Burning the cornfield felt good, invigorating really. Before he turns his back on the field he lobs one last glob of bloody spittle at the dirt.

Fuck that field, and fuck whatever used to live in it.

Later at the bar, Tulem winces as he puts back some bathtub whiskey. His mouth is on fire, but that's ok, the pain only gives him a greater sense of focus. Time for some answers.

He stumbles over to the Cornell Library, they keep the most accurate records in town, perhaps there are answers to be found there...

He slips the librarian a twenty to grease the wheels and allow him to stay after hours. Twenty dollars is a lot of money after all, Tulem just hopes the poor sap doesn't realize it's a fake while he's still in the library.

Pulling town records, Tulem finds out something very interesting about the property... It has changed owners every fifteen years, going all the way back to 1780! An old newspaper clipping blames the local indian tribes for the strange symbols often carved on the victims, but Tulem knows better, these spirals aren't human in origin. They remind him of the leafy creatures that stole his teeth... vine-like and constantly coiling in on themselves.

It clicks - 15 years must be the gestation cycle of those foul creatures! A farmer moves in, tends to his crop, and moves unsuspectingly closer to his doom each season. The soil is rich, always yielding such high quality harvests, but no one ever bothered to ask why...

The only question is, who planted those beasts in the first place, and why?

As he goes back to pull another book from the shelf, a slip of paper falls to the floor. Stenciled on it in charcoal, is a spiral.

Tulem's knowledge of the mythos increases to +3