Book Three: Out of Time

[Grognardsw]

Book Three: Out of Time

[Grognardsw]

That night Dr. Clark writes in his journal...

Sept. 18, 1925
New York, New York

For once I would like to sit down to my chair and desk and scribe into this ledger of mundane daily events. But today like so many other days before it is far from normal. Today our group of sleuths investigated the home of Konstantin Chertovski along with Agent Mulder's band of B.O.I officers.

We had a special surprise that morning, as well as more than one could handle later, we were joined by Sam Archer, private investigator. It had been several months since we went out on different paths after returning from our encounter together in Turkey. I continued with the administration of a failed expedition and research into poor Raymond while he continued his investigation into the stolen artifact in which he was original hire to find. Upon our reuniting I was astonishing caught off guard by the loss of Mr. Archer's left hand and it's replacement with a prosthesis. I produced mine to greet as custom before I had noticed. I shameful stopped midway and became lost in speech as I was greeting the man. The tough and rugged Archer smirked and simply brushed off the missing companion as a "temporary misunderstanding with the BOI resulted in permanent consequences". So cold and emotionless he had become. But I knew deep down the fiery man from the White Ship was still inside him.

The group didn't depart until later that morning. Agent Mulder had to accompany Mr. Wilkins and Mr. Barret to a court hearing about the event the previous day. Business was made short and the charges brought upon the two men we dropped. As they should have been. It was clearly self defense against a now know cultist. In no time the group was on it's way to Konstantin Chertovski home, The Shunned House on Shady Lane.

When we pulled up to the house it was a very odd house indeed. It was a large house taking up the whole city block with a low stone wall surrounding the grounds topped with an iron work which extend it to 7 feet in height. The house was set in the middle of the property and partial obscured by trees. An iron gate with a long drive sat in front of this Victorian style home. Though one could call the architecture Victorian a large number of additions and extension were clearly added and still being added by workers on scaffolding. Agent Mulder has some of his men circle to the rear of the estate as there was some activity earlier at the establishment. Chertovski had guests and there business was known to us. Instead of rushing right in we all sat quietly observing the home and for any occupants leaving. We engaged in light conversation while we wait for several hours. The topic of firearms was brought up and it seemed everyone was well armed. I myself chose not to brandish a firearm as I thought the armament carried by Agent Mulder and his men would be more than sufficient.

After two hours of observation we decided to proceed with search and approach the house. Mr. Albertoni had eyed a circle of stone in the front garden and he made it his first priority to examine while the rest of us proceeded to the front door. We were greeted by Mr. Chertovski man servant and cordially invite inside. He lead us to Mr. Chertovski who was currently entertaining guests in his study. Along the way I could not help but notice the decor. The hallway was covered with framed pictures of unusual subjects. Many of them looked to be occult in nature. Biblical prints, various Egyptiana, tribal masks, satanic imagery and the likes. The group then continued on to Mr. Chertovski study.

The study was filled with two couches, chairs, a desk, several filled bookcases, a large fireplace, and decorated with similar decor as the hallway. A large bay window sat behind the desk gave view of the garden with the standing stones. When we arrived at the study. Mr. Chertovski was engaged in conversation with a young women on the sofa. He stood and greeted Agent Mulder. I was surprised to recognize the young women whom he was conversing with. A Ms. Asenath Waite, a former student of mine at the Miskatonic University. There also was another gentleman in the room a Mr. John Maskelyne who spoke with a british accent. Agent Mulder engaged with Mr. Chertovski and issued forth the search warrant while my eye were drawn away to the scene outside through the bay window.

