Saying Goodbye - Saturday June 9th, 1923

[Rumguzzle]

It was a gorgeous late spring day, which seemed rather unfair considering that today was the day you had to say goodbye to a friend. It had been a shock hearing of Professor Gellman’s passing and over the next few days the full impact had slowly settled in.

This was the last afternoon of Professor Gellman’s wake and even though you were running behind, you paused to take one last look in the mirror to be sure everything was in place. He was a fastidious man and the idea of showing up disheveled seemed like it would be disrespectful.  

The University was on break so the walkways and stretches of open spaces that gave the campus part of its charm were relatively empty. Despite the somberness of the day, it was hard not to appreciate the sunshine and the sounds of birds in the air. It was just as hard not to breathe in the wonderful almond-vanilla scent of the blooming hawthorn trees that dotted the campus grounds.

The way to the chapel of Saint Betram took you past the Robson Mail Center. Terrible business that was. Half the building had been lost to the flames. Thankfully no one was hurt as it began at night, after closing hours.  The mail service hadn’t resumed yet, pending final inspections and such, a minor inconvenience certainly. One third of the building was all bare wood framing, the burnt and waterlogged parts hauled away for safety’s sake. Reconstruction had started and stopped in this time, but it seemed to be moving ahead with the expectation that mail service may begin again in a week or so.

First that and now Professor Gellman’s passing. These tragedies were best left to the bleakness of Winter, not the blossoming of Spring. And surely not weeks before the man’s retirement party. That put added sting to the pain of it all. After decades of service to Coswegotch University, he and his wife Mildred (a lovely and kind woman by any measure of those words) had so been looking forward to their new change of life. He had talked often about their cabin in Vermont and hopefully travelling overseas to spend time with their daughter Barbara. Now it seemed none of that would be happening.

The simple rectangular building you eventually reached had its roofline broken by a squat bell tower topped by a simple cross at its peak. The Chapel of Saint Bertram was one of the two places of worship on campus. The other was a non-denominational building, built by donations of a wealthy alumni some years back, that was simply called University Chapel. Saint Bertram’s was the more prevalent, and truth be told better attended, due to its connection to Mercy Hospital Ward on campus - an offshoot of the larger hospital carrying the same name in the town of Babylon.

A door at the rear of the Chapel opened into the common room that was used for gatherings, after service bunches and today, a wake.  A decorative wreath of flowers had been placed to one side of the doorway making it clear to all who approached that a service was occurring.  The words “You Will Be Missed” were written in silver letters on the white satin sash that crossed the face of the wreath.

A dignified quiet filled the room, punctuated by soft whispers and gentle crying. Stepping inside you could see that rows of chairs had been set out, most of them empty but a few taken. An aisle led from the doorway to the other end of the room where a dark wood coffin, the lid raised for viewing at one end, rested on a raised platform covered in pure white cloth covered with bouquets of flowers. Off to the side of the casket, dressed in black and with her face covered by a thin, dark veil hanging from a simple but elegant black hat, stood the widow. Mildred Gellman, or Millie to those she called friends, was a short woman. With her shoulders slumped and head down she appeared even smaller on this dark day. Standing next to her, one hand on her shoulder and the other holding a leather-bound Bible, was Father Thomas Kildare. Father Kildare was not the assigned priest to Saint Bertram, he served the Church of Saint Matthew in Babylon. Being a dear family friend of the Gellman’s he had been asked to officiate the wake and the pending funeral. Tall, spindly and with a horseshoe of iron-grey hair his presence next to the diminutive Millie was striking.

“Have faith Millie for surely Antonius’ time on this earth has benefited us all. He has been called home and is in a better place.” His words were not loud but in the quiet of the room his calming tone carried.

Walking slowly down the aisle on your way to pay your respects you looked at the few people seated on folding chairs. It was a polite way to cross the room without staring at Millie in her grief. Two students sat in the back rows, one on either side of the aisle. To your left was a young girl dressed in a smart, grey dress laced with black filigree, the whole outfit made striking by her fair skin and light blonde hair.  The dark circles under her eyes and overall sense that she was forcing herself to stay awake spoke to either late nights studying for the exams that just passed or a bout of the spring cold that seemed to be going around. To the other side of the aisle, and a bit further up, was Glenn Mathers looking around with what could only be called boredom. A broad-shouldered senior (for the second time) you knew him because at last year Homecoming Game he had tackled an opposing player and accidently broke the boy’s leg. Quite the news for a while.

