Arkham, Massachusetts, 1928. The last dying plea of an old friend and mentor leads to an encounter with a horror beyond description. Unwittingly released into the world nearly fifty years before, it is now time to finally confront the mistakes of the past. But it will come at great cost...
Arthur addresses his newfound partners in research. "Well, since you are looking around Prof. room, i'll go and check the library for a little bit."
OOC: Arthur will go to the library and talk to the librarian(if they are available at the time), asking they what books Putnam took, read and returned lately. If successfull, he'll write down the list of books in his journal.Then he'll go back into the office.
"Thank you, Mrs. Carmichael," says Alice, taking one of the cookies when Isadora offers it. "Mr. Glynn, have you had a chance to look through the journal yet?"
"Yes, the journal, I'm not sure what to make of it. A work of fiction like my own? The record of a delusion? A cover up for some youthful antics gone wrong? But I must admit something about it has disturbed me."
Henry pauses seeming uncertain.
"Perhaps you would permit me to read you some interesting sections?"
Our Dark Brotherhood has convened its first meeting! This entry is to let it be known that our Brotherhood consists of the following founding members:
President and founder, Marion Allen
Recording Secretary, Dennis Putnam
Other members are as follows:
Harold Copley,
Crawford Harris,
Cecil Jones,
Robert Menkin
June 1881
I still can’t believe we are actually doing this. Today we finalized the purchase of an old farmhouse outside of Ross’s Corners, a place where Marion suggests we can conduct our “experiments” in private. I have been appointed keeper of records, hence my writing this. We are calling ourselves ‘The Dark Brotherhood’; quite dramatic I think.
This should be a harmless adventure.
The farmhouse purchase is final now. We had represent ourselves as a literary fraternity in order to seal the deal with the broker in Arkham.
It has taken us several weeks but we have cleaned and furnished the old farmhouse. Crawford and Cecil did most of the painting. Robert and I laughed as Marion made such a fuss over carving special warding signs of protection over the wooden doors and windows – all of them. I thought he was going to throttle Robert for laughing at this so much.
July 1881
We arranged for a séance in an effort to contact the deceased former owner of the farmhouse. We placed candles in a circle around us and at the stroke of midnight began to chant some incantation, which Marion swore was authentic. Our efforts were in vain as Harold continued to giggle and Marion grew ever more discontent and impatient with such antics.
September 1881
We have spent the past few weekends at the farmhouse listening to Marion read from his small collection of books on the occult. It has been fascinating, but I almost wish the séance had worked. Cecil said he felt that we have come so far and committed to these investigations so that we should delve a little deeper than we already have. For once Harold did not giggle as much. Marion and I think Marion felt inspired to do more that night as well.
October 1881
All Hallows Eve – We prepared ourselves for a summoning on the darkest day of magick of the year. We inscribed a pentagram inside a circle in chalk on the center of the floor in the living room and lit candles at each point of the pentagram. We all sat cross-legged as Marion attempted, what he said was an old Indian chant used to commune with the spirits of the dead.
A cold breeze blew a shutter door open and blew out half the candles.
We relit them and tried again, but with no success.
February 1882
We may be close this time. Marion writes that he has acquired an artifact, purportedly Egyptian in nature. It is described as a small sarcophagus of gold with a hinged lid"
Henry looks up from the pages: "That's the one the Professor gave us I assume".
He resumes:
"Inside there is a large piece of amber within which is entrapped a specimen of some unknown species of creature. It appears to be an anthropod. Marion is quite excited. The box is bizarrely similar to the description of an occult item found in a reference volume in the Miskatonic University library. I believe he found it under Egyptology and Dead Gods.
This is very promising indeed!
Marion says that in another book, a thick Latin tome titled ‘De Vermis Mysteriis’, is an explanation of some purported powers of the box. More importantly the small animal trapped in the amber is said to contain a friendly spirit and guide to the spirit world.
The Brotherhood is in agreement and we have set a date to conduct a ceremony intended to summon the spirit creature. Saturday night, the 12th March, 1882.
Marion feels confident that this will give us enough time to properly prepare for the ritual using the Latin tome."
Henry pauses and looks around at the others, trying to read their faces.
"It's hard to imagine Professor Putnam being involved in something like this," says Alice. "He's always seemed so rational to me, but I never knew him in his younger days, well before I was born. I suppose we'll need to find these books and study them later. Please, continue."
Isadora gasps audibly when Glynn reads about the contents of the Egyptian box. She had the composure to keep it closed.
"Yes, please, do go on!"
"I feel as if my soul would be torn out of my body," she gasped. "I am being drawn into a whirlpool. What is happening? What does it mean?" - The Secrets of Dr. Taverner
We began the ceremony as Marion instructed, according to that described in his book De Vermis Mysteriis.
A fire is set in the fireplace and a pentagram chalked on the floor, marked with the appropriate symbols and illuminated by two black tapers placed near the center flanking the piece of amber with its entrapped spirit. The others sit in a circle while I, the designated “watcher” who guards for malevolent spirits, sits in the far corner of the room.