Looking through the window I could clearly make out the standing circle of stones and Mr. Albertoni among them. But what caught me off guard was Frank, Dr. Morgan standing next to him. I turned to look at my side and saw that Frank was standing next to me. I quickly change my position thinking that it must be just a refection in the window. To my horror the image did not disappear. It was the double. I was shocked and could only mange to muster a single word for several moments as I stood unbelieving at the site. I became completely oblivious to the events surrounding me. I grabbed the jacket of Dr. Morgan and lead him and myself quietly out of the room. Outside the room we were joined by Mr. Barret. Still unable to compound a viable sentence I desperate tried to speak. Even though the word were short it was clearly understood by the others for they too were quite aware of the situation. As we speculated out in the hall Mr. Albertoni finished with his investigation joins us with the same amount of surprise as he comes to realize the situation himself. He spoke of his conversation with the other Frank and concluded that he was not looking for information from us but almost leading us. With my sense returning we conversed for a few minutes more. The subject changed to the situation in the study, Ms. Waite and her possible connection to the gruesome murder that Marcus discovered in the wood near the old mill.

We headed back to the study when we encounter Chertovski mansevent once more. He lead us back to the study but as we did we passed an open door way that lead down, presumably to the basement. We inquire and Mr. Chertovski manservant who confirmed it was such. He advised us not to proceed down as they were experiencing a gas leak and it was unsafe. The door was ajar to allow the flow of fresh air. Marcus and Isaiah don't buy the story and along with another B.O.I. investigate while Frank and I return to the study.

When we return Mr. Archer is engaged in a much heated conversation with Chertovski, a not unlike tactic I've seen him use before. Father Vaughan is seated on the sofa next to Ms. Waite with the valet tucked between his legs. Reginald is busy rummaging through the artifacts and books upon the shelves. Under Mr. Archer foot I spy a old tome of sort in which he is clear defacing. I implore to Mr. Archer to cease immediately with this his barbaric antics. Destroying precious relics is an unnecessary. Gratefully Mr. Archer see the logic in my argument and attributes his behavior to the medication he undertakes for the lost appendage. It is then that Reginald exclaims and produces proof in the form of a hieroglyphic scroll of Chertovski guilt in the crimes he is accused of. I try myself to read the script but am unable to decipher the text as Reginald has. That is when Ms. Waite excuses her self from the room to powder her nose. I sternly implore her to return in a swift manner as I would do to my student at a lecture. The tension between Mr. Archer and Chertovski escalates and Mr. Archer produces a firearm in good hand. Agent Mulder attempt to calm the situation but Archer doesn't budge. With the noise and confusion Agent Mulder and Reginald set out of the room to discuss the incriminating evidence.

Not more than a few steps out a series of loud bang erupt from Mr. Archer's gun. Several bullet rip through Chertovski as the man falls to the ground motionless. I as well drop to the floor and quickly make my way to safer surroundings. Now outside the room more sound of conflict and broken glass. Panic stricken I retreat to the standing cars that brought us here and waited for the others to follow. Several minutes follow and I once again regain my composer. The house stands silent and there is not more reason to hide. I approach the house alone slowly and carefully. I decide to deviate from front door and approach the standing stones first.

The stone are etched in deed with similar markings as those found in Turkey. The archeologist in me take over and I find my self compelled to investigate and record my findings. Having nothing to record upon I venture back into the house but this time I enter through the now broken bay window. On the floor lies the broken body of Chertovski. Agent Mulder is back in the room and there is no sign of Archer. Agent Mulder furious at the situation quickly ascertains the location of everybody. I inform him of Mr. Barret and Mr. Albertoni location as the basement. I rummage through the desk of Chertovski looking for a piece of lead and paper in which to make a rubbing of the stone outside.