Closer to the front sat a man with close cut dark hair, round rimmed glasses, and a thin moustache. You did not know him but thought it might possibly be Edward St. Clair, the incoming replacement for Professor Gellman as the Whitmore Museum Director. He was not due to start for another month, but you had heard he had come early on hearing the news. Catching sight of you, the man offered a sympathetic smile before turning back to look at the coffin.  Two rows in front of him on the same side, that being on the side where Millie stood and wept, sat the two others in attendance. Agatha Dillard, a grey-haired woman of thin build who had served as Professor Gellman’s secretary for the past fifteen years and a man you did not recognize. He was a bit pudgy and dressed in a tweed suit that was more appropriate for a dinner with friends than a solemn occasion. He occasionally leaned in and whispered to Agatha at which she nodded but did not talk.

Stopping at the end of the aisle you were just a few steps away from the coffin which cradled the man who had, until recently, been an ever-present fixture of Coswegotch University. For a moment you had the oddest though – bad things occurred in three and after the fire and the Professor’s death what might be next?

You put that morbid thought out of your head for now was not the time for idle musings. Now was your chance to say goodbye to an old friend.

OOC

Welcome to the game!

 

[sxeBUDDHA]

Christa Linda

---

Hit Points: 10/10 | Luck: 35/35 | Sanity: 65/65

---

Location: Saint Betram Chapel | Conditions/Effects: None

As Christa Linda stepped into the chapel of Saint Betram, her heart weighed heavy with sorrow. The recent reconstruction of the Robson Mail Center, still scarred by the recent fire, served as a stark reminder of the impermanence of life. The familiar faces of the wake attendees, known to her only by name, added to the somber atmosphere as she made her way past the pews.

Approaching the chief mourner, Mildred Gellman, Christa Linda offered a brief but heartfelt consolation, her words tinged with genuine empathy for their loss. Their daughter, Barbara Gellman was not present at the moment. Turning to Mrs. Mildred Gellman, the widow of her mentor, Professor Antonius Gellman, Christa Linda struggled to find the right words to express her gratitude for the profound impact he had on her life.

"Mrs. Gellman," Christa Linda began, her voice soft yet steady, "I want to thank you for being such a supportive spouse to Professor Gellman. He was a remarkable individual who touched the lives of so many, including mine. He spoke of you and Barbara with such love and affection, it was evident that he cherished his family deeply."

Christa Linda's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she spoke, her composed facade crumbling under the weight of her emotions. "He inspired my passion for learning, and thanks to him, self-learning became a worthwhile pursuit for me," she continued, her voice trembling with emotion.

With a deep sense of gratitude and admiration, Christa Linda reflected on the profound impact Professor Gellman had on her life, not just as a mentor, but as a source of solace and healing during her darkest moments. She chose not to share the depths of their personal conversations and the role he played in helping her overcome past traumas, keeping those memories sacred and private.

Maintaining a respectful distance, Christa Linda exchanged a brief but meaningful embrace with Mrs. Gellman, her gloved hands offering a silent gesture of comfort and support. Stepping back, she retreated to the quiet sanctuary of her thoughts, her mind filled with memories of her mentor and the invaluable lessons he imparted.

Outside the chapel, Sophia, her trusted assistant and close acquaintance, stood watch over Christa Linda's beloved animal companions, ensuring their safety and well-being. The dogs, mirroring their owner's melancholy, kept a vigilant eye on the chapel doors, their loyal devotion serving as a silent reminder of the bond they shared with Christa Linda.

Dressed in conservative formal black attire, her hands adorned with black gloves, Christa Linda stood as a symbol of dignity and respect amidst the sea of mourners. As she lingered in the presence of Professor Gellman's family, her thoughts drifted to the countless moments of guidance and wisdom he had bestowed upon her, leaving an indelible mark on her soul.

Edited March 10 by sxeBUDDHA
To avoid confusion, Barbara is not present. (see edit history)

[Rumguzzle]

33 minutes ago, sxeBUDDHA said:

Christa Linda

---

Hit Points: 10/10 | Luck: 35/35 | Sanity: 65/65

---

Location: Saint Betram Chapel | Conditions/Effects: None

As Christa Linda stepped into the chapel of Saint Betram, her heart weighed heavy with sorrow. The recent reconstruction of the Robson Mail Center, still scarred by the recent fire, served as a stark reminder of the impermanence of life. The familiar faces of the wake attendees, known to her only by name, added to the somber atmosphere as she made her way past the pews.

