Arrival in Arkham

The bus pulled into the town at close to dusk. I seemed to be the only one that was disembarking on this stop. Not to unusual. Though the people that where left on the bus seemed to stare at me as I walked down the center aisle. Somewhat curious. It was evening and cool. The town looked to be very old. The building in what I would call typical New England style. A few small groups walked on the side walks around what I could only say was the “main drag” of the town. A small “welcome to Arkham” sign moving back and forth in the present wind. The wind seemed to hold the promise of rain so I shouldered my lone bag and began walking down the side walk to what looked to be a place with rooms to rent.

“Mr. Moore? Mr. Daniel More?” Came there call over my shoulder. I turned to see a middle aged man in trench coat and wide brimmed hat. Hands in pockets. Almost as if he had just spouted from the stone of the sidewalk.

“Yes, that’s correct,” there was no real use denying it, I was the only one to get off the bus. Also the only one really on the street. Out of habit my free hand floated into the pocket of my jacket where there was the reassuring weight of a loaded revolver.

“Welcome to Arkham Mr. Moore. My name is Hubert Szymański I’m here to take you to the university campus.” He had slid his hands from his trench coat pockets, slow enough that he knew I had been on edge. His hands were gloved. He stepped forward with right hand extended. With a smirk I took the hand off my revolver and shook his extended hand.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Szymański,” his hand shake was firm but not over bearing. This close I was able to see into bright blue eyes that almost seemed to glow under the hat and a rough bearded face.

“Hubert will be fine,” he said releasing my hand “if you will follow me please Mr. Moore.”

“Daniel is also fine.” I said as I followed behind him to a parked car that, much like the rest of the towns façade was very classic. I set my bag in the rear seat and slid in to the front. Hubert has taken out a cell phone and was speaking on it while he seat belted in.

“I’ve picked him up. We should be on the campus in 10 minutes,” he hung up as he cranked the car.

“I wasn’t expecting a welcome party,” I said putting my own seatbelt on and looking out as we started.

“Oh that was the Dean. He is very excited to meet you.”

“Really? Is he that way with all the people that come for interviews?”

“I’m sure he will explain it when you see him” then Hubert quietly drove the car through the town.

We went south passing through the mostly in populated street. Over what could only have been the Miskatonic River. Then Turing into the campus area. And finding a parking spot.

“Your things will be safe here if you will come with me please” we both got out of the car and I followed him through the campus.

I had really never heard of Miskatonic University until I had received the mysterious offer. Looking into them really didn’t seem to shed much more light on the them. A seemingly very niche school with a heavy emphasis on the metaphysical. Having lived a life that was far away from anything transcendental I was a little surprised that they had been in continuous operations for as long as they had been. After all aren’t colleges businesses with a certain monitory need?

The campus seemed to be made up of a rectangle of buildings lining the whole block. With various open areas in the middle. Hubert walked in front of me when the ease of a man going through a long repeated ritual.

“So what do you teach here” I ask to pass a few moments while I walk behind him.

“Oh I’m more of a researcher and assistant for the Dean.” Hubert said “I came here to study metaphysic and he was kind enough to bring me on. “

We arrived at a large stone building that almost seemed imposing to the area around it. Strong doors and wrote iron around all the windows in a way that to most seemed decorative, but to me in a defensive way. Hubert lead the way in. There was a vestibule, a man seemingly cleaning the walls. His eyes locking on me for a short few seconds. Almost measuring me. Then into the main hall. Polished and worn marble tiled floors reflecting warm light from old gas lamp style fixture lights. It opened up to almost an atrium. A round center desk with an older woman reading from a worn paper back book. She smiled over half moon glasses as Hubert approached.

“It wasn’t a long trip after all then” she said in a chipper voice. She handed him some sort of book that he opened and started to fill out.

“No he had already decided to come see us” Hubert said. The statement had caused an eyebrow to raise. I had told no one that I was coming. My home is maybe a thousand miles away and I hadn’t even been in the US when the letter had gotten to me. Having still been finishing a contract up. I tried my best to keep the look off my face as the book was pushed towards me.

“It’s just a visitor book dear. If you don’t mind signing it I will get you a pass.” The lady behind the desk said. I saw now reason to argue so I made my mark next to where Hubert had written my name along with the “C.Candidate“. As I singed she passed over a plastic visitor ID card that I dutifully clipped to my jacket front.

“If you should need anything while your here Mr. Moore, my name is Sylvia Dennis, you just give me a shout or ring and I will see what I can do.” She said with a smile. There was a look in her eyes though. I nodded my thanks and we were off again.

Up stairs and around corridors past what could have only been classrooms until we arrived as a solid oak patterned door. Next to it was a gold colored plaque that delayed Elias Hayden, Dean.

Hubert Opened the door and ushered me in. I found myself walking in to a large, open room, the walls were lined floor to ceiling with book shelves.

“The university library?” I asked quietly.

“No just his library,” Hubert replied pointing across the room. There was a desk in the rough center on the room in front of a very large picture window that looked out on to the city of Arkham. Lights from the high ceiling leaving pools of warmth around the room. The sound of classical music, Greg I’d I’m not mistaken, also wafted along the air like a breeze.

A man stood leaning against the desk looking out. He was slim in tailored slacks and shirt that almost made him look slimmer. His face was mostly hidden in shadow outside of the lights pool. A flash of lighting from the storms I saw gave me the impression of high hawk like features on a weathered face, but gone in the next instant.

