Jack did the driving of our carriage, and around lunchtime we reached our destination.
On the way to Innsmouth, Ms. Brooks explained that her family members who died young did so by what seems like coincidence. Some did indeed die by what seemed like accidents, including herr mother Gertrude from a riding accident while riding alone; but others like her father who died of tuberculosis (though quite young even for that) passed of natural causes. Winston Brooks died at sea in a boating accident at only 27.
Innsmouth is a dirty and rough, bursting with thugs, and really only a village on the seashore. It was founded in 1643, its current population rests at only 367. Fishing is the town industry, though a small refinery of gold is still there, too. A family by the name of Marsh runs the town, they are known by rumor to be of a decadent sort just like those they lord over…or vice versa. Just before we left we saw Armitage and Wilkinson one last time, to inform them of our plans. A grave look immediately took charge of Armitage’s manor, and what he then told us of brought gravity to the situation at hand, taking our case beyond a mere family mystery and onto the realm of the occult: hints of an evil seacreature of some kind which lives at Devil’s Reef near Innsmouth. Of course, it is at this reef that the lighthouse we sought stands!
No where in this entirety of New England is there not some threat which may be traced to Archimedes’ Mythos or supernatural evils at least. I despair that our group alone is not enough of a force here. Still, we stagger on against it.

Entering the mean streets of Innsmouth, it looks just as we expected. However I could not hold back uponseeing the denizens “The Innsmouth Look is no mere look, that’s a problem”. They were evidently not used to many strangers, for it seemed every soul we passed stared us down. Ms. Brooks reiterated going to the lighthouse. She shows us a letter once there as well, given to Joy Brooks by Bartholomew Tagg of the lighthouse, natural father of Winston. Will “I think he was maybe not the actual child of Tagg, his mother being a mysterious ‘Sedna’. We know that fouler things exist here, so either that or he was the child of Tagg and some unnatural being.” She knows not of the trinket’s whereabouts, but the ‘sins’ refers to a rumor that Tagg murdered his lighthouse partner. Theo “Many here were lost at sea, perhaps they were themselves partly seabeast and willingly went to sea.”
We made the assembly and records hall by the directions of Moira, both for a charter to take us to the lighthouse, which stands on a rocky outcrop offshore, and our own research into her family. We dropped Will and John off with the women at the records hall on the way, while the rest of us rode for the Innsmouth assembly hall for the boating papers. The clerk, paralyzed it seemed from the waste down, was a repulsive fellow “What can I do for you?” I began “Well, good sir, we..” and here Jack burst for the “Look, first and formost we’re here to get a charter to Skivern Rock.” “You don’t want to go there.” Jack “Yes we do” Myself “Indeed we must” “You have something to do with Moira don’t ya?” Will “Moira who?” Myself “Why is our business”. “She probably hired you to come here, we dont like strangers. She’s an evivl woman.” Myself “The faster you help us the faster we will leave town.” He walked to a drawer and brought back a bag of coins. “Here’s 200dollars. Gold. Would you like to earn it.” Theo “We’s like what we need”. "Ther’s $200 just for 1 little (made a gsture of slitting his throat). Myself “Are you aying you want us to be assassins, dear God.” “The world wouldn’t miss a bitch like that.” Jack could not stand that offer, getting very offended “I could as easily kill you and take that $200 for myself, you crippled bastard!” “I wouldn’t be crippled if not for her”. Atwater “What exaclty does that mean?” “She shot me, and the slug is lodged next to my spine.” Myself “She’s not in prison? You must have deserved it.” “I could not prove anything. Just take my word for it, and if you stay with her you’re lible to die yourselves.” Myself “We do our own work ,and we do need to get to the lighthosue” “Well, we dont have any charts for the likes of you! Now get out!”. Theo “Not yet sir, we seek information on her family as well”. “Ok, what do you wanna know”. Myself “NO, no. Official records…births, deaths, local histories and news.” “That I can allow.”
While our researchers were at work, Atwater noticed the clerk call in a boy, whisper something to him, and the boy run out. Wang followed him to the police, and soon they were entering the building. The constable “So, strangers eh? Have any place to stay?” Mysef “No” Jack “we are only in town for the day” Myself “Not stayinhng long enough.” Constable “Then I suggest you get out of town, before I arrest you for mopery.” West “We are not moping. We are talking withthis gentleman here.” Constable “Mopery it is then, just here with no good reason.” Will “We are here on business actually.” The constable sighed and said “If you’re not out by sundown I can’t answer for your health” then turned and left. Will “What’s your name, constable? I need to make sure I have this right for my story in the NY Times.” Constable “John. John Law” and walks out.
Clerk “Get a hurry on here, I wanna lock up.” In the end, we found corroborating evidence to all she told of her family. Also, a legend from the 1700’s of the Skivern Mermaid, seen by sailors of these shores. In 1750 the lighthouse build and in 1821 a foghorn was added. First time it was used, the lights and foghors did not come on. Investigation found the mirror smashed and the only evidence of the keepers were blood on the walls. Following year, 2 new keeper (Tagg and Andrew Muir) came to the lighthouse. Then, Muir died. Tagg said they got along fine and that he was swept away by a storm. Many knew of them not being friendly though, and doubted the story. No evidence was ever sufficient to charge Tagg. He lived a very solitary existence there, until coming to town suddenly with a child in his arms, saying it was the survivor of an unknown shipwreck. Shortly after the child, Winston, was adopted by the Brooks’s, Tagg disappeared as well.
Skivern rock has a horrible reputation, the ‘no one who goes there comes back’ sort.
Passing by the hotel, we see a sign of no vacancy, so decided to seek out an abandoned house to hide out in, likely a safer choice. Moira mentions that the old assembly house, now closed, may have papers within we could steal and forge.
Walking the streets, a small group of men heads us off “Strangers eh? We don’t liek strangers around here.” Myself “Just passing through.” “It’s time for you to leave.” West “Why is everyone here so mean?” “We’re not mean, we just like our own company. Now get on that wagon and get out of town…now.” Father John tried to calm them with talk of Christ and Catholocism, and they answered by pulling knives. We insist we want no trouble and walk off. Taking sidestreets we come to the assembly building. Jack hauled off and kicked in the dilapidated front door and we begin our search, Jack and Theo looking out. Less than an hour later I discovered the proper papers. We parked the wagon in the back alley and slept the night there, keeping a 2 man watch at all times. Thankfully, the night passed uneventfully.

Next morning, we made straight for the docks, finding most sailors having the ‘look’. Moiry suggested we should avoid those. “There is one man, named Dewey Smith, who lives in a shack down here who lacks the ‘look’.” We found him working on a net “Oh, strangers! We very seldom get strangers. Nice to meet ya.” In talking to the man, he must be delusional. He was ever positive, believing only in happy coincidences. He even went so far as to claim Innsmouth is a wonderful place to live, shrugging off their manor toward visitors. He pointed out all the other fishermen once and asked “See all them? Notice anything? They all look kinda like frogs. I think is amazing to live around folk who resemble frogs.” Jack “Keen observation there, sir.” Smith “It’s a great joke. So, what can I do for you fellas?” West “We have a charter for Skivern Rock.” Dewey “Sure, I can take you tomorrow.” West “Not today?” Dewey “Well, i could take ya today. It’s just that I planned on the day off, fixin my nets. But if you must really need to I can take ya today.” West “We should go today. I have a feeling if we stay longer the town will kick us out.” Dewey “What!? They won’t do that. Everyone here is so friendly.” Theo “You say?” Atwater “Men just last night pulled knives on us and threatened to cut us!” Dewey “Ah, you’re obviously mistaken that was only a joke”. West “The constable threatened to arrest us yesterday, and told us to get out of town.” Atwater “For mopery of all things.” Dewey “he jokes like that all the time. He’s constanty joking with me.”
Eventually the man got around to business, and we offered extra $ for the inconvenience. $5 would do it, but Jack offered and gave $7. Dewey said we need to hire one other sailor to help operate a rowboat to row you all in past the rocks around Skivern. “I know a good man. Let’s go up to the Lonely Mermaid tavern”. Dewey led us up to a man drinking stong liquor, named Walter, who asked for spare change. Dewey told him our business and the man said he would not go the Skivern “No one ever returns”. Dewey said “Ah, just have a couple more beers.” The man was a pole who lacked funds to leave town to any desirabe location, and only hired sporadically onto the odd local boat. We paid him $5 after a couple more beers and he acquiesced to assist us.
We arrive at Skivern, both of our employees saying we are taking our lives into our own hands, and around noon and with Walter on the rudder and Jack and Theo rowing, we reached the landing site, through fairly calm waters for the spot.
On the island is the lighthouse and a hole in the rock goind straight down. Walter and Dewey said that no one knows where it goes since it has been so long since anyone has been here and come back. Dropping us off at a broken pier, Walter reversed for Dewey’s boat. Just as it is clear of the rocks, a shape was visible in the waters. Gigantic and grey reached from the water and the tiny boat was broken asunder and pulled into the waters right before our eyes! Walter for a moment floated screaming before being yanked down below the surface in an instant. Myself “My God!” Atwater “I think we’ve bitten off more than we can chew.” Then, rising out of the waters with a terrific explosion of water came the horrific beast, drenching us all. The creature looked the spitting image of all descriptions we have read of the Great Old One Cthulhu, and John and Theo looked at one another in horror and called it a Cthulhu Spawn. I felt my mind shudder under the visual onslaught, and felt the quiver off my allies even from distance, and a brief whimper from Will snapped me back into motion. From the boat, on a megaphone, Dewey yelled to us “Yoo hoo, signal me when you want to come in!” as if the man didn’t even see the monstrosity. Theo “Does he not see it?” Moira “He sees it.” Jack “He’s insane!” Moira “The man must see only good in any moment, never the bad”. Westinghouse “The town must have driven the poor man mad!” The fact brought with it one positive, we could be sure he was not going to abandon us if the monster didn’t destroy him and the vessel. Jack “Anyone have a harpoon gun.”. Moira “Get to the lighthouse.”
Stangely, Moira, though not unconcerned, seemed not nearly phased enough by what had just occured. Her singlemindedness to the mysteries of Tagg were to such an obsessive degree. The move to the structure was somewhat treacherous due to the slipperiness of the path there. I almost slipped over the edge once, as did Jack. Father John did slip over the edge, but caught on a good handhold before going over the edge. The monster having disappeared under the waves as quickly as it appeared, we found the door locked by an old and rusted iron padlock. Jack “We’re not breaking through that then”. West “Unless we busted it off the old hinges. Let’s give it a go.” Father John “I could blast it with a shotgun.” Will “No.” Westinghouse “Atwater, you use your Army .45 and blast the lock”. Father John “Let me try with my crucifix-axe.” A grand idea, and he cleaved it off with the first stroke. We entered, seeing spiral stone steps ascending not ony up, but down to a cellar as well. An unusual addition to such a building. The first room was the kitchen, as well as having a bookshelf if tomes useful for shipping and long unused fishing gear. On one wall was a painting of a ship on the local coast signed with Tagg as the painter. A close inspection revealed nothing out of the ordinary about the scene depicted. A large but cracked toolchest contained rope, chain and rotten oilskin raingear. The logbook was all in one hand, but for the final entry of the death of Andrew Muir, logged as an accidental drowning. Will examined the log on more detail as I did a fast walk around the room. The log contained nothing unusual, but I did find a closes and waxsealed glass jar in a cupboard full of different colored powders with tiny metallic sparkles. It did not resemble anything even from Bishop’s place.
Jack “I say we split up. Half up and half down.” We ignored that idea, and I stowed the jar away safely in a pack before we went down. The ladies stayed on the main floor.
The cellar was stacked only with bagged coal for the kitchen, and even a detailed search revealed nothing. Will, being on the thin side and shivering now from cold and wet, recommended we use the coal to start heating the place. On the next floor up, mildewed bedding and footlockers occupied the sleeping quarters. One contained ruined art supplies. Another ship painting on the wall, as well as a cupboard housing several more on stretchers. All seemed to be of the same hand, and all of ships that would be local. Very possible these are portraits of actual ships from Tagg’s time. The painting were not like these others, though: An Indian woman standing on a wind swept rock, wearing a talisman. We reconized the talisman as the necklace Moira was wearing! Will “The trinket in Tagg’s letter? That’s what I would assume, at least.” There was also a tall locker marked explosives. In it were a dozen antique rocket flairs, launching stand, extra fuses and slow-matches. West "These could be useful, lets take them out and get them ready to take with us. Jack “We could use them to attack a giant monster”. Myself “Not sure a little flair would hurt that thing much.” Will “It would probably just anger it more.”
Next floor contained 7 large wooden kegs of whale oil.
Jack “This stuff burns really well.”
Will “Here’s a plan. We attract the creature up to the surface…” Myself “And make explosives with the oil and flares.” Will “Or we soak the water around it with the oil and light it with a flare.” With a quick but throurough search of the room, I found that one of the kegs was mostly empty; another was split on one side, the oil having long ago drained out. Tilting it I could tell it contained something solid, and busting it open we found several small bricks of solid silver! Tilting and rolling the others, and going by auditory clues, the others surely contained the same! Moira excitedly pushed past us to the bars. “They’re mine, mine! They’re my birthright! Give them to me, it’s my silver!” Theo “Jack settle your woman.” She opened her handbag and insisted we put the small bricks inside, and so we did. I saw Atwater fingering his small medical pouch on his belt, which I knew to contain a few ready shots of morphine. He was surely thinking about knocking her out with a proper dose. Will “We are not smashing open all this whale oil yet. We might need those.” She gave in quick enough with assurances that it was all to be hers.
We began walking up the the next floor, Jack and Theo leading the way with Moira pressing close behind them. Will hung back intentionally, grabbing me and Atwater aside, whispering to us that he thought he recognized the amulet now. He recalled seeing a picture of it by chance in a tome recently. It’s supposedly a magic item, with some sort of connection to a fishlike creature. Atwater “A fishfaced god?” Myself “Deep One?” Will “I don’t think so. I think it is one of the 2 creatures the deep ones worship: Father Dagon and Mother Hydra. I think this is of Mother Hydra, if I recall correctly.” Atwater “You always do.” Will “It’s American Indian, dating to before Columbus. It provides assistance in spellcasting and is part of Mother Hydra’s worship in this area long ago.” Myself “We need to research that further.” Atwater “I don’t trust this woman”. Theolonius asked herr “How do you know this silver is yours. It may have been Muir’s.” Moira “He was dead before my father. What else could he mean by finding my birthright? Do you know what silver is? It’s money,and money makes the world go around. What do you think I was looking for? My birthright! Dollars, money! What do I care about some lighthouse keeper that abandoned my grandfather as a baby. I couldn’t care less about him. What I want is my birthright. I thought there was jewelry, and think there is more than we have aready found. Anything that is here is MINE.” A close eye did we try keep on Moira from this point on, without needing to pass the word between us. “My precious things I have looked for my whole life.”
Continuing to the next level, and assuring again we had no desire to steal from her, we came to the glass housing for the lamps, 160’ above the sea. A door opened to an outer catwalk. Innsmouth, as well as Newberry north and south Kingsport, were easily seen. The lamp was currently out of order, though possibly repairable. Inside the lens housing, on the lamp itself, lay the journal of Barthomew Tagg! Father John opened it and read as I observed our surroundings.
Entry 1822: Speaks of his job being ‘a grave responsibiity’ but gives him much time to paint. He describes Muir as a ‘bore’ and a ‘fool’ who will not leave him be, having contempt for Tagg’s ‘craft’ and irked Tagg at every turn. Ruining the solitude Tagg sought.
4 months ater, 1822: They have not talked for the last months, leaving only notes.
1824: The fog sounder in place;calls his living a ‘lonely hell’;‘at least Muir had to speak to me’while repairing, actually welcomed even Muir’s voice;‘desolation; ’I will leave this place at my first opportunity.’
Later 1824: Heard a woman singing to ‘me, not to Muir…his ears not meant for it.’; Muir wearing on Tagg again;sounder broken again.
Later 1824: Saw her, almost thought it a ghost;beautiful in a primitive way, she touched him and filled him with ecstacy but disappeared; Talks with her, despises Muir as well;She wants to be saved from loneliness and save Tagg from his;requires fulfillment of urges Tagg repressed for 2 years, “I shall do it tonight”.
Later 1824: authorities satisfied; no one will man the rock with me though;must return to my beloved; “Sedna showed me the monster, I am shaken to my soul. I can write no more of this”
Later 1824: Sedna makes another demand,he must obey; “I shall put out the light and the beast shall feed”;does not understand their connection.
1825: Again was her accomplice; doused the light for “13 souls” in a storm;worries authorities will ask questions.
Later 1825: “The flesh is not so repulsive as I feared”
1826: 16 sacrificed, beast brought Tagg their silver…“What good does it do me?”
1827: 28 drowned, one made it to rock. He watched Sedna drag him back into water; Tagg haunted by the man’s eyes.
Later 1827: Sedna pregnant
1828: Painful birth, “I feared for my love and my child”. Boy is human and Sedna looked at him with rage. Tagg fled with him, hailing a fisherman who took him to port. Trying to protect child from Sedna and damnation.
Later 1828: Winston safe with widow Brooks; Averil sympathetic and teaching Tagg magic “I begin my treachery”. Here he scribes the spell he will use to fight Sedna. The Baneful Dust of Hermes: You must have the powder with the spell; only affects creatures of nonearthly origins. So, this would include many beasts of the Mythos, though not those such as Deep Ones.
Later 1828: “I have failed, she read my eyes and knew what I was about.” Neither ritual or the powder affected her;I am doomed and she lives, guiding another storm now. She is so powerful; “I deserve my fate, may God protect my son”.

