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I am fortunate that my proclivity for publicly assaulting people with my cane coupled with my tenacious curiosity in regards to certain specialized fields of astrology and geology grants me a delightful amount of liberty in my responsibilities to the University. They quite appreciate having me as a resource, but any excuse to get me off campus is more than welcome. And so it was a simple matter to convince the Dean that I was desperately needed to investigate this pressing matter... and that it would serve the University well in scholarly circles if they where to reopen my "Fieldwork" account that I may be fully prepared for a major discovery that I could then attribute to their generosity. Between Mr. Brennan's broad reaching contacts as a private investigator, and my enthusiasm where spending Arkham's money is concerned we had no difficulty assembling a team for this little expedition. We were kitted and on our way to Thailand within a week of speaking to Newberg.
Other than a few incidents of motion sickness from a former student of mine with a curious disposition, and a frankly unacceptable quantity of stinging insects, our journey to the island was uneventful. I find the long, slow hikes and rickety boat trips on such an adventure almost soothing; at least when I'm not being fucking eaten alive. Someday, there will be a reckoning upon all the crawling, biting, stinging things and it shall be glorious.
We arrived on Ko Surin greeted by a young local man named Aawut, who had been arranged by Newberg to guide us to the relevant village. Aawut was a friendly sort, with a ready smile and keen eyes. He treated our weary little party to a small but hearty supper after the requisite salutations and networking. Our team having been welcomed and fed, the long trek caught up with us and we were shepherded to our respective quarters. The rooms were small, but comfortable as such things go, and for me at least the sleep afforded was quite restful.
Admittedly, the joys associated with a restful sleep were somewhat diminished when the rising sun brought gruesome tidings. Jenkins, a sturdy man in his forties Patrick had recruited in a seaside tavern, was found gutted and strewn about his bedroom after he had missed breakfast. Upon inspecting the body I found evidence of a high degree of precision and the use of a very sharp curved blade. It seemed like the wounds had been made while Jenkins yet lived, at least most of them, but there was no sign of struggle, no defensive injuries. The poor man had been drugged, tortured to death, and desecrated. Our journey had not been in vain.
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