Approaching the chief mourner and their daughter, Barbara, Christa Linda offered a brief but heartfelt consolation, her words tinged with genuine empathy for their loss. Turning to Mrs. Mildred Gellman, the widow of her mentor, Professor Antonius Gellman, Christa Linda struggled to find the right words to express her gratitude for the profound impact he had on her life.

"Mrs. Gellman," Christa Linda began, her voice soft yet steady, "I want to thank you for being such a supportive spouse to Professor Gellman. He was a remarkable individual who touched the lives of so many, including mine. He spoke of you and Barbara with such love and affection, it was evident that he cherished his family deeply."

Christa Linda's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she spoke, her composed facade crumbling under the weight of her emotions. "He inspired my passion for learning, and thanks to him, self-learning became a worthwhile pursuit for me," she continued, her voice trembling with emotion.

With a deep sense of gratitude and admiration, Christa Linda reflected on the profound impact Professor Gellman had on her life, not just as a mentor, but as a source of solace and healing during her darkest moments. She chose not to share the depths of their personal conversations and the role he played in helping her overcome past traumas, keeping those memories sacred and private.

Maintaining a respectful distance, Christa Linda exchanged a brief but meaningful embrace with Mrs. Gellman, her gloved hands offering a silent gesture of comfort and support. Stepping back, she retreated to the quiet sanctuary of her thoughts, her mind filled with memories of her mentor and the invaluable lessons he imparted.

Outside the chapel, Sophia, her trusted assistant and close acquaintance, stood watch over Christa Linda's beloved animal companions, ensuring their safety and well-being. The dogs, mirroring their owner's melancholy, kept a vigilant eye on the chapel doors, their loyal devotion serving as a silent reminder of the bond they shared with Christa Linda.

Dressed in conservative formal black attire, her hands adorned with black gloves, Christa Linda stood as a symbol of dignity and respect amidst the sea of mourners. As she lingered in the presence of Professor Gellman's family, her thoughts drifted to the countless moments of guidance and wisdom he had bestowed upon her, leaving an indelible mark on her soul.

OOC: Quick note - Barbara is not present at the wake so please revise post accordingly to avoid confusion. Thanks.

 

[Rumguzzle]

8 hours ago, sxeBUDDHA said:

"Mrs. Gellman," Christa Linda began, her voice soft yet steady, "I want to thank you for being such a supportive spouse to Professor Gellman. He was a remarkable individual who touched the lives of so many, including mine. He spoke of you and Barbara with such love and affection, it was evident that he cherished his family deeply."

 

“Oh, please dear. Millie will do just fine,” she said while dabbing at her tears from under the veil and giving a strained but sincere smile. You and Millia had met occasionally over the years and she had always been pleasant with you but the two of you had never grown close. This was not surprising in that the Professor and his academic fold often would meet in his office or at the staff lounge to discuss learned matters all hours of the night. Visits to his home for Sunday dinner were reserved more for those he attended services with or those friends outside of the University. You may have started out in that latter grouping but your diligent pursuit of knowledge and impressive understanding of deep matters put you firmly in the former. “He spoke highly of you dear. I think that he took some measure of pride in knowing that he had helped a famous starlet become an academic star. And thank you for saying such nice things about my poor Antonius. But Barbara…”

As she spoke of her daughter, Millie began to cry all anew. Professor Gellman had spoken often of his only daughter. From those conversations you knew she had an adventurous soul having grown up learning to question everything and learn all she could. To her mother's distress, and pride of her father, she had pursued a career in archeology taking the love of learning she had been instilled with and turning it to action. For some time now she had been in Greece on a dig.

“She…she wasn’t able to make it home in time. We sent word but…well,” she stopped and blew her nose in the tissue that she had been using. “Some mix-up with her documents. Oh what nonsense! Don’t they realize that her father…he…”

“There now Millie, it’s ok,” Father Kildare spoke soothingly to her as she held onto his forearm for strength. Turning to Christa he offered a smile. “They think she should arrive in time for the funeral so she will have the chance to say farewell. Please, if you could stay a while and add your prayers that thoughts for Antonius that would be much apprecaited. ”

Millie smiled and thanked you as you offered your condolences, but it was clear that this was a hard day for her. Leaving her to her thoughts and heading back to the aisle to find a seat Christa noticed a new arrival at the door. Being the last day of the wake and it occurring during break, attendance was light, so it was nice to see another person coming to pay their respects.