So, he would turn the light off so ships would wreck. He mated with this Sedna thing and had Winston. They collected what treasures there were. The beast ate well, and seemingly even Sedna and Tagg. Theo “Sedna is the mermaid.” Will “Right, the Indian in the painting. So she wanted the kid to be a monster. The dust in the jar is the powder”. Theo “Yes, the dust with the metal shards”. West “So why was it a weapon but then did not effect her?” By reading the spell, we seem to have 8 doses in the jar.
We had little choice, as late as it was getting, but to spend the night here. Dewey, we could see, still maintained his position though we had no obvious way of getting to him. Moira admitted to dreaming of the monster, and it only comes up when someone tries to leave. If you stay here you are safe.
We spent a miserable night in the cold and rain worrying about getting back to the boat, with John suggested using empty barrels as flotations, as it seemed our only option but for getting past the monster. And to that, our only choice would be to be to lure the monster up to attack, and battle it to the death. But how to fight it? We had the dust and the whale oil. Westinghouse “We can light the barrels and hurl the whale oil on him”. Will “We have the flares too. We can dowse him with the oil then light it with the rocket-flares.” Atwater “That’s the key to this. The whale oil…burning it.” Will “We could saturate the water with oil, but then someone may have to swim out there to bust them all open in the right place. How do get someone out there without getting eaten?” Not to mention how to get the creature to rise in that exact spot, without someone there as bait…someone who would surely die. Eventually we all got some troubled sleep.
In the morning we found Moira gone, and a rope tied to the railing outside and hanging below. She had left us in the night. Downstairs and outside we went and found our boat still waiting for us, the crazy man yelling at us, waving and smiling. Next Will suggestet checking the barrels for the silver in case Moira stole them, but they were indeed still there. Then at Jack’s suggestion we checked the downward hole on the other side of the rock, and I noticed some obvious evidence of recent disruption. Down we climbed to find ourselves a cavern, a winding passage down to the sea as well as a single side passage which we followed with lit torches. We soon came to a room. In the flickering light, shamanic carvings and paintings of Mother Hydra were visible on the walls in all her blasphemous glory. Additionally another small passage let to the waters edge. As we studied the artwork, if one could call it that, a slight noise came from a dark lower chamber which we had not noticed at first. From it walked Moira hand in hand with a rather strikingly beautiful Indian woman. John quickly readied his shotgun and whispered “Should I start shooting the heathens?” I didn’t answer at the moment, and Moira broke the initial silence with “Gentlemen, meet my great grandmother. I’ve spent the night talking with my ancestor and have many things to tell you. My grandmother is immortal.”
Theo “What makes her so?”
“She is a priestess of Mother Hydra.”
Poor Jack couldn’t help himself: “Fantastic, fan-freaking-tastic.”
“She’s been trapped here for many years by the creature in the water. It’s purpose is so. Unfortunately, it keeps anyone else who comes trapped here as well. She has been trapped since the death of my grandfather.”
Theo “What triggered teh creature to show up here?”
“An internal struggle amongst the Deep Ones. My grandmother feels that deep one hybrids are a sin to Mother Hydra, and she destroys them wherever she sees them. The Deep Ones and hybrids who do not see it that way called it here with a spell. Hybrids are humans with a taint, who will become Deep Ones.” Moira sais that they can not help us destroy it.
Will whispered to me “What if she was out there and it killed her? Maybe it would leave?” Indeed.
None of this changed the fact that the Indian woman worshipped a forbidden entity, though we had no idea of her powers and could not be sure that the dust would hurt her, nor did we want to waste it rather than have it all for the Cthulhu Spawn. Moira seemed quite taken with her grandmother, and it concerned us that she was only a step from being a cultist herself, if she was not already one.
While speaking we gatherd around the 2, and Atwater with great skill and grace drew out a morphine syringe and made to inject the grandmother. His arm, however, passed right through what was an illusion!
Moira “What were you to do to my grandma?”
Atwater “This” and he instead injected Moira with an equally impressive surprise attack, and down she went.
Theo “Now where is the ‘mermaid’?”
Jack “Probably in the dark chamber she came out of?”
Myself “We need to get her.”
Just then, a Deep One some 13’ tall stepped out of the shadows of the chamber below. Sedna’s true form!
The question remains why, after wanting to kill any hybrid, did the Deep One seem fine with Moira. Did the years here change her opinion? Did the blood relation spark some monsterous version of familial feelings? We shall never know. Will turned to me quickly “Should we try to lure it to the sea there? A battle with the creature could give us a chance to escape.” This I felt was an idea, and I knew that Moira was the key. I had barely noticed Cassandra’s chanting, until she yelled “YogSothoth!” and a force of raw power struck Sedna with force. Atwater turned to us and said “Get Moira in the water, and she may go after her.” Jack replied “You wanna try that, go for it!” I said “We’ll hold it off, get Moira in the water.”
Hearing this, Theo picked Moira’s limp body up and over his shoulder just as Will tore the neclace from her neck, and Cassandra yelled “Fight you fools!” as she backed up toward the passage as well and fired another “Yog Sothoth!”, pushing Sedna back again. Will “Someone needs to ready the whale oil and flares once we lure it up!” Father John took the initiative and rushed away from scene for the lighthouse.
Cassandra was weakening and it was time for us to jump into action. I leveled my shotgun on the foul icthyous being, my shot hitting it’s right side-10, Jack’s first round clicked harmlessly…a dud. Will’s first barrel missed as well, but Atwater fired 2 quick shots and struck it dead on both times with his .45 service revoler-14/11. Theolonius was now moving down the passage, with Cassandra and Will, who had naturally moved next to her, blocking the way.
Here, Sedna ignored our shooting men and made for the tunnel as we had hoped but ran into the two lovers. Will took a bite to his arm-12, and Cassandra was viciously rended by the creatures claws. It was obvious she was almost at all she could take, but valiantly through off another spell of the same type, after which she slumped to the ground unconcious. Knowing Will would want to save Cassandra above all else, I told someone to take her attention fast. Atwater sprung into action, and intercepted her move toward Theo as Will dragged Cassandra away. As Fast Jack slipped past the two and ran for Theolonius in case the creature made it past Atwater, Atwater let loose with a shotgun blast and the slugs hit the creature dead in the center of the abdomen-34crit. I let go with my second barrel but barely grazed the creature-5 as Jack turned and fired s barrel of his own-12. Parts of the disgusting thing were literally hanging on and strewn about it’s body, yet still it came at Atwater though struggling to do so. It struck him-11 with a claw then raced past him as Theo reached the water. Theo dumped Sedna into the water, and Sedna gave him a good swipe with a claw-10 as she raced past the monk and dove into the sea after her grandaughter. Will called for Atwater to help Cassandra, which the doctor did with all of his usual skill and aptitude. Meanwhile, the rest of us raced made haste back up the hole to the surface, meeting Theolonius who had climbed the outside of the island from the tunnel exit to the top.
From the top, we saw the great sea beast rise up near Sedna and move for her with purpose. A shriek from the Deep One, and what would be a short battle began which ended in Sedna’s demise. It then reached for Moira and surely took her life with one crashing strike. I ran for the lighthouse as the first of 2 flares from Father John streaked high over my head. I had, overrnight, devised a way to attach the powder to 8 of the rocketflares in such a way that the powder would be dispersed easily over the huge body of the creature. Each hit home, and when I arrived we each fired 2 more before Jack caught up, all hitting their target as well. Jack ran straight past us as fast as he could to get all the oil kegs to the edge of the lighthouse walkway around the buildings lightsource.

The powder from each shot, from the very first, was still burning the terrible skin of the Spawn like acid. We fired our last 2 rockets on our way the he lighthouse, both hitting, and ran for the roof and Jack.
When it reached the base of the rock next to the lighthouse, it still burned though half in the water and we could see Wang run into the building below. This powder is something we must learn to create for ourselves. As it began climbing, we dropped the first 2 kegs of whale oil. Even if we did not hit the creature directly will all of them, it would still be necessary for it to climb through the conflagaration of oil, thus getting the oil upon its skin in any case. We were now past the point of no return, and we each fired a flare to light the oil now slicking the creature and the cliffside below. Father John’s whisked uselessly away, almost flying behind us. My own and Jack’s both hit our marks though and Theo dropped another keg, this one crashing open directly upon the Spawn’s shoulder. It reacted terribly over the fire, for it must have had a natural aversion to the element. We could still see the acid smoking as the beast and much of the grounds around it ignited the likes of which we hadn’t seen since Cthugha made his attempt to burst forth from the heavens above Central Park.
Still, the thing was not finished, and tentacles reached up as if with minds of their own striking us all with the greatest of ease. The shot on me almost dropped me and I staggered but regained my senses quickly, only the adrenalaine from the situation kept me up I am sure. Theolonius took a supremely vicious shot and after crashing through the glass and into the interior went down in a heap, and I tell you we were all sure he was a dead man. Jack yelled in both horror and anger"WAAANNG"! and was struck the slightest of us all, and indeed his quick moves saved his life. Father John was badly as well, but somehow remained standing. The inferno raged on and around it however, and it wailed unnaturally in an agonizing fury. Now, we were essentially trying to dodge it’s attacks in hopes it would soon burn to death. I grabbed the final flare though, and looking back over the edge, let it loose successfully, hitting the root of one of its tentacles. Still it clung to the island and the building. As it rose higher, John singlehandedly appeared on the edge and yelled an obsenity for the first time I had ever heard while dropping another keg onto it “For God, the church and the diocese of New York!”. It burst upon its back and in its rage it lashed out what would be one final time and with all its might on our Jesuit priest. Slamming and grabbing and crushing, before tossing his lifeless and practically formless broken body into the rocky waters below. Jack grabbed an end of the last barrel and toppled it over the edge directly onto its great and vile head. In hopelessness I fired 2 quick shots from my revolver the same time I saw Atwater do the same. Whether they truly did the job we do not know, but it was her that the creature became silent in a sudden quietude, the noise from it having been so loud that for several seconds we could not even hear the sound of the ocean over the sudden quiet…then it released and dropped into the water back first with a huge spashing crash. All was over. We would have regretted Moira’s death had it not been for John’s.
We screamed for Atwater to get up to us, for Theolonius was still down. When Atwater checked him, he was astounded and called it a miracle that Theo still clung to life. We soon flagged our boat closer, for the waters were as calm as one could ask now, and went back to Innsmouth. That was yesterday

I was at the moment then and still am utterly devastated over John’s death. It reeled my psyche worse than the existence of such a monster itself. Atwater, who saw it from below us, can not even verbalize what it was like to see the sight from his vantage point of John being destroyed in mere seconds. Theolonius spent the entire day today resting and recovering from the damage inflicted upon him, beside reading his dark tomes for a few hours. He is bedridden. I think he may be most affected of all over John’s death, we told him this afternoon, though his inner will hides it well. He and John spent many hours together wrapping their intellects around the likes of the Necronomicon. Jack seems the most resilient of us all, doing his best to see light in the situation and reminding us that in another few moments we could have all perished. I write this now in Arkam, the night after. I would wish never to mention it again, but to recall the heroism of a Jesuit priest whose final strike likely save all of our lives.

We all need a slight respite. Other than reading and research, we may rest and recuperate our strength physically, mentally, and emotinally for a time.

