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Drawing 40k and other things.

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A fortress monastery,

Across the galaxy, some worlds are blessed by the presence of the adeptus astartes. Their fortresses are indomitable constructs reflecting Humanity’s right to settle the far reaches of the cosmos. To attack a fortress monastery is to invite certain failure, for its defenses are many. As such, many chapters house their relics and gene seed repositories in those great constructs. The loss of such a fortress is felt more keenly by the Imperium than the loss of an entire subsector, and often heralds the end for its establishing chapter...

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Chaos temple spire study.

Though the engagement and valor of the Inquisition and its agents in the fight against the archenemy should never be questioned, one should never forget that many lesser known offficios of the Imperium help them to shoulder this burden.

The Departmento Aedificatoria is one of those. Originally, its adepts are tasked with everything relating to imperial architecture and construction. Many celebrated builders have issued from the academies of this illustrious institution, cementing Mankind’s right to rule the stars with every new stone they place.

Unbeknownst to most, the Departmento Aedificatoria seconds some of its most stalwart souls to the Inquisition. Those chosen for this duty join an Inquisitor’s retinue, and make it their sacred task to record and document every construction erected by the archenemy before its purgation.

Thus, they provide the Inquisition with a wealth of material to draw on in the fight against Mankind’s oldest foe.

Sadly, the tenure of an Aedificator seconded to the Inquisition is almost always of short time. For to record a building in all its details, one can not avert its gaze. Each new building catalogued ads to the toll, until its observer is exhausted, body and mind. The most fortunate simply die in their sleep, though sometimes the ministrations of an inquisitor are required...

The Inquisition inscribes the name of each Aedificator fallen in this sacred duty on its columns of mourning, right below the names of fallen interrogators, a testament to the tight bonds existing between both institutions.

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A tower of Slaanesh

On some worlds, corrupted beyond salvation by the Prince of pleasure, some strange constructs emerge in the locations swept strongest by the winds of the warp. The Inquisition identifies them as the Towers of slaanesh. None know what their purpose is, or if indeed they do posess one. The material they are made from is also a mystery, though a grey knight team sent to Pradox IV, where such a tower emerged, found it to be constituted of the entire sector’s populace. It seems that each tower, is constituted of different materials. Some are made of bones, other of tears and some others of the secret shame of men. As such, it is incredibly difficult to classify them. Fortunately, their appearance is rare, for each occurence can only be cleansed by exterminatus. It was deemed so after the entire grey knights strike force sent to investigate the tower on Pradox IV disappeared in its bowels, never to reappear...

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Found by terran explorators on Ophida V three centuries ago, this skull has since been an endless subject for speculation. Some say it comes from the offshot of the first colonists sent there before the long night, some believe it to be fake, and some others believe it to be a portent of ill meaning, announcing what we have always known before: Man is not the first evolved life-form in the galaxy, and as every other, it will fade and disappear. 

Skulls have always been considered as memento mori. Every time this skull is shown in a museum, on a holozine, tattooed on someone, drawn by a child, cheaply recast and sold through the coronus belt or even just evoked in an evening discussion between old friends, it reminds all of that little insidious thought, that little thing you do not want to think about when you lie in bed but can’t sleep: In the end, no one does matter, and all we build will fade. 

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The Jockey,

On Damscus 4, Gen-Horse races are an incredibly popular cultural occurence. Only the strongest of will and body can tame them, and only a select few, the Jockeys, can steer them. Being a jockey is good work, and a lot of them have risen to fame and fortune. Alas, few have been able to enjoy it, as even a single lapse in attention or strength brings with it the “Death by 8 Hooves” as it is called by the Jockeys. Less poetically inclined spectators simply call it “the pasting”, and for a lot of them, even though they would be loath to admit it, this is what really brings them to the races.

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Connected.

Inspired from Josan Gonzalez.

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Fading away...

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He does not breathe...

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Quo Vadis?

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Der weisse Turm / The white tower

What is in that tower that seems to deform and reshape itself constantly? Is it a solid slab or a shifting mass? Only by entering it will you know... maybe.

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Die Bühne

A theater stage is a mystical place between the real and the imaginary. It is a place where things happen for real, or do they? The uncertainty the spectator is left with is part of its magic.

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Into the dark.

Only by advancing into the unknown can we progress.

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Bastogne was hard on the 101st Airborne and on the 506th. But as everything the enemy threw at them, they shrugged it off and kept on fighting. Currahee!

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Imperial cruiser captain.

The men of the Imperial Navy are the spear of the Emperor. Defending his domain and conquering new territories for his people to live in, they are paramount to the Imperium of man. First among equals are the captains. Leading thousand strong ships against the enemies of Mankind, they are the blade of the spear. The Emperor protects, but only through them!

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The Dark city lies on the edge of the world. It is said that each man can enter it, but none leave. No one knows who lives there, or even if there is someone left alive for no one has seen or heard of its inhabitants in a thousand years. None brave or foolish enough to explore it have come back. Only the winds that scour its towers give the Dark city some semblance of life. Sometimes they even seem to call to the pilgrims and wanderers who find it on their path. Not few have succumbed to the calls of the wind, never to be seen again.

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A deathpriest. 

Contrary to what their looks may suggest, Deathpriests are highly revered. They comfort the sick, the dying and their kin. They are a steady reminder that death comes to all, and in that, they remind all that each man is its neighbors equal.

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Under a distant sun...

First try with acrylics and ink, hope you’ll like it!