Astanael

Tag: Nyarlathotep

  • 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).

  • Perfect.

    Tout (Everything)

    va (is)

    bien (fine).

    Meep !

  • Sideways Invocation

    – Told ya about drawing the invocation circle on the wall!
    – Should we say something?
    – I don’t think so… He doesn’t seem to mind it.
    – Le’ts hope so,..

    ***

    – J’te l’avais dit de pas dessiner le cercle d’invocation sur le mur !
    – On fait quoi, on le Lui dit ?
    – J’pense pas.., On fait semblant de rien et on espère qu’il remarque pas.
    – Croisez les doigts…

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook / Porte-mine sur carnet A6
    Continuation from :     https://www.deviantart.com/astanael/art/Sideway-invocation-819697840

  • Sideways Invocation

    – Told ya about drawing the invocation circle on the wall!
    – Should we say something?
    – I don’t think so… He doesn’t seem to mind it.
    – Le’ts hope so,..

    ***

    – J’te l’avais dit de pas dessiner le cercle d’invocation sur le mur !
    – On fait quoi, on le Lui dit ?
    – J’pense pas.., On fait semblant de rien et on espère qu’il remarque pas.
    – Croisez les doigts…

    Pencil doodle on A6 sketchbook / Porte-mine sur carnet A6
    Continuation from :     https://www.deviantart.com/astanael/art/Sideway-invocation-819697840

  • Inktober 2019 – 27 – Coat

    Our Lord and Our Master, the Flayed One is pleased
    We Brother of the Flesh have done a evil deed
    We cut and sewn the skin of our many victims
    To brought the Scorched One a coat worthy of him

    ***

    Notre Saigneur et Maître, l’Écorché, est ravi
    Nous, Frères de la Chair, lui avons confectionné
    De la peau de nos victimes un manteau carné
    Afin d’orner l’Écorché d’une parure impie. 

    Inktober 2019 – Cultists Edition
    Ink brush on A6 sketchbook / Encre au pinceau sur Carnet A6

  • Inktober 2019 – 27 – Coat

    Our Lord and Our Master, the Flayed One is pleased
    We Brother of the Flesh have done a evil deed
    We cut and sewn the skin of our many victims
    To brought the Scorched One a coat worthy of him

    ***

    Notre Saigneur et Maître, l’Écorché, est ravi
    Nous, Frères de la Chair, lui avons confectionné
    De la peau de nos victimes un manteau carné
    Afin d’orner l’Écorché d’une parure impie. 

    Inktober 2019 – Cultists Edition
    Ink brush on A6 sketchbook / Encre au pinceau sur Carnet A6

  • Masks – 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 see Betty, alongside her sister. Betty is pregnant, and all signs of worry has disappear from her face. She is expecting, radiant, a true goddess. He fell in love again and sat with her. Keeva is slowly stroking the dog. John is alert, but calm and peaceful.

    There is no pain, no worries, no anxiety, not even the slightest discomfort. For the first time since ages, they can 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 is bliss thought Mouhammad. He could stay here for ever. Betty lean on him and say:

    – 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 sketchbookExcerpt from an ongoing run of the “Mask of Nyarlathotep” campaign for the Chaosium “Call of Cthulhu” RPG