And so, Christmas was ruined...

Holidays seem to mean extra activity for paranormal investigators.

As the intrepid investigators were finishing off dinner, the doorbell rang, and Mrs. O’Flaherty opened the door, perhaps anticipating the Miskatonic University carolers. Instead she faced two cold Arkham police officers and a bewildered-looking individual wearing a winter coat over a lab coat, and galoshes over slippers. This was Dr. Emmett Brown of the Miskatonic University Physics Department, and as he tried the famous Jules Pollack eggnog, he burst out in a loud “Great Scott!” He was not visiting to try the eggnog, though, and Dr. Brown proceeded to ask the investigators of the whereabouts of Dr. Ralph Maynard. Yes, the investigators had travelled back from New Hampshire together with Dr. Maynard, but no, they had not spoken to Dr. Maynard after returning to Arkham. Dr. Brown proceeded to sit down and explain recent events to the investigators, while Mrs. O’Flaherty took the police officers to the kitchen for a late night snack.

Dr. Emmett Brown

Dr. Brown had been friendly with Dr. Maynard for a good twenty years, and according to Dr. Brown, Ralph Maynard had kept busy after returning to Arkham. Maynard had managed to secure the book that Biron was carrying out of the house before Biron fell to his death, and he soon realized that this was not Biron’s diary/notebook, but Silva Sasso’s, the wife of Biron who had been committed to the Arkham Sanitarium after the Thanksgiving horror. Sasso had indeed been quite interested in the occult, and this book dated back to January 1, 1924. Ralph Maynard read the book, and he became convinced that Sasso and Biron were looking for something, perhaps a powerful object of ritual significance, up in the mountains. The Livermore Mountains, where Moose Manor was located, were apparently hinted at in the Comte D’Erlette’s Cultes Des Goules. Maynard spent as many hours as possible between December 10 and the late evening of Friday, December 19, figuring out what Sasso and Biron actually were up to. After consulting with Dr. Brown on December 13, they together reached the conclusion that the object mentioned in the diary emits something Dr. Brown called “C-beams”. Dr. Brown had done some research on C-beams, and he had assembled a “C-beam transceiver” for lab experiments. The apparatus could see C-beams, like using a telescope, and it can also supposedly emit C-beams as well. 

Meanwhile, Maynard continued reading. He spent many hours with the Cultes des Goules as well as von Junzt’s Unaussprächligen Kulten at the Miskatonic Library. The library staff were a bit concerned, but Dr. Maynard was a respected faculty member, so there was no intervention. Dr. Brown, on the other hand, was getting quite concerned. The C-beams seemed to be dangerous radiation from another plane or dimension, and he realized that the consequences of channeling C-beams in our dimension may be unfathomable!

After the end of classes and when the winter break starts on the afternoon of Thursday, December 18, Maynard raided the Department of Archaeology and Geology for excavation equipment. He was determined to find what Sasso was looking for, and he would not be stopped! Very late that Friday night, he confronted Dr. Brown, demanding to borrow or buy the C-beam transceiver. Maynard acted quite irrationally, and Dr. Brown refused. Maynard hit Brown over the head, and disappeared with the C-beam transceiver.

Pollack and McNamara were quite happy to remain in the comfort of Pollack’s house, but Chester, Baker, Dr. Brown and Lake took a brisk walk through wintry Arkham to Dr. Maynard’s small apartment on campus. Dr. Brown secured a set of keys, and the intrepid investigators entered a Maynard’s apartment, where they found a cluttered desk, but nothing else of any particular interest, except the lack of winter clothing. The volumes on the desk were mainly reference books on New Hampshire geography and geology, and the occult. Sasso’s notebook was lying prominently on the desk, with several bookmarked pages and Maynard’s annotations. 