Mr. Albertoni bursts into the room telling a tale of horror of his own. Pentagrams, banshees, alters, rivers, bones, cavern, a glowing awful woman, hebrew inscriptions, and the hooting of an owl. When asked about Isaiah and the agent that accompanied him he spoke of an physical engagement. Shots fired and the demises of Agent Smith. Of Isaiah where about or condition he did not know. To add on the already outrageous events it's brought to my attention that Ms. Waite was sexual assaulted by one of the agents. Presumably while he was absent using the water closet. I'm not sure of the details of the assault but it was said that the agent was not in control of himself at the time. Agent Mulder takes control of the situation. He order the agent to be detained until the local authorize could arrive. He then questions Mr. Maskelyne while Father Vaughan looks after Ms. Waite. Reginald, Frank and I retire to the garden with the standing stone and all examine it closer. Finally procuring pencil and paper I take a rubbing of the inscriptions for later study. After some discussion we return to the interior and along with the other agents investigate the basement.

The basement is dark and there are several flashlights available. As look around Marcus points out the north wall in which the hebrew runes were inscribed. Upon my examination I find nothing unusual. The basement is what one would normally expect. The foundation appeared to be alter as fitting for the history of this home and it's many incarnations. We found not cavern, rivers, piles of bones or the like. Reginald suggests that perhaps that the trio stepped through a portal and attempt to recreate it. It's only been a few day since I first met Mr. Wilkins and though there are things in this world that I have been unable to explain the chanting and gestures displayed by Reginald seem preposterous. If only he could see himself he might think he was mad as well. Needless to say that Mr. Wilkins chanting and odd gesturing did not bring forth a gate into another world. We continued searching finding living quarters and nothing incriminating. Though it was brought to my attention by Frank of the chillness in the air. The air was much more chillier than a basement should be. The group continued on throughout the basement in search of Isaiah and the source of the coldness. We located the source of the chill air. A room setup as a medical operating theater. A large machinery were humming away generating cool air. Various medical instruments and jars of internal organs flooded in jars. A large walk in freezer held several human corpses. Two males, a woman in her thirties and a teenage girl. Upon closer inspection of one of the males, his head had been severed from it's neck with surgical precision. A ghastly sight that I hope will one day I will forget. The search continued and though we found other various rooms we found no sign of out lost comrade.

We adjourned to the main floor and search the main levels of the house. The house contained the most bizarre arrangement. Stairs that lead no where, door opening into open air or a wall, hallway that narrow to the point in one could not pass. Room after room a cacophony of jumbled architecture with little rhyme or reason. All though each part of the house was suspicion no further incriminating evidence was found. A letter with a familiar name and some undeveloped film was found. I did discover a telescope pointed at the sky. With the past evidence of interest in the celestial sky by Carcosa I diagramed the position of the telescope the sky above. Perhaps it's angle and position could bring about some meaning.

We finished up our search of the house. Reginald stopped and took one more look at the standing stones and instructed Agent Mulder to seise them for later study. Back at the hotel we ate and discussed today finding and made plans for the future. We'll tie up local angles before traveling to New Orleans. Reginald will study the Xaqloui writing and confer with a Professor Angell in Providence. Apparently Reginald recognized the name from a letter that was discovered in the house. Marius will accompany him. The undeveloped film is to be sent out for enlargements. Dr. Morgan, Father Vaughan and I are to visit with professor Shapley again at Columbia University before departing for Arkham to look into Ms. Waite personal records at the Miskatonic University. In five days time we shall all meet again to head to New Orleans to further investigate the leads there.

It will be good to see Edith once again. I hope she is still safe. I long for my own bed and the quite study of academics. Hopefully this adventure is coming to a close and I can return to my lecture halls. My eyes grow weary and the days events have taken up most of my time. I will write about Mr. Archer and out escape from the Mt. Latmos. another night. Tonight I want to forget about the events that surround the man.

[Grognardsw]

Dr. Morgan dreams...

He stands before the trapezohedron and steps into it. There is no place in here, nor moment. No familiar semblances. The mind-forms here being concerned with nothing that's not ultimately mind itself. The shapes here have no correspondence in the formal world. They are the shape of Yevtushenko's poems, Chopin’s etudes, Gödel’s math. Here in these incoherent oceans of unmolded possibility, systems of thought provide the only landmass. Theory and belief are all we have to walk upon, where language is a shell-swept beach, where algebra's an endless ghostly boulevard.