 

OOC

Cue next player...you can all post in any order

 

Edited March 11 by Rumguzzle (see edit history)

[rauhric]

Alexander Saint-Cloud

---

Alexander Saint-Cloud had been at Coswegotch University for sometime and he taken several classes with Professor Gellman before taking his advice to teach at the university as well. He had grown accustom to being around his mentor for so long that the professor's absence had been emotionally taxing for him. He was beyond sadden by the news and could hardly find the words to express his grief or condolences. As he entered the chapel and greeted some acquaintances and colleagues he made sure to greet the wife of Professor Gellman. He did his best to express his profound sorrow but found himself unable to articular his emotions. With a heavy brow and wet eyes he just nodded to the widow and looked at her with a sadness that pained his heart at the loss of man he respected more than his own father.

---

OoC:

Edited March 13 by rauhric (see edit history)

[Delorphin]

Hector Prescott

---

No matter how long lived a person is, it always feels like a life's been cut short. It's even worse when they were such a giant, a beacon that shone so brightly and achieved so many wondrous things for humanity. Even worse still when they never experienced their well deserved rest. At least he may rest with God now. Hector's eyes lingered upon the casket. What was once Professor Gellman now lay but an empty vessel of still unfulfilled potential. He could see the threads of fate and love once tied between him and all the people in the congregation, ripped apart as the ribbons became bullet-ridden. He knows this sight too well. It never is just one person who dies when they take their last breath; they all have people who held them in their hearts and would not be who they are today without them. He looked to the sparse congregation and to the windows. A part of everyone, even the very soul of the institution, has died with him. For Hector, Professor Gellman was a guiding light. He had lost his passion after the war, the hot-blooded excitement of youth became ashes with the artillery and gunpowder smoke. Yet from him he saw a passion and love of humanity and its people, one to bring people together and to understand them, not to tear them apart.

Clutching upon his rosary, he began to pray:

Requiem æternam dona ei, Domine
Et lux perpetua luceat ei:
Requiescat in pace.
Amen.

He turned to Mrs. Gellman, he wasn't quite sure what to say anymore. You could see it in her eyes, the weariness of the same condolences, the same prayers, the same conversations of "He was a great man" and "He will be missed". Even he partook in those conversations himself, but even now he has exhausted it all after daily conversation. A not quiet comforting but otherwise earnest smile appeared on his face as he went to converse with the widow, a single page of a newspaper in his hand. "I know the Latin can be quite tiring, so please have this," he says, giving Mrs. Gellman the paper. "It's a poem, from one of the soldiers back home. The end of which I feel you will find poignant."

He gives a small bow before making his way to the rest of the mourners, to offer consolations and give prayers.

 

The poem reads as follows:

[...]
But where our desires are and our hopes profound, 
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust, 
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness, 
To the end, to the end, they remain.

– For the Fallen, Laurence Binyon 1914

Edited March 11 by Delorphin (see edit history)

[sxeBUDDHA]

Christa Linda

---

Hit Points: 10/10 | Luck: 35/35 | Sanity: 65/65

---

Location: Saint Betram Chapel | Conditions/Effects: None

As Christa Linda stood amidst the somber gathering, her gaze fell upon two familiar faces paying their respects to the late Professor Antonius Gellman. The first was Professor Alexander Saint-Cloud, a stoic figure known for his expertise in history and science, much like Professor Gellman before his retirement. Christa Linda nodded in acknowledgment, recognizing the man of few words as he offered a solemn nod in return.

Turning her attention to the other man, she observed one of the priests on campus. She listened intently as Hector Prescott, the priest, spoke in an unfamiliar language that sounded like Latin. Though not a practitioner of any religion herself, Christa Linda attended such ceremonies out of curiosity, seeking solace in the rituals and traditions that offered comfort to others.

She felt a sense of relief knowing that the presence of the priest would offer some semblance of comfort to Mrs. Mildred Gellman, the widow of her mentor. Christa Linda's thoughts momentarily drifted to the burdens of others, but she quickly pushed them aside, reminding herself of the busy life she led and the unresolved traumas that weighed heavily on her mind.

As she observed the gathering, Christa Linda remained detached from the emotions swirling around her, focusing instead on her own inner turmoil and the welfare of her animal companions. She made a mental note to ensure they were kept safe and comfortable throughout the proceedings, unwilling to let anything distract her from her primary concerns.