“Good evening Mr. Moore,” the older man said. “I am the Dean Elias Hayden. That you for your prompt response to our letter.”

“Daniel is fine sir, and I had nothing going on so it seemed like a nice opportunity to visit New England.” I said as carelessly as I could. “Though it does make me wonder what a school with the background it has, would want someone with a background like mine. It doesn’t seem I would be able to teach many of your classes.”

“Have you been to Africa Daniel?” The Dean asked me in an apparent turn away from my question.

“Yes I have. Several times.”

“Indeed and the last time you found something”

“Yes” my mouth had suddenly became dry and I forced myself to swallow.

“This last time you were there you were involved in the finding of something very rare,” the Dean said “do you remember that?”

I was silent for several seconds as I fought back the adrenaline that I felt starting to seep it’s way into my blood stream. How had he found out about it. Granted I wasn’t the only survivor of whatever came come to them out there on the plaines of Africa, but he has seen no one since his escape and waking up in the mission. The sisters there saying a I been catatonic for two days.

“I am aware of the incident yes. How did you all know?” My voice in edged with a suspicion that I cannot keep out.

“Our man was there too. Sent by the school to look into reports of a very old manuscript that had surfaced’l”. The Dean came around the the desk leaning on the front of it. “

“ Competition for the item then?”

“Not exactly. It’s not a matter of getting a first look of a document, or writing the first paper on it.” The Dean said with a light smirk “it’s more ensuring that the people that do get a hold of something they just won’t understand.”

“These people very much wanted a hold of it,” I said with a chill running down my spine. The way the came out of the darkness firing their Ak-47s from the hip in indiscriminate slaughter. The village was small. I had only stopped to forge our a plow and some shovels for the locals. Their screams woke me in my Land Rover. It was only natural for me to get out to and help save them. The action that ensued was some of the most intense moments of my life. At least so far.

It had been so sudden. I had grabbed my own weapons and dove out of the truck. They had not sent someone to investigate it which was my luck. It had placed me on the far side of the mute murders. I drew a bead and opened fire. I was rewarded to see several of them falling to the same 7.62x 39 as the murders. They still didn’t make a sound. Even the ones that were wounded. The only thrashed mutely as they tired to stand back up. Blood jetting from arterial bleeds for their effort.

Even as they turned to engage me they made no attempt at cover and concealment. It was almost like being on a range in the military again. Quickly blasting through pop up targets. Their hip fire scoring several hits on my truck, but nothing like the fast accurate fire I was giving in return. I suddenly found myself out of targets. The last of my shots echoing out into the darkness only to be filled with the wailing of wounded and dying villagers.

“I don’t remember finding your man,” said as I tried to force the rest of the memory away. “It was a page yes? A torn out page on thick animal hide paper?”

“I couldn’t read it,” I said “after we had cared for the wounded, the village chief showed it to me. It would blur out in my vision. What I could see clearly caused a nose bleed.”

“Did you look at the attackers.” The tone of the Deans voice had changed. He was learning new information now. He had dodged me saying that I didn’t remember his man, but if this was news to him then it was an answer all it’s own.

“Yes. Men from another village. Well...I say men.” I feel a shudder pass through my spine. “They were men at some point.”

They had looked...wrong. Still anatomically recognizably humans but wrong. Used by something. Changed somehow.

“We burned the bodies in a pryer before i left that village”

“The best corse of action I’m sure,” the Dean said. He was waking away from his desk to a book shelf. Looking over the volumes on it before picking out a book old enough to have been hand bound into its leather covers. “There are things in that part of the world from the dawn of the world. Many of the do not like us, but find themselves able to use us to try to obtain there own end. In this case most likely the removal of trespassers. I make that assumption because of what else was found there.”

The Dean opened the book open to a large charcoal drawing. To me it looked to be a crude sketch of a large structure around the edges of the sketch runes of an unknown origin.

“They wanted this sketch?” I asked somewhat dubious

“In a manner of speaking yes. The runes are instructions we believe. Some of the departments are still translating. It’s a delicate process.”

“Directions worth sending those things out to liquidate a whole village?” I said looking it over again. I knew that life was cheap where I was at but a animal skin scroll was something new to him to slaughter over.

“Imagine you had a tribe, and that tribe sought after one thing for generations. Year after year, just out of its reach. That once you got the one thing that everything, absolutely everything. Would you let one small village stand in your way?” The dean said it looking out the window. I was thankful for that so he couldn’t see the grim smirk and nod.

“You on the other hand your did a very good deed for that village as well as my man, and quite possibly a larger group to be sure,” the Dean walked and retrieved the sketch rolling it back up and placing it on his desk. “That caused us to send you the letter that brought you here. I am aware that it’s not exactly what you would look forward to, but you must believe me when I saw it’s not all that appears to be.”

Hubert came back into view from his browsing. Coming over to the Dean.

“We require, from time to time, men of a certain caliber to serve the school, and through that service, the rest of the wider world. You have many times chose the hard path of service without recognition or reward to a cause much larger then yourself. You will find that here.” Hubert said.

“Stay with us for the week. We have paid for your room. You can eat at the campus free of charge. Hubert will still act as a guide and can tell you more about the position.” The dean had walked around and resumed his seat on the other side of his desk.

“What exactly is the job?” I ask, the build up had left me genuinely curious. I had been a independent contractor since the late stages of the Afghan war. I had yet to work for a school though.

“The contract is for a Custodian.”