Suspended in this glimmering continuum, islands of supposition, continents of paradigm, tides of opinion lap in fabulous lagoons of proof, bringing a slow erosion, gradual change of contour. Here, the shifts in understanding are tectonic, diastrophic rumbles in the core, volcanoes of renaissance threatening to spit their heat and gold to cover all the world with their bright, dangerous precipitations. Smuts of change and novelty unwinnable borne on the jet streams of cold inspiration.

The depths are soundless, off the map, there is no sextant that will read the constellations here, yet are there hazards, undertows of falsehood, eddies of delusion in the bedlam reefs. Riding elated swirls of reason, bear in mind that nothing is unsinkable. Strange and atonal noises that somewhere may be considered music plays on, beneath these fog-banked ambiguities rear intellectual icebergs.

No paranoid Magellan named these straits, autistic Heyerdahl or thorazined Cabot, the toothpicked scums of shattered coracle and surfs of splinter stitch the white caps to these slick gray shores, with here and there the footprint of some prior explorer, inmate or philosopher. Beyond a ribboned shingle of assumption, shifting dunes of creed, there is the scorched air whiff of a synaptic ozone, spindrift, gusted from cerebrospinal tropics. Underfoot, a tide line litter of rejected notions, worm-shot timbers from wrecked ideologies, discredited beliefs. In reason's rock pools seen, a ferning coral of dead faeries.

Above, strong light bursts out through solipsistic cumuli. The dazzle of near comprehension leaves a gibberish of phosphorescent scribble on the psychic retina. Over these beachheads of corpus callosum, strung between two hemispheres, there burns an equatorial sun of fact and data. Best not risk the information tan that brings disfiguring swimsuit lines of ignorance or, worse, the sunstroke of religion. Make for shade. The tree line looms ahead.

Pull back the snarled anxiety of bramble and plunge ego first, into the undergrowth. Miasmal thicket darkness here, its chill immediate. Press on. Thorned snags of dogma tearing at the ankles, out into the sudden dappled bright, the eerie cross breeze of a clearing. The atmosphere here coruscates, thick with impending diamond. Through the spike lit blur an intimation of delirium's foliage clipped back, ordered into a Magritte topiary. Now a bordered path, redolence of park and arbour, wind chime scent of honeysuckle.

With each step, a burgeoning of form, a greater density. Belatedly, the thought occurs: What life might this ethereal clime support? Ecologies of ectoplasm? And what Flora? And what Fauna? The air here crackles, viscous and intense, humid with meaning. The posited terrain grows steeper, rising up towards the domed pavilions of the spectre garden, flickering radiance of its exhibits brushed across the sky ahead. Struggle upslope the last few yards become a headlong rush into the raw mouth of this brilliant wind.

Something stirs... Frank awakens.

[Mant72]

Dr. Morgan:

Frank stirs from his sleep, feeling as if his head is swathed in cotton. His thoughts reel, veer, and plunge…

Vertigo…

Faintness…

He tries to gain his bearings, and it takes a moment before he fully emerges from the nightmarish dreamscape where he has just trespassed.

He makes his way to the sink and splashes cold water on his face. The haggard visage that stares back from the mirror is almost unrecognizable. “My God,…what madness claws at the threshold of my mind?”

[Grognardsw]

"Dear David, do be safe," says Edith Walton on the phone with Dr. Clarke. "I worry so much. Next time I insist on going with you. I'm no shrinking violet myself you know."

Dr. Clarke realizes his paramour does indeed have moxy. The girl has traveled the world herself a good deal, and exemplifies that progressive female spirit of the times. But the dark things he has seen, the evil that men do - is it too much for the sensitive female mind?

"David, there is gossip on campus about the disappearance of Associate Professor Josephine Clark and a reporter from the Arkham Gazette, Edward Sharpe. Did you know them?"