We made our way first to Dr. Wilkinson’s home, so we could all meet and speak with him about this Hyborea and a possible connection to the Mythos. He was not at home, but at the college where we sought him out. At our arrival he was teaching a class, so myself and Will quietly entered and stood in the rear. He went on about ‘strange mysteries of the world’ and how one must not jump to conclusions about them because much is not what it seems’. He then saw us and said “Ah, more students. There, in the back, there’s room, there’s room.” 45 minutes later he finished up, and Theolonius had to wake Jack up from a slumber.
Now recognizing Will and John we make all acquaintences. “Ah, you’re the chaps who were here late at night. I didn’t recognize you at first in the light of day! Well come come, let’s go. We goingn to have another adventure, eh what?” Westinghouse “We need access to the great occult collection at the Library here, sir.” Wilkinson “Oooh, no one can see the occult library.” Westinghouse “We were hoping you could get us in with your authority.” Wilk"not likely, but I’ll introduce you to the head librarian, Henry Armitage."
We made our way there without much small talk, and there met Armitage. A man in his 40’s wearing quite large glasses. Wilkinson quickly begins to go on and on about monsters in the night, to which Armitage replied “Wilkinson, you must’t excite yourself so. So, gentlemen,how can I help you?” Will began for us, saying"We would like to take a look at your occult collection." To which I continued but carefully “We have been doing much investigation lately in NY and Boston, dealing with cults and experiencing many strange things.” Armitage asked “What do you wish to read? What tome and forbidden secrets are you after?” I answered “Particular tomes we do not know, but subjects we have. The order of the Silver Twilight, in at least Boston. A Renaissance order called teh Knights of the Silver Twilight.” Armitage informed us “You don’t need the Forbidden Tomes for those. Our regurlar occult library will be sufficient for you.” I asked him if he is wellversed and knowedgabe in the occult himself, and he said he was. I went on to tell him openly of the John Scott tale and the attack on his farmhouse, including the two terrible names he reportedly spoke aloud: Cthulhu and Azathoth. Armitage insisted “Those are things you, nor no other mortal, needs to know about”. Father John tells him of our discovery and reading of an unknown copy of the Necronomicon. Theolonius said later he gave him a secret Iluminati sign, to which Armitage made a reply but in a manor several years out of date. He continued “The things you wish to read about are beings that people have been trying to let in to wipe out the human race and drag the earth off to some nameless place for a neameless purpose” Theolonius asked “So you believe in them?” And Armitage replied “I have seen the Dunwich Horror.” Theolonius drops Archimedes’ name and of his viewpoints contrary to the Iluminati. Armitage explains that he left the Iluminati years ago for similar reasons, and “You’re Archimedes seems like a wise man.” THeo “He is, and he has chosen us to do this work for him”. Armitage “The Ilumoinati is very shortsighted. They see all of this as one thing, and they are wrong.” Theo “We know, that’s why we need to investigate further and put a stop to it. They will not.” Westinghosue “We could use help from, and the rescources of, any ally we can get.” Armitage considered this all for a moment, then “So you want to know of Cthulhu?” Theo “As well as Azathoth.” Westinghosue “And what they have to do with John Scott and maybe the Silver Twilight. WHose hall in Boston now exists on teh old Scott property, right on the foundation of the old house.” Armitage stood and said “Fine, come with me”. He led us behind the stacks and past a section of locked-in books. There we came to a vault, and Armitage called for the head of the Natural Philosophy, for they must turn keys simultaneously to allow the spindial to turn, hence opening the great seal. In this room were scores of old and ancient books. Armitage made direclty for a particular book and brought us up to it. It was a copy of the Necronomicon, only a different version from ours: everything was in a different order and there were less pages in it. He opens it to where the ribbon lie, and said "This will explain Azathoth. It says ‘The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones will be. Not in the spaces we know but between them. They walk surene and primal. Undimensioned and to us unseen…’ He read of a foul being names Yog Sothoth then, and said “Azathoth is some kind of a deity. He has existed before creation. Some say it had a hand in the creation of the universe. It dwells beyond normal space and time at the center off an existence where it’s body writhes unceasingly to the monotonous pipings of a flute. Other gods and servitors dance mindlessly around Azathoth to the same music. It is blind, insane and an idiot. It is the antithesis of intelligence. But the Great Old Ones worship him.” This impressed upon us it’s power. Atwater “So he is really a deity?” Armitage “Yes, and Cthulhu is his chief priest.” Jack “So Cthulhu is the High Priest of Azathoth.” Armitage “Yet Azathoth is not the one you need to be wary of. Though keep inmind that some say all of this, our bodies, the air around us, is all made from Azathoth.” Will “If that’s the case, why do those like Cthulhu try to destroy everything?” Armitage “He does not wish to destroy everything, only us. And bring the world back to the point where he and his kind are the rulers of the earth. No one, no human, no mortal worships Azathoth. If they did, they would be beyond insane. Are you saying you found someone who was worshiping Azathoth?” Here John read him the John Scott’s line from his copy of the incident. Armitage sais “But if you are going to delve into this, Azathoth my friends is still not the one you need to worry about.” Will “Cthulhu”. Armitage “NO not Cthulhu. Cthulhu sleeps.” Westinghouse “On R’yleh.” Armitage “Yes. The day he rises from the ocean is the day humanity ends.” West “So what do we need to worry about if not those 2?” Will “Yog Sothoth?” Armitage “No…(and in a whisper) Nyarlathotep!” Will “Ah, the trickster?” Armitage “Nyarlathotep is the chief instrument of Azathoth, yet some say he controls Azathoth. Some even say all the different gods worshipped by the Great Old Ones are but elements of Nyarlathotep. He is all of them. Keep in mind, when you read about Satan and look at Christian theology,every aspect that looks like Satan is Nyarlathotep. He is the only one. The others were less than ants, nothing. He, however, likes to play with and torment us. He likes to pick a subject and watch them writhe. Yet he is somehow constrained. Though it seems at time he could take away everything with the sweep of his hand, he is somehow constrained. No one knows if he simply likes to have humans to play with, or if there is something else holding him back. There are many incredibly complex plots to bring back the Great Old Ones that seem inspired by Nyarlathotep. Like he refuses to act on his own, only through other, rarely directly. Yet then you find there are legends of him appearing before cultists and doin horrific things. And he does not have one form, but many. They say a thousand. He could look like…you (pointing to Atwater) or you (Theolonius). So, that’s what I can tell you.”
Westinghouse “So can our researchers have access then?” Armitage “No. You may have total access to our open cult collection, and if you need specific information I can assist you in the Forbidden research, but free and total access? I cannot allow that.”
I then said to Will and John “All right, then. Get some research done, men. Myself, Atwater, and Jack are off to the Pickman house.”

At the house, Jack strode directly to the door and gave it a strong knocking. To our surprise there are people around the place. The man answering the door gave us a “Who are you?” to which Jack replied of course “Jack Burton”, as if all of mankind should know the man well. The dour looking man in black clothes replied bewilderingly “Who?” Jack retorted “Jack Burton, ME.” He explained he was here with the movers to clear the house. The Pickman’s are very wealthy, and he mentioned that “the family helped finance the illfated Antarctic Expedition last year”, something of which even I will my voracious reading of the news was not aware of. He continued “They plan to tear the house down.” I asked “Where does the rest of the Pickman family around here live?” He answered “Up on Beacon Hill,near town.” We tell him we are here to simply give it a general look around, as we are former admirers of R. Upman’s work. We found the weirdness of his art interesting and hoped to come across some of his inspiration on his home." He said “I can see you are just more or less thrillseekers for the bad reputation. Go on, have your look around. Can’t hurt anything now.”
We made straight for the basement and found the tunnel, which was certainly dug out and went much deeper than it now does, but is filled in partway down. In the dirt of the floor were footprints surely of Bishop-type Ghuls! A colony perhaps, much like under Bishop’s cemetary in NYC. This colony must have been where he got his models from for his life portraits of the foul creatures.
One of the workers we pass told us that all of Pickman’s art that remained in the house, that was not burnt as we read previously, already has been purchased. The buyer is information the family wishes to remain a secret.
We next went to the room he was last seen in, and locked himself into for some time, and seemingly disappeared from. I make a careful search of it first, before anyone else entered. There were obviously bloodstains in the room, and at a cursory glance the only window would have seemed nailed shut so as to seem to have left no exit for him but for magical means. Jack “No arcane signs anywhere, though.” Myself “The only other person here was the maid, and she insists no one else came in and no one came out.” Without a chimney of a size enough for a man to climb through, and no secret door in evidence, I gave the window a closer glance. Upon unlatching the window, it pulled up with little effort! The cheaply made nails having been sheared in half by a great forceful opening of the portal, without tearing through the wooden frame. I conjectured “Perhaps Ghuls made off with him? Or that he was indeed changing into one himself and made off.” Will “Anything outside the window?” Indeed there were what are now recognizable to us as clawmarks on the windowseal…on the outside. There was present also on the outside an unsettling dry film, as if from an oily substance, in splotches around the bottom and sides of the frame and on the window itself. I continued to look in further detail and then gave a close inspection of the ground below the window. The clues, and lack thereof, could naturally lead to only one conclusion:
There was no sign of anything on the ground below the window, but something landed on the ledge outside the window, resting on large sharply clawed feet and proceeded to tear the window off of the nails. The pressure of that pull likely pushed the claws of the feet so deep into the wood, not to mention clinging to the frame in any case. It then likely got what it wanted, Pickman presumably, and escaped by flight, for no evidence of a climb by such claws up or down the wall outside existed.
Will “So what do we know that flies, has powerful claws..?” to which I replied “Only that creature John blasted to death with his shotgun at Central Park the night of Cthugha…The Nightgaunt it is named I believe?”
Jack said “Someone should have a look in Monster’s and Their Kind when we get back to the library”. To which we at this point made our way back.

We found that the research team was not yet finished, so we dined while they worked. By late evening we met and they discussed their findings:
-On the Nightgaunt from Monsters and their Kind, I paraphrase the text: Shocking and uncouth black things, smooth and oily surfaces, horns curved inward toward one another, batwings whose beating makes no sound, ugly prehensile paws and a barbed tail that lashes needlessly, they never speak for they are w/o face, only a suggestive blankness where a face ought to be. They clutch and fly and tickle (is this a mistake or mistranslation?), that is the way of the Nightgaunt.
So, the oil gives it away as a certainly in my mind, a nightgaunt took Pickman away. Whether willingly or unwillingly we do not know. The library does not contain a copy of this book, of course.
Will"and he bled severely on the way." Theo “There was blood in the room”. Armitage “He must have been injured. Also, Nightgaunts are known for dropping their victims from a deadly height. But no dropped body has been found” Will “So it probably did take Pickman with it.”
As far as researth of the Twilight orders:
-Theolonius, knowing more old languages, took the Renaissance Knights. They were an offshoot of the Teutonic Knights, and also known as The Knights of the Outer Void. They were believed to be pure evil by those who knew of them, and rumors come down to the present of their continual existence. Theo says the still-in-existing Knights Templar are fighting a secret occult war for the side of right against the Teutonic knights. They went out, in history, with a bang. Their HQ was assailed by eastern orthodox priests and their followers, burning all the Knights of the Silver Twilight at the stake. They were said to have been performing magic when they were attacked.
-Will researched the modern Silver Twilight. It was started fairly recently, having as yet unclear connections to a group in NY called ‘Look to the Future’. A woodcut of the old John Scott shows amazing similarities to the modern John Scott, but no evidence of courseness of skin with the old Scott. The current meeting hall is indeed built almost exactly where his old house was, and today’s John Scott though called a ‘Noble Philosopher’, but in a newspaper clipping, the writer says he personally overheard him, unbeknownst to the members, having been called Chief Wizard. The founder is a person named Carl Stanford.
-Father John took up the task of searching more on the oldtime John Scott and his cult. His search turned up dry for some time, but then found rumors of tunnels underneath the old Scott house! Some of the raiders ventured into them, and several never saw the light of day again. He also randomly came across a mention of the ghuls of the Bishop type. There are natural ghuls, which do indeed breed with each other. These are NOT undead. There are also stories of them kidnapping human children, and that those who eat the food of the ghuls for an extended period of time and live with them can eventually turn into a ghul themselves. This may be what happened to Pickman.
Will “What about this theory, that John Scott of now is the same, and his pockmarks are because he was burned at the stake. They may be scars left after whatever regenerating power healed him.”

By now it was almost dark, and I invited Wilkinson to dine with us, telling him “I’m anxious to learn more about this Hyborean Age Theory and the language Aklo. It has some connection to us. The stone tablet in Boston was written in the language, and some names from our Mythos were mentioned by you to John and Will as having existed in the Age. Particularly Yog Sothoth and Nyarlathotep.” He agreed wholeheartedly and we gathered at his home until quite late. “The Hyborean Age was a continent that lie before the great flood, on our world. It lie somewhere around Greenland of now and was ruled by a prehuman race. There is a book, called The Book of Ebon, written by a wizard Ebon from that time. The book is a wealth of arcane knowledge, containig a detailed account of his exploits and journeys to various places,, including a planet named Shagai.”
Theo, “A travel to a planet? That far in the past?”
Wilk “Yes. ALso his magical formulas, such as for the slaying of certain otherworldly horrors. Only incomplete fragments of teh original are thought to exist. In addition, Hyborea became the land that a northern race of human barbarians came from when they moved into the area that is now roughly Europe. The greatest hero is known by the name Conan, said to have fought the Great Pld Ones and put them back to sleep for 10000 years.”
Westinghouse “Amazing. We owe him much. So you know of and believe in the Great Old Ones of the Mythos?”
Wilk “Surely. They are well known among the philosophers and professors who believe in Hyborea, which isn’t many admittedly. One of the reasons for the Antarctic Expedition was to uncover evidence of prehuman races.”
Westinghouse “The one ending in death to most who went.”
Wilk “Yes.”
Theolonius “And Pickman’s family helped fund it.”

We made our way back to our hotel only to find Cassandra not in her room. Will immediately raced to find her and thankfully she had not gone far. John and Will found her having tea on the hotel’s first floor with a woman unknown to us. Cassandra introduced this as Myra Brooks, and that she came here to meet with me. Ms. Brooks, an pretty woman of 19 wearing a respectable black dress, would like help research her family. Her father’s died of TB a year ago, and she has been researching her family’s geneology as his dying wish. She then gave us the letter left to her by her father. She explained she hails originally from Insmouth though now lives in Arkam. Her inroads at Insmouth have been met with silence and threats to her life. I know of Insmouth, and it is told as quite a terrible place of criminals and desparate thugs, not a safe place for a respectable woman. And indeed she said she obviously feels very unsafe there. She knows her true grandfather was adopted by a widow named Peggy Brooks. Her grandfather’s true father was a fellow named Bartholomew Tagg, the keeper at Skivern Rock lighthouse. This lighthouse I know to be long abandoned and surrounded by dangerous waters and rocks. Her granfather’s mother remains a mystery. She hopes an investigation of the lighthouse, in which the last person to live was her great grandfather. Westinghosue “And all in Insmouth give you the old cold shoulder or worse?” She replied in the affirmative and here she handed me a sketch of her family tree she has compiled. I handed it straight to Atwater for his take, “Dear, everyone dies so young. Look here.. This one at 20 something, this one 36. Here,what, 35?” and he pointed out to us all the birth and deaths of many dead before there time. When questioned about this, she said only that her family may suffer from some terrible hereditary disease. I reminded everyone of the well known ‘Insmouth Look’, a peculiarity of the citizens of the small town: large eyes, a flattened sort of nose, and oddly thin heads. Perhaps a link between the family disease and whatever force causes such a look to the denizens of Innsmouth.
I heard Jack give an untimely joke aside to Theolonius about Brooks being ancient Latin for Bishop. She pleaded here “So, will you help me?”
I replied “Certainly”, and she said she had only $60 to pay us with. I told her “We are only doing some ongoing research at the moment, you catch us at a moment of availability.” Cassandra was noticably joyful at this, and when Theo asked if the 2 knew each other Cassandra said they did not. Though it is apparent that the kinship of similarity, such as of hereditary disease, seems to have forge a quick bond between the two.
As we began to talk amongst ourselves, Myra and Jack kept to one another. It soon became obvious the two had some fledgling amourous feelings right quickly. I then heard Jack ask Theo to ask Father John if he wouldn’t mind sharing his room with Theo. When Theo did so, John replied sarcastically “I don’t know, a Catholic and a Budhist…” Theo “It will give us ample chance to study the profane books together. Doing the real work that could save our lives”(this line directed with a glance at Jack).
Now I turn we for the night. We will get some extra rest through the morning before departing for Insmouth.
At midmorning tomorrow the entire group of us will make the short trip to Insmouth by hired carriage, the town being only 6 and a half miles from Arkam.

