The Arkham Advertiser, September 10, 1926

  THE ARKHAM ADVERTISER

Monday, September 10, 1926

______________________________________________________

ARKHAM COUNTY FAIR

End of Summer Festival Returns

The Arkham County Fair will take place at Baxter's Field throughout the weekend of September 15. There will be a livestock competition, horse racing, a gourd competition, an apple pie contest, as well as a marksmanship contest. The Audrey Rose Circus and Side Show will provide additional thrills and amusements!

*

Mayor Jonathan Bryce to Resign

Arkham's beloved Mayor, Jonathan Bryce, declared on Sunday that he will retire from office as early as Friday due to health issues. It is rumored that Mayor Bryce has been suffering from an odd, supposedly tropical, disease since early this summer. The Deputy Mayor, Alaric Montrose, will be acting Mayor until elections can be held in November.

*

Farmhand Severely Injured by Deranged Vagrant

William Jones, of Indian Hill farm, was severely injured after being attacked by a violent and deranged vagrant on his property this Saturday. "The bum was strong like a bull, and he broke into my barn. Two of my calves were knoocked dead by the bum, and he then proceeded to break down the door to my little house. It was good thing I had my trusty old shotgun handy, for there are way too many strange folk roaming the countryside nowadays." Mr. Jones is now being treated for his wounds at St. Mary's Hospital in Arkham.

*

Moira Baker, M.D., Awarded Philip D. Mercer 

Prize for Academic Achievement

The President of Miskatonic University, Alvin G. Hobbs, Ph. D. was delighted to give the prestigious Philip D. Mercer Award for Academic Achievement to Mrs. Moira Baker, M.D., following her ground-breaking reserach into neurology. The award ceremony will be held at the university campus square on Friday, September 14, at noon. The ceremony will take place in the auditorium in case of inclement weather.

A Time to Heal, and to Forget

It had been a long and relaxing spring followed by a wonderful summer. Arkham at its finest, and all the glory of New England's nature. There had been long, slow afternoons spent on front porches, croquet games, long strolls in the countryside, fun cookouts, and marvelous garden parties. Perhaps this is exactly what Felix Jeremiah and Howard Lake needed after the horrifying series of events that transpired in the dreadful apartment of Prudence Van Wyck up by 66th Street and Lexington Avenue. Jeremiah and Lake actually never discussed the ungodly horrors they had been exposed to during that long summer, but at times their vacant thousand-mile stares said more than any words could hope to convey. Lake would occasionally place his arm on top of Jeremiah's shoulders as they walked through the parks of Arkham, with carefully trained staff always nearby, but never too close. Dr. Henrietta Queeg may have left Arkham, but Professor Peaslee Wingate of the Miskatonic University Psychological Department had referred Lake and Jeremiah to Dr. Everett Scott, a reputable Bostonian who had previously taught at the Miskatonic University.

Mackie, on the other hand, was busy through most of the spring and summer. The copy of "De Vermis Mysteriis" that she secured at Prudence Van Wyck's apartment was a fantastic and fascinating find! This was actually one of the supposed fifteen surviving copies of Ludwig Prinn's original work, printed in Cologne in 1542, and suppressed by the Church. Mackie knew that there was one copy at the Miskatonic University Library, kept under lock and key, and under the watchful eye of Professor Armitage. Another copy was probably in the secret collection of the Vatican Library, and yet another was in the Restricted Section of the British Library Museum. Unconfirmed rumors a couple of years ago claimed that a group of deranged Germans had stolen the copy kept at the Lund University Library, although some claimed that this copy of "De Vermis Mysteriis" was in turn taken by the Soviets. What Mackie did know was that this was her copy, and her copy alone! It was lavishly illustrated, and quite heavy, measuring a good ten by fifteen inches. A rather silly looking lock had been added at some point, possibly in the late eighteenth century. Fortunately, the key was in the lock. There even seemed to be some form of poison trap on the lock to jab the unwary in their prying fingers.

The tome also comes with a biography of Ludwig Prinn written by a Nicholas Berenyi, which actually turned out to be a nome de plume for Yolanda Digby, the grandmother of Moira Baker’s old husband, Arthur B. Saunders. It was indeed a fascinating story. Prinn was described as an "alchemist, necromancer, and reputed mage who boasted of having attained a miraculous age before being burned at the stake in Brussels during the height of the witch trials in the late 15th or early 16th centuries. Prinn maintained that he was captured during the Ninth Crusade in 1271, and he attributed his occult knowledge to studying under the 'wizards and wonder-workers of Syria' during his captivity. Prinn is also associated with Egypt, and it is claimed that there are legends among the Libyan dervishes concerning the old seer's deeds in Alexandria: "Saracenic Rituals", which is said to have "revealed the lore of the efreet and the djinn, the secrets of the Assassin sects, the myths of Arabian ghoul-tales, the hidden practices of dervish cults" and "the legends of Inner Egypt". These stories use Prinn's chapter as a device to provide backstory on the cults of Bubastis and Sebek, and on the Pharaoh Nephren-Ka's worship of The Dark One”

At the time of his execution for sorcery, Prinn was claimed to be 'living in the ruins of a pre-Roman tomb that stood in the forest near Brussels amidst a swarm of familiars and fearsomely invoked conjurations.' In this forest, there were 'old pagan altars that stood crumbling in certain of the darker glens'; these altars were found to have 'fresh bloodstains' when Prinn was arrested.

