One more sign, one more line, it’s not easy
To describe the whole of Reality
Soon the equations will be completed
And… And what?
I forgot what I wanted.
***
Encore un signe, et une ligne, c’est bien compliqué
De décrire l’ensemble de notre réalité
Très bientôt mes équations seront complétées !
Et… Et quoi déjà ?
Je crois que j’ai oublié.
NEW mail – 13 pending/ BREAKING NEWS! learn all about the/ There is 6 offers you should be interest/ REMINDER : Your appointments for tod/ WARNING beware of the/ WARNING : battery charge up to 52%/ You have made 2187 steps toda/ NEW mail – 23 pending/ You got a new message from Nya/ Someone mentioned your name in discu/ Hot ladies in your area, fu/ SALES ! Right now/ Immedia/now/hurry/new/hurryhurryHURRRY !!!!!
***
NOUVEAU MESSAGE – 13 non lus/ ACTUALITE! Vous saurez tout sur/ Vous avez 6 annonces qui vous concern/ RAPPEL : vos rendez-vous pour la journé/ ATTENTION REQUISE : Batterie chargée à 52%/ Vous avez effectués 2187 pas aujourd/ NOUVEAU MESSAGE – 23 non lus/ Vous avez recu un SMS de Nya/ Quelqu’un mentionné votre nom su/ Des célibataires chaudasse dans votre sect/ VENTE PRIVEE! Maintenant ! agiss/ Attenti/immediat/maintenant/Vite/nouveau/allezviteMAINTENANTVITEMAINTENANT !!!!!
Quick Pencil doodle on NEW! A6 sketchbook / Porte-mine instantatné sur NOUVEAU carnet A(6)
Someone (you know who you are) managed the incredible feat to place “Wilbur Whateley” and “Sexy Anime furrybait” in the same sentence.
As a Mythos aficionado, I couldn’t let this madness stay undrawn. Roll your SAN, please.
***
Quelqu’un (qui se reconnaitra) a réussi l’exploit de loger “Wilbur Whateley” et “Sexy Anime Furrybait” dans la même phrase.
En tant qu’afficionado du Mythos et de la folie subséquente, je ne pouvais laisser cette idée insensée sans forme. Test de SAN, svp.
Ink brush doodle on A6 sketchbook / Pinceau-feutre à encre sur carnet A6
Sanity is such a frail thing. Read some book and your already unstable
mind falls in the absymal chasm of forbidden knowledge, forever broken
by the sheer immensity of an absurd and incomprehensible cosmos.
***
Notre esprit est une chose bien fragile… Quelques mauvaises lecture et
nous voici précipité dans l’abîme des connaissances interdites, le sens
commun à jamais brisé par l’immensité et l’absurdité d’un
incommensurable et incompréhensible cosmos.
Inktober 2019 – Cultists Edition
Ink brush on A6 sketchbook / Encre au pinceau sur Carnet A6
“Toll the Great Bell Once!
Pull the Lever forward to engage the Piston and Pump…
Toll the Great Bell Twice!
With push of Button fire the Engine
And spark Turbine into life…
Toll the Great Bell Thrice!
Sing Praise to the God of All Machines !”
– Catechism of the Autoculus of Mars
Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook – © Games Workshop Warhammer 40K
***
“Sonne la Grande Cloche de prime !
Pour abaisser le Levier
Pour engager le Piston et la Pompe…
Sonne la Grande Cloche de Seconde !
Pressons le bouton sacré
Pour que démarre le Moteur
Pour que l’Etincelle donne vie à la Turbine…
Sonne la Grande Cloche de Tierce !
Chantons les louanges du Dieu de Toutes les Machines !”
– Catechism of the Autoculus of Mars
From beyond the Veil,
From the Abysses,
I call thee, head my call!
From beyond the stars
From beneath what’s real
I call thee, head my call!
Come forth and shatter the walls!
Come forth and kill them all!
Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook
Do you too want a doodle from me? Just tell me at ko-fi.com/Astanael
***
D’au delà le voile,
D’au delà les abysses,
Je t’appelle, Je te nomme !
D’au delà les étoiles,
D’au delà du réel,
Je t’appelle, Je te nomme !
Viens et brise les murs de cette maison de fous !
Viens et brise-les tous !
Criterium sur carnet A6
Vous aussi vous voulez que je vous dessinne un doodle ? C’est par ici : ko-fi.com/Astanael
Hihihi… I know, you know… Many. Secrets. Hidden. HAHAHAHAHA.; No. yes. why ?
Thanks
to the gentle patronage of a kind Dragoness (not kidding), I designed a
card game based on the traditional Italian Game Scopa.Each
card is customized to the theme and needs of a french Larp event : The
Chronicles of Kandorya. Coins, Batons, Swords and Cups has been replaced
by colors, corresponding to the Great Daracosires : Ortheïs, Negens,
Kovaris and Airain. Figures now represents
various personalities of the game and secrets has been hidden in the
cards. All of that in a custom tuck box that has been designed to look
like a small grimoire.
There is 4 extra
cards for credits and rules (which are quite simple, and translated in
french + english!) with nice illustrations by yours truly.
Get your own version at MakePlayingCards.com !
I
really hope this project will be successful, for I plan to make much
more of theses, starting with the Elder Gods Tarot for which i already
print a prototype and will be available soon !
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)
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)