Reginald Wilkins, book dealer and occultist, sleeps uneasily. The stress of the last few days has been building to a crescendo. He dreams of books, endless pages forming a pool of forbidden knowledge. What he has seen and experienced has stretched not only his mind, but his sense of reality. Reginald feels himself becoming unhinged. This at a time when more study is needed, more immersion in the occult to understand the ramifications of what he has experienced. Can his psyche with stand the weight of this knowledge?

As discussed SocraticLawyer, Reginald is at the threshold of insanity given his current San. He will need to tread lightly, or spend some time in psychotherapy.

Before retiring to bed, Marius Albertoni calls his sister-in-law to check in on his wife and kids. Thankfully they are fine. He tells them little of the horrible day he had. Drinking more than he usually does, the hunter tries to forget that which should not be under the Shunned House. Closing his eyes against the deaths of Isaiah Bartlett and Agent Smith, he finally falls into a fitfull sleep.





Morning finds the investigators gathered at breakfast in the dining room of the Howard Hotel. Father Vaughan's chair is empty. Dr. Morgan has an uneasy feeling.

The priest's room is called, with no answer. A bellboy checks the room. It is empty, his luggage and the valet bag gone.

Father Vaughan has disappeared.

[SocraticLawyer]

Reginald Wilkins, unhinged bookdealer and occultist

Reginald Wilkins, book dealer and occultist, sleeps uneasily. The stress of the last few days has been building to a crescendo. He dreams of books, endless pages forming a pool of forbidden knowledge. What he has seen and experienced has stretched not only his mind, but his sense of reality. Reginald feels himself becoming unhinged. This at a time when more study is needed, more immersion in the occult to understand the ramifications of what he has experienced. Can his psyche with stand the weight of this knowledge?

As discussed SocraticLawyer, Reginald is at the threshold of insanity given his current San. He will need to tread lightly, or spend some time in psychotherapy.

Reginald tries to shake off the disturbing dreams. He returns to his studies of the xaqloui.

A few minutes later, Reginald notices the words coming alive. The xaqloui letters come off the page. They dance and cavort, blending together into new symbols before his eyes. Reginald closes the book, trying to make the images stop moving. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply for a minute, or five minutes, he can't tell.

Reginald opens his eyes again, cautiously.

He no longer sees the words moving. He reaches for the book to open it again and continue his studies, but he hesitates at the last second. Reginald reflects briefly on what he's seen, on the many disturbing dreams, the Gates, the enigmatic Carcosa, the horrors at the Shunned House.

Could he be losing his grip on reality? Is this what poor Timothy went through, before the atrocities he committed?

Not sure of what to do, but knowing that he must avoid Timothy's fate, Reginald calls a psychotherapist and sets up an appointment. Did they have Yellow Pages in 1925? If not, perhaps Reginald knows a psychologist at Brown....?

[Mant72]

Dr. Morgan:

Joining the others as they gather for breakfast in the dining room, Frank immediately notices the absence of Father Vaughan.

His stomach sinks and bile rises in his throat. "Where is the good Father?," he inquires of no one in particular

[Starbeard]

Marius Albertoni, hunter

Marius arrives at breakfast looking haggard and fitful. He gulps down hot coffee and asks for a stronger brew.

He stares at his plate and fidgets uncomfortably, clearly having ambivalent feelings toward something. He turns to Reginald Wilkins.

"Reg, you know something about that Zack-o-looey magic language stuff. Do you think I could learn how to use those gates? I don't think I ever want to see that banshee under the House again, but… well, there are small game hunters and big game hunters. A big game hunter knows that once you're in, there ain't going back. Once that predator it picks up a scent, it knows you, and you have to kill it or go home before it kills you. Something just tells me that whatever was under that house, it has our scent, and there's no home we can run back to. Sooner or later I'm going to have to get that thing before it gets me. I just know it."

