Miskatonic University. Arkham, Massachusetts. A courtyard bell strikes in a sharp, hollow tone, signaling the start of a new hour. Bodies move and shuffle through the campus grounds with a hum of conversation following. There’s a chill in the air that seems to be always constant, or even stronger depending on the time of day.

Even in the lecture hall, it’s as though the faint sound of ghostly chatter can be heard, if one were to listen close enough. Tiers of chairs stood crowded around the center desk, where Professor Crowley sat looking over papers. He sensed the new presence without looking and addressed it with a low, curt tone.

“If you wished for a meeting, you should’ve let me know before hand. But, since you’re already here, you may as well state your business. So, go on. Speak.”