Moira Baker, Howard Lake and Henry Chester spent the night going over Sasso’s notebook and Maynard’s notes, while Dr. Emmett Brown dozed off in a sofa. A series of encrypted keys caused the investigators some headache, but they managed to understand the workings of these symbols that should open some form of passage to the artifact sought after by Dr. Maynard, as Sylvia Sasso had done previously. All information pointed towards Dr. Maynard heading back to Holderness and the Livermore Mountains with the C-beam transceiver and excavation equipment, and the intrepid investigators were determined to get hold of Maynard before something apocalyptic happened. Jules Pollack secured first class train travel to Holderness, while Dr. Brown volunteered his remaining C-beam transceiver. Upon arrival at Holderness, the investigators found a winter wonderland with a significant amount of vacationers ready to enjoy beautiful New Hampshire. Pollack had secured a series of rooms at flashy Asquam House Hotel, and various experiments were conducted with the C-beam transceiver and the raven-headed Horus statuette that Moira Baker had brought along. Henry Chester, Moira Baker and Howard Lake were quite ready to follow the trail of Dr. Maynard next morning.

That Monday morning provided ample sunlight, quite different from the hellish retreat back from the inferno of Moose Manor a mere month ago. The walk up to the ruins of Moose Manor did make the three investigators rather uneasy, but this time there were no disturbing events. The investigators did find ski tracks heading up Livermore Mountain, though, and they promptly pursued the tracks up the mountainside. The intrepid investigators ended at a small cave entrance with a pair of skis outside, which were promptly thrown to the side and concealed by Chester. As the investigators entered the cave, they noticed that the temperature was a bit warmer than anticipated, but nothing out of the ordinary. However, they proceeded with utmost caution, weapons at the ready, and with the C-beam transmitter ready for use. Eventually they reached an enormous cavern with a most peculiar stone formation in what seemed to be the middle of the cavern. Dr. Maynard was sprawled out in front of the stone formation, his face painfully contorted and frozen in an expression of utter terror, with froth in the corner of his mouth and eyes almost entirely bloodshot. It also seemed as if Dr. Ralph Maynard had attempted to claw into the stone, since all of his ten fingers were bloodied and worn down to the finger bones. He also gave the appearance of having fallen and crawled on several occasions, besides being quite dead.

The C-beam transceiver did unveil a considerable amount of symbols that were quite similar to the ones that were the supposed six keys in the diary of Sylvia Sasso. Baker, Chester and Lake debated for some time before deciding to trace the matching symbols. Moira Baker found the symbols strangely disconcerting to trace, like sliding an index finger through lard, but without any residue on the finger. As the sixth key or symbol was traced, the investigators gazed into an enormous pillared room. The ceiling seemed impossibly high up, and the pillars exuded unearthly qualities in their girth and composition. Two objects were lying on the perfectly polished floor some 40 or so meters into the seemingly unending room. The investigators decided to defile the corpse of Dr. Maynard, but nothing happened. Yet, the investigators were unwilling to enter the oddly cavernous room beyond the portal, but someone or SOMETHING pushed a most reluctant Henry Chester beyond the portal. He was all of a sudden in a room that was significantly colder and dryer that the natural cave he came from. There was a significant of what seemed to be ozone in the air, and both his sight and hearing seemed to be playing tricks on Henry Chester. Lake followed Chester, while Moira remained in the natural cavern. Was this a doorway to a different dimension, a different place, or a different time? There was no way of knowing. Henry Chester nevertheless carefully entered the two objects, and one was a .38 revolver with empty chambers. The other one was a statuette the size of the raven-headed Horus, but in a decidedly Native American style that definitely showed off an intense amount of C-beams when viewed through Dr. Brown’s transceiver.

As Chester grabbed the statuette, he became acutely aware of a singularly putrid stench like nothing he had experienced before. A swooshing sound echoed between the enormous pillars, and both Lake and Baker saw a dreadful entity race towards Chester. It was a terrible, indescribable thing vaster than any subway train—a shapeless congeries of protoplasmic bubbles, faintly self-luminous, and with myriads of temporary eyes forming and un-forming as pustules of greenish light all over the tunnel-filling front that bore down upon Chester and slithering over the glistening floor that it and its kind had swept so evilly free of all litter. Chester had his back to the creature, and although Chester ran for his life, the creature almost caught up with the desperate investigator, who by now was a gibbering mess barely holding on to his very sanity. He was nevertheless dragged back into the safety of the natural cavern, and the episode ended as Moira Baker re-traced the symbols to close that dreadful and unnatural portal to nightmares beyond space and time.

Howard Lake, Moira Baker and the wreck that used to be Henry Chester did make it back on the evening train to Arkham, sad spectacles of their former self-assertiveness, but they had the statuette, still glowing with C-beams through the lenses of Dr. Emmett Brown’s transceiver. Meanwhile, Dr. Brown had spent some time looking over Jules Pollack's Model T Ford...