We made our way first to Dr. Wilkinson’s home, so we could all meet and speak with him about this Hyborea and a possible connection to the Mythos. He was not at home, but at the college where we sought him out. At our arrival he was teaching a class, so myself and Will quietly entered and stood in the rear. He went on about ‘strange mysteries of the world’ and how one must not jump to conclusions about them because much is not what it seems’. He then saw us and said “Ah, more students. There, in the back, there’s room, there’s room.” 45 minutes later he finished up, and Theolonius had to wake Jack up from a slumber.
Now recognizing Will and John we make all acquaintences. “Ah, you’re the chaps who were here late at night. I didn’t recognize you at first in the light of day! Well come come, let’s go. We goingn to have another adventure, eh what?” Westinghouse “We need access to the great occult collection at the Library here, sir.” Wilkinson “Oooh, no one can see the occult library.” Westinghouse “We were hoping you could get us in with your authority.” Wilk"not likely, but I’ll introduce you to the head librarian, Henry Armitage."
We made our way there without much small talk, and there met Armitage. A man in his 40’s wearing quite large glasses. Wilkinson quickly begins to go on and on about monsters in the night, to which Armitage replied “Wilkinson, you must’t excite yourself so. So, gentlemen,how can I help you?” Will began for us, saying"We would like to take a look at your occult collection." To which I continued but carefully “We have been doing much investigation lately in NY and Boston, dealing with cults and experiencing many strange things.” Armitage asked “What do you wish to read? What tome and forbidden secrets are you after?” I answered “Particular tomes we do not know, but subjects we have. The order of the Silver Twilight, in at least Boston. A Renaissance order called teh Knights of the Silver Twilight.” Armitage informed us “You don’t need the Forbidden Tomes for those. Our regurlar occult library will be sufficient for you.” I asked him if he is wellversed and knowedgabe in the occult himself, and he said he was. I went on to tell him openly of the John Scott tale and the attack on his farmhouse, including the two terrible names he reportedly spoke aloud: Cthulhu and Azathoth. Armitage insisted “Those are things you, nor no other mortal, needs to know about”. Father John tells him of our discovery and reading of an unknown copy of the Necronomicon. Theolonius said later he gave him a secret Iluminati sign, to which Armitage made a reply but in a manor several years out of date. He continued “The things you wish to read about are beings that people have been trying to let in to wipe out the human race and drag the earth off to some nameless place for a neameless purpose” Theolonius asked “So you believe in them?” And Armitage replied “I have seen the Dunwich Horror.” Theolonius drops Archimedes’ name and of his viewpoints contrary to the Iluminati. Armitage explains that he left the Iluminati years ago for similar reasons, and “You’re Archimedes seems like a wise man.” THeo “He is, and he has chosen us to do this work for him”. Armitage “The Ilumoinati is very shortsighted. They see all of this as one thing, and they are wrong.” Theo “We know, that’s why we need to investigate further and put a stop to it. They will not.” Westinghosue “We could use help from, and the rescources of, any ally we can get.” Armitage considered this all for a moment, then “So you want to know of Cthulhu?” Theo “As well as Azathoth.” Westinghosue “And what they have to do with John Scott and maybe the Silver Twilight. WHose hall in Boston now exists on teh old Scott property, right on the foundation of the old house.” Armitage stood and said “Fine, come with me”. He led us behind the stacks and past a section of locked-in books. There we came to a vault, and Armitage called for the head of the Natural Philosophy, for they must turn keys simultaneously to allow the spindial to turn, hence opening the great seal. In this room were scores of old and ancient books. Armitage made direclty for a particular book and brought us up to it. It was a copy of the Necronomicon, only a different version from ours: everything was in a different order and there were less pages in it. He opens it to where the ribbon lie, and said "This will explain Azathoth. It says ‘The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones will be. Not in the spaces we know but between them. They walk surene and primal. Undimensioned and to us unseen…’ He read of a foul being names Yog Sothoth then, and said “Azathoth is some kind of a deity. He has existed before creation. Some say it had a hand in the creation of the universe. It dwells beyond normal space and time at the center off an existence where it’s body writhes unceasingly to the monotonous pipings of a flute. Other gods and servitors dance mindlessly around Azathoth to the same music. It is blind, insane and an idiot. It is the antithesis of intelligence. But the Great Old Ones worship him.” This impressed upon us it’s power. Atwater “So he is really a deity?” Armitage “Yes, and Cthulhu is his chief priest.” Jack “So Cthulhu is the High Priest of Azathoth.” Armitage “Yet Azathoth is not the one you need to be wary of. Though keep inmind that some say all of this, our bodies, the air around us, is all made from Azathoth.” Will “If that’s the case, why do those like Cthulhu try to destroy everything?” Armitage “He does not wish to destroy everything, only us. And bring the world back to the point where he and his kind are the rulers of the earth. No one, no human, no mortal worships Azathoth. If they did, they would be beyond insane. Are you saying you found someone who was worshiping Azathoth?” Here John read him the John Scott’s line from his copy of the incident. Armitage sais “But if you are going to delve into this, Azathoth my friends is still not the one you need to worry about.” Will “Cthulhu”. Armitage “NO not Cthulhu. Cthulhu sleeps.” Westinghouse “On R’yleh.” Armitage “Yes. The day he rises from the ocean is the day humanity ends.” West “So what do we need to worry about if not those 2?” Will “Yog Sothoth?” Armitage “No…(and in a whisper) Nyarlathotep!” Will “Ah, the trickster?” Armitage “Nyarlathotep is the chief instrument of Azathoth, yet some say he controls Azathoth. Some even say all the different gods worshipped by the Great Old Ones are but elements of Nyarlathotep. He is all of them. Keep in mind, when you read about Satan and look at Christian theology,every aspect that looks like Satan is Nyarlathotep. He is the only one. The others were less than ants, nothing. He, however, likes to play with and torment us. He likes to pick a subject and watch them writhe. Yet he is somehow constrained. Though it seems at time he could take away everything with the sweep of his hand, he is somehow constrained. No one knows if he simply likes to have humans to play with, or if there is something else holding him back. There are many incredibly complex plots to bring back the Great Old Ones that seem inspired by Nyarlathotep. Like he refuses to act on his own, only through other, rarely directly. Yet then you find there are legends of him appearing before cultists and doin horrific things. And he does not have one form, but many. They say a thousand. He could look like…you (pointing to Atwater) or you (Theolonius). So, that’s what I can tell you.”
Westinghouse “So can our researchers have access then?” Armitage “No. You may have total access to our open cult collection, and if you need specific information I can assist you in the Forbidden research, but free and total access? I cannot allow that.”
I then said to Will and John “All right, then. Get some research done, men. Myself, Atwater, and Jack are off to the Pickman house.”

At the house, Jack strode directly to the door and gave it a strong knocking. To our surprise there are people around the place. The man answering the door gave us a “Who are you?” to which Jack replied of course “Jack Burton”, as if all of mankind should know the man well. The dour looking man in black clothes replied bewilderingly “Who?” Jack retorted “Jack Burton, ME.” He explained he was here with the movers to clear the house. The Pickman’s are very wealthy, and he mentioned that “the family helped finance the illfated Antarctic Expedition last year”, something of which even I will my voracious reading of the news was not aware of. He continued “They plan to tear the house down.” I asked “Where does the rest of the Pickman family around here live?” He answered “Up on Beacon Hill,near town.” We tell him we are here to simply give it a general look around, as we are former admirers of R. Upman’s work. We found the weirdness of his art interesting and hoped to come across some of his inspiration on his home." He said “I can see you are just more or less thrillseekers for the bad reputation. Go on, have your look around. Can’t hurt anything now.”
We made straight for the basement and found the tunnel, which was certainly dug out and went much deeper than it now does, but is filled in partway down. In the dirt of the floor were footprints surely of Bishop-type Ghuls! A colony perhaps, much like under Bishop’s cemetary in NYC. This colony must have been where he got his models from for his life portraits of the foul creatures.
One of the workers we pass told us that all of Pickman’s art that remained in the house, that was not burnt as we read previously, already has been purchased. The buyer is information the family wishes to remain a secret.
We next went to the room he was last seen in, and locked himself into for some time, and seemingly disappeared from. I make a careful search of it first, before anyone else entered. There were obviously bloodstains in the room, and at a cursory glance the only window would have seemed nailed shut so as to seem to have left no exit for him but for magical means. Jack “No arcane signs anywhere, though.” Myself “The only other person here was the maid, and she insists no one else came in and no one came out.” Without a chimney of a size enough for a man to climb through, and no secret door in evidence, I gave the window a closer glance. Upon unlatching the window, it pulled up with little effort! The cheaply made nails having been sheared in half by a great forceful opening of the portal, without tearing through the wooden frame. I conjectured “Perhaps Ghuls made off with him? Or that he was indeed changing into one himself and made off.” Will “Anything outside the window?” Indeed there were what are now recognizable to us as clawmarks on the windowseal…outside, so I continued to look in further detail and then gave a close inspection of the ground below the window. The clues, and lack thereof, could naturally lead to only one conclusion:
There was no sign of anything on the ground below the window, but something landed on the ledge outside the window, resting on large sharply clawed feet and proceeded to tear the window off of the nails. The pressure of that pull likely pushed the claws of the feet so deep into the wood, not to mention clinging to the frame in any case. It then likely got what it wanted, Pickman presumably, and escaped by flight, for no evidence of a climb by such claws up or down the wall outside existed.
Will “So what do we know that flies, has powerful claws..?” I replied “Only that creature John blasted to death with his shotgun at Central Park the night of Cthugha…The Nightgaunt I believe?” Jack said “Someone should have a look in Monster’s and Their Kind when we get back to the library”. To which we now made our way back.
0:50:39

As I write this the afternoon of the 7th, we are on a train to Arkam to continue our investigations there. We now know from Wilkinson that Arkam has what is known in occult circles as the best collection of the material in the world, and others at the University besides himself steeped in the study. We have many loose ends:
We can use the rescources at Arkam to research the Silver Twilight further; We must look inside Pickman’s house ourselves. Where did he travel too and why? What were ghouls doing in Arkam and why were they with the Angel? Is Bishop connected there as well? How did he come to possess Pickman’s paintings; We need more details of the beings named during the speech in the record John discovered at the church and that Wilkinson named as being in his texts on this Hyborean Age, all which were introduced to us by Theolonius upon his arrival at the behest of Archimedes.
I note that Cassandra stayed in our hotel from the time we rescued her and travels with us to Arkam. Will thinks only of keeping her safe from her elusive brother, and she is certainly safest with us. The fact remains that she is not entirely sane, and may still be a danger to us should her brother’s insintance on her joining him some day win her over.

Speaking of the fiend himself, Atwater and Father John spent yesterday socializing at the Silver Twilight hall and saw something startling, which they barely believed at the time. A fleeting glimpse like a phantom: Bishop himself, for only a moment if that, walking the stairecase to an upper floor! To Boston we must return soon, and investigate the hall of the ST further.

I now take the opportunity to detail what information we discovered in our research in the last 2 days, research that causes us great consternation:

Library: Atwater searched in the yearly catalogue of fraternal organizations and found no mentio of them whatsoever in even the newest edition. Are they trying to maintain a low profile? Theolonius consulted all books on the occult he could find, including a tome on, troublingly, demonology that mentions in passing a group called the Knights of the Silver Twilight that existed as far back as the Rennaissance.
Church Archives: John made great headway here. He discovered a slim volume, a journal of sorts as it is written in longhand that is an account of a raid that took place on the farm of one John Scott…in 1721! The author is a Clyde Wibbel, who was a participant himself. It states that the attack was provoked by weird sounds, chants, graverobbing and strange foreigners about all linked to Scott. It records a speech by someone, though from the context it is likely Scott himself, that was being given at what surely seems to be a cult gathering from the description. It reads as follows: ‘Do you dare imagine things as they can be as indeed they can be when the earth is transformed and the illusion of reality is erased from the minds of men by the annihilation of these minds?Do you live in hope to see Great Cthulhu stride teh earth, do you dream of the throne of Azathoth, of joining the flutists who dance there forever? Purify yourselves then, for these and greater things await you who are members of our terrible order.’ Obviously, the known Mythos names of Cthulhu and Azathoth give it away as not just the occult or supernatural, but the Great Old Ones themselvs. It is abundantly clear, from this and the Bishop history now, that it is not just New York, but this whole area of the New England coast at least that has been victimized by the insanity of the Mythos for centuries. As if the area is a hotbed, a nexus of their activity for whatever reason. The depth of our fight grows ever deeper, its breadth ever wider. John spent a considerable amount of his time copying this text so we would have every detail at our disposal.
Newspaper records: Will research capability coninues to be prolific. He discovered an advertising paper, like an announcement, called “Look to the Future” by Carl Stanford, he of the Twilight we assume. It lacked any further information however. This Silver Twilight is looking ever more nefarious. The intuition of Will and myself concerning the members we noted is becoming dreadfully accurate. In digging deeper for the name, he found a Karl Sanford from an article 80 years ago who was being sought for questioning in the case of a missing infant. This reminds us of what McElroy mentioned of unsolved missing persons cases over the last several years. For God sake, this tide grows stronger at every report. He also found an news article on the attack by an angry mob on the John Scott farm from 50 years ago, saying Scott was a reputed warlock. Additionally, in yet another connectin to the Silver Twilight, just a week ago it was reported “the startling disappearance” of a man named James Clark. He left his home in the middle of the night and “vanished into thin air”. It then notes that "he will be missed by his brethren at the Hermetic Order of the Silver Twilight. No one at the order mentioned this during our visit.
For my part, Archer and I found a suitable location for an office, and were permitted on reputation and with a recomendation from McElroy to sign a promissory note to send the first month’s rent within 30 days, rather than up front, as we do not have the funds with us at the moment. At the realestate office, I decided to mention the old Scott farm to an old gentlemen who was an assistant. He said he remembers the place, and that the location is now that of the very hall of the Hermetic Order of the Silver Twilight! Is there something about the location? Something under it perhaps? About the land itself? I pray their goal is not to open some sort of gateway that lies on the plot, as we closed to end the heatwave, spewing forth foul monsters or worse. There is danger and deception all around us, but we are on the scent. Aside from Jack, Theolonius, Will and Atwater, 2 people only can we trust beyond all doubt I think: Friday and McElroy. Anyone could be a member of one of these Mythos Cults, they seem to abound. We know they even connect in some way to Egypt because of Cassandra’s visit there. Hopefully, Archimedes has found his other men, those which Theolonius when he first came to us told us this man of vision was searching for, and others elsewhere have taken up the cause of blocking their machination as we have. The world could very well end on any given day if not.

We all firmly believe Archimedes’ side of his quarrel with the Iluminati, and that is the damnable misery of it. Why does he have to be right?

The plight of Boston is at an end, the malignant being summoned by Mauve Murphy destroyed, at least so far as a mortal can do so, and the people of the city oblivious to the true horror of it. So much about its true existence remains a mystery.

On the 30th, John and Will departed for Arkam. John to make inquiries with Wilkinson, and Will to invenstigate a name from the Bishop case linked to Arkam: R. Uptan Pickman. The rest of us scouted the Bishop house, a walled property with a large stone house in the center. We only wanted to find and site it, so headed back to Mauve’s house for more discussion. We found her sitting silently in her living room chair. The place had been attacked, furniture turned and things flung about the downstairs. She said the avatar had come and attacked her. From the moment we began talking, I, in front of the rest of the group with Atwater, deduced something about Mauve was amiss. Something different in her voice. Atwater moved in closer to her to check her apparent wounds, and I noticed Theolonius walk to my left, seemingly observing the mess in the sun room but in truth I could tell he sensed the same thing I did. As I spoke I casually flanked her with Atwater, who had taken my subtle hind and leaned to give her a shot for her pain, which was in fact a deadly dose of morphine. She, it in fact, sprung to attack, transforming into a hideous thing with pointed ears, 3 fingers, 4 toes, and far larger than any of us present, or any man I had ever seen. We all felt a shudder in our very psyche and soul at such a terrible sight. Hauer and Jack were in front of it about 10’ away, myself and Atwater to its left and right, respectively, and Theolonius behind me when the melee began. It first struck at Jack as he Hauer moved back next to Eddie. We attacked with full force but could do little. It made an amazing leap forward, clearing Jack’s head easily, and landed upon Hauer tearing into him. At that point, Atwater attacked with the cold iron blade and the beast wailed in surprise and pain. Jack drew the .38 and fired 3 shots hitting once but wounding it clearly. The creature fled at this point, and Hauer seemed dead. Atwater however worked a practical medical miracle on a man with a bleeding jugular and saved the man’s life. My dear friend’s medical skill astounds me on a regular basis. I do attest we would be at a greater disadvantage if we should lose him to our foes than any other one of us, as would those we endeavor to help against the malignancies of nature we have made it our duty to contend with. We took Hauer quick as we could to the nearest hospital, then stopped at a restauraunt for lunch. We walked the city discussing our case until dinner, at which time we made our way back to the hotel. After dining, Jack stayed at the bar for the evening, John and Theolonius continued their studies and the rest of us stayed in their room for safety. Hauer’s amulet is now black, so he may be safe from direct assault. If so, Eddie is next on the avatar’s list.
The night passed uneventfully, so I will now detail Will and John’s visit to Arkam.