"Besides, I feel like I owe Isaiah one. I didn't know him too long, but the old man was a good pal to me."

[Grognardsw]

Dr. Morgan learns that Father Vaughan is gone. Disappeared into the night with the valet bag containing the trapezohedron crystal stone. This fact strikes Dr. Morgan like a blow in the stomach. Surely the priest wouldn't have left on his own? Did the crystal take him away to another place? Did one of these "gates" Reginald spoke of open and pull Father Vaughan away? Did the cult snatch him?

A search is done. Father Vaughan's room is in order. His luggage bag is gone. The night staff do not remember seeing him leave. None of these clues, says Agent Mulder, are conclusive for any theory.





After an uneasy night sleep Reginald decides his mental equilibrium is too delicate to risk further study of the occult secrets in the Pnakotic Manuscripts. The book dealer is drained, jumpy, a bit paranoid. He was considering learning the Elder Sign and Shining Trapezohedron rituals, but now is not the time. Reginald is sound enough though to know he needs psychiatric help.

Yes, return to Providence and seek guidance to restore mental health. He can still get in touch with Prof. Angell, and contribute to the investigation in other ways. After breakfast Reginald retires to his room. He places a call to his department secretary at Brown University. She provides retired Professor Angell's phone number. She also informs Reginald that Dr. Harold Mathers has returned to campus after his family emergency, and would like to speak to him. Reginald is glad to hear this news. Harold shared his occult interests. Perhaps he could help in the Xaqloui translations.

Reginald places another call to a friend, which yields a psychiatrist contact. An appointment is set for two days time.

Having done what he can for now, Reginald packs his bag and takes a taxi to the station for a late morning train to Providence.

Marius Albertoni, who will accompany Reginald to Providence, discusses the "gates" with the unsteady occultist. Reginald shakes his head, uncertain he is hearing Marius correctly. Is the level-headed hunter saying he wants to enter a gate and track down the she-thing?





Agent Mulder has the undeveloped film couriered to the Manhattan BOI photo lab. "We should have these pictures by lunch time," says Mulder.

"Chertovski's Egyptian parchment will be translated by a man at Columbia, so we can confirm Reginald's translation. While at Columbia, the astronomy professor can be questioned about the Carcosa letter and position of the telescope in the sky room. Professors, you'll be going to Columbia?"

"Dr. Clarke, this morning a BOI agent started watching Edith Walton as you requested. We are still investigating Ms. Claire Ford's whereabouts."

"Also this morning, the corpses found in Chertovski's cold room will be brought to BOI for autopsy."

"Regarding Sam Archer, we have no firm leads. One theory is the man snapped and is seeking revenge for the death of his partner and loss of his hand. When our BOI mesmerist hypnotized Archer, he found unrevealed suppressed memories. Most likely of extreme nature. Archer wouldn't - or couldn't - give them up. Maybe that has something to do with it. Anyway, we're following the revenge theory for now and determining what his next steps may be."

[Mant72]

Dr. Morgan:

Still in disbelief over the disappearance of Father Vaughn, Frank mutters, "Surely there is an explanation for his abrupt departure. I pray nothing foul has befallen the man." He shakes his head in consternation then addresses Agent Mulder, "Yes, we are bound for Columbia." He turns to Dr. Clarke for confirmation.

[DadsAngry]

Dr. Clarke:

"Perhaps the Father has gone to church this morning, seeing as we will most likely be traveling tomorrow on the day of rest. Hopefully professor Shapley is as dedicated as you and I and keeps Saturday office hours. If not lets hope the administration office is open so we can get his home address to call on him there."

Thank you Agent Mulder. I contacted Dr. Walton last night to inform her of her added protection. Though being a strong woman as she is insisted that she need not any. I informed her it was for my own piece of mind and it was no way a reflection of here ability to keep herself save.

Sorry for the delay. I wasn't getting the notifications.