Marion throws a handful of powder in the fire, producing an evil-smelling smoke and damping the flames which now burn a sputtering green and brown. Those seated begin the Latin chant Marion Allan has transcribed from his book.
After nearly two hours I see a trail of smoke circling up from the piece of amber. Its surface seems to be bubbling, melting. Could this be it? Have we finally achieved success? I can see a form-
It is the following day. We have finished with our plans and have sworn a pact to never speak of what happened last night. We have satisfactorily explained the death of Robert, and in some manner the madness of Harold.
The sheriff accepts the explanation of a carriage accident – we planned it well. Robert’s neck was broken in the fall, we told him. Harold struck his head on a rock when the horse’s leg broke and the carriage rolled. Would it be that it was only that. For the rest of us, we will be forever changed of what we experience that night. The thing formed in the center of the pentagram; shapeless, nearly invisible. Its terrible voice should have given us a clue but we were foolish. It spoke, then Marion cast that damned powder, the Dust of Abu-Ghazi he calls it, on the spirit, and that’s when we could see it.
Words cannot describe the faceless thing with a thousand maws. It roiled and bubbled, never fully revealing itself. So terrifying was its aspect that I sat as though frozen to the floor, the pen falling from my nerveless fingers. Cecil and Marion seemed as lifeless as I, while a short, sharp cry issued from Crawford’s mouth. Robert, however, rose to his feet and before anyone could stop him, stepped forward as to embrace our horrible guest. With its arms, or the appendages that seemed most like arms, it took hold of Robert and twisted his head around as though it was a doll’s head. His lifeless corpse was then thrown back in Harold’s lap and that’s when he began that damnable shrieking – the shrieking that hadn’t stopped even after we handed him over to the sheriff’s men.
We still had a chance, apparently. Marion now believes that if we had kept our wits, we could have reversed the chant and eventually forced back the creature to wherever it came from. But Crawford panicked and, in the mistaken belief that it would dispel the creature, reached forward and destroyed part of the pentagram, breaking its effectiveness. Released from that binding symbol, the thing – with a screech that could only have been unholy satisfaction – fled the house, disappearing out the window as a searing, screaming wind of boiling color.
Marion believes that the thing could still be destroyed, or at least dispelled, but none of us who remain have the stomach for such an undertaking. It is believed that the spell we cast inextricably binds the thing to the house and it is true that when we went back a few days later to retrieve our things, we heard it bumping about the attic over our heads. The warding signs so cheerfully carved by Marion Allan during better times – times that seem so long ago – apparently are effective and bar the thing entry except to the attic of the house.
Robert Wenkin, March 1882
Harold Copley, August 1882
Marion Allen, August 1883"
Henry pauses.
"These bits are more recent ..." he explains.
"Crawford Harris, January 1915
Cecil Jones, March 1924
Dennis Putnam
February
I gravely fear that which I and my colleagues have loosed upon this countryside. Nothing of consequence has taken place but with my death the bonds will be broken and the thing then freed to come and go as it pleases. Lives and souls not yet taken lie heavy on my consequence. The method of delivering the thing out of this world is in that accursed house – the translation made by Marion Allen from the horrid De Vermis Mysteriis. I am not strong enough to take the task, but I know of those who perhaps are.
Should they fail me, may God have mercy on my soul."
Alice listens to the shocking account in stunned silence, not daring to speak until he finished. "I know Professor Putnam wouldn't lie about something like this," she says, "but how can this be? It had to be some sort of nightmare. It couldn't have really happened...could it?"
"Poor dear Professor Putnam," Isadora says, moved to tears by the last paragraph of the diary. "To think that he had to live his whole life in such terror! The constant feeling of impending doom..."
With trembling hands, she places the golden sarcophagus (now wrapped in a handkerchief) on the table.
"Some parts of this description might be the product of a feverish mind," she says, answering Alice's question. "But I'm afraid in this case the mind makes up these awful images to cover up the original indescribable experience!!"
"I feel as if my soul would be torn out of my body," she gasped. "I am being drawn into a whirlpool. What is happening? What does it mean?" - The Secrets of Dr. Taverner
Alice,Alice has resided in Arkham for several years - if you like she is familiar with it.
It's a tiny hamlet a few miles west of Arkham. It's a farming community but has slowly depopulated since the turn of the century. There is nothing of particular interest that would bring outsiders there.
Balzac continues to search the professor's office but is now double checking the titles of all the texts, looking for this book De Vermis Mysteries.
"As a botanist I can tell you all it would be foolish to assume man has discovered every species of plant and animal on Earth.
It may be that something remained alive, trapped in amber for millennia. The resurrection plant or rose of Jericho - Anastatica - that grows in many parts of the world, famously can lie dormant for years until it gets water. I have one in my office back in Montreal.
Our friend the Professor assumes a supernatural answer, as he would given what he and his friends were apparently doing, but we should start from a scientific perspective.
A logical step would be to visit this farmhouse and assess the situation. But first we should conduct some research here. Perhaps we might look inside the Egyptian box now?"
"I feel as if my soul would be torn out of my body," she gasped. "I am being drawn into a whirlpool. What is happening? What does it mean?" - The Secrets of Dr. Taverner