Will found that the man to see about Pickman is a Mason Ward, a dilletante patron of the arts who has a flat in Arkam, a thriving college town and home to mine and Atwater’s alma mater Miskatonic. Will sat with Ward for some time, and the man was obviously troubled, a “queer sort of fellow”. He was a friend of Pickman’s right up to the artist’s disappearance 6 months ago. He refuses to ride the NY subway and never, ever, goes into cellars, reminding us of the terrible cellar of Bishop that housed Pickman’s paintings. He stated that there are things concerning his friend he is not willing to reveal, although without having been there I think it may more accurately be stated ‘am not ready to admit I have seen’. There was a creature that was in many of Pickman’s paintings, one in particular of him standing in the studio for a full body portrait. A picture that he happened to notice at his friend’s home by mere chance. He had heard what sounded like rats in the in the walls and floors. At this point Ward began to become more and more fertive about Pickman and his work.
Will asked “Where and why did he vanish to, voluntary and involuntary?”
“Both and neither. I stopped seeing him after the photo. You have to understand,” he said excitedly, “Pickman caught the essence of horror like no other has, or hopefully will again. He touched upon something real unimaginable. Somehow, someway. It was truly amazing, but terrible at the same time. A genius!” He made statements like these several times throughout Will’s discussion with him, as if scared of and worsipful of Pickman’s talents simultaneously. Pickman vanished about 3 months after Ward saw the photo. Ward went to see him only once more in those 3 months, and found him that night locked in his room. He tried to speak to his friend through the door, which Pickman opened only a crack and briefly. He said very little, was very curt, but as he closed the door Ward saw that the hand of Pickman upon it had skin of green, mottled and having only 3 fingers, just like the creature in the photo. Ward fled in mortal terror. The police were called when the landlady became nervous that Pickman was not eating, for 4 consecutive trays of food left outside his door were not touched. They broke there way into the room when there was no reply to their calls, and found it empty. All the art in the room, or at least a few dozen paintings, had been burned in the fireplace.
This is the point that it becomes most interesting for our investigation. Ward then got up from his seat, walked to a drawer in his desk, and revealed the photo. He had taken it, so no one else would ever see it. An honorable and brave deed to keep such a thing that frightens one so deeply. It was, as I suspected during Will’s account and as Will no doubt did during the meeting, it was an identical creature to Bishop’s ghouls. Will then told him of the paintings we saw, and Ward insisted those paintings were originals and a one of a kind, for Pickman never made copies of his masterpieces.
So, the facts lead us to believe at this jucture that Pickman was associating with ghouls of the kind Bishop commanded, was tranmutating into one himself, and along with an unknown number of his works likely travelled via a gate of some kind he created in the tunnel dug in the basement to an unknown destination. Bishop then in some manner came to possess some of the paintings.
Father John, meanwhile, found Wilkinson at Miskatonic. He is known as a fussy old man and considered a bid insane. At first, when John asks him about Aklo and mentions the tablets, he was sure it was a prank, which he must suffer somewhat regularly for his ‘heretic’ archaeological beliefs. As John showed him the rubbing, he was saying “This stupid forgery isn’t even…” upon which he looked at it and froze gazing upon it.
“Where did you ever get this?”
“From a shop in Boston.”
“Quite an unusual shop.”
“A second similar one was lost in a fire at another shop where a man was killed.”
“Come, to my apartment. We must speak in confidence.”
He led John to his house, and on the front door was carved an odd symbol upon a metal plate which John later explained to us is the Elder Sign, a symbol typically used, if created correctly, for closing gates and warding certain creatures away. One of the most important weapons in combatting the occult which neither he nor Theolonius are capable of creating, at least not yet. When John asked him about it, he said “It’s the silliest thing, it is there only for friendship’s sake. I was contacted by an old black African who had heard that I had certain information on the Hyborean Age, so because of his like interest I let him study with me. He spent 6 months here in the spare room upstairs. He gave me the plate and put it on the door when he left.”
In there meeting, Wilkinson mentioned names we have heard before within his texts of this Hyborean Age, such as Yogsathoth and Nyarlethotep whom it says is one and the same as ‘The Dark Pharoah" and Crawling Chaos, the abomination with 1000 masks. It also speaks greatly of a hero by the name of Conan. He was speaking of Conan when the maid came upstairs and said a man named Will had arrived and greatly needed John’s presence downstairs. Will had tracked John down and getting to the house just before 9PM noticed a Bishop ghoul lurking in the bushes outside. As he waited for John and Wilkinson, he watched through the window and spotten no less than 4 as well as the Dark Angel from Boston, after we had ‘killed’ the creature at Mauve’s house. Just then, a friend of Wilkinson came walking up to the house. They rushed him in with all haste, as this man named Fletcher began taunting what he thought were only ruffians in the shadows. Even throwing a stone at them. He and Wilkinson turned out to be too brazen for there own good, as they attempted for a good ten minutes to insist they would allow no trespassing and pranks on Wilkinson’s very property, ‘by God.’ They remind me of Roosevelt if he had no control over rashness and carelessness. They were finally talked down, especially when they themselves finally got a good look at the creatures. Wilkinson should keep to studying his subject in his own home and the university, he would die in a single day in the field where we make our living.
Wilkinson translated the rubbing, and it was indeed the spell Mauve said it was to dismiss the Dark Angel from this world and never return for a hundred years. It should take a maximum, depending on the readers skill, of one minute to utter. A very long time in a fight. They stayed overnight, and John and Wilkinson went over the spell time and again, syllable by syllable, until John had it memorized well. Only an hour after they had started, one tragedy of the night was unavoidable. A poor student Fletcher identified as Wagstaff strolled up the street, likely on the way home from a party or girlfriend’s and was attacked and killed by the ghouls by ambush. Will and John could do nothing, knowing they faced insurmountable odds with the Angel there as well. All the more reason to put a stop to this foul thing as soon as possible.
Before sunrise, John tested the spell from an upstairs window that gave him a good vantage point of the Angel. As he recited the house began to shake, and the Angel fled quickly between houses and out of sight. It knew precisely what was going on. The ghouls then skulked away. John then left for Boston the next afternoon, while Will sought police to question who had been present at the breaking into Pickman’s room.
They told of an odd smell in the room, and found a hole in the basement wall. Approximately 10’ in the dirt became softer as if it had gone further but fell in. In the basement were childlike drawings and sketches. One officer, a rookie, had the fortuitous forethought that these may be important though his elders shrugged them off without a second look. He even made sketches of them himself, and without hesitation gave these to Will. He said they also found what seemed to be pieces of blank canvas in the fireplace, but no paintings.
Will took the train back that evening. We procured leg manacles of chain and a lock, to use on the creature should we need to secure it while the spell is read.

Next morning, the 31st, a message came early from McElroy. They had discovered where the Crimson Gang was hiding, and had already surrounded them. “Get there fast” it concluded. It was an old plant of some kind, totally encompassed by police and militia. McElroy put us in the second wave. Inside we had a small skirmish with some of the gang before the Angel itself attacked, in a room where we had Malone trapped. We rushed in and the battle was joined. Theolonius made for the creature and put the shackle on its leg, which I secured at the other end to a heavy file cabinet. Unfortunately, Jack got caught up in the action ruined everything. He fired off almost all of his blessed ammunition from Mauve, and combined with what little damage the rest of us did in order to keep it busy while John read the spell, ‘killed’ it, leaving us to face it once again. Knowing we must now delve into the sewer after it, but not knowing how long it needs to reform on this world, or whatever it does after slain, we rested until after dark and made our way to investigate Bishop’s house. Will was very excited at this, as he was anxious to find and rescue Cassandra. He would not disappointed with the excursion.
In the darkest corner of the property, Theolonius climbed over the wall and dropped a rope for the rest of us. Through a lit window onto the first floor, a large multi-paned window, we saw into a large study and library. Inside the pale creature was clearly visible! Jack and Theo crept closer as the rest of us waited in the dark and in silence. It carried a wine decanter to a person sitting in a chair (we immediately hoped and assumed Bishop), its back to us. Pulling a bellpull it summoned 2 men into the room dragging a third person between them. It was Cassandra, held by either arm and tossed to the floor. She said something to the one in the chair, who then smashed the wine glass to the floor. The person in the chair stood up and twisted her arm, indeed it was Bishop! Two disgusting creatures then walked into view next to Bishop. Dogs is what they seemed to be, but without skin as if they had been turned inside out. Theo went back to the group to call us forward and in his absence Jack fired a shot through the window, hitting the Pale. We rushed at the shot as Bishop ordered the humans to take Cassandra away. As we attacked it led her through the door they had entered and closed it behind them. The dogs met us as we crashed the window in, followed by the Pale. Bishop fled behind his men carrying Cassandra. A terribly difficult fight ensued, and we came out of it severely bruised and beaten. All fought with the utmost bravery. The dogs at the window were a struggle, and eventually some us were able to slip past. Theo and Jack engaged the Pale inside as we battled the dogs on the porch. Soon as a gap opened Will made to follow their path with Cassandra. I followed leaving the fiends to John, Atwater, Theo and Jack. The Pale was having a good way with Jack and Theo, but as Will and I went through the door, Theo changed tactics. Using his greater mobility and the spacious room to his advantage he stayed just ahead of the zombie, who was concentrating on him, as Jack began to unload blessed rounds into it. It was not his best day of shooting however. Whenever it would turn toward Jack, Theo would hit and run, taking the creatures attention again, and again using his greater mobility to keep his distance. The Pale was a very slow creature and the tactic worked well if only to keep Jack and Theo alive rather than kill the Pale. John and Atwater continued a bloody combat with the final hound.
Will and I ran down a long passage sloping downward until we finally caught up with them. Bishop sicked his men on us as he took hold of Cassandra. We made quick work of his men, and as we were finishing them off he tossed her down and made his escape. The 2 of us helped Cassandra up and made our way back. When we returned to the study the battle with the Pale was still on and Atwater on the floor. “Atwater!” I yelled. John and Atwater had killed the last hound and John had retreated with grievous wounds. I gave Cassandra fully over to Will and pulled my own pistol and fired. It hit the Pale in the temple, dropping it dead to the floor, finishing off what Jack and Theo had weakened. Theo and John got to Atwater and found him alive, thank god. We made our way back to the hotel.

The entire day of September 1st we rested. We were exhausted and beaten after battling the Angel and Bishop’s devils in one day, John and Atwater especially bad. Theo and John read their dark books, while Will and I read the papers at the library, plotting out the deaths of the vagrants on a map. With this we could detect the area the Angel must be living, and where we will venture to slay it.

When we awoke yesterday, the 2nd, there was a knock on the door, McElroy came to inform us that the ‘Mad Ripper’, as the papers are calling it, somehow got into the hospital and killed Hauer while he lay in his hospital bed the night before. It smashed through the window, falling 3 stories, and fled. McElroy had taken Hauer’s amulet because Hauer was so frightened of it. “I had it, I looked at it, kept it in sight. Me and 4 of my best men at my apartment were armed with pump shotguns to ambush this bastard. We are waiting, and seeing the amulet turning darker and darker. We know it’s getting closer, can feel it. Then, the amulet disappears. At the murder seen you know what I found?” At this he tossed the black amulet on the table. He figures they were all mesmerized while the killer got the amulet and went for the hospital
He says “the cpt. wants you guys out of Boston. Too many people are dieing around you boys. But before you leave I’m planning an excursion tonight.”
Westinghouse, “Well, by chance so are we.”
“If your interested you can tag along with us then. We figured out the part of the city where it stalks, and we plan to patrol the streets all night with our pumps and kill this thing.”
“I think its you tagging along with us, my friend. For we have narrowed its haunt to a specific block of the sewer, and shall delve underground tonight to destroy it once and for all.”
Jack, “This way we can kill it before any others are killed. No sense waiting for it to come to us.”
McElroy turns to Sgt. Nick James who is with him. “He’s the best shot on the force. What do you think Nick?”
Nick, “Lt., I think this expedition into the sewer is just the right idea.”
McElroy, “Well then, you think you can scrounge up a couple more men to help? This isn’t overtime, strictly vulunteer, and it’ll be wet work.”
Nick, “I think I can find us a few brave men. My brother-in-law is one.”
McElroy said he would tell the Lt. we would be leaving that day, took us around NY to see the sights. We briefed him over dinner about our ritual and how the fight must unfold, and Jack relates proudly too the officers how he ‘killed’ it last time. We then split up and as night approached we prepared our necessities, met McElroy at the designated entrance with his 6 men. A regular Sgt. Friday is good Lt. McElroy.

Though still bruised we simply could wait no longer, or the creature would appear in our very room since I myself was the next target, and my amulet was growing blacker by the hour. We were mostly able to walk 2 abreast. I took lead with Jack who held a bullseye lantern and his pistol, with Theo directly behind with McElroy carrying his shotgun. Following them were 2 officers with shotguns ahead of the still injured Will and another officer, the still seriously wounded Atwater and Father John with the tablet ahead of James who also held a shotgun, who stood in front of his brother-in-law with a pistol and lantern and the final officer holding a shotgun. I was able to track the monster by unusual and large spore and quite disgusting slime trails. It led to a fork where I could not tell the direction at first. Jack went left and thought he saw an area the creature went past, a small blood smear. Upon looking closer, it was only a dead rat. “Just a rat, everyone. That’s what I thought, just needed to be sure,” Jack said in his way when he knows he was wrong but can’t admit it.
Looking to the right, I noticed a bloodstain on the wall. It was this direction we continued, anc came upon a larger, circular drainage room of waste high filthy water, with a mound of muck built up in the middle. On top of the mound we could see the nesting outline of a huge body as well as human remains, bones cracked open and the marrow sucked out of them, rotting chunks of partially eaten flesh and the like. A disgusting sight and it is for the better the officers did not witness this. The first 4 of us had entered, with the next 2 in the entryway when the Dark Angel attacked from the rear with a splash seemingly out thin air in the 10’ wide tunnel.
As the Dark Angel attacked, it faced the two rear officers. Surprising us all, it struck the officer with the shotgun behind James’ and eviscerated him in one swipe of its terrible claw. McElroy moved toward the rear, and Will and Atwater, readying his medical equipment, retreated into the drainage room followed by John preparing to begin the ritual spell. The officers with us blocked the entryway, and the 2 remaining men in the rear holding firm in their resolve fired their weapons, with James hitting ineffectually. They then backpedalled as stalwart old Jack moved in behind them and readied his shotgun. He was followed by Theolonius who moved to the front of Jack, readying to attack. The creature stepped forward and attacked James, who thanks to his panicked defense was only hit once in the Angel’s furious assault, though even that hurt him badly. Theolonius made a smooth as silk move past the creature, evading his glare and now stood at the creature’s rear. We all in the front held our position as the combat continued, our men trying to hold the creature off as it strived to cut through them to get to John and I.
McElroy fired over the heads of his men in rear, the Angel being a large enough target to do so, but missed as Jack unloaded both barrels and missed badly and Theolonius began attacking with his Kung Fu, though to no effect. The creature now went for James’ brother-in-law and dropped him in a bloody heap. Atwater would rush to him at his first opportunity, but found him to be dead. John then began reading the spell, tablet in hand, skillfully to our ears but said later he started poorly until he shook off the ferocity of the encounter.
James’ brother-in-law retreated as James stepped up and fired to no effect. Jack reloaded his weapon yelling “keep ’im busy Wang!” to which Theolonius replied with a great spinning kick to the creature’s spine, the first attack to noticably jar the Angel, but the acidic slime coveringg its skin burned his foot. The creature made its way a step further and turned its attention on McElroy, hitting with its claw causing the Lt. to yell in pain, bleeding from his side. John continued his recitation, but again saying later it was poorly done. McElroy, took a step out of the creatures range next to James, now behind Jack, and fired another barrel to little effect, as did James. His brother-in-law missed with his shot. One barrel of Jack’s misfired, but his second was solid and tore a pieced of flesh from its gut which the creature painfully reacted to. A quick swipe in retaliation was deftly dodged by Jack. Theolonius now made a leaping kick to the creature’s spine again, and again caused it to reel from the hit. John now began to read with great grammatical precision and voice, a difference we all could discern as soon as it started. The creature had at this point advanced forward with our tactical steps back so as to safely fire far enough now that our men could not afford such moves anymore. Still, McElroy and James fired but the bullets bounced harmlessly off the Angel’s skin. As the creature made a quick swipe, taking advantage of their lack of defense firing in such close quarters, but missed. Theolonius in an instant took advantage of this move and made a shocking attempt at tripping the giant with a low sweep of his foot. This kick succeeded and the creature fell to its left, landing on its shoulder. Jack, in such close quarters, pulled out his knife in an amazing show of bravado and lept at the monster, stabbint it in the upper arm with his knife. It should be noted how these 2 fought like men possessed in this battle, showing not the least bit of fear or concern for their own safety. As it lay reeling from Theolonius’ and Jack’s assault, John finished the spell. It’s eyes opened wide, Jack said afterward, and looking straight up at him let out a deep, anguished and stretched out roar that sounded like “NO!” It burst into flame, a ring of fire around it. It then growled “You’re all dead men!” and continued burned until nothing remained, a process that less than a minute, after Jack looked up to Wang and yelled triumphantly, “I killed it again!” Good old Jack, wrapped in a fog.
Atwater checked the wounded and we made our way to the surface. On the walk back, McElroy asked us if we do this often, and we said it is the sad truth of it. He advised that we open an office here in Boston, and even had a man in mind to run the place while we are all in NY, an out of work but capable detective named Bill Archer. We decide this is a good idea and shall do so as soon as possible. McElroy, though he has never experienced the supernatural before, now says upon looking back at some cases he fears there is a need for us here, “for instance there have been a rash of disappearances recently. 2 this year, 2 or possibly 3 last year if I recall correclty. A mix of persons, no pattern I can discern at the moment.” He says Archer has no kowledge or experience of the supernatural, but can take mundane cases to keep the business going since your name on the door will likely draw business. The cover story printed in the papers is that the police cornered the Mad Ripper at the docks, and killed him but lost the body as it fell into the river.

