September 24, 1926

Dr. Ernest McTavish, head of Archaeology at Miskatonic University, has invited you to a meeting in his office at 11 a.m.

It is a cold, rainy day in Arkham, and the sky is forebodingly black. Students and faculty members run across the quad for shelter, using papers and bags as makeshift umbrellas.

McTavish’s office is considerably less old-fashioned and stuffy than newcomers might expect, as is the man himself. The office is airy, and has plain, white walls, with a number of diplomas and awards hanging in frames. Wooden shelves contain a broad range of archaeological and historical tomes, including a handful authored or co-authored by McTavish, as well as a number of minor artifacts, mostly masks, tablets, and pottery, from his various expeditions around the Americas. His oaken desk is tidy, with neat piles of papers arranged with almost geometrical precision. One pile is held in place by a Mexican skull, inlaid with turquoise.

Caden moves across the campus at a decent clip, while still taking in all he sees. He doesn't quite know what the job is yet, but anything could be a potential clue later on. His trench coat flaps in the wind, the collar turned up high, and his hat slung down. The heels of his polished shoes click loudly on the cobbles, a rakish smirk on his face.
Young people, so much enthusiasm, so much hope he thinks, as if he weren't only 25 himself. He knocks quickly on the door frame before entering. His hat is now under his arm, and his semi-short dark brown hair is messy from his hat and the wind, but something about it also seems intentional. His blue green eyes flash with enthusiasm.

Dr. McTavish meets you at the door with a wide, toothy smile. In his early thirties, he wears a fashionably tailored suit and a tie that is just on the wrong side of garish. He greets you with an enthusiastic, almost manic sort of energy, giving you a strong handshake and making a broad, sweeping gesture as he leads you into the room.

"Ah! You must be Mr. Willett. A pleasure, a real pleasure! Please, come in, you're the first to arrive, may I take your coat? Please! Do make yourself comfortable, it looks an absolute mess outside, as soon as everyone else gets here I'll have Donald here bring some coffee to warm you up."

He gestures to a young man, presumable a graduate student, sitting in a chair in the corner and poring over some papers. He looks up as he hears his name and smiles furtively towards Caden, whom he can't be more than a few years younger than.

Caden smiles and hands over his coat. "Thank you professor. And Thank you for the opportunity. Work has been slow in Boston as of late."
He lowers himself into the chair with relief.

"Of course, of course! I'm thrilled you're able to attend to this matter for the University, word on the street is that you do absolutely sterling work, there was that one case you handled brilliantly several months ago that got some attention in the Globe, wasn't there? Very impressive for a young man your age to be doing that sort of work."

He runs a hand through his hair and feigns embarrassment.

Eric sprints across the quad splashing through the puddles. His squat muscular frame a thing for the other faculty members to avoid, "I aint gonna stop for no one until I am out of this goddamn rain".
A foolhardy fresher barely has time to move out of Erics way as he crashes through the door of the building. "Sorry young'n" he says over his shoulder as his pace slows to a steady walk down the corridor.
Arriving at the Professors office he gives a curt knock and enters.

Eric stands there in the door frame. Beads of rain run from his tidy oiled hair down his face. He pulls out a clean hanky and dries the rain from his glasses, then mops the rain from his face. "Am I late?"

Professor Peaslee strides down the corridor at a measured pace. He was just coming from his office upstairs. He is a trim man in his late forties well trimmed and manicured and well dressed. As he approaches Dr. McTavish's office he sees Eric Fulbright knocking at the door. "Ah, Eric. You're in on this too?" he calls out to the man he has only known briefly.

Eric looks over his shoulder, "Prof Peaslee, hi".

Not that it's my office...but are the two of you just going to hover?

Eric moves into the office and introduces himself to Caden, "Hi I'm Eric Fulbright, post grad Archaeologist Major" and extends a hand of friendship.

"CAden Willett, Private Eye. Pleasure."

"Ah, wonderful, wonderful. Mr. Fulbright, Professor Peaslee, please do come in, make yourselves comfortable."

McTavish helps you with your coats, and checks his pocket watch for the time.

"I am expecting one or two others to arrive. As soon as they do, I'll explain to you exactly what this whole ordeal is about. In the meantime... Donald, would you be so kind as to brew up some coffee for my guests?"

The graduate student nods obligingly, sheepishly avoiding eye contact with any of the investigators before he trudges out the office and down the hall.

"Thank you sir, I'm intrigued by this invitation"

Frank strolls uneasily onto campus, not his kind of place. The young men here, though not much younger than he, are of a different class, a different sort altogether. He manages to hop between eaves and overhangs of the dorm entrances and department buildings without getting too wet or being noticed, a minor feat considering he looks a bit cheaper, slicker, and harder than most people here. He's allowed to be here, he was invited in fact, but he'd rather not have to explain himself to anyone. He arrives at the door and knocks, gingerly. His hat is still angled down and the collar of his jacket is still up.

Peaslee nods to the PI and says, "Professor Wingate Peaslee of the Psychology department. My friends call me Win. I'm wondering what a Psychologist is doing in a meeting with archaeologists.

"And you must be Mr. Rynders, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, please have a seat and join us."

Turning to the whole group, he furrows his brow slightly. "I was under the impression there was going to be one more of you, but it's already quarter past, so I'd fear we'd better get started. Perhaps they're just lagging. As soon as Donald is back with refreshments, I'll begin - which ought to explain why we've asked a psychologist to accompany the group," he says with a nod towards Peaslee.