Yet, Mackie shuddered when she recalled the price for this tome. The terrifying entities guarding the apartment were actually described in some detail in the "De Vermis Mysteriis". They were creatures summoned from distant, cold stars to prey upon those who entered the apartment without the permission of Prudence Van Wyck. Mackie's heart almost stopped as she thought about the blood gushing from Jules' friend as he was being torn apart by those invisible tittering apparitions. That handsome, sturdy, and seemingly unstoppable man, his blood and viscera gushing all over her chin, down over her bosom, and dripping from her arms down on the fine marble floor of the Van Wyck apartment. Thank goodness that her friends had found those scrolls that seemed to dispel those dreadful cosmic horrors!

How to summon and dispel strange vampiric beasts from the stars.

Prudence Van Wyck's horrifying gallery.

Mackie could not determine whether this was an extradimensional malevolent entity or just a statue.

The hallways of the Providence Milton Hotel.

From the diary of Jules Pollack:

I just had to leave New York, since I still consider myself a man of honor, and Burlington Jones was a redoubtable fellow. The letter from his mother, Eunice Jones, made me tremble, and I could not get hold of her by telephone. Thus, I booked the first available train ticket back to Arkham. I may have left too short a note to my dear friends back in New York, but I was hoping to be back within just two or three days. I was, of course, mistaken.

Poor Mrs. Jones was beyond shaken. Her son, a war hero, had been given a Federal job after working for Jules Pollack Fine Antiques. He was very happy, and he moved to Pittsburgh in October last year, and he apparently took part in some Federal police or marshal program that demanded lots of physical training as well as academic studies. Mrs. Jones showed me letters from him, and he seemed to be quite happy. The pay was good, he liked his colleagues, and then... he disappeared. Putz Weg, as the Germans would say.

I decided to visit Pittsburgh, mostly out of sympathy for poor Mrs. Jones, but also out of curiosity. Why would a perfectly balanced man in good health just disappear? He had no debt, no criminal past, no odd behaviors, so what was going on? I spent a good two weeks in Pittsburgh. I spoke to Burlington Jones's employer, a Mr. Keith Goodman. I spoke to his neighbors. I talked to the local police. I spoke to Burlington's landlady. I even broke into his small apartment when the landlady was reluctant to show me his abode. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He had left without even his toothbrush and wallet. Nothing was to be found. I am not used to fail when it comes to figuring things out, and in this case I'd left no stone unturned. No result. Nothing. Dammit!

_________________________________________________________

Finally, what had become of Franz Alter? Well, Franz Alter was happy, in a very Franz Alter way. He did rent a store front at the corner of Hyde Street and Jenkin Street during the late fall of 1925, and the location was most favorable to business. Franz Alter did, of course, continue to work in New York City as well, and his mother strongly suggested that he'd spend at least every other Shabbos with her and her cat. This led to Franz hiring some local help in Arkham, in this case a short, rotund bachelor by the name of Wesley Dobbs. The main requirement, cleanliness, was fulfilled, and besides that, Mr. Dobbs (no first names were ever used) turned out to be the quiet type. He very much enjoys gardening in his spare time, and he is somewhat friendly with the Lake family. 

Mr. Wesley Dobbs.

Investigators hard at work.

 Tuesday, February 2, 1926, had been a busy day for the intrepid investigators. They had spent time in various libraries and speakeasies trying to find information about what the deal was with the inheritance of one Prudence V. Van Wyck, a supposedly charming old lady with what seemed to be a very dark private life. Her inheritance, or rather her library, had been the focus of the mystical Arbiter in a bizarre Monday evening event that decided that Prudence's daughter, Veronica Van Wyck, was to inherit the library. The representatives of her brother, Walther Van Wyck, had objected strongly, and shots were fired in the dingy bar called Happy Harry's.

