Astanael

Tag: Cthulhu

  • Masks of Nyarlathotep – Relaxation

    Cairo, Egypt, March 19, 1925

    Mouhammad reluctantly left the room of the Continental Hotel, letting Betty preparing the ritual with the various ornaments he fetched for her. That was a strange set of tools she asked him and he did his best to find them all. Buckler, arrows, arc, an ankh, a tiny sarcophagus… All this esoteric stuff was making him nervous, not that he feared the occult, but returning to the place he once worked was risky. He didn’t exactly leave a notice or any explanation of why he left his receptionist job, and “finding the love of his life” was not among accepted motive.

    Betty told him not to look. She told him to return in a few hours. She said she will invoke the Spirit of Nets the Huntress to beg her for rest and protection.

    He couldn’t resist and swiftly turned back. Using his pass on the door, he cautiously went back in the hotel room. He heard the words of Betty speaking softly some kind of prayer, in an unknown language. As he tried to hide behind the plants, he was overwhelmed by a sudden urge to sleep. He briefly saw a feline shadows, heard a strange metallic noise and fell to the ground unconscious.
    And now he’s here. They all are here.

    There is no time here. No past. No future. Only an eternal present. The grass is everywhere, taller than them. A gentle and warm wind is blowing. They feel presences out of their sight around them, furtive noises in the bushes of predators, but no fear. They feel protected, relaxed. Mouhammad saw Betty, alongside her sister. Betty was pregnant, and all signs of worry has disappear from her face. She was expecting, radiant, a true goddess. He fell in love again and sit with her. Keeva was slowly stroking the dog. John was alert, but calm and peaceful.

    There was no pain, no worries, no anxiety, not even the slightest discomfort. For the first time since ages, they could relax themselves and forget for a while the tasks at hands, the horrible fraternity of the black Pharaoh and the impending return of Nitocris.

    This was bliss though Mouhammad. He could stay here for ever. Betty leaned on him and said:

    – I want to hunt small critters. To run after they little tails. I want to sleep in the sun and to be petted. This is a dream, I know that. Not The Dreamlands, ‘though… This is the dream of a cat.  

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook
    Excerpt from an ongoing run of the “Mask of Nyarlathotep” campaign for the Chaosium “Call of Cthulhu” RPG

  • The Tombs of the Khalifs

    At Cairo they rest.
    Underneath a pest
    She will return
    He will unbirth

    Props from ongoing Masks of Nyarlathotep RPG campaign
    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook

  • Stranded flutist

    The flutist has played for eons
    To calm the Sultan of Demons
    Or so it seems, no time here,
    No place either, so crowded

    So when came the feeble call
    from a teeny tiny blue ball
    It came and eat profusely
    And now wanders aimlessly

    Ink brush on A6 sketchbook

  • Elder Sign

    The shovel hit something soft. Abermal stopped the other, got on his knees and started to dig with his bare hands, slowly revealing the buried torso of a men. Ed was confused, he had been hired to dig a gate, not a corpse. Not that was against the few and sparse remaining principles he had, but he would have like to know beforehand. Not the same price.
    As the professor slowly unearthing the corpse, Ed saw chains and rags. The body was completely mummified, and that was curious. It should have decomposed in this soil. Ed dropped himself on a nearby stone, lit a fig and let the professor do the work. He could hear him mumbling to himself.
    – “Careful, careful…What a cautious fellow we have here… tatoo? smart! …very smart indeed, Sir Pilcevot…”
    Ed forced himself not to look. If they was restrains, this fellow has not departed in a pleasant way. The eyes were the worst, Couldn’t bear them. The professor was completely and utterly absorbed by his task. Ed wondered if he could sneak away now the digging was done. His first plan was to stay a while and require a couple of quids to cover the grave, but now…  
    – “So the guardian was indeed the gate. Poor knight… The legends were both true then! He did get corrupted by the old ones AND manage to stop them entering our world. Someone must have buried him alive to do so, while the evil has engulfed him. And of course, tatoo him with the Elder Sign to kept the evil from leaking out…”
    The professor went silent. for a while. Ed took the time to shake the dirt on his legs. then throw away the consumed fig.
    – “Yer okay in there prof ?”
    – “No.”
    – “Beg perdon ?”
    – “No, that’s not okay. The sign’s broken. Your shovel must have…”
    – “Must have what ? Yer should have warn me bout that, y’know. Sooo… Need help move this fellow ?”
    – “Run.”
    – “Wha ?”
    – “RUN YOU FOOL!”

