[center][color=39b54a][h1]Jeremy Arthur Velera[/h1]
Psysical state: Tired.
Mental state: Shaken, reaccuring thoughts.
[/color][/center]

[i][color=8882be]...And out from the nearby shellhole, the greenish-yellow cloud of death silently crept up over the top. In the hole he lay surrounded by his dead comrades, staying perfectly still, so peaceful, so innocent. The cloud made no difference though, as it formed into the shape of a man, if it could be called that. It looked at him with its empty eyesockets, pressing its face up against Jeremy's, only his mask between them. The others were not so lucky, as the figure turned around to devour them from the inside out, making them scream. Rats poured out from their mouths, yet their screams went on louder, piercing like a bullet. 

[center]"...for you shall seek the truth, but yet again find the darkness that surrouded you before. Give in, the stars align, one soul shall be the bane for all mankind...madness...darkness...
...He rises...[/center][/color][/i]

Jeremy threw himself out of bed, landing on his face as he made contact with the cold wooden floor of his room. How did he end up there? [i]Oh yes, the nightmare...[/i]It always ended like this, him waking up violently from his sleep only to find himself safe, wherever he had fallen asleep. This time it felt different though; stronger, more real, frightening. [i]Wait, what's the time?[/i] The clock kept on ticking as it hung on the wall, right over the stove and sink. The fading black arms pointed at II and VIII respectively; ten past eight. It was still time for him to eat a little bit before his shift started. 

It was a bit chilly now that Jeremy thought about it, and a quick glance out the window comfirmed his suspicion; it was snowing outside, even more than the day before. Unlike those upper-class Yanks that inhabiteded the city, Jeremy was no stranger to the cold, and promptly pulled on his long, darkening-brown trench coat with makeshift sewing here and there to cover the holes. He'd buy a new now, if he hadn't been still saving money for someone much more important, so for now he could live with wearing a trench coat he'd been shot in. [i]Not that those folks out there really care...[/i]

His path led him down towards Church Street, passing people going in both directions and minding their own business. It was then that Jeremy realized two thing; one, his right hand was still shaking, even when he clutched it as tight as he could. [i]Come on you little shite, cut it![/i] He though, violently pushing his hand down into his pocket, hoping it wouldn't be so apparent to everyone around. 

The second thing was that more people seemed to walk towards the university than normal. It would normally have gone right past him, hadn't it been for the yelling that accompanied the crowd making their way down the street. A loud [b]thump[/b] turned the yellig into screams, louder and louder as he got closer. But it was none of Jeremy's business, he was a simple mechanic after all, not psychologist or anything of the kind that dealt with people. At least in that particular way. So instead he made a left and opened the door to "Valentines". 

[color=39b54a]"Mornin', Mr. Valentine. What's the fuzz over at Miskatonic all about? And I'll have the normal sandwich, please."[/color]
[center]_____________________________[/center]

[center][h2][color=f7941d]Dr. Arthur Steiner[/color][/h2][/center]

[color=f7941d]"Get out of the way! What the Hell is going on out here?"[/color] It seemed that there could be no peace for Arthur these days. Ever since he had returned from his annual Christmas celebrations at his beloved hunting lodge down towards Boston, he had been bothered by new, excited students or the old, grey professors. [i]Rascals, always talking about some new discovery within the sciences of gravity or whatever in the name of God they called it these days. And then these bald moles who do nothing but dig their noses down in books. I don't care! I'm a professor of religious history and Latin, not physics![/i]

His internal ranting came to a quick standstill once he breached the sea of people outside, and saw him. [color=f7941d]"In the name of Zeus...Howard..."[/color]

The man, or rather the remains of what once had been a man lay in front of him. Around him stood one of Arthur's students in his lingvistics-classes, Günther, German. With him sat another student, he didn't recognize him, and Professor Jeremiah Dupree of anthropology. They all looked taken back by the situation, although all in their respective ways. Arthur stood there speechless for a few seconds, taking it all it, when he heard someone ask [b]Where did the other man go?[/b] Arthur looked in the direction the question came from, a puzzled look on his face as he turned back to Günther and Dupree. [color=f7941d]"There were two? What is going on, did Dr. Atkins jump from the Monument? Would some kindly explain to me, what the Hell is going on here?"[/color]