual feeling.”
    Leigh nodded as though Carson’s words had confirmed some idea in his own mind. He turned toward the alcove and the metal disk in the floor. Carson followed him. The occultist moved close to the wall, tracing out the faded symbols with a long forefinger. He muttered something under his breath—words that sounded like gibberish to Carson.
    “Nyogtha … k’yarnak …”
    He swung about, his face grim and pale. “I’ve seen enough,” he said softly. “Shall we go?” Surprised, Carson nodded and led the way back into the cellar.
    Upstairs Leigh hesitated, as though finding it difficult to broach his subject. At length he asked, “Mr. Carson—would you mind telling me if you have had any peculiar dreams lately.”’

    – Henry Kuttner, “The Salem Horror”

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook from my Great Old Ones & Their Kin series
    Criterium sur Carnet A6, extrait de la série Grands Anciens et leurs séides

    Commissionnned by Ko-fi – Click here to order your own encounter with your favorite Great Old One

  • Nyogtha

    “Men knew him as the Dweller in Darkness, that brother of the Old Ones called Nyogtha, the Thing that should not be. He can be summoned to Earth’s surface through certain secret caverns and fissures, and sorcerers have seen him in Syria and below the black tower of Leng; from the Thang Grotto of Tartary he has come ravening to bring terror and destruction among the pavilions of the great Khan. Only by the looped cross, by the Vach-Viraj incantation and by the Tikkoun elixir may he be driven back to the nighted caverns of hidden foulness where he dwelleth. ”
    – Henry Kuttner, “The Salem Horror”

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook from my Great Old Ones & Their Kin series
    Criterium sur Carnet A6, extrait de la série Grands Anciens et leurs séides

    Commissionnned by Ko-fi – Click here to order your own encounter with your favorite Great Old One

  • Xipe Totec

    “The annual festival of Xipe
    Totec was celebrated on the spring equinox before the onset of the rainy
    season; it was known as Tlacaxipehualiztli. This festival took place in
    March at the time of the Spanish Conquest. Forty days before the
    festival of Xipe Totec, an Indian slave who was captured at war was
    dressed to represent the living god who was honored during this period.
    This occurred in every ward of the city, which resulted in multiple
    Indians being selected. The central ritual act of "Tlacaxipehualiztli”
    was the gladiatorial sacrifice of war prisoners, which both began and
    culminated the festival. On the next day of the festival, the game of
    canes was performed in the manner of two bands. The first band were
    those who took the part of Xipe Totec and went dressed in the skins of
    the war prisoners who were killed the previous day, so the fresh blood
    was still flowing. The opposing band was composed of daring soldiers who
    were brave and fearless, and who took part in the combat with the
    others. After the conclusion of this game, those who wore the human
    skins went around throughout the whole town, entering houses and
    demanding that those in the houses give them some alms or gifts for the
    love of Xipe Totec. While in the houses, they sat down on sheaves of
    tzapote leaves and put on necklaces which were made of ears of corn and
    flowers. They had them put on garlands and give them pulque to drink,
    which was their wine. Annually, slaves or captives were selected as
    sacrifices to Xipe Totec. After having the heart cut out, the body was
    carefully flayed to produce a nearly whole skin which was then worn by
    the priests for twenty days during the fertility rituals that followed
    the sacrifice. This act of putting on new skin was a ceremony called
    ‘Neteotquiliztli’ translating to “impersonation of a god”. The skins
    were often adorned with bright feathers and gold jewellery when worn.
    During the festival, victorious warriors wearing flayed skins carried
    out mock skirmishes throughout Tenochtitlan, they passed through the
    city begging alms and blessed whoever gave them food or other offerings.
    When the twenty-day festival was over, the flayed skins were removed
    and stored in special containers with tight-fitting lids designed to
    stop the stench of putrefaction from escaping. These containers were
    then stored in a chamber beneath the temple.“

    – Annual festival of Tlacaxipehualiztli, Wikipedia.

    Sometimes reality is creepier than fiction.

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook from my Great Old Ones & Their Kin series for an upcoming Elder Gods Tarot project

  • Hastur

    Hastur

  • Shub-Niggurath

    Shub-Niggurath

  • 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