The prospect of viewing an open coffin held little significance for Christa Linda, who viewed the lifeless form as nothing more than a hollow shell. To her, the true essence of Professor Gellman lived on in the memories and teachings he had imparted, rather than in the physical remains lying before her.

 

[TheOldTraveller]

Edmund Seagrave

 

Professor Edmund Seagrave walks in quietly from the chapel door, dressed in a black suit he only wears for the most formal of events.

The pale, lean man pauses to one side of the entrance to retrieve a kerchief from his pocket and muffle a weak cough before folding and replacing the white cloth. He swivels his gaze across the gathering until it settles on Mrs. Gillman.

Squaring his shoulders, Edmund walks to the widow. He waits until Father Prescott has finished speaking with her, gives the priest a nod, and then steps close to the woman in black lace.

"I... ah, well, I'm sorry, Mrs. Gillman. Your husband was a great man. We're all going to miss him. " He brushes a stray, mouse-brown lock from his damp forehead. The gesture seems to drain the visible tension from his thin body as if the errant hair was the problem, and after a slow exhalation Edmund adds quietly, ''If there's anything you need, Millie, only let me know."

 

 

 

 

Edited March 11 by TheOldTraveller (see edit history)

[Rumguzzle]

Millie’s lip quivered as she watched Alexander Saint-Cloud walk over, his eyes rimmed with tears and his struggle to find the words evident. Taking hold of his larger hands in her smaller, velvet gloved ones, she spoke to him.

“Yes, I know. I know. It was so sudden. I think that is what makes it so hard. He had just had…a month ago he had his physical. That night at dinner he told me that Doctor Morris joked he might want to work longer so he’d have enough savings to last our whole retirement. It was just….so sudden.”

Taking time at the casket to say a prayer for Professor Gellman, Hector Prescott tried to give Mrs. Gellman time to compose herself. She had fallen into a fit of tears and Father Kildare had made her take a seat on the chair that had been tucked at the end of the casket.

“Brother Prescott,” the older priest said in an appropriate solemn tone for the occasion. “Thank you for honoring the wishes of the family and allowing me to address the services. I have put in a good word at the diocese for you.”

Millie asked for Kildare’s help as she wanted to stand and speak with Hector. Her legs were shaky, and she leaned on his arm but was able to stand.

“Yes, thank you. Please know you are a wonderful pastor it is just Father Kildare has been with us for many years. Oh, a poem. Thank you,” she said taking a moment to read it. “Yes, thank you. That was sweet of you.”

During this time, another student entered and quietly took a seat in the back of the room. She put her hands together on the back of the fold out chair in the row ahead of her and silently prayed. After a few minutes she quietly stood up and went to leave, letting Professor Edmund Seagrave pass her on his way in before stepping out.

“Thank you for coming Edmund,” Millie said as he came to offer his condolences, a soft smile forcing its way through her grief. “I appreciate that, and I’ll be sure to ask if there is anything I need. It’s all such a blur so I’m not sure but I promise to let you know.”

Edited March 12 by Rumguzzle
added clarifier (see edit history)

[Bobcloclimar]

Dressed in the best mourning colors he could afford, Tobey stood quietly waiting for his turn to talk to the bereaved. After a silent nod to the good Father Kildare, he went to Millie and gave her the expected platitudes about Dr. Gellman, and how he was a good friend despite their class differences. He pressed a small book into her hands, saying "Antonius let me borrow this several months ago. I meant to return it earlier, but..."

 

Leaving the grieving widow to let other mourners an opportunity to offer their condolences, he moved aside and went to say a few words of greeting to Agatha Dillard.

[Rumguzzle]

1 hour ago, Bobcloclimar said:

Dressed in the best mourning colors he could afford, Tobey stood quietly waiting for his turn to talk to the bereaved. After a silent nod to the good Father Kildare, he went to Millie and gave her the expected platitudes about Dr. Gellman, and how he was a good friend despite their class differences. He pressed a small book into her hands, saying "Antonius let me borrow this several months ago. I meant to return it earlier, but..."

 

Leaving the grieving widow to let other mourners an opportunity to offer their condolences, he moved aside and went to say a few words of greeting to Agatha Dillard.

