Before Innsmouth

ARKHAM-M. U. EXHIBITION MUSEUM In a dusty display case in a dark comer are specimens of Innsmouth
jewelry. Still mistakenly residing among the American Folk Arts collection, these obviously Polynesianinfluenced
golden armlets were sold to the museum in 1844 by a seaman from the Marsh vessel, the Sumatra Queen. Made of a
whitish-gold alloy, and carved with odd geometric designs and bizarre ichthyic or batrachian figures, the jewelry
seems too large for most human arms. Add I 02 to Innsmouth Lore.

Newbury Library
- A strange man whose face is heavily obscured is talking to the librarian.
- “And so we have a deal? You must convince her to sell them!”
- “How many times must I repeat myself? Leave her alone!”
- “Must I remind you that my boss doesn’t take no for an answer?”
- “Err but… I…”
- “Think it over, you have three days. Once you’ve made up your mind, call this number.”
- “But really I… I don’t…”
- *guy leaves and glares at people in the doorway* “Move it, moron.” and pushes past
- If they mention Innsmouth to the librarian “So, you’re the “good cop” eh?” *let PC respond* Listen, you
people need to get it through your thick bublous skulls! Tell Marsh I will never give into his demands!”
He’ll quickly realize his mistake and apologize.
- If they want to know about Innsmouth. “I don’t actually know. It’s not a topic many people ask about. Try
the shelf at the back of the room, Essex section.”

NEWBURYPORT-HISTORICAL SOCIETY
- This painting was donated by a street artist on his way to Boston.
- Over here is a fascinating item. It’s a bas-relief from the South Seas brought her to New England last
century on the “Sumatra Queen” captained by Obed Marsh.
- This is a Loius the 14th Renaisance mirror.
- These are some carved statues from the South Seas. They depict anthropomorphic figures and other strange
dieties worshipped there.
- This is real English silverware from Sheffield to be precise.
- And this is another one of those disputed items. It’s some kind of tiara similar to the one depicted in that
relief over there. We obtained it for a rock bottom price from an Innsmouth drunk. A pitieful fellow! We
suspect he may have stolen it when the Marshes demanded it back… we tried to find him to ask but we
heard he died in a bar fight.
- It’s made from a strange alloy which contains gold. Many things were produced by the gold refinery that
Obed Marsh built after returning from his voyages.
- Feel free to take a look around, I must attend to some matters before closing up.
- During the century just passed Captain Obed Marsh hoarded many treasures while voyaging the South
Seas.
Among the items on display in the Society's small exhibit room is a beautiful tiara made of a white-gold alloy. The
tiara is oddly proportioned, elliptical and too large for a human head. Of truly unique workmanship and style, it is
chased throughout with both geometric designs and marine motifs. The latter depict creatures half-fish, half-frog,
and somehow disturbingly human. The piece is tentatively described as East-Indian or Indo-Chinese in origin. If the
investigators talk to the Society's curator, the pious Miss Anna Tilton, they learn more.
The tiara was obtained in 1873 from a pawnbroker who had gotten it from a drunken Innsmouth native who
was soon afterward killed in a brawl. Miss Tilton believes it to be part of a pirate hoard discovered by Obed Marsh,
citing as proof the fact that to this day the Marshes still occasionally offer ridiculous sums of money trying to
purchase it back from the Society. The elderly Miss Tilton attributes Innsmouth's decay to the rise of the Esoteric
Order of Dagon, a heathenistic religion imported from the Far East nearly a century ago.
 This pagan faith eventually supplanted all other religions and organizations in Innsmouth, even the
Masons, whose Hall the Esoteric Order now occupies. She claims that Innsmouth has degenerated into a dying,
backward, inbred town. Examining the jewelry adds 103 to lnnsmouth Lore. Speaking with Miss Tilton can add
another 204 point
In a dusty display case in a dark corner of the Miskatonic University Exhibition Museum are specimens of
Innsmouth jewelry, residing in the American Folk Arts collection. According to the curator of the exhibition, the
specimens were sold to the museum in 1844 by a seaman from the Marsh family vessel, the Sumatra Queen. The
Marsh family is considered the prominent family of Innsmouth. These strange items have been tentatively described
as Polynesian-influenced, East-Indian or Indo-Chinese in origin over the years since specimens of these pieces
began popping up around New England over the past century. Although believed to originate from pirate hoards
discovered by Obed Marsh of Innsmouth, the true origin of these pieces is unknown
. The jewelry all hold a common appearance, that being of a whitish-gold alloy and chased with odd
geometric designs, marine motifs, and bizarre ichthyic or batrachian figures depicting disturbingly human-like
half-fish, half-frog creatures. The curator further explains that the Marsh family has occasionally, but persistently,
sought to purchase these pieces, often for ridiculous sums of money, despite the possessors’ unvarying determination
not to sell. Specimens of Innsmouth jewelry are known to be on display at the Newburyport Historical Society and
the Miskatonic University Exhibition Museum in Arkham.
- The collection was a notable one indeed, but in my present mood I had eyes for nothing but the
bizarre object which glistened in a corner cupboard under the electric lights.
- the strange, unearthly splendour of the alien, opulent fantasy that rests there on a purple velvet
cushion.
- It is clearly some sort of tiara, tall in front and the circlet strangely elongated as if designed for a
head of almost freakishly elliptical outline. The material seems to be predominantly gold, though a
strange lustrousness hints at some unknown alloy with an equally beautiful metal. Its condition is
almost perfect, and you realize you could spend hours studying the striking but puzzlingly
untraditional designs. Some are gracefully crafted marine reliefs and others are geometric
patterns which the longer you stare at become more and more strange, as though odd angles and
lines just… don’t seem to make any mathematical sense… you try to connect them but… your head
whirls (make a sanity check) (if succeeded in intelligence) The patterns they seem to hint of remote
secrets and unimaginable abysses in time and space, and the monotonously aquatic nature of the
reliefs suddenly takes on a more sinister visual.
- Miss Tilton will give you a knowing concerned look, “headache dear? I know, I’ve gotten
one if I stared too long at it myself. Makes me wonder if there’s something magnetic to it.
My hairs tend to stand up on end just walking by it. See?”
- It had been pawned for a ridiculous sum at a shop in State Street in 1873, by a drunken
Innsmouth man shortly afterward killed in a brawl. The Society had acquired it directly from the
pawnbroker, at once giving it a display worthy of its quality. It was labelled as of probable
East-Indian or Indo-Chinese provenance, though the attribution was frankly tentative.
- Miss Tilton, comparing all possible hypotheses regarding its origin and its presence in New
England, was inclined to believe that it formed part of some exotic pirate hoard discovered by old
Captain Obed Marsh. This view was surely not weakened by the insistent offers of purchase at a
high price which the Marshes began to make as soon as they knew of its presence, and which they
repeated to this day despite the Society’s unvarying determination not to sell.
- As the good lady shewed me out of the building she made it clear that the pirate theory of the
Marsh fortune was a popular one among the intelligent people of the region. Her own attitude
toward shadowed Innsmouth—which she had never seen—was one of disgust at a community
slipping far down the cultural scale, and she assured me that the rumours of devil-worship were
partly justified by a peculiar secret cult which had gained force there and engulfed all the
orthodox churches.
 - It was called, she said, “The Esoteric Order of Dagon”, and was undoubtedly a debased,
quasi-pagan thing imported from the East a century before, at a time when the Innsmouth fisheries
seemed to be going barren. Its persistence among a simple people was quite natural in view of the
sudden and permanent return of abundantly fine fishing, and it soon came to be the greatest
influence on the town, replacing Freemasonry altogether and taking up headquarters in the old
Masonic Hall on New Church Green.