Staff Roster of the Miskatonic University (incomplete)

Armitage, Henry B. Ph. D./Head Librarian

Ashley, Ferdinand C. Professor, Department of Ancient History

Atwood, Jonathan A. Professor, Department of Physics

Barton, Theodosius F. Major (ret), Head of Security and Inspections

Brown, Emmett M. Professor, Department of Physics

Buchanan, Zachariah F. Professor, Department of Egyptology

De Winter, Harold C. Professor/Chair, Department of Anthropology

Dexter, Reginald F. Professor, Department of Zoology

Dyer, William. Professor, Department of Geology

Ellery, Eric W. Professor, Department of Chemistry

Freeborn, Tyler M. Professor, Department of Anthropology

Halsey, Allen S, Dean, Department of Medicine

Hobbs, Alvin G. President, Miskatonic University

Hunter, Benedict C. Professor Department of Mathematics

Jones, Henry W. Professor, Department of Religion

Kowalski, Martha E. Head of Library Desk

Lake, Marcus G. Professor, Department of Biology

MacNamara, MacKenzie, Ph. D., Department of Egyptology

Morgan, Francis O. X. Professor, Department of Archaeology

O'Brien, Hedwig V. Librarian

Otto, Charles L. Chief Administrator

Pabodie, Frank H. Professor, Department of Engineering

Peaslee, Nataniel W. Professor, Department of Political Economy

Peaslee, Wingate. Professor, Department of Psychology

Rice, Warren G. Professor, Department of Classical Languages

Sinclair, Evan, Ph.D., Deputy Head of the Department of Archaeology 

Thornton Smythe, Reginald, Professor, Department of Economics

Upham, Simon T. Professor, Department of Mathematics

Van Der Graaf, Adam W. Dr/Provost, Dean's Office

Waldron, John H. MD, University Doctor

West, Herbert. MD, Department of Medicine

Wilmarth, Albert N. Undergraduate Advisor, Department of Anthropology

Wright, Wanda, Librarian

Young, Charles C. Professor, Department of Mathematics

A Conversation between Mr. Howard Lake and Mr. Burlington Jones, December 10, 1924

Evening at J. Pollack Fine Antiques. Burlington Jones is just pouring Howard Lake a generous brandy before serving himself. 

- Well, Burlington, we are reaching the end of the year, and what a year it has been! I really cannot believe most of the events that occurred, and I feel like I've aged a decade.

- Ha! You should have been around last year, 1923, when I practically ran J. Pollack Fine Antiques all by myself while Mr. Pollack and his friends were in Egypt, or just out of town. Even when they were here, there seemed to be a steady flow of unadulterated mayhem about that particular group. I am telling you, keep Dr. McNamara away from naked flame!

- But I am trying to get a handle on all of ...this. Do I just suffer from an overactive imagination? Do I need to seek professional help?

- Not at the Arkham Sanatarium, anyway. They have enough loonies at all positions over there. Burlington lit one of the strong French cigarettes that he enjoyed, and he took a long drag before continuing:

- No, you seem somewhat ok, Howard. Just a bit topsy-turvy, if I may say so. You didn't spend any time in the trenches, I take it?

-No....? Why?

- I have seen the stress, panic and pain in the eyes of McNamara. Baker and Pollack, and they have on occasion seemed almost like buddies of mine who suffered from shellshock. I dunno about Chester, though, but he's perhaps made of sturdier stuff. Anyway, whatever they've experienced is real, or at least real to them. 

- Do you know how all of this begun, Burlington?

Burlington Jones completed Another drag with a generous sip of brandy before continuing:

- It was around the end of April last year, when Jules Pollack held a soirée here at the store. Baker, Chester and McNamara were all here, and they decided to have lunch next day. As it were, James E. Biron, the very same Biron that tried his hands at land development in New Hampshire, asked Pollack and friends to check on Biron's missing manservant, Hamilcar Hernandez. That led to the mess with the Arumbaya fetish, and that most unfortunate incident with Prka and the Alexandrines, who seem to have thought that they could summon something otherworldly. It all ended in fire and madness, of course. Jones stubbed out his cigarette before lighting a new one.