    For hector111
    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook

  • Bad dreams

    – Oh uncle. I’m so glad to see you!
    – ‘evening son
    – I must ask you for help. Would you kindly listen to me?
    – Sure, son!
    – I kept dreaming of a titanic figure, truly a god. Each night, over and over. At first it was blurred and vague. And now it is clearer and clearer each night.  Last was the worst! it saw me! And then it made a gesture.
    – Oh my! That is quite terrifying.
    – I’m scared. What can I do? I’m afraid to fell asleep again.
    – But you are dreaming dear.
    – oh…
    – like, right now. Remember, son: I died three years ago.
    – no…nononoNONONONONOWGAWD!

    ink brush doodle on A6 sketchbook

  • Terror on the Orient-Express
    Teatro alla Scalla backstage

    9 jan. 1923 – Milan

    It was a bliss, Choura had always dreamed about visiting il Teatro alla Scala de Milano, and now he was backstage, looking for clues and the musical director ! He dared to hope… maybe… maybe he could land a role on tomorrow’s premiere of the Aida! If only they knew where the diva Cavollaro went. This was too strange for her to disappear upon her arrival, and she wasn’t even there for the repetition they said. He hoped for the best, but fear the worst.
    Cihat was more pragmatic. They searched for a while and couldn’t find the director Toscanni nor the scenic director. Only one clue left, the costume designer. Milano was not as he expected, like a dead city, rotting in her magnificent shell, dead inside. A lot of people were sick and many from affliction of the chest. There has to be the torso piece of Sedefkar simulacrum here, somewhere. His own arm ache. The pomades and care of Henry helped but he had to wear the sling. And do not like it.
    After asking for direction to the smoking pharaoh with the glasses and cigar, they went up. Suddenly, Choura stopped and pointed between the curtains. Without thinking, Cihat took a peek and saw it too : an Eye. Gigantic, colossal, looking right at them.

    He blinked and realized after a brief examination that it was a theater props, another of theses pieces of illusion hanging around and stored everywhere He shoved Choura who stood still, like hypnotized and fascinated by the vision. He shook harder until Choura manage to regain his senses.

    – “Are you alright ?”
    – “Oh,Yes. For a moment… ”

    He coughed

    – “For a moment I felt strange. I felt… Like I din’t know which is the stage and which is the scene…”

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook
    Excerpt from the Terror on the Orient-Express Chaosium Call of Cthulhu RPG campaign

  • HPL

    The Stars are Right at last !
    I paid thee homage, Lovecraft !
    May your spirit never wither,
    May your writing last forever.

    – I AM PROVIDENCE –

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook.

  • The Valkyries from Yuggoth

    Sjörn died in battle, with honor. The Valkyries came and took his soul to Valhalla.

    So is the tale, written on his tombstone. The tale of a brave and fearless warrior, one of the finest. Curiously, his son Feyr never talks about his father. Except once…

    It was the time Canute the Great unified the Dane. Feys Sjörnson was completely and utterly wasted, drunk to the bones. He sang with the others, dance with the maidens of the house and drank some more. Then one of his men complimented the largest maiden of the lot by saying that she had the hips of a Valkyrie. Feyr went red and screamed that she lacks two more pair of arms, that Valkyries were hairless, that their wings are made of leather and their arms of lobster, that the souls of men were inside their skulls and you have to cut it open to really free the soul. His men took him away to let him sleep and he never spoke of it again.

    Pencil Doodle on A6 Sketchbook
    Commission for Kenegan of  Cthulhu Hack

  • Something in the deck below

    Matey, is that you? Lemee see yer faaaaAAAARAAAA GOLLY GOBSHITE !

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook
    (yay ! tentacles !)

  • Midnight invocation

    Lets chant Her coming
    Iä ! Our souls are Hers !
    Lets do the sacrificing !
    Iä ! Our bodies are Hers !
    Lets mate and copula…

    * awkward silence *

    oh
    nevermind. I’m alone. Again. Who I am kidding ? Again I’m the only one
    that shows for the ceremonies. So sad… Why does nobody respond to me
    anymore ?

    * bubbling noises and sounds of reality ripping apart *

    I AM RESPONDING.  I AM HERE. LET US MATE

    * confused screaming *

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook