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Description

“Willett meanwhile had gone up to the dismantled laboratory and brought down a few odds and ends not included in the moving of the July before. They were in a covered basket, and Mr. Ward never saw what they were…”

In July 1966 the Providence Rhode Island City Chamber of Commerce auctioned off the property at 10 Barnes Street. The home and grounds, a beautiful example of 1880’s Victorian design had been the home of childless widower Dr. Marinus Bicknell Willett. Willett had died in 1950 and the house had stood empty ever since. Curiously, Willett’s will, had a paid provision that his home should remain empty for the period his funding could maintain for tax purposes. It was then explicitly stated it should be torn down.

Despite protestations from the law firm representing the deceased, legal loopholes that had not been addressed in the 1950’s allowed for the city to take possession of the property instead.

After auction the new owners immediately hired workmen to restore the house. Though vacant for 16 years the structure was remarkably sound, with only minor repairs being needed to various areas of plaster, flooring, heating and plumbing systems. Beyond that the work was largely a matter of cleaning.

Within the library however the workers encountered a strange situation: A painting of a handsome young man in 1920’s period dress bearing the nameplate “CDW” was hanging above the fireplace, or so it had seemed. It quickly became apparent that the portrait was bolted or in some other way affixed to the wall itself.

While searching the border for a screw head or other fastener the workman’s hand passed over a hidden lever. The painting immediately swung open on rusty hinges depositing the surprised laborer on the floor.

Behind the painting was a hidden cabinet space and within was an oddly steepled chest and a stack of papers, newspaper articles and photographs.

Had the foreman not happened upon the scene at this point the box may well have discreetly found its way into the workman’s truck and disappeared forever.

Having a vast experience in antique structures and furniture the foreman gasped in surprise. The box was an excellent example of 18th century craftsmanship. Its steepled design bespoke of medieval Chasse caskets but this was no reliquary. Dusty and cracking leather carrying straps implied the casket was designed to be mobile (at least by 18th century standards). It’s heavily corroded brass trim and hardware suggested it had not always been in this cabinet but had instead been in a cooler, damper environment for some time. The locks on the double hasps were also of antique design. The chest was presented to the new owners who excitedly employed a locksmith to open the chest.

At that point however the owners recoiled in fear and disgust. The box had been identified by local antiquarians as a British colonial-era Apothecarist travel case. What was inside however, was of a much darker nature.

The chest was clearly a Necromancers mobile lab of some sort. Had Dr. Willett led a secret life? Was this pillar of the community actually involved in dark arts to raise the dead?

Eager to avoid scandal the owners contacted Brown University to take possession of the chest and evaluate its “historical value”. Upon a cursory evaluation however the University contacted Miskatonic University to conduct the inquiry. It was universally agreed the contents of the chest were of such a nature that Miskatonic’s faculty and departments were uniquely qualified to evaluate its purpose and origin. Miskatonic’ s Medical School, which was heading the investigation team also employed a private detective from Arkham to ascertain more of Dr. Willett’s life to gain some clue as to the nature of this unprecedented discovery.

What little could be found painted a strikingly sad picture.

Dr. Marinus Bicknell Willett, born March 14th 1861, Native of Providence, Attended Brown University Medical School 1879, graduated with honors 1883. Purchased the then newly built residence at 10 Barnes Street and began private practice in 1884. Records indicate Dr. Willett soon began to attend the wealthier families of Providence almost exclusively.

Trouble began for Dr. Willet in 1928 with regards to a patient he had attended since birth. A Chalres D. Ward of Providence had apparently been committed to a sanatorium on Conanicut Island, Jamestown for a nervous condition which left him unable to function. Mr. Ward then escaped from his confinement and was never heard from again.

It can be inferred from the decline in Dr. Willett’s practice, combined with a lengthy leave of absence for recuperation that the loss of this patient had been hard on him personally, that he may in fact never have recovered. What was now clear was who “CDW” was in the painting at Barnes Street. What was NOT clear is why these necromantic accutrama were placed directly BEHIND his likeness.

The remaining records concerning Charles Dexter Ward were even harder to locate. His parents, Theodore and Abigail Ward had both died within ten years of their son’s disappearance. All that could be discovered was that Charles’s breakdown was connected to genealogical research into his ancestry.

The accompanying papers with the box were also curious. The articles seemed to run the gambit for grave robbery and vampirism in Providence to very specific foreign disasters abroad collected by a press-cutting agency to simple reports of local noisy dogs. The photos too showed a range from a damaged painting of an unknown subject named “Joseph Curwen”, photos of a disturbed grave of a one “Ehzra Wheedon” to a heavily modified picture of Charles Ward as “Doctor Allen”. The latter having apparently been used by private detectives as some form of evidence.

These papers along with what records could be uncovered by the Detective were added to the overall case file.

The Miskatonic evaluation only served to raise more questions than it answered.

It was noted that all implements regardless of type were covered in dust and cobwebs that had built up over enough time to form actual dirt while the interior of the chest itself was relatively clean. This suggested the contents had been stored in an open area elsewhere for a very long period of time before being collected and stored in the chest.

The contents were an eclectic mix of alchemical ingredients, both processed and raw, various occult relics, scraps, pages, scrolls and journals outlining various necromantic processes, several torture implements, religious fetish statues and plaques of unknown provenance. Most disturbingly however were eight crude candles which when tested proved to be comprised of human fat. Finally there were two r igidly separated sets of leaden clay vessels containing various colored powders. These vessels, two distinct types, slender lekythoi with the label of 'Custodes' above them, and single handled Phaleron style jugs correspondingly labeled with a sign reading 'Materia'. Latin for Guards and Materials respectively. All had metal stoppers, and were covered with peculiar-looking symbols molded in low relief filled with a curious powder…except one.

A letter apparently written by Dr. Willett himself, seemingly for himself as a kind of diary or confession was of little aid and only further confused the issue. He spoke with dread of being rescued by, but narrowly escaping death at the hands of someone he calls “118” and feared his eventual return for the materials he now possessed. Dr. Willett had apparently not been guilty of Necromancy but had acquired this chest from someone intent on its destruction. Additionally, his letter makes reference to “great thinkers” and his unwillingness to destroy them for what they might be able one day to tell. Clearly, though not a sorcerer Dr. Willett had come to BELIEVE in the Necromancy process he had become involved with.

The individual University departments, each tasked with reviewing a specific section of the chest were confounded in every instance by their conclusions.

Some articles were commonplace items of the 18th century, others were of such a staggering age they threatened to rewrite accepted history. Some esoteric items were well known, standard articles of medieval sorcery while others were absolute enigmas without historical precedent. All ingredients whether processed or raw reflected types of plant, animal and mineral ingredients either wholly unknown to science or combined in ways never before attempted in respected chemical or biological practices. Indeed they all seemed related to life processes in one manner or another, in particular the STIMULATION of it. A quality most intriguing to the Necrobiology department under Dr. West.

The powders contained in the leaden vessels were a complete mystery. An accompanying journal made breath-taking claims as to the possible identities of the interred ash/powder substances, though this was put down by most, but not all, of the team members as a madman’s flights of fancy.

Preliminary investigation revealed the substances to be of identical consistencies and texture. The powder was fine, almost powder-sand like substance with a curious non-adherent quality. Colors or pigments varied widely ranging from bluish-black, to greenish-brown, to pinkish white. Chemical analysis revealed a curious resistance to dissolution or destruction. The substances did not react to any standard base or acid tests, temperature variations or chemical breakdowns. Indeed the samples natural adherence to its own makeup as opposed to any other surface or substance was extreme. The individual specimens themselves resisted any effort to be combined. Even when portions of two vessel samples were mixed they would immediately begin to chemically (as well as physically) separate in a fashion rapid enough to be observed by the naked eye.

The Chemistry department’s opinion was that these substances contained an ability to react to their environments in a way consistent with an organism’s immune system. The vessels themselves, made of leaden clay appeared to be the only substance that effectively retarded this quality.

Most notably was the fact that one lekythoi, assigned the number 21 and referred to as a “Toni Gomes” was empty.

There were however revelations outside the academic that were apparently just as jarring. The detective on retainer charged with uncovering secular details of the case turned up dead the very night after delivering to the University what little on Willett and Ward he could uncover. He was found murdered in an alley a block from his home, the victim of an apparent mugging although his wallet and watch remained on his person despite his pockets being clearly rifled and checked for something. Additionally the head of the Providence Archive, having his interest piqued by the detectives visit and subsequently conducting his own research resigned shortly thereafter due to what was described as “extreme paranoia” and claims of harassment.

A midnight break-in to the Medical School was investigated with passing concern until it was repeated several days later. A week later a different building was entered and ransacked. From that point on the chest and its contents, which was clearly the target (most likely by black market antiquarians intent on the theft of so old a chest) were moved to a walk-in safe. Following a further break-in, this one interrupted by increased security, attacks ceased. The evaluation was placed on indefinite hold until it was deemed safe to the faculty to continue. Eventually the chest was forgotten, it lay in storage for decades until uncovered by a routine inventory. Today it is on display in the Miskatonic Medical School’s Museum as an example of 18th century clandestine alchemical/medical research.