The small towns of Rowley and Ipswich lie west of Innsmouth, connected to the shunned town by unimproved and
rarely traveled roads that wind through marshes and over decrepit stone and wooden bridges

Joe Sargent. An old bus idles nearby, its greasy-looking driver leaning against the door and eyeing
you suspiciously. His coarse, greyish skin is the first thing you notice, followed swiftly by unusually
deep and shadowed creases in the flesh of his neck, almost as if he were prematurely aged. His
bulging eyes are unsettling, and you’re suddenly unsure whether you’ve seen him blink even once
as you approach (Strange looking guy: completely bald with a kind of flat nose and wide mouth and
eyes that seem a little too far apart? I’m passing no judgement here but it does cause you to wonder
what goes on in the gene pool of that town).
- Sargent's bus leaves Innsmouth for Newburyport at 9 AM and 6 PM twice a week; return
trips leave the front of Hammond's Drug Store on Old Market Square in Newburyport at 10
AM and 7 PM. The trip takes about 35 minutes, the fare is 60 cents. Trips to Arkham leave
Innsmouth at 7 AM and 8 PM; return trips leave Arkham at 8 AM and 9 PM. The trip takes
about 30 minutes and costs 40 cents. The bus stop in Arkham is at 705 Dyer Street, near the
Fleetwood Diner.
- At length the decrepit vehicle starts with a jerk, and rattles noisily past the old brick
buildings of State Street amidst a cloud of vapour from the exhaust.
- After a few minutes, you hear the engine sputter into action and feel the
bus lurch forward to make its journey.
- Glancing at the people on the sidewalks, I thought I detected in them a curious wish to
avoid looking at the bus—or at least a wish to avoid seeming to look at it.
- the silent driver’s bent, rigid back and narrow head
- Only 7 passengers, 3 People get off at a place called Rowly and another guy gets off at
an intersection a few miles back to catch a connectin bus back to Ipswitch

OUTLYING FARMHOUSES Scattered along the back roads around lnnsmouth are many ancient farmhouses, a few
dating as far back as the late 17th century. Most of these habitations are vacant, the sandy, infertile soil of
Innsmouth long ago defeating most wouldThe Great lnnsmouth Salt Marsh be farmers. Some houses have collapsed
into ruins barely discernible among the high weeds; others still stand, but with broken windows and sagging roofs.
Abandoned farms are identified by the number 1002. Those few farms still occupied are marked I 003 and are
inhabited primarily by very poor human families who scrape out a living by farming, fishing, and hunting. These
timid folk rarely, if ever, visit the town, warning any outsiders to stay away. Few know much specific about the town,
but all fear and loathe the place.