- So, it is the same Biron that owned Moose Manor?

- Yep, but frankly, I found it a bit strange that Biron would've been so interested in the occult. He was an art collector, first and foremost, and of course an attorney. All of this only took off when he married Sylvia Sasso. That relationship was beyond passion, and not in a good way. I also think there might have been a fair amount of, um, mixing chemicals in their spare time. 

- But what about the Germans that show up all the time? They seem to be scrounging for occult items all over the World. We even ran into them at the Chicago Union Station?

-  Strange, right? I am not aware of any international connections on behalf of Jules Pollack, and although Dr. McNamara keeps professional contacts near and abroad, I cannot see her socializing with German desperados. The same goes for Moira Baker. I am not entirely sure about Henry Chester, though, but these German fellows are a scary and unsavory bunch of high-octane loonies, if you ask me.

- So, our friends discover these feral so-called corpse eater hobos or whatever they were in the depth of the Egyptian desert and in remote mountains in New Hampshire, and there's statuettes involved, one from Egypt and one from South America. James Biron and wife were connected to at least the Arumbaya thing,  Am I getting this right? 

- Coincidence or causality, Howard? What do you think?

- But then there's the Germans and Herr Meyer showing up in Chinatown. What was that all about?

- Oh, they were clearly looking for the Liver Ivonis, the dreaded Book of Eibon, which had been in the possession of Moishe Golansky, I believe. They made away with the book, much to the chagrin of our friends. Ask your friend the librarian at Miskatonic about that book if you want the heebie-jeebies.

- Goddammit, this is indeed overwhelming. And I have been harboring this dreadful headache for a couple of days now, and this didn't make it any better. You know, I think I'll retire. Howard Lake slugged down the rest of his brandy as he stood up from the very comfortable couch he'd been sitting in. He left J. Pollack Fine Antiques, closing the door gently and leaving Burlington Jones with a chill. But then, it might have been cold air entering the store from the desolate streets of Arkham. 

A Hand-written Letter to Jules Pollack.

Dear Mr. Pollack,

As you probably may be able to realize, I have lost my livelihood in that God-awful fire on Thanksgiving that destroyed Moose Manor and cost poor Mr. Biron his life, bless his heart. It is indeed a shame that such horrific things should happen to such a fine gentleman, and to see his young, sweet wife Sylvia Sasso dragged away to the Arkham Sanitarium while shrieking like a banshee almost broke my heart. I am therefore turning to you, good sir, to inquire if you are in need of some experienced help in your house and shop? I am a good cook (some say excellent, even), I keep a house neat and clean, I do laundry, and I chop wood. I can also mend all items of clothing, and I am actually quite decent with both fishing rod and hunting rifle. I also have some experience in handling livestock, and poultry in particular.

I was also going to tell you about an odd thing that happened after that dreadful Thanksgiving: once we had all managed to explain all of the events to the local constabulary, I was approached by that strange Indian gentleman, George Thunderbird Ward. He was very polite, and after expressing hos condolences, asked me if I had seen a particular old book, perhaps written in French, that Mr. Biron treasured very much, and perhaps too much. Come to think of it, I noticed that he indeed carried an old book as he ran out in his pyjamas on that frightful night, but I cannot say if the book disappeared into the Chumbawamba Creek with Mr. Biron.

I do hope that you take my wee letter into consideration, and I am, yours truly.

Margaret O’Flaherty

Formerly of Moose Manor, New Hampshire.

The Thanksgiving Horror!

Thursday, November 27, 1924 was not a day to be easily forgotten. The Intrepid Investigators had indeed taken Jules Pollack's trusty Model T Ford up to Moose Manor, just northeast of Holderness. The weather was fantastic, and the five compatriots were looking forward to a break from the sleepy town of Arkham. The small town of Holderness seemed to be a perfect place holder for the stunning mountains and Squam Lake, with the exception of vile Mrs. McDougal in the general store. However, the nice Caribbean gentleman in the mechanic's shop was a much more pleasant acquiantance.