As the investigators woke up on a snowy Tuesday morning, they were considering taking the train back to Arkham and forgetting about the entire situation. It did turn out, though, that Jules had secured a key from a small-time crook and part-time friend, Slimy Mike Polvo, a burglar of some repute that broke into Prudence's enormous apartment on top of the Providence Milton Hotel on Park Avenue and East 66th Street, just opposite the Park Avenue Armory. Polvo claimed that he was working for someone, but he had only just heard that the apartment was empty. It was, but Polvo was freaked out by the weirdness of the apartment, and only grabbed some jewelry, and the key, which was in a jewelry box. Polvo sold the jewelry to a fence, Mo Spiegelman down in the Bowery, but kept the key, although it seemed as if the key was poisoning Slimy Mike Polvo. As it turned out, the key seems to have been made out of Cobalttorium-G, a metal that the investigators knew all too well as a conduit for cosmic energies. The investigators decided to send Polvo out of New York, and he was more than happy to visit relatives in New Jersey. This was most fortunate, since a bunch of hoodlums led by Walther Van Wyck entered Speigelman's pawn shop later that day. and Walther started questioning Mo Spiegelman, and Spiegelman did tell Walther that Polvo sold him Prudence’s jewelry, but only after Walther’s thugs broke his limbs. Walther’s thugs were apparently led by Donnie Buttafuco, a legendary muscle-for-hire.

Buttafuco

All this was found out by Felix Jeremiah, who'd even visited the hospital were Spiegelman was recuperating. Meanwhile, Mackie delved into the Columbia University Library, Jules spent the day at NYU, and Lake at the NYPL. As the investigators started comparing notes later that evening, several things were noted:

- Veronica van Wyck was actually not the magic-wielding femme fatale as portrayed at Happy Harry's. She is an academic, an author, and bibliophile, albeit gorgeous. She doesn’t believe in the occult, but she is fascinated by it, and realizes the power of the occult as a phenomenon.

- Walther Van Wyck is both a ridiculously greedy lowlife and a real crook. Only connections have kept him out of prison.

- Prudence Van Wyck is the scion of an offshoot of the reputable Van Wyck family of New York. The main line will however not recognize Prudence, who was incredibly popular in New York, but not with her family. Walther and Veronica also do not have a disclosed father.

Veronica Van Wyck

The Waldorf Astoria on 34th Street

Mackie's suite.

The investigators eventually made it to bed after a champagne-fuelled late night discussion regarding what to do next. Next morning, as Jules woke up, he reached for the New York Times and perused the newspaper as he sipped on a Prairie Oyster. An interesting article did catch his eye:

MOBSTER GIRLFRIEND BATTLES NYPD

-----------------------------------

Miss Cora Yankowski, often mentioned as the girlfriend of suspected mobster Mr. Donald Buttafuco, was apprehended by seven members of the New York Police Department after Miss Yankowski furiously attacked two police officers patrolling Park Avenue. The attack took place just outside the Park Avenue Armory, and Miss Yankowski was in such a crazed state that it took seven officers to hold her down before transportation arrived. According to officer Brinkley, "The lady must have been either stark raving mad or abusing some form of chemical. I have never seen anything like it." Officer Brinkley suffered several lacerations and a torn off ear, while Sergeant Kirchbaum had both of his legs broken in several locations by the miscreant.

Miss Yankowski after having been arrested by the NYPD.

Dive Bars of Manhattan

From the diary of Felix Jeremiah:

Dear Dr. Armitage,

I am happy to inform you that the next meeting of the Arbiter's Society will take place on February 1, 1926. The meeting will be held at Happy Harry's Bar, conveniently located behind Mushnik's Flower Shop on the corner of 15th Street and 9th Avenue. RSVP before January 25 to Jolly Roger.

So, this was the message that Dr. Henry Armitage had to show us. What kind of crap was that? And after a relaxing Christmas and New Year's? What about my political career? Anyway, we were treated to a real dinner the week before. Actual food, none of that tea shit. And cheese with tawny whatever. He had apparently been at two of the meetings of the "Arbiter's Society". So what was the arbitration? I guessed we'd find out in New York. He did insist on telling us the following:

The meeting is at Happy Harry's Bar, located on 45th and 9th, at 9PM. The Arbiter's Society is a very special society, and it caters to many individuals in North America with "special" interests. The Arbiter's Society was founded in New York in 1713 to engage in various odd issues. The society meets every year, at least once, but occasionally when need arises. This is an ordinary annual meeting, though. Then Armitage stressed:

- The society is very tightly knit. Bad things happen to those who talk about the society.

- The society meets in places that may be, well, odd. Armitage has seen some things that he cannot explain at the meetings of the Arbiter's Society.

- The meetings are held on neutral ground. Violence or threats will be treated in a most unpleasant fashion.

Of course, there was also the issue with Hell's Kitchen. A really unsavory fucking place. Even I tend to avoid that impossible part of Manhattan. But what the fuck, strength in numbers and all of that:

Initially there were pockets of German, Italian, and Jewish immigrants, but the Irish took ownership of the neighborhood, for lack of a better term. Work often consisted of building railroad lines, slaving in tanneries, and working the docks on the West Side; not exactly jobs for the faint of heart. After a gruesome set of murders and riots in 1881, the Hell’s Kitchen name stuck.

Various criminal gangs made names for themselves, such as the Hell’s Kitchen Gang, the Parlor Mob, and the Gopher Gang. They shook down businesses for protection money and ran gambling operations, among many other vices. This led to many people spending their last moments face down in the Hudson River if they dared challenge one of the gangs.