Once back at the hotel we all washed like we hadn’t since invading the lair of Bishop’s ghouls under the cemetary, and slept until early this afternoon. With no pressing matters, we stayed today as well since John and Atwater both remained a bit the worse for ware, and received a visit from McElroy in the afternoon. He had been invited to a gala at a local lodge called the Hermetic Order of the Silver Twilight and was permitted to bring a few guests with him. This got the quick attention fo Theolonius and John, as they knew it rumored to have some dealings in magic. ? accompanied the Lt. that evening simply to check things out, and made small talk with many of the members. Membership is divided into degrees, as is common in many such fraternaties and guilds, with the 1st being the lowest.
Will and I, in comparing experiences with the patrons, made note of a few of interest: Edward Call, a local physician and obviously a fairly high ranking member. He was very pleased to meet us, and said we would make quite fine members indeed; John Scott: having the title of Noble Philosopher and Chief Wizard of the lodge. He is a young but funny looking chap, with pockmarked skin attributed to a rare family disease (again!) though Atwater could not place it. Perhaps we should be suspicous, or have our experiences as of late made us paranoid? I tend to trust our instincts; Carl Stanford: very much in the higher circle, and a very congenial man, knowledgable and witty. We all took an immediate liking to the man, and sat to dinner with him. He and Scott do not seem to get along well at all.
We have decided to stay on a few more days in order to investigate the Silver Twilight further. Tomorrow, John will begin a search through the church records, Will the newspaper archives, and Atwater and Theolonius the library. I for my part will meet Archer and with him search for suitable accomadation for our Boston office.

In the morning I was the second to wake, for when going into the hallway for the paper I noticed Theolonius sitting on the floor in front of his room’s door in the hallway meditating. I collected the morning paper and orderred breakfast for myself and Atwater. Before it arrived, Father John entered and read from scripture as I did the paper, which held news of some importance. Two appauling stories from the night before. Feeney has been killed, found dead in a flea bitten hotel all the way in Philidelphia, PA, ripped to pieces. Additionally, there was a vicious rampage at Digby’s shop, for it was practically in rubble and Digby himself dead at the scene. It reported otherwise only that there was an open manhole near the rear entry of the building. Will then burst into the room, saying that he had just awoke, went to get the pendant from the safe and found it gone! Father John and I looked at one another and we both knew where it had gone, and knew the other was fully aware as well…back to Eddie Clark by mystical means. The mundane is gone, what we had hoped against hope is in tatters. The occult is fully at play. Then, from the hallway Theolonius said “It will be with Eddie Clark”. We finished eating, and realized Jack was still absent, still fast asleep. Theolonius woke him and we proceeded downstairs to begin the day. At the desk I had a message awaiting me. From one Miss Margaret Millen stating that a friend recommended me, she was in grave danger and received the enclosed sign of what she believes to be her death. It is one of the pendants!
Atwater and myself revisited McElroy, who already knew of Feeney as well, and said they found a pendant like one that disappeared from evidence in the drawer of Digby’s desk, but is is jet black rather than red. The papers have picked up on the story of a ‘slasher’ at large. This creature, whatever it’s nature, can obviously travel great distances with rapidity, and John, Theo and myself agreed it must be the pendants. They are like a mark one can not be rid of, which the creature is able to hone in on. Possibly even instantly transport itself to the target. One positive is that this must be the limits of the capability, since it obviously escapes the scent by normal locomotion into the sewers. Hauer should be next, followed by Eddie Clark.
I instructed Will to go and pick up Clark and Hauer both, and see if he would discover this Miss Millen as well, and explain that they were grave and immediate danger and must join us with all haste. There only hope is our assistance. The rest of us travelled directly to Mauve’s house, a 5 room flat in south Boston. Knowing she feared for her sons life over the matter, we simply knocked and were let in. Her house was impecible, fine furniture, lace, fine china and a well kept garden in the back. She appeared very nervous, and got right to the point knowing already who we are, as it were.
“I will tell you the full truth of it all if you will try to save my son, a fate worse than death is in store for him if you can not.” She then led us to her sun room near the back of the first floor. Occult and Mythos were abounded. Herbs, books (including one specific I saw titled ‘The Book of Ebon’), pendants, pentagram carved into the very wood of the floor, an iron blade approximately 12" long lie on the table with runic signs. She bade us sit around the table, and proclamed to be a sorceress (John and Theo later commented that upon looking into her eyes, she was totally insane). She had been collecting Mythos since she was a young girl and came across the tablets. One summons an avatar of a being called Nyarlethotep, the other is the incantation to send it away. She summoned this Dark Angel with the whole ritual but for the final words, which she gave to her son, as well as the words to send it back. Using these he could summon the Angel if he were ever in grave danger. He did so during the police raid but in th chaos and horror of it all he lost the spell to be rid of it and forgot what he did remember. He is absolutely terrified. Part of the spell, the binding, did not work properly. Eventually, the creature will come to kill those who brought it.
This would of course be a fitting end to these Murphy devils, if not for the fact that the creatue is killing innocent vagrants as well, and that Mauve continues to use the amulets to target her own enemies. To this, she expained that she knows how to create them herself. The summoning is imbued in them, and the first to touch it is marked and can not escape the Angel. It can even teleport to the victim (confirming our original hypothesis). She sent one to me in the alias of Miss Millen, the witch, meaning that I now am marked as well. This is not a woman of much forethought, for only a few hours later she now asks fo rmy assistance! One tablet will send it back, and our luck has is that it is the one that is remaining in Hauer’s posession rather than that lost at Digby’s. A break!
She says the creature must be present with the reading of the tablet for the duration. It is very difficult thought not impossible to hurt the creature with common weapons, and even then it is usually minor at that. She showed us the aforementioned blade, explaining it is made of cold iron. It will cut through many sorts of daemons. She also has a .38 which is loaded with 6 bullets with a powerful blessing on them. Both of these she gifts to us, promising she will teach one person the ritual to bless weapons in such a way, but it takes longer than we have to dally. We promised to do what we could to save her son from the Dark Angel, but the law will have it’s day with him. At that, she bade us good luck.
We headed directly to the telegraph office, and with great luck once again had received a response from Rathbone. It said it is most likely a language called Aklo, of an ancient land called Stygia, from before the Egyptians were in Egypt. The idea is arhaeological heresy itself, though the language has been somewhat deciphered, cracked by a Professor Wilkinson at Miskatonic. Luck again! We shall pay him a personal visit tomorrow.
At the hotel, we found Will awaiting us with both Hauer and Fast Eddie. We went with Hauer to his shop and collected the tablet, and he and Eddie will stay with us in the hotel overnight.
Father John and Will have procured tickets for an afternoon trip to Miskatonic tomorrow.

We awoke the next morning at our hotel in Boston. After breakfast, we split our forces to cover more investigative ground. Atwater and myself went to police HQ to see if we could find a friendly officer with knowledge and hopefully even a first hand account of the raid on the Crimson Gang. When we arrived it turned out to be quite a scene. Directly in front of the building, and an adjacent side st., are closed to all street traffic due to the presence of two hundred militia in full gear w/ a machine gun complement that Atwater identified as a maxim and at least two gatling guns, plus an artillery piece. The force is encamped there, just sitting around for now but at the ready to destroy the Crimson Gang should they be sniffed out once again. The city officials are certainly not fooling around by any stretch. They mean deadly serious business. Once inside I introduced us to a very nervous secretary at the front desk and we were able to talk our way into seeing a Lt. McElroy, one actually present at the raid and currently in charge of communication with the public. The perfect man for us to see!
I introduced us as independant investigators from NY, and after making certain I knew my license did not cover Boston, he nonetheleess conversed with us at length. He tells us that the police are on full alert around the clock, nothing routine in this investigation, for revenge over the seven slain men is on the lips of the entire force. He believes Jeff to be an honest boy, having encountered him before, but that his story was unfortunately not the whole story, and he hopes the boy will be back with the paper soon. I decided this was not a man we needed to talk a circle around to get him to assist us, so I asked directly about the gang. He volunteered he was indeed there and that he himself witnessed several friends killed, but “that maxim can kill it not doubt. Whatever he…it was. Daniels did more harm than good bringing it to public attention.” I pressed him about the talismans and threats sent to the art dealers, and the creature, to which he replied “The story is bogus, of course there are no talismans or the cops didn’t get them. This whole thing is a fucking joke, one big fucking joke. Ha Ha. Don’t you see the joke?” He inisisted in this same double sided manner that it was a prank upon the art dealers. “Webb (the editor who fired Jeff) got threats, that’s a joke too. Twenty wounded cops now in the sanitarium, all insane! And the mayor and comish say ‘nothin’ supernatural here’. All a big fucking joke. Go talk to the art dealers. I talked to Anthony Hauer. Knows nothing about no letter. Go see him.” He then handed us a card, saying to show this to any police we should attract the attention of during our stay. He wrote a signed message on it, saying any officers should consult him before detaining us over any matter. McElroy is obviously in the know about the real problem here, but can’t make an obvious admission. He could become quite a trusted friend and ally to us. It is a shame that his blissful ignorance of all things occult has been destroyed forever. Still, he avoided the insanity which overtook so many of his collegues. I could tell during our conversation he is happy we are here.
He allowed Atwater to see the bodies, and escorted me into the interrogation room for full privacy with the collected evidence. Good man! Only a few of the bodies were killed by bullets. The vast majority had been gouged with large bite and claw marks, much larger than those in NY killed by Bishop’s man-sized abominations. In the private room he then told me the police took both talismans, but upon opening the evidence boxes they were missing. Again the Lt. said with an exasperated smile “What a joke. Nope, nothin’ strange goin’ on here.”
Meanwhile, Father John travelled to the Jesuit church via cab and met with a Father Michael. He related to John the details of the cops’ confessions (when I asked John about this breach of ethics, he said he asked the Jesuit the same, to which he replies "In the world you and I live in, we can not play by the same rules against occult and Mythos as we play by otherwise). They all said the creature was bigger than a man, was extremely fast moving, with red eyes glowing like a lantern, and bullets had no visible effect upon it. The creatures attack left a whole in their lines which the gang escaped through. He suggested John go to the asylum himself and interview some of the officers. He sent a runner with a note for us to the hotel, and went there. After using psychology and hypnosis on a few select men, he was able to get a detailed portrait of the creatures appearance, and an account of a small group of officers who had actually followed the monster our of the building and down a dead end alley. When they got there, they saw only a manhole cover slid partially off. The creature may be hiding in the sewers.
One last note, John also asked Michael about Bishop. Michael said he knows of the estate by that name. "It is on Beacon Hill, on only a half acre of land and within the city limits. An old mansion, with a private cemetary attached to the back yard for family, friends and servants alike. I have no knowledge of these ghoulish creatures being linked to it, however.
On his way back to the hotel, John’s cab was followed by another. Upon making a final turn for the hotel it passes, very briefly John saw a large and mishapen, but human, hand with a scar around the wrist, pull back through the curtained window. Could the pale creature from Bishop’s Cemetary be here following us? I can think of no other that it could be. Our element of surprise upon Bishop may already be lost.

Meanwhile, at the Leader, Will and Jeff spoke to Editor Webb, who referrs to Daniels as the ‘college boy’. He said he had indeed received threats over the article. When he left that night, while waiting for a cab, he felt a gun in his back. Then the man with the gun asserted that Webb better retract the story if he doesn’t want his guts all over the street. He believes the voice to be Malone’s, as Webb had interviewed Malone during his three years in the state penitentiary seen and heard the man previously during his newspaper career while covering previous arrests. Webb stated that he still only killed the story because “McElroy insisted he do so because the story was not true, and I don’t run flimsy stories. College Boy should have gotten approval first at any rate.”
Malone was in prison for felony robbery, and during a transfer was rescued in a deadly attack by his gang (as yet not called ‘crimson’) in which both guards were murdered. He was caught again, but again made a daring escape with help from outside. It was about one and a half years ago they became known as the Crimson Gang, for they proudly boast themselves that they leave blood not witnesses. As far as the Hauer and Digby, some leads had showed the cops had visited them, but that was a “practical joke, not real.” Daniels, aside to Will, continues to insist that something deep and dark going on here.
Concerning the raid, Webb claimed to know nothing more than the official report, and knows nothing of any Bishop family. As Will and Jeff left, they overheard Webb yelling over the report of another vagrant found dead. Daniels then mentioned that since the raid 2 days ago, a vagrant had been found that night, the next day and now another today. Of the first two, one had been nearly beheaded and the other split open from neck to crotch. It befuddles me how so often in my profession such facts fail to occur to people until well after they should have been detailed. Especially the likes of Daniels, a reporter!
At the abandoned building that was the site of the main incident in question, Jack and Theo found that a small police presence remained. They easily got into the building, though, by making it to the roof of an adjacent building and jumping the gap. I’ll have to remember their athleticism in the future, lucky we sent them on this particular mission.
They old factory is three stories, and the building adjacent from which they lept is deserted as well. The only door on the roof was unlocked and upon searching the inside top to bottom they found nothing but bullet holes, huge gouges in some of the walls (from the creature), poorly washed bloodstains and the like. They did not find the one thing we were hoping for that might give us some clue with which to research the creature: absolutely no occult symbols or evidence of arcane ritual whatsoever. Jack and Wang then snuck back out, made their way to their cab and drove for the hotel. They quickly saw that they too were being followed, so Jack took the reigns and made his move getting behind the other and a chase began, which unfortunately ended with Jack crashing through a sidewalk stand and losing the purserer. Wang’s tip top perception noticed an old looking woman inside as it galloped past before turning a corner, out of site.