Description

“Willett meanwhile had gone up to the dismantled laboratory and brought down a few odds and ends not included in the moving of the July before. They were in a covered basket, and Mr. Ward never saw what they were…”

In July 1966 the Providence Rhode Island City Chamber of Commerce auctioned off the property at 10 Barnes Street. The home and grounds, a beautiful example of 1880’s Victorian design had been the home of childless widower Dr. Marinus Bicknell Willett. Willett had died in 1950 and the house had stood empty ever since. Curiously, Willett’s will, had a paid provision that his home should remain empty for the period his funding could maintain for tax purposes. It was then explicitly stated it should be torn down.

Despite protestations from the law firm representing the deceased, legal loopholes that had not been addressed in the 1950’s allowed for the city to take possession of the property instead.

After auction the new owners immediately hired workmen to restore the house. Though vacant for 16 years the structure was remarkably sound, with only minor repairs being needed to various areas of plaster, flooring, heating and plumbing systems. Beyond that the work was largely a matter of cleaning.

Within the library however the workers encountered a strange situation: A painting of a handsome young man in 1920’s period dress bearing the nameplate “CDW” was hanging above the fireplace, or so it had seemed. It quickly became apparent that the portrait was bolted or in some other way affixed to the wall itself.

While searching the border for a screw head or other fastener the workman’s hand passed over a hidden lever. The painting immediately swung open on rusty hinges depositing the surprised laborer on the floor.

Behind the painting was a hidden cabinet space and within was an oddly steepled chest and a stack of papers, newspaper articles and photographs.

Had the foreman not happened upon the scene at this point the box may well have discreetly found its way into the workman’s truck and disappeared forever.

Having a vast experience in antique structures and furniture the foreman gasped in surprise. The box was an excellent example of 18th century craftsmanship. Its steepled design bespoke of medieval Chasse caskets but this was no reliquary. Dusty and cracking leather carrying straps implied the casket was designed to be mobile (at least by 18th century standards). It’s heavily corroded brass trim and hardware suggested it had not always been in this cabinet but had instead been in a cooler, damper environment for some time. The locks on the double hasps were also of antique design. The chest was presented to the new owners who excitedly employed a locksmith to open the chest.

At that point however the owners recoiled in fear and disgust. The box had been identified by local antiquarians as a British colonial-era Apothecarist travel case. What was inside however, was of a much darker nature.

The chest was clearly a Necromancers mobile lab of some sort. Had Dr. Willett led a secret life? Was this pillar of the community actually involved in dark arts to raise the dead?

Eager to avoid scandal the owners contacted Brown University to take possession of the chest and evaluate its “historical value”. Upon a cursory evaluation however the University contacted Miskatonic University to conduct the inquiry. It was universally agreed the contents of the chest were of such a nature that Miskatonic’s faculty and departments were uniquely qualified to evaluate its purpose and origin. Miskatonic’ s Medical School, which was heading the investigation team also employed a private detective from Arkham to ascertain more of Dr. Willett’s life to gain some clue as to the nature of this unprecedented discovery.

What little could be found painted a strikingly sad picture.

Dr. Marinus Bicknell Willett, born March 14th 1861, Native of Providence, Attended Brown University Medical School 1879, graduated with honors 1883. Purchased the then newly built residence at 10 Barnes Street and began private practice in 1884. Records indicate Dr. Willett soon began to attend the wealthier families of Providence almost exclusively.

Trouble began for Dr. Willet in 1928 with regards to a patient he had attended since birth. A Chalres D. Ward of Providence had apparently been committed to a sanatorium on Conanicut Island, Jamestown for a nervous condition which left him unable to function. Mr. Ward then escaped from his confinement and was never heard from again.

It can be inferred from the decline in Dr. Willett’s practice, combined with a lengthy leave of absence for recuperation that the loss of this patient had been hard on him personally, that he may in fact never have recovered. What was now clear was who “CDW” was in the painting at Barnes Street. What was NOT clear is why these necromantic accutrama were placed directly BEHIND his likeness.

The remaining records concerning Charles Dexter Ward were even harder to locate. His parents, Theodore and Abigail Ward had both died within ten years of their son’s disappearance. All that could be discovered was that Charles’s breakdown was connected to genealogical research into his ancestry.

The accompanying papers with the box were also curious. The articles seemed to run the gambit for grave robbery and vampirism in Providence to very specific foreign disasters abroad collected by a press-cutting agency to simple reports of local noisy dogs. The photos too showed a range from a damaged painting of an unknown subject named “Joseph Curwen”, photos of a disturbed grave of a one “Ehzra Wheedon” to a heavily modified picture of Charles Ward as “Doctor Allen”. The latter having apparently been used by private detectives as some form of evidence.