The shipping docks were prime real estate for organized crime. The classic movie “On the Waterfront” starring Marlon Brando depicted what life was like working on the docks under the influence of organized crime figures. Gangs competed for control of two things at the docks. Firstly, gangs wanted control of the goods illegally offloaded from cargo ships. Secondly, they wanted control of the labor unions. That fight escalated in the first half of the 20th century.

With Prohibition underway, violence over control of the docks and railroad only intensified. How lucrative was control over all of those elements? Well, Mobster Owney Madden was so successful at bootlegging, extortion, and even murder during Prohibition, that he invested in an uptown Harlem nightclub; it became the infamous Cotton Club.

From the diary of Mackenzie MacNamara:

Oh, what a joy to stay at the Waldorf for a bit! I am going to ask the staff for everything, from finding my slippers to opening my bubbles. Far too much time spent in the countryside. And there we were, just like that. I get to sit my suite and order room service. And then there was Armitage's meeting. Oh yes, the Arbiter's Society. Onwards!

Some initial asking around indicated that the location was weird. Nobody had heard of Happy Harry's although Mushnik's Flowers was a sub-par florist. This did seem to be a little odd, but we had, frankly, handled worse. We did make it to Mushnik's Flowers without any altercations, and we were led into a small passage behind a sliding door by some odd bouncer. The narrow passage seemed to convey a whiff of queasiness, something we all experienced, but then we entered a sizeable bar space. 

Happy Harry's Bar was pretty packed. It reeked of smoke, spilled beer, and some strange and much more exotic odors. The attendants were many and varied. There were two bartenders working the bar, but not too many people ordering. There was a din of steady conversation, and a few familiar faces: 

The Collector. Who is he, really, besides ridiculously tall?

Professor Timothy Harper, the herpetologist. I didn't know him, but he made a point of introducing himself.

Emily, Anna and Dorothy Gnospelius. They see the past, the present, and the future, especially through art

Dorothy Gale is no longer working with Nefertiti studios, and she is now running a small PI office on the Upper East Side. Still endless hours of fun, and the best guide to the city.

Victor Aymes, seemingly still obsessed with Mackie.

Sun Ra attends the meetings for the sake of art.

Lao Wan is a Taoist priest that the Intrepid Investigators met in Chinatown battling Jiangshi.

Slimy Mike Polvo. Jules knows this guy from way back when. Polvo is a small-time crook who happens to be left-leaning. He looks like shit, sweaty, stressed, and with blemishes,

This guy is apparently named Carnegie Bob. He is supposed to be a "Time Traveller".

Zara Conforto is stunning but rumored to be lethal.

This guy was called Korbel. Rumors claimed that he's an expert on "magical things". He assisted Henry the Speaker during the proceedings.

Happy Harry himself. He ran the bar together with Meg and Heather, two jaded bartenders, as well as two enormous but unnamed bouncers. He may not be of this dimension, but that may also apply to the bar itself.

Jacqueline DuPlessis. She had no clue how she ended up here, but she asked around for Howard Lake.

Henry the Speaker is said to be a sprightly 152-year old. He has been chairing the Arbiter's Society since 1842. He has one interest: to keep up good order at meetings and to do arbitration. 

Some observations from a member of the public:

What an interesting meeting! Well, the meetings are always interesting, but look at the guests! The person who calles itself Victor Aymes is hitting on... Dr. Mackenzie MacNamara, the famous Egyptologist? Why would a Justified and Ancient High Priest of Mu hit on an Egyptologist, unlesss...wait, forget about it. And there's The Collector having a conversation with Franz Alter, the infamous drug dealer. He's made more people feel like stars than the silver screen itself. So they know Aymes? Interesting.

And yes, it seems as if many of the attendees are talking about a "Joker", some crazed criminal that has been doing some spectacular bank heists. Smiling like aclown, and using soem strange gimmicks to subdue guards and, actually, anyone who crosses his path. Not from New York he aint! It seems as if perky miss Dorothy Gale is interested in the case. She's talking to some folks from out of town, including MacNamara and Alter, as well as Felix Jeremiah, that little snitch. I'll have to tell Master that he's in town.

And what about that lowlife, Slimy Mike Polvo. What a fucking cretin, skulking around, looking really sick, and approaching Jules Pollock, the dealer of weird antiques that brought back so many interesting things from the Carib bean. My master would be really interested to talk to him about that. So, they sit down in a booth, order drinks, and it seems as if Polvo hands Pollack something. I wonder what it might be?

It's nine pee-em, and the arbitration is about to begin. The main issue at this meeting is the inheritance of one Prudence V. van Wyck. Prudence  was "New York's grandmother", but if only the tabloids knew a even the slightest about her more, well, Hunnish practices, they would have used a different tone. She had a fairly extensive library that is claimed by, on the one hand, her son, Walther van Wyck, and, on the other hand, her daughter, Veronica van Wyck. They are represented by their respective attorneys. Walther van Wyck is a spoiled brat, and frankly, more than a little daft. But he's a greedy bastard, a real child of thew gilded age. Veronica, on the other hand, is sharp as a tack, and really drop-dead gorgeous, Master says he's fucked her, but it almost cost him both his dick and his life, or at least life expectancy. Master is full of shit, though.

