We’ve found Hammond’s camp, and it’s in a sorry state. All the expedition members are dead, and there’s a tent full of minerals that probably killed them. As far as I can see, there was a dust storm a while back and what better way to wait it out than gather up in a tent with the glowy rocks, close all the doors and sit there banging away at them to get the glowy stuff out? I haven’t a clue what that stuff is, but to sit in a big circle huffing the dust that comes off seems to me like a perfect way to get infected with whatever is in those rocks. There is now a jar of the stuff in our transport, and I’m sleeping on the other side. I’ve been on Arkham expeditions before, and eldritch emanations from the ghost-world are usually a good sign that you’re about to get hosed.
One person remains unaccounted-for: Carl Tennant, our friendly sniper’s brother. He’s wandered off to get help. No telling what state of mind he was in, but getting the hell away from that camp seems like a sign of sanity to me. We’ve now set off looking for him. His letter said he was sick already, so he’s probably lying in a ditch right now. Still, as the Prof says, no man left behind, tally ho old bean.
Why do these Arkham expeditions always turn into such God-awful messes?
— James T. Riley, expedition report.
This is our American friend James Riley’s account of the search for Carl Tennant, Miss Alexandra’s brother. I believe he had some sort of altercation with Master Nazeem on the way, but they seem to have settled their differences now. Honestly, I may be a teacher to some, but that does not mean that everybody should behave like school children.