Millie took hold of the book, placing a hand over Tobey’s and holding it briefly, a shared moment of silent sorrow. As Tobey walked to where Agatha Dillard sat the woman stood up to greet him. She was not much taller than the widow he had just spoken to. Tobey was used to seeing her with her ever present clipboard, her grey hair pulled up into a practical bun and her usual checked velour dress and sensible shoes. She was dressed in a black mourning dress and her hair was down around her face. Nothing too fashionable and still simple but not the picture of efficient practicality she was when at her desk.

“Tobey, it is very nice of you to come.” The janitor knew Mrs. Dillard through their infrequent encounters outside of the Professor’s office or when she called on him to handle something for the Professor. She had never called him by his first name before and never used such a soft tone. Usually, it was commanding and tolerated no disagreement. “I don’t believe you’ve ever met my husband, Mortimer.”

Mortimer had a softness to him, very contradictory to the hard edge that was Agatha.

“Hello there, work with my Aggie do you?” The fact that Mrs. Dillard had a nickname was rather shocking in and of itself. “Sad day for sure. Shame about the Professor. If a man in his shape can go” he chuckled a little as he put his hands on his rotund waist, “what hope is there for a fellow like me?”

The look he received from his wife was enough for him to say his goodbyes and take his seat. With a smile that was characteristic of the woman you knew she took her seat and looked ahead, dabbing a dry eye with a folded handkerchief she had in hand.

[Spacesong]

---

Herman P. Loggins

HP: 11/11 SAN: 25/25 LUCK: 50/50 IDEA: 85 KNOW: 80

---

It still didn't feel real to Herman. The news came out of nowhere. He had just seen Doc and Millie earlier last week. He sat on the bench on the campus grounds soaking in the beautiful day lost in thought. He noticed the people walking by but made as much note of them as they did him on their way to the chapel. A blonde woman, a priest, a few professor types that were probably co-workers of Gellman's. Several others going about their day or leaving Saint Betram having paid their respects to the professor. He doesn't look too closely at anyone passing by, though. He wasn't expecting the sadness to hit this hard before he got to the casket, but something about this walk. It felt real finally. His longtime friend and associate was gone.

He sighed heavily, looked down at the note he made when he got the call from Millie when the service was happening. Stowed it back into his coat pocket and looked at the surrounding grounds. Serene. Quiet. Beautiful.

It took a few more minutes before Herman could gather up the energy to stand up and walk forward."Time comes for us all, I suppose." He stood up and carried a small leather suitcase he had with him.

He enters the chapel making note that a few of the faces he saw heading toward Saint Betram. Conspicuously though, Gellman's daughter Barbara is absent. Upsetting, but he's certain there's a reason she's absent he'll learn about later. Poor girl can't even be here to say goodbye to her dear father. Catching eyes with Millie once he's fully taken in the scene in the room he immediately heads in her direction, each step feeling heavier than the last and the unshakable urge to run away that haunts anyone not ready to say goodbye.

"Millie, dear. I'm so sorry. I am so sorry for you and Barbara's loss." He leans in and gives his friends wife a gentle reassuring embrace. "If you need anything, and I mean anything, please contact me or leave the word with my office staff. They'll make sure I get the word." He lets her pull away when she's ready. "Do we know where his final resting place will be yet? I'd like to know so I can visit and have someone care for the grounds. It's the least I could do for someone so important to all us and the community."

He makes a little more chatter with Millie and gives an acknowledging nod to the priest standing listening along with he and Millie's conversation. Eventually he lets Millie know he'll let her alone for a bit to observe the wake.

Looking into the peaceful expression the Professor has been laid to rest with moves Herman. He maintains his composure but there's no denying the lump is there in his throat. He thinks back on the good times and all the enlightening conversations they've had over the years Herman has served the Coswegotch community. He stands oblivious to the fact his hands crossed below his waist, not too dissimilarly to the way Gellman has been laid to rest with his hands gently placed across his stomach.

Trying to focus on the good and what would make Gellman smile to try and get himself to snap back into the Herman the doc always loved he thinks of what he wants to say. Just between him and Antonius "I'll make sure they take care of the take care of the PackardI just picked a random 20's era car name at random. Let me know if this is out of place and I will remove., doc." He gives the egde of the coffin a friendly tap and steps away to sit and observe the rest of the ceremony and make small talk with the rest of the community attending.

---

OOC

Hey folks, thanks for letting me tag in late here. Happy to join and banter in and out of character about the game. Feel free to @ me on any ideas, questions or concerns. Here for a good time not a hard time! Let's see how we all fare in the mythos!