Look, they're all voting. I am voting for Master. And what did The Collector tell Alter? That they didn't have a knee? What does that even mean? Did I not hear correctly? Ok, so Henry the Speaker is counting the votes for arbitration. Look at Gnospelius sisters! One is twerlig her hair, one is chewing her fingernails, while one is pulling her ear lobe. They are really into this. Aaaaand, it is decided. Veronica gets the stuff. But wait, Walther's attorney pulls out a gun and protests the arbitration. Oh no, that won't do. What a stupid piece of shit! And he is of course promptly thrown out the front door by the bouncers. Well, won't see him for another ten thousand years or so. Time to go. Oh, Slimy Mike follows Jules and friends. Interesting.

Death, The Devil, and the Mexican Wrestler

Tuesday, November 3, 1925. Drs. MacKenzie "Mackie" MacNamara and Henry Armitage are having evening tea in Dr. Armitage's study.

"Of course weird things happen on Halloween!" Mackie lit a cigarette in her excessively long cigarette holder. To Dr. Armitage, the cigarette holder seemed to get longer and longer for every time he met Mackie, Perhaps a bit like Pinocchio's nose? "Well, actually, Halloween used to be quite devoid from 'weird things' until the early 1920s. Consider what we spoke about just about a week ago." Mackie did recollect their conversation about a strange increase of strange events dating back to June of 1923.

"So, tell me more about what you found out about poor Picky Barnett?" Dr. Armitage poured Mackie some tea. Still the mid-Qing dynasty tea service. "Well, I have been spending some time in the library now, and it does seem as if Professor Thornton Smythe actually read the Beatus Methodivo and the Daemonolatreia last winter after his wretched son started dabbling in certain arts, leading to the tragic death of a student at the Hoover School, a certain Gregory Goyle. He then proceeded to borrow and read the Unaussprächlichen Kulten by von Juntzt, although he used his premier Ph. D. student, Eric Carlyle, as a proxy. Now, you do know that Thornton Smythe is a rather astute mathematician, which I am not. Nevertheless, I believe that he figured out a way to use old Graeco-Roman augury, sifting through organs and all of that in search of divine signs, to contact extra-dimensional forces and to ever so slightly bend time with one horrific purpose: to predict the stock market." Dr. Armitage almost dropped his teacup, and he had to put it down on his desk. "That is indeed interesting. You see, the Economics Department has been spending lavishly on some rather questionable projects, and we were just wondering where they might have been getting their funds. These questions mostly ceased once Thornton Smythe more than doubled his contributions to Miskatonic University, of course." Mackie had suspected this to be the case, but she did light another cigarette before continuing. "I am not at all sure of the details of Thornton Smythe's ritual, but research conducted by my friends, Mr. Pollack, Mr. Lake, Mr. Alter, Mr. Jeremiah and Miss Baker did indicate that initial tests were conducted on two vagrants some time ago. This required a visit to the Arkham PD Morgue, and a lengthy and unsavory conversation with Archie, the rather revolting mortician's assistant that delves in the morgue. Fortunately, we have some connections with Dr. Hubert Cline, the head of the Arkham PD Morgue." Dr. Armitage nodded as he was taking notes. His legal pad was already marked by concentric circles of spilt tea. "One man, a Joe Marx, did not survive, while the woman, Mary Kruss, did survive, although at quite some cost to her mental health. They also investigated the earthly remains of Picky Barnett, and it turned out she had the following marks and bruises:

- slight bruising around left wrist

- scratches on left lower arm.

- Bruised knuckles on right hand, two broken nails.

- Sewn together opening from pubic area to rib cage. Professionally and carefully done."

Archie

Mackie continued after a long drag on her cigarette: "So, as it turned out, miss Barnett was abducted on her birthday, and it seems as if the augury had been conducted on her birthday, October 24. According to my calculations, the next date to perform an augury would on Halloween, which this year even coincided with a full moon for extra effect. Now, to find a person whose birthday would be October 31?"

Mary Kruss

Joe Marx

Eric Carlyle

"Dr. MacNamara, I did mention the rumors of some form of new Greek society on campus. What did you make of that?" Dr. MacNamara helped herself to another cup of tea, even if she really was longing for a cold glass of champagne right now. Dr. Armitage could not help notice Mackie's scarred right forearm as she reached for the tea pot. He'd have to inquire about this at some later date.

"The rumors were very difficult to trace, though, but there were also rumors of a great big celebration, once again without being substantiated. We thought that this might refer to the Halloween celebrations, possibly excluding the President's ball. Further research and plain snooping around did find mention of a club, association or fraternity with the motto or name 'Opec ac Felicitatem', or 'Wealth and Happiness'." Professor Armitage smiled. "Yes, Dr. MacNamara, I do know some Latin, but please do continue."

