Campaign of the Month: July 2017

The Miskatonic Society

From the Diary of Kitty Halloran

Once upon a time, I was just a young widow writing a paragraph here and there for the Gazette. Then I started doing research into that unfortunate incident at Wellesley in ’14, met Dr. Armitage, and the rest is…strange. The rest is without a doubt strange.

Bad enough that I nearly got myself sliced, speared, drowned, electrocuted, and clawed last year. I managed to avoid a lot of damage. Some of my friends were not so lucky. Artie puts on a good show, but I worry that he won’t ever totally recover from the lightning machine. I don’t even want to think about what happened to poor Father Bryan. But really, all of that was…small potatoes compared to what’s happened so far this year. That was monsters and mummies. This year? This year, we have gods. Gods. Plural. Of the terrible pagan sort the priests always warned us about. Death and blood and misery. And indifference. Complete indifference.

Twice now, I’ve investigated the work of a sea-themed being ( …god? ) that appears to be called Nodens. I believe I may even have spoken to it ( him? ). And always, the impression I get is one of indifference. It doesn’t care about anything other than its own ends. If we’re helping it, then it doesn’t oppose us. If we don’t…well, that trip to Nebraska showed us what happens if we don’t. The difference between benign indifference and malicious indifference. If you don’t plan on helping it, best not to get involved at all…

The worst of it is, there is another one out and about. And it is even more terrible, because what it wants is nothing more or less than death. I hesitate to even write the name. Given the stories that Whyborne has passed along, I don’t think it’s a name to spread around. Perhaps neither of them are…though given a choice between the two, I’d say one’s odds, while still not good, are better with the sea god than the charnel god. And don’t those descriptions tell you everything you need to know?

This year has already been difficult. Poor, silly Biff lost a leg, James is in a French prison somewhere, and Obediah is still traumatized by what happened to poor Sister Alice. And now it sounds as though that witch from the Advertiser is stirring up trouble for the Society. How much more can the Society take? How much more can I take?

I used to believe that Harold was nothing more than a shell-shocked, paranoid lunatic. I’m starting to realize that he might just be the smartest one of us all…

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