[SocraticLawyer]

Reginald Wilkins, unhinged bookdealer and occultist

Marius Albertoni, hunter
"Reg, you know something about that Zack-o-looey magic language stuff. Do you think I could learn how to use those gates? I don't think I ever want to see that banshee under the House again, but… well, there are small game hunters and big game hunters. A big game hunter knows that once you're in, there ain't going back. Once that predator it picks up a scent, it knows you, and you have to kill it or go home before it kills you. Something just tells me that whatever was under that house, it has our scent, and there's no home we can run back to. Sooner or later I'm going to have to get that thing before it gets me. I just know it."

"Besides, I feel like I owe Isaiah one. I didn't know him too long, but the old man was a good pal to me."

Reginald takes a moment to try to process what his fellow investigator has just said. Does Marius mean to track down the she-thing? Open the gate? Close the gate? Why? Is he secretly a part of the cult too, just as Fr. Vaughn appears to have been?

On the other hand, how can Reginald trust his own mind? He can feel his grasp on reality slipping. He knows he needs help, and is actively seeking it. If his fellow investigator wants to shoulder the burden, shouldn't Reginald let him??

"I think anyone can do it, with enough study," says Reginald. "There are incantations in here," indicating the Pnakotic Manuscripts, "but you need to be careful. I've only used it twice, and both times I've seen things I can't unsee. I'm not even sure what's real any more...."

Slowly, he raises his arm and hands the tome to Marius. "Be careful," he says, looking at the book. It is not clear whom he is addressing as he says this.

After the breakfast meeting, Reginald calls Dr. Angell to set up a meeting.

EDIT: Reginald also sets up a meeting with his friend, Dr. Mathers.

[Starbeard]

Marius Albertoni, hunter

"Thanks, Reg. I'll be careful." Marius looks unconvinced, and is clearly beset with second thoughts. He gingerly touches the cover as though afraid it will sting.

"I don't like this voodoo blasphemy, it gives me the creeps. Makes me fear Hell like I never have before. But maybe we can learn about these Gates, not to use them, but to track them down, destroy them, keep the monsters in there from coming to us until we know how to corner them and kill them."

Prying open the book just a little, he adds, "You said something about feeling like you couldn't do anything once you entered the gate but watch… but when we climbed down that cellar we were really there, flesh and blood. Maybe the cellar hatch wasn't quite the same thing as a gate, but a little different. Maybe what we need isn't a gate, but another portal like that cellar door. But we'll never know unless we try."

Marius cautiously flips through the book a bit where Reginald pointed, then closes it for the time being. He wants to find out more about what happened to him back at the Shunned House, but maybe later. Maybe once they've gone back to Providence. Yeah, maybe he'll try reading the book after they get to Providence.

[Starbeard]

Marius Albertoni, hunter

At breakfast, Marius sputters into his coffee. "Father Vaughan missing? I knew we couldn't trust one of those Irish republicans, priest or no priest."

Marius gets up and storms up to Vaughan's room. If the door is open, he checks the place thoroughly, under and inside and behind anything that isn't tacked down. If it is locked, he grabs the nearest bellboy and offers him the last of his Italian amaro liqueur, tucked away in a flask, for the chance to search the room.

[Grognardsw]

Dr. Clarke and Dr. Morgan exit their taxi on the campus of Columbia University. They make their way to the Astronomy department.



"Good afternoon sirs," says Prof. Shapely. "I received a message from the Bureau of Investigation that you needed to speak with me. How can I help you?"







Reginald and Marius board the train for Providence. The Pnakotic Manuscripts book is heavy in Marius' bag. The hunter ponders whether to start reading it now to pass the time.

