It started out like any other evening. Work was winding down, and I only had one stop to make on the way home. The previous day I had received a notice that a package was waiting for me to pick up from the post office. I hadn't been expecting anything, and my curiosity was piqued. After I retrieved my parcel from the postal teller I noticed that the sender was simply labeled as, "Chaosium." Thinking nothing of it I returned home and began to inspect its contents:
What did I find inside? The beginning:
A treasure trove of lost knowledge and artifacts had been sent to me. Tickets, passports, postcards, a map, and books started me on a European tour that I would never forget, try as I might:
My hands trembled as I removed the blasphemous knowledge from its sturdy cradle. I struggled to understand the curvilinear hieroglyphs that seemed foreign yet strangely familiar to me.
Names, places, danger, and terror beyond comprehension flashed through my mind as my fingers danced across the tomes. I wanted to turn away, to leave the precipice of discovery at which I stood, yet something sinister kept drawing me in:
I finally reached the last of the box's contents.
In my hands I held diagrams of some profane and alien nature. What lost and ancient evil threatened to consume me? Could I survive such a journey, and would I want to? My eyes looked out the window to the dawning twilight, and in my ears I fancied that I could hear the distant whistle of a train calling out to its passengers. The Orient Express awaits.