 

Edited March 13 by Spacesong
minor edits for my own sake (see edit history)

[rauhric]

Alexander Saint-Cloud

---

Alexander clutched his handkerchief and wiped away his tears. His sadness was a heavy pain in his heart as he looked to all in attendance and to the casket of his mentor Professor Gellman. Quietly in his head he carried on a final conversation with the man as he bid him a fond farewell. He was sorry to see him go but he hoped they would see each other again in the hereafter. Whatever lies for us beyond mortal death he hopes is an immortal spiritual life where family and friends are always together.

Needing a moment to himself he excuses himself from the other mourners moves outdoors for bit. He needs some fresh air to fill his lungs and his mind a break from the reality of his mentor's passing. The air and sorrowful feels of the room were starting to make him lightheaded.

---

OoC:

Edited March 14 by rauhric (see edit history)

[Rumguzzle]

Stepping outside, Alexander Saint Cloud leaned against the chapel wall to steady himself from the dizziness that had overtaken him. Leaning forward, eyes closed and taking deep breaths of the fresh spring air Alexander did not notice the man that walks by him to enter the chapel.

The man entered the chapel with a slight stumble to his step. It was not enough that he lost his balance but was enough that walking a straight line seemed to be a challenge.  Not the slow, measured steps that one would expect at a wake, and this is what first caught people’s attention. It was not the only thing about this man to take note of.

He was older than a university student, but not by much. A mess of brown hair and an unkempt, wiry beard framed a long face with deep set eyes. He stared straight ahead, not bothering to look to the side rows as he passed. The dun overcoat he had on over a wrinkled shirt was heavy for this time of year. It needed a cleaning as the hem was splattered with dried mud and spots of dirt could be seen in numerous places.

He didn’t stop to pause in contemplation as he approached the casket. Nor did he look to the widow to give any nod of empathy. Instead, he walked right up to the casket and grabbed the polished wood edge, his dirty fingers crushing the pure white velvet liner inside.

“WHERE IS IT?” he shouted. “I KNOW YOU HAVE IT!”

Two things happened in that moment. The first being that Mildred “Millie” Gellman let out a scream and fainted, which caused Father Kildare to drop his bible trying to catch her. Partly successful, he struggled to find a way to safely set her slack body down in a dignified manner. The second thing that happened, and which elicited more screams and cries of outrage from those in attendance, was that this man reached into the casket and began rummaging around inside.

“YOU BASTARD! I KNOW YOU HAVE IT!” His shouts were frantic and so were his moving hands. One moment they were pulling open the Professor’s jacket and the next they were tearing at the casket liner.

His legs lifted off the floor as he reached further inside, pulling himself under the closed section of lid that was covering the Professor’s body. “It has to be here! I know you have it. It’s mine!” he said, no longer shouting but still loud enough to be heard even with his head inside the casket. As this sacrilege unfolded, those who had been dumbstruck by the shock of it all began to react. The Dillard's rushed to the aid of Mildred Gellman who was still passed out where Father Kildare had laid her on the floor, her hat taken off to give her air. The man who may or may not be the replacement for Professor Gellman stood bolt upright and began to make his way to the aisle, shouting for the man to stop what he was doing. Making his own path Glenn Mathers leapt over the chairs in front of him, knocking other chairs out of his way in his rush to get to the casket.

 

OOC

As bedlam ensues it is your chance to take action as well. Action Sequences and Combat follow Dex order for initiative and I see no reason not to do the same in a pbp. What this means though is that everyone should pay attention to their turn in the order and be mindful that others are waiting.

Ties are broken by combat skills. Based on Dex stats the order of initiative is as follows:

Hector Prescott - 60

Christa Linda - 55

Herman Loggins - 55

Edmund Seagrave - 45

Tobey Dietermund - 40

Alexander St Cloud - 40

@Delorphin that means you are up first.

 

[Delorphin]

Hector Prescott

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HP: 11/11 Luck: 75/75 Sanity: 50/50

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If Hector was thinking right now he would have been crushed seeing such violence take place. He wasn't thinking, years fighting in the Great War rewired his electrochemistry into a fine, violent, and sinful machine. He rushes to the casket with the intent of tackling the unknown interloper to the ground.

OOC

@Rumguzzle, what would you like me to roll?

 

Edited March 13 by Delorphin (see edit history)