[DadsAngry]

Dr. Clarke:

"Thank you Professor for see us on a Saturday. I'm Dr. David Clarke Professor of Archeology at the Miskatonic University Arkham, Mass. and this is my colleague Dr. Francis C. Morgan, Professor of Archaeology, also with the Miskatonic University, Arkham, Mass. It's a lovely autumn day isn't it. The trees in the quad have such marvelous colors. Ahh, but it is Saturday and I'm sure your to busy to talk about the changes in weather so let me get right to it. Dr. Morgan and I are part of a team of investigators working with the B.O.I. You spoke with an Agent Mulder two days ago about a communication with a Mr. Carcosa. You stated that he had issued you a small grant to do some research. Investigating old star and constellation patterns in relations to those found in old books and ancient monuments, is that correct?"

"Now I can't go to much into detail of our investigation since it is still an active case but I can tell you this. We believe Mr. Carcosa is using the information that he has obtained by you to commit ritualistic murders that coincide with celestial alignments of the heavens."

"Yes I'm sure this news is quite shocking to you. Not to worry the B.O.I. is not going to charge you with any wrong doing for it is very clear you had no way of knowing the information that you provided would lead to such a heinous purpose. The B.O.I. has asked Dr. Morgan and myself to come here and get briefed on the information that you provided to Mr. Carcosa, in the hopes that we can understand the purpose and possibly predict the next ritualistic murder that will take place at the hands of Mr. Carcosa and prevent it."

Oratory 53% [1d100] = 74
Damn I though I was coming across a little to pushy. Maybe Dr. Morgan with do better.

[Mant72]

Dr. Morgan:

Frank greets Professor Shapley with a warm smile and firm handshake, "It is a pleasure to make your aquaintance, my good sir. As my colleague mentioned, I am Professor Francis Morgan." He clears his throat and continues, "Now I know what Professor Clarke has just relayed may sound unbelievable, but I assure you this is no jest. He speaks with utmost sincerity. In fact, David, would you care to tell him about the corodinates we found on the telescope? That seems like as good a place to start as any."

[Grognardsw]

"Good afternoon gentlemen! When the BOI asked me to meet with you, I thought it must indeed be important enough to come into the office on a Saturday. I had some papers to grade as well."

"Good heavens! Ritualistic murders? Well the Carcosa research was a bit unusual, but I admit he paid exceedingly well. Or rather, the Foundation of the Church of Starry Wisdom. I was referred to Mr. Carcosa by a former student. I didn't know Mr. Carcosa, and only met him once."

Professor Shapely opens a folder of notes.  "He was interested in the movement and positions of certain stars from a historical as well as future perspective. These include Algol, the double star, Arcturus, Celaeno, the Argos Navis constellation field, Yith and the small as yet scientifically unsubstantiated planet some call Planet X."

"Also, their position in the sky relative to particular locations on the earth - North Salem, New Hampshire; Chinle, Arizona; and Wiltshire, England."

"The data pointed to maximum astro-linear alignment occuring on Tuesday, Dec. 22, of this year. That is, I'm sure you know, the winter solstice and the shortest day of the year. The sun reaches its highest position in the sky as seen from the North or South Pole. During solstice the tilt of the axil of the Earth (with respect to the Sun) is the maximum at 23° 26'."

Professor Shapely looks at the telescope data from Dr. Clarke. He works out some equations. "I can't be certain, not knowing the exact orientation of the house and room, but it appears the telescope was pointed at Planet X."

"I can't imagine how all this would relate to ritualistic murders. I do recall from my undergraduate days that certain primitive cultures performed sacrifices on certain dates in the celestial calendar."

[Mant72]

Dr. Morgan:

With the mention of Shapley's former student, Frank inquires, "This former student, her name wouldn't be Asentha Waite by chance?"

[Grognardsw]

"Asenath Waite?" replies Prof. Shapely. "No, haven't heard of her. It was Alex Ford, an undergraduate from a class of mine several years ago. He graduated two years ago."







The train rumbles across the Connecticut countryside on its way to Providence. Reginald Wilkins and Marius Albertoni make small talk, the hunter seemingly hesitant to open the dark tome in his travel bag.