Mackie chuckled. She actually did enjoy the company of Dr. Armitage, as formal as he might be, and Mackie did not mind snark at all. "Picky Barnett, or Veronica Astor, was probably abducted by two men claiming to be from the provost's office. Messrs. Jeremiah, Lake and Alter did of course find out that this was not at all the case, and they did speak to several witnesses, one of whom claimed that one of the gentlemen escorting miss Barnett bore a striking resemblance to someone from the Economics Department. We can only speculate in what happened next, but my friends believe that Picky Barnett was sedated and used for the augury. She was supposed to have survived the ordeal, but she did not. Was there a pre-existing condition, or did something go wrong? We'll probably never know."

"There are three major Halloween events at Miskatonic: The President's Ball, which is a fancy masquerade ball. It is held at the University Exhibit Museum. Then there's the Medical College Nightmare, at the college itself and featuring costumes and a dance, and finally the Young Economist's Halloween Spectacle at the Jonathan Edwards Hall. My friends thought this would be a perfect spot for an augury. There were a few students with birthdays on October 31, but they were difficult to find during the hectic week leading up to Halloween. Afterwards, the victim may, and I say may, have been a Paul Coffee from the Medical School. He is one of Dr. Herbert West's protegees, you know."

"Dr. MacNamara, do we know anything on the ritual Thornton Smythe had devised for this...stock market augury?" Mackie shook her head and shrugged. "It is difficult to say. Look here." She opened her briefcase and took out a folder filled with what seemed random notes, some of them seemingly written by a deranged person, or just Mackie. She placed several sheets of paper in front of Dr. Armitage. They were covered with exotic formulae, some quite weird illustrations and diagrams, and generous amounts of Mackie's wavy handwriting. "I believe that the ceremony included Thornton Smythe to access whatever lies beyond our dimension, and his helper, Fritz Rickman, to do the augury. Then the ceremony might need a sufficient amount of chanters to amplify the transdimensional contact (I think), and one or more guardians to make sure that forces from beyond our dimension do not enter the ceremonial space - and our world. My friends did not realize this at the time, though, and these are my reconstructions after speaking to Lake, Jeremiah, and Alter afterwards."

Fritz Rickman

"These three gentlemen managed to get invitations to the Halloween Spectacle without further a due, and they even dressed up. Howard Lake was a Mexican wrestler. Felix Jeremiah a little devil, and Franz Alter dressed up as Death, scythe and all. They entered Jonathan Edwards Hall, and eventually they noticed Thornton Smythe dressed as Napoleon Bonaparte, something he seems to have a penchant for. He eventually left for the basement together with a matador that we assumed was Friz Rickman. My friends managed to get down into the basement by discreetly picking a lock or two, but there were no signs of Napoleon and the matador. There was, of course, a secret passage leading further down into the bedrock, and soon enough my friends started hearing dronelike chanting. The ritual, or augury, was taking place in what almost seemed like a small amphitheater, or perhaps a medical theater. A person, presumably Mr. Coffee, was just about to be carved upon by the matador, while being surrounded by four masked and robed individuals that were stretching out their arms in each direction of the compass. Theye were some 30 or 40 yards away, the theater being at the end of a dark hallway, and there was only light in the actual theater itself. Mr. Lake decided to open fire with his Luger at one of the individuals stretching out his or her arms, and his aim was true. The individual toppled over, and mayhem ensued. These guardians, or whatever they were, did seem to have served a purpose, as four or five horrifying headless creatures emerged from what seemed to be tears or rifts in our very own reality. They growled and wailed as one grabbed a chanting student and forcibly dragged the student into a featureless black void. The student's terrified screams were instantly cut off as the rift in time and space closed with the snap of a vacuum seal being broken, which sent a wave of pain into the eardrums of everyone present. Two of the beasts ran up towards Thornton Smythe, while one ran towards Lake, Jeremiah, and Alter, who attempted to flee the scene. Yet, they were too slow, but mortal weaponry seemed to have some effect on the monstrosity. Lake emptied his Luger, Jeremiah his high-gauge shotgun, and the beast was eventually finished off by Alter's scythe. While Thornton Smythe conducted some gruesome chant, my friends ran up the stairs and pulled the fire alarm before leaving the building. The party was over."

Paul Coffee

"So, what's next?" Dr. Armitage had been listening intently perched at the edge of his chair." "I do not know. According to the Arkham Advertiser, two students were killed in a fire at the Jonathan Edwards Hall. Professor Thornton Smythe will have the board of the Economics Department do a review of inhouse celebrations, and the Arkham PD is conducting a full investigation. in other words, very little."

Proof of Thornton Smythe's augury. Note the date.

Maine Mayhem!