The investigators' journey to Innsmouth should be an ominous one: signposts are missing, painted over, or toppled
into the brush, and farmers give directions hesitantly - if at all. Eventually, after countless dead ends and wrong
turns, the party comes upon Innsmouth.
 - the landscape of sand, sedge-grass, and stunted shrubbery became more and more
desolate as we proceeded
- Once in a while I noticed dead stumps and crumbling foundation-walls above the drifting
sand, and recalled the old tradition quoted in one of the histories I had read, that this
was once a fertile and thickly settled countryside.

Large houses on the cliffsides, mansions of an estate.

As you arrive in Innsmouth, the stale odor of day-old fish and decrepit, musty buildings washes over
you. Many of the buildings along the western side of the town seem to be abandoned, though you
occasionally spot figures though some of the filth covered windows.

From the tangle of chimney-pots scarcely a wisp of smoke came, and the three tall steeples
loomed stark and unpainted against the seaward horizon. One of them was crumbling down at
the top, and in that and another there were only black gaping holes where clock-dials should
have been. The vast huddle of sagging gambrel roofs and peaked gables conveyed with
offensive clearness the idea of wormy decay, and as we approached along the now descending
road I could see that many roofs had wholly caved in. There were some large square Georgian
houses, too, with hipped roofs, cupolas, and railed “widow’s walks”. These were mostly well
back from the water, and one or two seemed to be in moderately sound condition. Stretching
inland from among them I saw the rusted, grass-grown line of the abandoned railway, with
leaning telegraph-poles now devoid of wires, and the half-obscured lines of the old carriage
roads to Rowley and Ipswich

The decay was worst close to the waterfront, though in its very midst I could spy the white belfry
of a fairly well-preserved brick structure which looked like a small factory. The harbour, long
clogged with sand, was enclosed by an ancient stone breakwater; on which I could begin to
discern the minute forms of a few seated fishermen, and at whose end were what looked like
the foundations of a bygone lighthouse.

Then I noticed a few inhabited houses with rags stuffed in the broken windows and shells and
dead fish lying about the littered yards. Once or twice I saw listless-looking people working in
barren gardens or digging clams on the fishy-smelling beach below, and groups of dirty,
simian-visaged children playing around weed-grown doorsteps.

Then I noticed a few inhabited houses with rags stuffed in the broken windows and shells and
dead fish lying about the littered yards. Once or twice I saw listless-looking people working in
barren gardens or digging clams on the fishy-smelling beach below, and groups of dirty,
simian-visaged children playing around weed-grown doorsteps.

I could see where a cobblestone pavement and stretches of brick sidewalk had formerly
existed. All the houses were apparently deserted, and there were occasional gaps where
tumbledown chimneys and cellar walls told of buildings that had collapsed. Pervading
everything was the most nauseous fishy odour imaginable.
So far I had seen no people in the town, but there now came signs of a sparse
habitation—curtained windows here and there, and an occasional battered motor-car at the
curb.

The door of the church basement was open, revealing a rectangle of blackness inside. And as I
looked, a certain object crossed or seemed to cross that dark rectangle; burning into my brain a
momentary conception of nightmare

Lamps were depressingly few and small—all low-powered incandescents

I wondered at the complete absense of cats and dogs from Innsmouth.

The streets are narrow and ill-paved, with most street signs missing. The main highway passes
through the town's apparent merchant district, south of the Manuxet River. In short, Innsmouth
appears ancient, decayed, and foreboding.

Eventually, you reach the town square just south of the Manuxet, though even these crumbling brick
buildings that surround the supposed heart of the town inspire little confidence.

None of the locals stop to greet you along your way. Given the repulsive countenance that many of
them bear, their aversion to the usual small-town pleasantries might be a relief.

Fewer than 20 people are glimpsed as the investigators come into town. Of these, half are slightly
sinister-looking folk with unblinking eyes and stooped shuffling gaits. The remainder of the townsfolk
seem to be more or less normal working class folk. Both types stare as the investigators pass,
suggesting that perhaps strangers are rare here.

A Psychology roll infers that the normal folk questioned seem fearful of outsiders. If the investigators
ask the whereabouts of Ralsa Marsh's office, nearly anyone can give them the address, but another
Psychology roll reveals that the "normals" seem fearful of this question as well. In any case, the
normal folk answer only a few questions before hurriedly moving on, frequently glancing around as if
afraid of being watched. The more sinister folk behave much more calmly when speaking with
outsiders, though a Psychology roll hints that they are just a little suspicious of these strangers to
Innsmouth.