These papers along with what records could be uncovered by the Detective were added to the overall case file.

The Miskatonic evaluation only served to raise more questions than it answered.

It was noted that all implements regardless of type were covered in dust and cobwebs that had built up over enough time to form actual dirt while the interior of the chest itself was relatively clean. This suggested the contents had been stored in an open area elsewhere for a very long period of time before being collected and stored in the chest.

The contents were an eclectic mix of alchemical ingredients, both processed and raw, various occult relics, scraps, pages, scrolls and journals outlining various necromantic processes, several torture implements, religious fetish statues and plaques of unknown provenance. Most disturbingly however were eight crude candles which when tested proved to be comprised of human fat. Finally there were two r igidly separated sets of leaden clay vessels containing various colored powders. These vessels, two distinct types, slender lekythoi with the label of 'Custodes' above them, and single handled Phaleron style jugs correspondingly labeled with a sign reading 'Materia'. Latin for Guards and Materials respectively. All had metal stoppers, and were covered with peculiar-looking symbols molded in low relief filled with a curious powder…except one.

A letter apparently written by Dr. Willett himself, seemingly for himself as a kind of diary or confession was of little aid and only further confused the issue. He spoke with dread of being rescued by, but narrowly escaping death at the hands of someone he calls “118” and feared his eventual return for the materials he now possessed. Dr. Willett had apparently not been guilty of Necromancy but had acquired this chest from someone intent on its destruction. Additionally, his letter makes reference to “great thinkers” and his unwillingness to destroy them for what they might be able one day to tell. Clearly, though not a sorcerer Dr. Willett had come to BELIEVE in the Necromancy process he had become involved with.

The individual University departments, each tasked with reviewing a specific section of the chest were confounded in every instance by their conclusions.

Some articles were commonplace items of the 18th century, others were of such a staggering age they threatened to rewrite accepted history. Some esoteric items were well known, standard articles of medieval sorcery while others were absolute enigmas without historical precedent. All ingredients whether processed or raw reflected types of plant, animal and mineral ingredients either wholly unknown to science or combined in ways never before attempted in respected chemical or biological practices. Indeed they all seemed related to life processes in one manner or another, in particular the STIMULATION of it. A quality most intriguing to the Necrobiology department under Dr. West.

The powders contained in the leaden vessels were a complete mystery. An accompanying journal made breath-taking claims as to the possible identities of the interred ash/powder substances, though this was put down by most, but not all, of the team members as a madman’s flights of fancy.

Preliminary investigation revealed the substances to be of identical consistencies and texture. The powder was fine, almost powder-sand like substance with a curious non-adherent quality. Colors or pigments varied widely ranging from bluish-black, to greenish-brown, to pinkish white. Chemical analysis revealed a curious resistance to dissolution or destruction. The substances did not react to any standard base or acid tests, temperature variations or chemical breakdowns. Indeed the samples natural adherence to its own makeup as opposed to any other surface or substance was extreme. The individual specimens themselves resisted any effort to be combined. Even when portions of two vessel samples were mixed they would immediately begin to chemically (as well as physically) separate in a fashion rapid enough to be observed by the naked eye.

The Chemistry department’s opinion was that these substances contained an ability to react to their environments in a way consistent with an organism’s immune system. The vessels themselves, made of leaden clay appeared to be the only substance that effectively retarded this quality.

Most notably was the fact that one lekythoi, assigned the number 21 and referred to as a “Toni Gomes” was empty.

There were however revelations outside the academic that were apparently just as jarring. The detective on retainer charged with uncovering secular details of the case turned up dead the very night after delivering to the University what little on Willett and Ward he could uncover. He was found murdered in an alley a block from his home, the victim of an apparent mugging although his wallet and watch remained on his person despite his pockets being clearly rifled and checked for something. Additionally the head of the Providence Archive, having his interest piqued by the detectives visit and subsequently conducting his own research resigned shortly thereafter due to what was described as “extreme paranoia” and claims of harassment.

A midnight break-in to the Medical School was investigated with passing concern until it was repeated several days later. A week later a different building was entered and ransacked. From that point on the chest and its contents, which was clearly the target (most likely by black market antiquarians intent on the theft of so old a chest) were moved to a walk-in safe. Following a further break-in, this one interrupted by increased security, attacks ceased. The evaluation was placed on indefinite hold until it was deemed safe to the faculty to continue. Eventually the chest was forgotten, it lay in storage for decades until uncovered by a routine inventory. Today it is on display in the Miskatonic Medical School’s Museum as an example of 18th century clandestine alchemical/medical research.