We all met back at the hotel save Father John, but we received his note. Sending the runner back to him with our own plans and to meet Will at Hauer’s shop, we had lunch and proceeded. First we checked the alley where the creature was last seen, and found a manhole slightly ajar with shallow marks in the iron, seemingly from claws. It’s talons must be extremely strong and sharp to leave even shallow marks in solid iron.
I then dispatched Jeff, Theolonius and Jack to see Jeff’s informant on the threats to the art dealers, a low level street operative of the criminal financing underworld, while Atwater and myself made for Digby’s shop, the art dealer who first turned the threatening letter into the police.
On his way to met will, John was again followed but the turned a corner behind him as he pulled up to Hauer’s shop. Outside he met Will and they entered the establishment. They easily met with Hauer personally. He told them “there is really nothing to tell, the cops said so”. Will then insisted he explain the situation further, but got little until he slipped the man $20 “for a tale”. Hauer then told of an old chinaman who offered him a stone tablet for $100. It looked like the real thing so he purchased the artifact. Just a few days later he received the death threat, but threw the letter away. The red talisman that came with it he had simply been using as a common bookmark! The poor ignorant man. While we have yet to discover the talisman’s deeper meaning, we can assume thanks to our previous exploits of late it is nothing to toy with and could have no goodness associated with it. He spoke to Digby, who had also been sold a tablet, and they notified the police. The officers took the talismans from each of them (which recall had disappeared from police evidence). At this point he revealed he still has the tablet, but only allowed Will and John to study it for another $2. Will studied it inteltly for some time, for his memory is truly photographic. He and John then left for the hotel, but were not followed so far as they could descern.
Digby’s shop is obviously the more successful one. More items, more that I could tell were new and so quicker turnover, not to mention more customers in the store. He has his own cashier and does a brisk business. We were able to talk to him in person as well. He believes Hauer to be a lowlife. He too, but without a $20 bribe, told how he bought his tablet from an old chinaman. He said he has seen such writing once before, dated by an archaeologist acquaintance of his to before the pyramids, quite old indeed, but it is of no known civilization. “An age undreamed of!” he put it very excitedly. What the tablets use is he could not even guess. He knows an archaeologist at the British Museum named Rick whom he has been planning to contact concerning the matter, but has not done so as of yet. When asked, he identified the man as none other than Rathbone himself! This man Rathbone and I must meet again in the future, for his path continues to indirectly cross our own, and I do not chance to coincidence. At length we took a good rubbing of the tablet. I will interject now our comparison of the two tablets, our rubbing and Will’s detailed memory. One notable difference: Hauer’s tablet, in relief, goes from high relief to low relief from left to right, while Digby’s is just the opposite, higher on the right and fading to the left edge.
Upon leaving, Atwater and I were being followed. “Do you see what I see Westinghouse?” “I do indeed, Atwater. Let us make a game of it, and hope we have a skilled driver”. I ordered the driver to press hard around until we turned a corner and saw a vacant cab. I yelled for our driver to slow and then accelerate for several blocks. As he slowed, Atwater and I lept our and into the new cab. Atwater paid the man hansomely, and as our tail passes us, we became the follower and it the followee. It did not take long for whoever it was to realize they were now followed, for they took evasive action. Our driver did a heroic job, getting close enough to allow a sight inside as it turned in front of us. Inside we saw what appeared to be a fat old woman, but to our dismay she lost us over the next several blocks.
We went straight for the telegraph office and wired Rathbone with the little info we had, hoping he was at Cambridge or at least London and could respond soon with more specific information on the tablets and their cryptic writing.
Meanwhile, Jeff, Theo and Jack arrived at the rowhouse of young Jeff’s contact. Jack peered into the keyhole and saw nor heard no sigh of the man, Eddie Clark. They waited one hour before they saw the raif come skulking up the street. They allowed him to enter hir room and then Jeff knocked. Clark gruffly asked who it was.
“It’s Daniels”.
“Why are you bothering me again?”
“It’s about the tablets.”
“I’ve got nothin’ else to say to you about that.”
At this point, not being the sort for finesse or patience, Jack broke the door down. Clark, terror tricken, made for the kitchen counter and grabbed a cleaver and a large knife. Theolonius then lept past Jack and, using his eastern martial arts skills, made quick work of the man, poorly armed for someone the likes of him against Theolonius. He was quickly knocked out and tied up. They woke him up with a dowse of cold water, and convined him to talk only under the oath of Daniels that none of the three would tell a soul.
The tablets belonged to Malone’s mother, Mauve. She did something for her son to help his career, and he changed his name to Malone to protect her. His real name is Murphy. Something bad happened at the shootout with the cops. She herself had created the Crimson Gang for one reason, to get her son out of jail. This was done for the most part by way of blackmail and several heists solely to accumulate bribe money and hire a quality crew and materials. Malone then killed his fellow cellmate. On his way to arraignment the gang caused an accident, a wreck in the street, and attacked killing the police guards and rescueing Malone. His mom is very proud of her son, taught him all he knows. Clark was able to tell them where Mauve lives, and asked “You know Jimmy Feeney? Bailey? Both were in the gang. Baily was beheaded by that Dark Angel at the shootout. Mauve brought it about to ‘protect my boy’. Feeney saw his pal Bailey killed by that thing and was gonna kill Pat Malone, er…Murphy. That caused a falling out to the point that guns were pulled. Ma was there and stepped in, told Jimmy to leave her boy alone. He left, and she gave Feeney the tablets though she says he stole them. Feeney gave ‘em to me ’fore blowin’ town. So I sold them to those two fences.”
“Fences?” Theolonius inquired.
“Them two art dealers, Digby and Hauer. They made up that chink story (he looked at Theo after this remark, but Theo being calm as ever Clark continued) to cover their fencing activity. Anyway, Mauve starts screamin’ about her sons life bein’ in danger after the shootout, and she needs those tablets back for whatever they have to do with it.”
“So Mauve sent the threats,” Jack realized.
“I’m sure she did. She gave Jimmy a pendant too, ‘fore he left, maybe the same one. She said it was a gift just to show no hard feelings. What the pendants mean or do I don’t know.”
That being enough, they went out the back fire escape to protect Clark. When they to back onto the street, they saw that carriage that had followed us shadowing them as they drove off. It followed only a minute then turned back. They did the same, but by a different route so as to sneak up on Clark’s place again. They listened through the door and heard Eddie talkin’ to Mauve herself, who must have been the old woman following us earlier. Eddie asked what she wanted of him, to which she replied “You’re causin’ me great grief. Was thinkin’ about havin’ my boy take care of ya, but I’ll make piece with you. Who were those men, and why do you look like the put a hurt on you?”
“They were just some guys I owned money to, and I didn’t have it all.” She proceeded to say her goodbyes and gave him a pendant just like those given to Digby and Hauer. Jack and Theo immediately went back into Clark’s room for the pendant. We all met back up at the hotel at this point, had supper and turned in. It is at this point that I write this late. I often sleep less when on a particularly peculiar or, these days, dangerous case. I turn in now to get what sleep I can. We have been permitted to lock Clark’s pendant up in the hotel safe.

I write this on the evening train, as we are all on our way to Boston for another strange and seemingly supernatural case. I must admit I was hoping, nay praying, for a much longer respite from these affairs. It is tiresom and draining on the mind much more so than on one’s body. I can see it in all my commrades in arms as well as myself. We can only hope this case is not a long and tangled affair such as the last, but rather one with a quick resolution.
Atwater, myself and Will were at the office this morning finishing paperwork on our last mundane case, when a young man entered. He wore thick, bottle-lense glasses and by his accent it became immediately obvious he came from Boston. The young man, named Jeff Daniels, was an intern reporter at the Leader, a paper of Boston, and a student at Miskatonic University, my own and Atwater’s alma mater. He had heard of the Westinghouse Detective Agency by way of Roosevelt’s generous words in his yarn to the media after our previous case, and by word of mouth that we look into the ‘weird’, as he put it.
He said he has recently been fired over a story he wrote, and handed me a copy of the issue with the story in question. It that of a police action that had gotten some coverage here in NY, which I had of course read. Seven police had died and many were wounded assaulting the hideout of the Crimson Gang, with many gangmembers killed as well. They encountered no opposition until inside, and there are several accounts, ergo rumors I say, of what happened, including that the place was booby trapped throughout.
The Crimson Gang is one of the most notorious gangs on the east coast, responsible for many bank robberies and other felonies, and quite indiscriminately kill along the way. The Boston police have sworn retaliation for their dead, and a reward of $2800 has been offered for information on they and their leades whereabouts.
Daniels was put on the story because “pretty much everyone at the Leader was involved”. His story, unlike any other on the matter, included an account by an anonymous officer involved in the raid giving mention to some sort of creature which rampaged through the complex, and it was this creature that is responsible for most of the deaths of both police and gangmembers alike. This officer insisted that others who survived also saw it and that bullets could not harm it. It then disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared, but the chaos it caused allowed much of the gang to escape, including their leader Malone. Daniels’ story was retracted the day after it ran as a hoax and he was fired the same morning. He asked us to investigate in order to clear his name and save his reputation and education in the process. As much as we desire time away from such investigations, we must not pass them up all the same. No one else could take up the cause in our stead, and we can not stand idle while such a creature may be on the loose.
Daniels also mentioned how he, following up two leads in the art underworld, found two artists who had recently received identical death threats which were accompanied by red talismans with symbols on them, which upon Daniels describing what he knew of them could be occult symbols. These artists, named Hauer and Digby, deal somewhat in ancient artifacts. The police had taken the evidence but have no other leads so far as Daniels knows.
We agreed to take up the case, and we can now possibly kill two birds with one stone, since this will give us an opportunity to investigate Bishop and his estate in Boston. After our meeting with Daniels, Will and Atwater went directly to Cassandra’s to procur Bishop’s address. but found no one home and her luggage missing. Under a table and addressed to “Will Darling”, Atwater found a note signed by her. It states how she is feeling pressure from all sides, and she must get away for a while. She is going west but hopes to return in a few weeks. The final part reads thus:
“I’m going west,
please don’t try
to follow me.”
In asking at the front desk of her building, they were told how two strange looking men had come and Cassandra left with them. Upon seeing her handwriting, I could easily tell it was written with a scared and anxious hand. The underlined parts lead us to believe she is trying to tell us she heads east. We can expect this means to Boston and Bishop himself by chance, and a rescue mission may be on our plate as well!

It is now almost 2 weeks since the end of the heatwave and the demise of poor Fava, and we have been busy since. Atwater and myself have had 2 cases of actual normalcy, but our ongoing study has proven fruitful. For my part, I have ran chemical tests on the dust from the Bishop Cemetary. It adheres to nothing, not a grain, unlike any other powder which you would hold in your hand and dump out leaving some grains stuck in place. Otherwise, the composition has eluded me. The research of Theolonius and Father John in our two books given us more. Writing on the dust from tablets appear in the Necronomicon twice, one written backwards, both in a ‘mythos tongue’. In Latin it is called Essential Salt. The words are some form of incantation using the salt. You speak the words over the salt. What happens and what it is for is not specified. Further analasys is necessary.
Very troubling is the fact that Will is spending less and less time with us and more with Cassandra. Her role in all this, as well as in Egypt, is still unclear. She has spoken more about her brother however: he has done very evil things, and belongs to a group of like minded people. He and the pale white creature from under the coffin are back together again, it even brought a message to her, a warning to join her brother. She refuses but is very afraid. As far as she knows, he is no longer in contact with his ancestor (it is upon telling Will this that he said she let forth one of her impromptu and very inappropriate laughs) or his ghouls, whereupon Will told her “I do have some friends who can stand between me and him.” Interesting choice of words, my friend. Most importantly, she informed Will that Bishop has a walled estate outside of Boston. A lead!
Father John and Theo found additional information in the books as well as the NY and university libraries:

• the Crawling Chaos seem to be another word for some demon/god/thing named Nyarlathotep. It is also known as the God of 1000 names, God of the Bloody Tongue, and the Bloated Woman. So it seems he is the force behind the Bloody Tongue Cult of Africa.
• The Spear Cult has a connection with some being named Nyogtha
• The hieroglyphics on the statue in the bar is a corruption of arabic: ‘The thing is not dead which has the capacity to exist eternally and if the abnormal/bazaar ones/things come then death may cease to be’. Theo immediately recognized that line in the Necronomicon, in english translated from Magyar. In some variant or another it has been seen on artifacts as far back in time as ancient Egypt on hieroglyphics. A more poetic version, which he found, is the earliest known.
• The name Yogsothoth does not exist before the mad arab. He sat in on satanists in arabic chanting Yog Satha, meaning the ‘strange/abnormal ones/times/things coming’. Also called ’he who could not be named.

By God how harrowing these last few days have been! As frenetic a time as I have ever experienced. I have had no time to write until now, after the riotous end to it all 2 nights ago. I shall now tell of the events to the best of my recollection, but the sheer volume of the action, made a thousand times worse by the unnatural heat, makes it difficult at some points to recall on which day a particular occured. It all begins to run together. I shall piece it together, however daunting a task.

On the morning affter my last entry, we received a personal visit from Commissioner Roosevelt. He asked us for our assistance in a matter of grave importance. The heat wave was creating a tense situation throughout the city, but ever more so in the tenements of the lower class. The head of the local ice company was pushing prices high, the homes were like ovens and water was scarce. Our job was to patrol the area and put to rest any tense situations we may come upon, and offer any assistance we could. Atwater offered his expertise as a doctor and good old Jack offered his services to haul away the enormous amount of dead horses in the streets. Also on this day, Cassandra called Will to lunch. He stayed with her all day, dined out, and spent the night with her. Unfortunately, he could not coerce her, however skillfully, to discuss anything of her brother or Egypt. Will spoke of her chilling laugh, which at times was inappropriate for the circumstance, one again as if some part of her mind were damaged. (During the following days patrolling the tenements, we broke up a fight that was boiling between a group of Irish and a group of Germans, stopped an angry mob from attempting to get past the thuggish guards in front of the ice company and steel what ice they could, as well as a few others squabbles.)
We then went to see Fava at his home, but found that he was missing. A servant informed us that he had said he had things to do with several friends at the Hall that night. After finishing dinner, we left for the Legion. Though evening, the heat was unbearable and it was not until dark that we arrived after several stops to rest. What we found was a locked and guarded hall, and the guards would not let even Will pass. We knew we had to get inside, so Theo and Jack muscled our way in. The door to the auditorium was locked and we could see smoke coming out from under it and terrible screams from the other side. Upon reacing for the door knob, Atwater instantly withdrew his hand as the door was red hot, so we used a piece of furniture to ram our way in. The scene inside the room I will never forget. There stood Fava, in the center, a large drawing which Theo and Father John later called a summoning circle, staring as if hypnotised by something unseen, with a look of wild in his eyes. His two friends were completely covered in flames, flailing in agony. As we tried to save them and get Fava out, Theo swore he saw a strange sight. Against the wall on one side of the room was a flame that seemed alive, reaching for things and igniting them. Just as he saw it, it imploded in a sense, as if pulled back through an invisible hole from where it came. This could only have been one of the fire vampires! We pulled Fava and his friends, as well as the burnt up pages of Fava’s book, though we agreed it could not have been more than several pages. The police arrived shortly, and after some questions we took Fava home, the nature of the fire unexplained.

The next morning, we received by messenger an urgent note to come to Fava’s house as soon as possible. Upon our arrival, we saw a worried group of servants and a ranting Fava. He seemed to be going mad. His description of the events of the previous night did not give us much: He summoned his friends to attempt to act out a ritual in the book. When he did, the room and his friends went up in flame. He could remember nothing else, it was all a blur or he had blacked out at some point.

The next day, I paid a visit to the hospital and found that one of the burn victims was alive, but probably not for long. He could give me nothing useful. Will received word from McGillicudy that Goodwin was attempting a coup of the Hall, seeing this as his chance to get Fava out. Will and the rest of the group went to the Legion Hall and found the dastardly Charles Goodwin there, gathering supporters as he ranted about the unstable Fava. We knew that only Fava’s presence would quell the matter.
Received a letter from Roosevelt that tenements were only getting worse, along with the record breaking heat, and something drastic must be done. Atwater came up with a brilliant idea: open the fire hydrants to help cool the citizens down. Additionally, open the park grounds all night with a patrol, so that people are not crammed into their furnace-like little rooms. Roosevelt was, of course, “BULLY!” to all this, and quickly started the wheels in motion. Now that it is all over, those decisions must have saved thousands of lives.