Howard Lake arrived just before nightfall on a dreary Thursday evening, which was October 15, 1925. He was greeted by a solemn crowd in the stately hunting lodge. Well, more like a hunting mansion. The exception of was of course Jacqueline du Plessis, who launched herself at Howard in an outrageous display of extravagant gestures and champagne while attempting to look coy. This was her preferred style of big game hunting, and she was going to land a prize steer tonight, or so she hoped. To Howard Lake, the crowd, or to be more precise Ella B. Cocker, Bridget Duvall, the musician Henry Craig, and the banker Teddy Monroe as well as the Intrepid Investigators. They were all eager to share what had transpired over the course of these last couple of days, but they did so in hushed voices, as if the dark woods outside were eavesdropping. The guests did not seem to be able to figure out if they were going to stay and hunt whatever was causing the strange events, or if they should return to Arkham. Howard was already considering a game of spin the bottle with Jacqueline.

It was eventually decided to stay for another couple of days, but the Intrepid Investigators decided to shop for some additional supplies, such as ammunition and dynamite. They also paid a visit to Monsignor Philippe Bloch, hoping that he would be able to elaborate on some of the weird events and sightings that they all had experienced over the last couple of days. Monsignor Bloch was more than eager to talk. It seemed as if he was so glad that someone inquired about his special hobby. Folklore in rural Maine tended otherwise not to be in great demand. And yes, there were some strange tales about the hills, but such tales were exceedingly rare. The priest closed the door to the rectory and even pulled the curtains. He then produced a small key to tall bookshelf, which the Intrepid Investigators had assumed to be a closet or cupboard. He then took out a well-read copy of Nameless Cults, in this case the 1909 Golden Goblin Press Edition, but a second printing which included an addendum on North American cults. Monsignor Bloch had bookmarked several of the last pages in the book, which he gently opened. "Look, this a poor map of what seems to be Phillips. There's Sandy River, and over there you can see Daggett Rock. As you can see, the text summarizes several legends from this part of Maine, legends about strange beings in the mountains and how they are connected to moonless nights in particular. There are tales of abductions and doppelgangers, but most are simply fragments. And yet, there seems to be odd similarities to what you are telling me and some of these fragments. I wish you the best of luck, but do be careful!"

Next day it was decided to split up and have a final go at hunting before returning to Arkham during or after the weekend. The weather was gorgeous, and the guests had all enjoyed an uninterrupted night's sleep, which improved their moods. Jules, Franz Alter, and Felix decided to head up the hillside in the direction of Daggett Rock. It was quite a hike, and after an hour or so Jules, Franz, and Felix started noticing weird signs indicating that something disturbing was corrupting the very essence of nature: leaves that were misshapen, and colored in unnatural hues, strange and noxious lichens, insects that were far too big for the Maine forests, and carcasses with bizarre growths and mutations. Meanwhile, Howard had become separated from Henry Craig and Teddy Monroe. He was still enjoying the company of Jacqueline, though, with a hunting rifle in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. They suddenly heard first one, and then another gunshot, followed by horrifying shrieking. Howard was getting increasingly worried and frustrated by not being able to find his way in the dense forest, but Jacqueline assured Henry that she could find her way back to the house. Despite being quite buzzed, Jacqueline did find her way back to the house, albeit without Teddy and Henry.

Franz, Jules and Felix did almost make it all the way up to Daggett Rock, but the nature was almost devastated around the rock itself. Therer were also remnants of a sizeable camp site, perhaps for 20 or so individuals, and there were clear signs that the site had been evacuated in some haste.It was then decided to avoid this eerie desolation, and the Intrepid Investigators headed back towards the hunting lodge. Teddy was found some time later by the three gentlemen. He seemed to be in a state of shock, and he had clearly walked aimlessly through the forest. He was not violent, but he did not react to any stimuli. Felix decided to hitch a ride on the burly Teddy Monroe, and off they went towards the house, where they were met by tragedy. Henry Craig was dead, mutilated by some kind of fierce predator. There was a sense of urgency bordering on panic in the air, and it was decided to leave as soon as possible next morning. But where was Mackie?

"You must understand." Franz Alter looked at Jules in a most serious fashion. "You must understand that Mackie might very well die if we do not bring her back to civilization, Dr. Mackenzie MacNamara had spent a good 48 hours in her room while her friends had been trying to gain some level of understanding of the strange, strange events that had befallen the Maine countryside. She was now almost entirely covered by some strange orange jelly-like substance that seemed to be held together by nerves or webs that were slightly darker in their color. Mackie's skin was clammy, and to Franz it seemed as if the archaeologist was in a state of deep shock. The strange orange matter seemed to be particularly tightly attached to the wounds Mackie had suffered while fighting the giant rat several days ago. The intrepid investigators brought up a tarpaulin to transport Mackie to a car and subsequently to Phillips and whatever medical aid could be found in that little town.