The gathering at Moose Manor was socially spectacular, with James Biron and his wife, Sylvia Sasso, entertaining the actress Rita Zann, Dr. Ralph Maynard from Miskatonic University, the journalist Ernest Hemingway and all five of the intrepid investigators. The butler, Mr. Washington, and Mrs. O'Flaherty, the Cook, attended to the guests. But what followed was less than entertaining, not to mention ghastly. Biron was planning to build a ski resort up on Livermore Mountain, and an old Indian chief, George Thunderbid Ward, protested on the grounds that this was a sacred site, a site that was in fact explored, however briefly, by Lake and Pollack. It turned out that Biron had used the day before Thanksgiving to clear the mountain side of the old Indian cairns and standing stones. This led to a very loud argument between Biron and Ward as the snow started coming down hard. Meanwhile, Sylvia Sasso was showing signs of an increasingly nervous disposition, and the attentive observer could notice that her eyes were red and swollen, as if she'd been crying extensively.

Thursday did see a fantastic Thanksgiving dinner, even if Mackie MacNamara Went on about pizza. Following the dinner, dessert and digestives, several guests retired while others were dozing in sofas and chairs. They noticed far too late that someone had started several fires all over Moose Manor, and their was a frenzied scramble to get out of the building: some chose the front door, while Mackie and Rita Zann chose the window option. The culprit seemed to be Sylvia Sasso, who was standing in the snow with a box of matches and a colander.

As the guests gathered in front of the towering inferno. it seemed as if poor Mr. Washington had succumbed to the flames. But there were more pressing issues, since the temperature was dropping, there were several feet of snow all over the mountainside, and many of the survivors were lightly dressed. The survivors pressed down the narrow road that wound itself down the mountain next to the Chumbawamba Creek with a drunk and armed Ernest Hemingway taking point. 

The horror appeared at the first bridge crossing. Afterwards, the survivors were unsure if they were some form of priimates, or wolves, or something else all together. James Biron was pulled down into the cold waters of the creek as several of the creatures assailed the party. Moira Baker stepped away from the bridge, and flipped the safety catch of her trusty Springfield rifle. The next one to fall was Sylvia Sasso, but as the creature attempted to devour Sasso, Mackie grabbed the colander and started beating the infernal beast. The fight was fierce, and most of the survivors had to endure the vile, cold and slimy claws and teeth of the beasts, often inflicting horrifying wound, A further attack happened in the Chumbawamba ravine, and it was a cold and terrified party that finally reached the covered bridge close to the Asquam House Hotel only to find that the Heavy snow had collapsed the bridge. Carrying the by now unconscious Jules Pollack and the insane Sylvia Sasso over´the raging brook. Yet, the survivors persevered, and they made it safely, if not soundly, to the Asquam House Hotel.

From the Concord Monitor, November 29, 1924:

The well-known art collector James Biron, of Arkham, Mass., was killed as he attempted to escape from a house fire that destroyed Moose Manor, north of Holderness. The fire forced participants of Thanksgiving dinner to flee into a raging blizzard, were they were set upon by the wolves that still prey upon the unwary in the area. The survivors are currently recovering in Holderness.

   

Several days later, as the Arkhamites were heading back to Massachusetts, Doctor Maynard whispered and turned towards Pollack and McNamara: "Manuscript P is actually the legendary Cultes des Goules by that foul French fellow, Comte d'Erlette. He apparently incuded some study of New World phenomena in his work, which dates back to the early 1700s, and there is mention of the 'Abenaqui' and that one of their tribes, the 'Nanoumqueapoda' had engaged in cannibalism of the most horrendous type over the course of several generations. This eventually changed them fundamentally, and they became, something entirely unhuman, only being driven by their hunger for living flesh. I had only considered these rantings to be figments of imagination, until this Thanksgiving, even if I have read Cultes des Goules. Believe me, it is a truly frightful text. Reading it led to horrific nightmares and quite a dependency on the bottle!" Maynard pulled out a polka-dot handkerchief to wipe his now sweaty brow before continuing: "The book or manuscript is mainly a hypothesis supported by arcane and hoary fragments, but there are hints at these death-eaters having tunnels that burrow for mile upon mile underneath us  a s  w e  s p e a k. The death-eater legends can be found in ancient Egypt, In Bohemia and Moravia, in the foothills of the Himalayas and the fabled Plateau of Leng. Mind you, young Eliot, one of the students at Miskatonic, read the Cultes des Goules, only to develop a sickening notion that modernist painter Richard Upton Pickman's paintings actually depict real, live, ungodly things."