[d20 Cthulhu] What Rough Beast... (Part I)

Randy starts to walk away from Mr. Higgens and Dr. Silver, but sees a third man rush past him heading off in the direction that Mr. Alister went off in.

“Oh Mr. Higgens, while you can have someone committed without their consent, you usually need a family member to agree to this. Or in the case of extreme emergence he can be arrester, but as Mr. Alister has done nothing that I can tell, he must be allowed to go free.”

Randy will continue to watch the third man hurry off after Mr. Alister, until he looses site of him.

[Hum, I wonder why he would rush off after that man like that? They could know each other, possible both friends of the Professor.]

At this thought Randy will pause again and look back towards the hill where Mr. Alister and his pursuer rushed off to, wondering if he should go after them and try to learn what the third gentleman might know…
 

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"I'm terribly sorry for upsetting you, sir." says Kristof as he begins to backpeddle. He is no more than a few steps away then he hears an odd scraping sound from behind him. It is loud and deep - and for some reason somewhat menacing. Kristof begins to run (albeit with the dignity of an assistant history professor!).

Sam, Dr. Silver, and Alex head to their respective cars, and drive off to the home of their friend, Julia Pickman. The oddness of the funeral is over, and now is the time to grieve and remember fondly an old friend.

As Kristof comes upon the scene of the funeral (now utterly devoid of people, with not even a grave worker in sight), he sees Randy waiting for him with a curious expression on his face.

Randy/Kristof - you see no one around. Alister is long gone, and the parking lot is virtually empty. The wind has been picking up steadily, and the clouds themselves seem to be getting thicker, and darker. Fritz Coleman, the local weatherman, said there was a slight chance of rain. He's way off - it's going to be coming down hard shortly.
 

Randy will watch the man race back towards the funeral area, and look up at the clouds.

[Hum well I guess he did not catch Mr. Alister, but still quite odd chasing after him like that.]

Randy will wave to the man, trying to get his attention, and call out.
“Sir. Can I speak to you for a moment?”

OOC: Have to go for now. Will post agin tonight.
 

Kristof slows down as he comes upon a person speaking to him. Glancing up at the sky, he judges the distance to his car mentaly.

I'd be delighted to speak with you... thrilled in fact, after that... But might I suggest we do so while leaving? I've no desire to get caught out in the rain.
 



RAndy will nod, and get the man's name.

"Thats fine, I have a prior engagement at Mrs. Pickman's house now."

Randy will hurry to his car and drive over to the professors house.
 

Traffic in Los Angeles can range from bearable to hellish. Thankfully, most people are at work at this time, and so traffic on the 405 is only headache-inspiring. The incipient rain only seems to lessen peoples ability to drive for some odd reason. Nevertheless, all of you hop into your vehicle and drive to the Pickman’s home in Bel-Air.

Bel-Air is for all intents and purposes, the home of the wealthy. Beautiful homes that have breathtaking views are the norm here. A winding road takes you to the top of Bel-Air, where in fact the most expensive homes are. These are not mansions, by any stretch. But each of these homes can easily go for a million to two million. It is a private community, and people who drive by you on the small streets seem to glare at you as if you don’t belong.

One by one, you pull up to the Pickman home. Professors could never afford such a place – but Alan always was good with his investments. He and Julia lived a comfortable lifestyle, and never had need for money. Being a genius at math often leads to playing the stock market, apparently. The home itself is a two story affair, with simple but nice landscaping, and a large backyard that overlooks Los Angeles. Those who have visited the Pickman’s here usually remark first about the view, and second about the view of the smog. Alan always joked he’d rather have a view of sky-rubbish (as he called it) than no view at all.

There are two cars in the driveway already – Julia’s and her friend, Miles. There is ample room on the street however, and you park your car with no problem. As you begin to get out, you see a light mist begin to fall. Precursor to an eventual storm, no doubt. It is getting dark – very dark, despite the early hour. How long it will take you to sort through Alan’s things, you have no idea. Hours? Days? You’re about to find out.

Julia greets each of you in the door, with a cup of hot cocoa as is her custom on days like this. Even though she buried her husband today, she still tries to be a congenial host. You can see the strain in her, however. There are many more tears ahead of her.

The inside of the Pickman’s home is filled with the detritus of a dozen years living at the same address. It could certainly be described as cluttered; Julia would describe it as ordered chaos. The latest model flat screen TV sits in the living room. Alan always had the latest gadgets and toys. His DVD collection was only dwarfed by his library.

Julia leads you into the kitchen, where a rather rumpled Miles sits, enjoying his own cocoa. The kitchen is all Julia – plants, flowers, and all manner of cooking utensils. A cooks paradise, as she had often described it. The parties that they had held here were rare, but Julia always made food worthy of any caterer.

Miles stands and greets each of you with another firm handshake. Though it is slightly cold out, a thin sheen of sweat seems to always be on his brow. It must be difficult to walk with that much extra bulk. The size of his stomach definitely classifies him as obese.

As soon as you are gathered (and enjoying whatever beverage) Julia says, “I want to thank each of you for coming today. I don’t know what I would do without friends like you. Have all of you met?”

Go ahead and introduce yourself to everyone, and mention what you do for a living. After that, feel free to ask questions of Julia, Miles or each other.
 
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Kristof takes a sip of his cocoa and sits it on a nearby coaster, clears his throat and stands up.

"My name is Kristof Faulken, I'm an assistant history proffesor at UCLA. I've known Alan and Julia... well, pretty much since I started teaching."

During this, Kristof is shaking hands with the guests. Finishing this, he turns to Julia.

"Julia, I'm terribly sorry about Alan, although I didn't get a chance to say so at the funeral. I'll try to give you any help I can, though I must admit, Alan never told me much about his collections. Do you know if Alan left a will of any sort, or kept a journal or record?"
 

*Taking Professor Faulken's lead, Ray steps up next, shaking hands as he introduces himself.*

"I'm Dr. Ray Silver, and I'm a surgeon over at UCLA. I met Alan when I was a snot-nosed freshman in college, and we became friends after I approached him for help in his math class."

Thinks - *Kristof Faulken, why does that name sound familiar? Faulken, Faulken... Oh yeah, one of my patients was pissing and moaning because he wasn't going to be able to finish a report for him and couldn't get an extension on the date even though he had acute appendicitis and had to have immediate surgury... Sounds like the type of guy who's a pure academian. He must have gotten along well with Alan.

Ray's lips quirk in remembrance.

Sips his cocoa, and smiles*


"You always did make the best cocoa in L.A. Julia."

When he hears Kristof's query about a will, Ray nods enthusiastically.*

"Yes indeed, that would be helpful. Did he ever mention anything like that to you?"
 
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