Over the next 3 days we continued to help in the tenements, and the situation with Goodwin was getting worse. Father John came up with a desparate solution, he could try to hypnotise Fava and see what his subconscious remembered. Fava could only tell us what he already had, mostly. He had torn a few pages out of his copy of the book to perform the ritual, gathered his friends, and then the fire as he said before. Upon waking the next morning, he discoveret that the rest of the book had been stolen from his house. Atwater was finally able to get Fava released, and we went to the Hall. There, as Goodwin tore into Fava, Fava seemed to convulse in the face and suddenly unleashed a terrible spell, quite literally melting the face of Goodwin before our very eyes. Somehow, we were able to convince the board to vote in a temporary leader in McGillicudy.
We continued on our way to take Fava home when we were ambushed. More cultists, but of a different sort than the Italians, accosted our wagon. Wearing red hoods and wielding wavy-bladed daggers, 2 jumped from a rooftop and knocked our driver off the wagon. As we reacted, the attackers ripped his throat out with their very teeth! Assuming they were after Fava, we kept him inside w/ Will, as Theolonius engaged the attackers, Jack went for the drivers position, and the rest of us took up defensive positions around the wagon. Myself on the right with Theo just ahead, Atwater and Father John to the left. We looked around for more danger, and more came. All dressed alike, 8 in all. After a quick melee, we prevailed and took the hoods and daggers with us. One survived, and we turned him over to the police, but not before questioning him ourselves. He ranted openly that he came to capture Fava and steal his copy of the book. They understand he has a source of power, which they sensed from the Hall the night of the fire. They want to sacrifice him to their God of the Bloody Tongue (hence the red scarves), or make him a zombie servant. They are a cult from Kenya, and live in Harlem. The attackers were all of the black race, with one of the 2 who bit the driver’s throat out being a woman.
The heat was almost unbearable, dangerously hot. When we finally arrived at Fava’s home, he insisted we leave him with his servants. “It is obvious they were after me, and I can not endanger my frieds any longer.” He began ordering and arming his servants as we left him to his fate. That night, it only got hotter.

The next day, Atwater was drafted into service by the city, and we got word that the black cultist had died overnight. He had bitten off his own tongue and willfully choked to death on the blood. How do we deal with such fanaticism?
While Father John and Theo studied the books from Bishop, myself, Jack and Will continued providing various aid in the tenement. At dinner we received a letter from Fava. In it, he apologized for his breakdown, and wondered about the identity of the black cult who attacked us on the street. He implored us to find out who they are, which we already fully intended to do, and paid us a hefty sum up front.

An odd and troubling surprise greeted Theo and Father John on this morning. They awoke at the church and found the Necronomicon gone, and a bible in its place, the bibie usually on the altar in the worship room. They raced their and found the vile book resting upon the altar of God! Father John grabbed, gave it to Theo, and immediately began cleansing the altar with holy water and prayers. Theo explained that book may desire to be accidentally read. If so, this multiplies the dangers of having such books. They act for themselves, as if they are living entities? I shudder to think on it further.
In the evening Atwater returned pale from working. Heat is killing the yount and old mostly. We send an not to Roosevelt with one final idea, open the public baths to all 24 hours a day. As an aside, I will reveal something i suspected for days now, that the heatwave was a direct result of this Cthugha mystery, the being being one of heat and fire intense as a sun, as the book said. If we can stop whatever is happening here, we may end the heat problem as well.
After nightfall, Jack rides us into Harlem. I must note that Jack must have the best horses in the city. No other porters horses could possibly have survived the trips his have over the course of this adventure. On the way there, we witness nights in the city. People are sleeping outside on porches, rooftops and even the streets. Central Park is a sea of people. As we rode down 110th street in the tenements, our trip was delayed by a monstrous occurence. A flaming body fell from the rooftop landing, right in front of us. Looking up we see a woman and likely her young daughter teetering on the edge, a fire vampire in front of them. As we watch the creature swings a lick of fire like a blade and the mother catches fire as if she were bathed in oil. The girl screamed and fell over the edge. As we look down, Theolonius has alread headed for the wall and sliding on his knees, made a dramatic catch breaking the girls fall and saving her life. The creature then began floating down from the roof toward us! We fired a volley to no avail, and boarding the Porkchop Express began retreating up the street. As we turned a corner, we witnessed the creature moving quickly toward any stranger on the side of the street, then sening out a tendril of flame that incinerated the poor soul. Around the corner Atwater yelled for Jack to stop. Upon seeing a fire hydrant he had a brilliant idea, turn in on the fire vampire. Father John place himself in front as bait, taking a threatening stance with his crucifix pick. The moment the creature in front of him, he dove and Jack and myself unleashed the water with a wrench from the Porkchop. Father John didn’t dive quick enough and was hit briefly by the flow, the creature was destroyed in seconds in a violently hissing cloud of vapor. We turned the young child over to a beat cop, but we can not let her life dwindle away in an orphanage. Not after this experience. We found out she is 7 years old and her name is Gretchen. Her father had been about to put her to sleep, when they looked out the windows at the stars. She saw one that looked as if it were moving and coming closer. After a second’s hesitation, her father yelled for her to run and she say the fire enter the window in a flash and incinerate him. It then chased her and her mother to the roof.
In Harlem, we saw a local priest recommended by Father John. He knew of African Immigrants in area, but nothing about cults. He did send a errand boy to find one Willy Best, who the boy returned with soon after. This Best is a simpleton, but seemed to know the area well. He explained that the Africans like to drink at a place called the Blackwind Bar. The priest replied that “only the godless go there”. Best agreed to lead us to the place on 130th street, and we saw one bouncer at the door, a very large and earnest looking black man. Jack decided he could talk his way in, and amazingly he did, getting myself and Atwater in as well. Inside, only a handful or blacks were present. Jack walked to the bar and ordered a beer, the glass for which the barman spit in to wipe down. When Atwater ordered a boubon, he seemed much more pleasant. The walls were adorned with African tribal artifacts, and I spent my first minutes walking the perimeter. 2 things of interest: first a statue which must be that of the God of the Bloody Tongue, which reminds me a little of the Hindu deity Kali. Something resembling sanskrit or runes is written across the bottom. I order a brandy and napkin, and scrawl the charactes on the napkin. Second, what looks to be a pottery shard with a latin inscription. It reads The Crawling Chaos. Something to be researched as soon as possible.
I started some small talk with one black sitting at a table, and he became quite affable, and obvious by his accent straight from the dark continent, about the heatwave and the Legion Fire. He says he heard one of the rich folk tried to burn down his own building. When I ask him nonchalantly about the pieces in the bar, he was more than willing to tell me all the tall tales I wanted.
We took our leave and cased the building from an advantageous alley. Late, all but the bartender left, for he must live there as I noticed a small room in the back with a cot while we were inside. We then followed the group, and a couple soon broke from the group and entered a tenement. We let them be, and soon another entered a tenement, but we stuck with the main group which still included the friendly talkitive fellow I spoke with. They turned down an short alley which led into a back courtyard. Jack followed them down and witnessed them bang on the door of the JuJu House, waking an very friendly old man. They then went inside and spoke to him for a few moments, probably concerning us, were given something by him, and exited the building. They began heading back Jack’s way, so he came quickly to the street and we ducked into a small walkway one door down. They walked away into another tenement and we headed for home, exhausted by the heat.

The following day we spent patrolling the tenements and planning our next course of action, breaking up the mess in front of the Charles Morse Ice House I have already mentioned briefly. Will went to check on Fava, and he reported back how terrible the poor man was looking. We sent an invitation in the morning to Joe for him to join us for dinner. There we informed him of much that we had not informed the police of, namely the specific cults and the vile text Fava was in possession of. We left out Cthugha, chalking up the fires to the cults as acts of arson. He agreed to be on the ready, but expressed our own grave feelings on the existence of more cults and dark magic. Quite a man, this Friday is. Outside of our own team, I don’t think there is a more remarkable or reliable man in the city. That he has been only shaken, not ruined, by the strange events we have led him into it truly inspiring.

Next morning, Joe appeared at my house for early tea, asking us if we had been out the night before, for the Blackwind Bar had burned to the ground, killing several inside. I assured him we had nothing to do with it, as we do not work in such ways. It was here I revealed the existence of the fire vampires and what supernatural details we left out the night before. When I reached the office, a woman was waiting for me. She is the wife of a friend of Fava’s from the Hall, and explained that her husband has disappeared. One of 8 from the Hall to have done so in the past day or so. All were going to meet Fava yesterday. Where, she did not know. All of us gathered, to the Hall we went. Unfortunately, no one at the Hall had seen them, or Fava since the incident with Goodwin. We made our way to the tenements for our daily work, then visited Fava’s house before dinner. There, the butler Vincenzo informed us that Fava too was missing. He had become crazed over the last few days. Wild-eyed, hair unkempt, that gardens had been burned and he saw strange moving lights in the night around the house. He was the only servant who had not left. We went upstairs to Fava’s rooms and our hearts sank at what we found. A tomb-like smell of ancient decay permiated the place. Strange ash and arcane candles were everywhere. A sinister dust which held form too long when handled, and red stains on the walls. Ink, wine and half burned notes, the remains of which were mostly jibberish. The place was just…wrong. The colors and scents were unidentifiable and seemed to change, like otherworldly, an many arcane symbols were on the floor. In a basket we found gnawed bones, both human and what Atwater believes to be ghoul bones, like those of Bishop’s ghouls, as well as animal and ghoul blood on the wall. There was what Father John said was a magic circle, drawn in runes or cuneiform script. Another summoning circle very similar to the one at the Legion. 3 intact notes we did find, giving us the clues we needed. Fava and his friends would be performing some sort of insane ritual this very night. From one note I knew the spot: Central Park West, on the Hill! Couold hundreds if not thousands of people be hours away from mass murder in the name of Cthugha? Theolonius, piecing together the clues, explained a grave but very likely sequence of events:
Fava read the book, and tried to call Great Cthugha itself, by God! This was at the Legion Hall previously. His 2 best friends were burned alive there, and he went temporarily insane. Father John was able to help his mind at the asylum, but only a little. It was damaged beyond full repair. Instinctively, when under duress, used powers from it in his memory to maim Goodwin. By using such a dreadful spell, his sanity slipped more, and he realized he was not fully under his own control. The paranoia caused by the attack by the Cult of the Bloody Tongue pushed him over the edge. He tried to summon fire vampires to exact revenge on them, but the binding failed. The fire vampires may have pretended it worked, for they eliminated the cult’s haunt, but then went about their own chaotic business. We encountered one when we saved Gretchen. He may think he has control, but he does not by the evidence on the floor of his study. Now, with several of his closest friends, he is likely seeking to summon Cthugha himself, and in his current mental state will probably succeed. It will be like a small sun appearing in Central Park. It was part of Cthugha’s essence that came through at the Legion hall, enough to weaken the barrier between us and him, twisting Fava’s mind and setting the fire. The heat wave began early enough that it is a natural event, but new intensity is this Cthugha influence.

Needless to say, this was quite a heavy load to drop on us. The fate of the entire world was literally in our hands, only a few scant hours from the final stand. I sent Will from Fava’s to the station to inform Joe an Roosevelt of the dangers, recommending they inform the rest of the force that a large group of anarchist arsenists were planning to burn the park, trapping as many sleeping citizens as they could. We met Joe on the way, and Jack noticed that above us, the stars were beginning to move. It had begun. We made our way through the throngs in the Park, yelling for people to abandon it, and reached the bottom the the Hill. Above we could see lights, and in it Fava and his friends with the ceremony under way. To the left of the Hill, we saw a group of shotgun and rifle toting Italians approaching, from the right the Cult of the Bloody Tongue. Sirens on the far side informed us of Roosevelt’s arrival with not just police, but also the fire department!
As we were about to begin the ascent, we heard shouting just behind us and to our right. It was Morse’s thugs harassing a group of immigrants, and a bloody melee seemed imminent. Near them the Harlem minister and some of his congregation were praying. Father John approached and pleaded for help, an amazing speach for it’s curtness and they began to prepare to offer any aid they could. Suddenly, a cool breeze blew for the first time in what seemed months. For a moment, I thought it a sign of good to come. It turned out to be worse. A terrible, demonic, batwinged humanoid swooped down from the darkness and, grabbing the minister, lifted him high into the air. The creature dropped him, killing the man istantly. About half of the late minister’s group fled. The other half grabbed any makeshift weapon they could, revenge boiling in their eyes. It was at this point we began running up the hill toward Fava.

Behind us, Father John rallied the blacks, following us up the Hill. We heard the thugs and the immigrants begin to fight. Fire vampires began touching down throughout the crowds spreading panic. Roosevelt was quick to action, and the Fire Department brought their hoses to bear on them, a duel of water and flame which would last to the end of the battle to come. When we reached the circle, Fava walked toward Jack, arms outstretched and a crazes smile on his face. As Jack hit him, it tore a small hole in the man, the heat of hell emanating from it. It attempted to grapple Jack time and again, but he alluded and kept firing. Atwater assisted with his swordcane and they brought him down, at which point the body burned into cinders. Theolonius yelled for us to “kill the men outside the circle, for it may need their blood.” Fortunately for us, the 8 men charged us. 3 at myself and Theolonius, 2 on Will. Father John’s shotgun rang out behind us, and he would bring the bat winged creature down single handedly with the blessed shells he carried, finishing it with such a blast it’s torso tore in half. The 3 of us began a knock-down drag-out fight with Fava’s friends, while Atwater and Jack battled Fava. Joe and his men stood their ground on the right, firing down the hill to cut off the Bloody Tongue as they made their way up, while below us Roosevelt and some police charged in to aid the immigrants. The sky, during all this, began to open up above us, a firey bright light eminating from the unnatural gash in the heavens. For some reason, though Fava and his friends were engaged and the ceremony seemingly disrupted, Cthugha was still being called through.

During the melee with Fava’s friends, Will was almost killed. Just in time, a few of Father Johns blacks arrived and cut down the men. Theolonius was the first of the 3 of us to dispatch his 3 attackers, and made his way to the circle. As he began to rub it away I finished my assailants off with the help of Will and the blacks. Looking left, Atwater and Jack were firing on the Italians, and on the right I saw Joe and 2 of his men down, just as the Bloody Tongue reached the hilltop and engaged the remaining police. It was at this point that the rest of John and his blacks arrived in the nick of time, immediately moving to aid Joe’s boys in blue.

We then heard a yell from Theo. As he brushed away at the circle, he saw the real Fava, still inside the circle, become visible. What Jack and Atwater destroyed was nothing but a firey doppelganger of some sort. The rift above opened up further, and the night was eliminated by the flaming sky. Quick as a dart, Theo attacked Fava and backed away, as we began a general firing upon Fava. 3 of the blacks charged toward him, standing bravely with Theolonius. One of them, as Fava looked upon him and pointed, burst into flame. Atwater and Jack, having finished off the Italians, began firing now as well. We all began riddling him with bullets, as Theolonius and the blacks would move in, strike, and duck or withdraw. Fava reached at Theolonius, making a grasping motion with his hand. For a moment, Theo stood straight with an odd look on his face. The moment passed, and with a slight grin he pressed his attack on Fava, who looked surprised at failing to do whatever it was he attempted on the monk (Theolonius would later explain that for a second his heart felt like it was being crushed in his chest, but his fortitude was too strong even for Fava). With his attention partially distracted by the failure, Atwater charged in and put his swordcane through Fava’s shoulder. Theolonius, with one might spin kick to the head, snapped the man’s neck, finishing him off. Atwater, thinking fast, pulled the man’s body from the circle as Theolonius made note of the symbol for further study and erased it from the dirt. The sky immediately closed in again, much faster than it had opened, a clap of thunder and a bolt of lighting as I have ever heard or seen was then followed by the most welcome event anyone in the city could have hoped for…a torential downpoor. Atwater raced to Joe and his 2 down men, who were luckily of but for one broken arm and a bullet in one thigh.. Unfortunately, the black who had been ignited burned for too long and died. What fire vampires that were left the rain took care of. Father John is to give a mass ulogy for all the dead tomorrow.

Alas, poor Fava. A good man who wanted to do no more than help people. Such a generous and likeable man brought low by the madenning forces we now insanely race to confront at every turn. Might this, in the end, happen to each of us?