Jules Pollack drove his automobile down the narrow country road as fast as the vehicle and the road would allow him. It was a jolty and unpleasant ride through what seemed to be an increasingly eerie landscape, or it might just have been the imagination of the muted passengers. The dreadful beast that all of a sudden attacked the vehicle was however not a figment of imagination. It seemed to be some form of infernal parody of a deer and a humanoid, or perhaps some other unholy and unknown mix of wildlife. The baying from the beast was ear-shattering, while it emitted a foul, unwholesome stench that rapidly permeated Jules's automobile. Gunfire erupted as the beast attacked the passengers in the back seat, and Jules Pollack had to struggle to keep the automobile on the road in between screaming, unnatural animal sounds, and clips being emptied at the beast. The intrepid investigators eventually managed to lose the dreadful beat after what seemed an eternity, but what only may have been a minute or two. The only things left were holes from gunfire, the lingering unwholesome stench, and splotches of garish orange ichor. Mackie survived the auto ride down to Phillips, but only barely.

From the diary of Franz Alter:

Heading back from Phillips together with county sheriff Carlton Stears. Mackie will recover. We had claimed that there was a wild bear in the vicinity. Plausible. It was around noon when we returned to the enormous hunting lodge, and I was carrying a Winchester carbine. And my medical bag. Must remember to send a telegram to mother. That cat is strange. 

We approached the building. The sheriff was first, followed by Lake. Sheriff Stears opened the door very, very carefully, but he was drawn into the lounge by some unwholesome abomination that simply tore him to shreds. Very fine shreds, I was told. The monstrosity was really quite strange and very unpleasant to look at. It was probably treif. I shot it in the head with two rounds. Then we set fire to the hunting lodge. We forgot to remove Mr. Theodore Munroe, called Teddy. Stupid. I wanted to go back to Arkham, but there was an investigation, which was tedious. Left for Arkham on Friday one week later. Must work on pharmacy. Soda fountain?

Saturday, October 25, 1925. Back in Arkham.

Dr, Emmett Brown looked up from his microscope. He was dressed in his ubiquitous lab coat, sturdy rubber gloves, pajama pants and a pair of very worn slippers. "Great Scott! The orange matter you have here is composed of a completely unknown matter! I have only noticed one familiar isotope: a trace of what seems to be Cobalttorium-G. But I have never heard of this exceedingly rare isotope occurring naturally. But then, the orange substance seems to be quite...err, unnatural in itself." He resumed looking into the microscope, goggles on his forehead and his hair, as usual, on end. "Fascinating, just fascinating..." Jules Pollack let himself out from Dr. Brown's laboratory. Dr. Brown was completely absorbed.

Sunday, October 26, 1925.

Dr. Henry Armitage, the head of the Miskatonic University Library as well as a Ph.D. in Early American history, received the Intrepid Investigators on a particularly dreary fall morning. He poured hot tea into small cups, and Jules Pollack could not help noticing that the cups were original Chinese, probably from the mid-Qing dynasty. Early 1800s, perhaps? Dr. Armitage took a sip from his cup before speaking: "My dear friends, I have two items to raise. First of all, let us talk about the increasingly long chain of very strange events that have befallen you all. You see, these events - I typically call them extradimensional activities - have been exceeding rare, with perhaps one or two cases per year world-wide that can be properly attributed to extradimensional activities. Most of these cases are also quite minor incidents, and they can easily be shrugged off as natural disasters or such. However, there has been a vast uptick since approximately June of 1923. You wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you? Please do ponder what might be behind this spate of the bizarre."

Now, I do also have a more pressing issue, an issue that is both tragic and, well, inconvenient. I know that you can act with utmost discretion, and that is what I need right now. The Arkham PD found a dead student in the Vogler Wildlife Park, early on Saturday morning. The body was found by Ms. Emma Cornelius, who was walking her dachshund early that morning in the northeast corner of the park, not far from East Saltonstall Street. The Arkham PD was immediately notified, and a Officer Walther McLean notified the Miskatonic University. The student's name was Picky Barnett, although this was only a pseudonym for her real name which happens to be Veronica Astor, as of the New York Astors. She was doing her undergraduate degree anonymously here at Miskatonic, and she was doing a double major in history and mathematics at Professor Ferdinand C. Ashley's Department of Ancient History. According to Professor Ashley, Ms. Barnett was a very good student, although rather quiet. I have also notified Major Barton the Head of Security and Inspections at the university. now, as you understand, poor "Picky Barnett's" parents will have one or two questions, and it would not benefit the Miskatonic University if the investigation would be botched in one way or the other. Would you kindly look into this matter, just to make sure that there aren't any oddities, and that miss Barnett's true identity isn't revealed? The tabloids would be all over campus if they found out that a millionaire heiress would have been found dead here in Arkham. Oh, and by the way, the contract between Miskatonic University and J. Pollack Fine Antiques was just extended through 1926.

Attched: Miskatonic Staff Roster.

Picky Barnett

Officer McLean

Henry Armitage