Howard has Ms. Warden dropped off at her hotel, promises to have her car brought to her soon, and mentions looking forward to speaking with her more at the reception, and perhaps getting something to eat together at some point soon.
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"I'm going to have some words with the zoning commissioner about this place," Howard muttered to himself in an effort to feel better, but perhaps slightly louder than was absolutely necessary belaying his concern.
Howard surreptitiously tries to glance at his compatriots including Clara to see how they are holding up, or if they have noticed anything odd either.
"I think I will escort poor Ms. Warden to a place where she can get some rest, and then begin to look through some of the Professor's notes, get an idea where I stand in relation to the enormity of the task ahead of us. I will see you gentlemen at the reception tonight." He extends an arm out to Clara Warden to take. "Where to Ms. Warden? I can have someone pick up your car for you if you'd like to get some rest as soon as possible; I'm sure you must be mentally exhausted right now."
"I am to look through a collection of notes from various societies that the Professor did not accept, and try and draw parallels between them. Begging your pardons sirs, my name is Mr. Morgan. I wish we were meeting under better, or frankly less confusing circumstances. Perhaps we should all make plans to meet back up again this time tomorrow, Ms. Warden included? Time to unwind, make lodging accommodations, take our first looks at this task that has been set before us? I'll book us a reservation at the Hotel McAlpin, we can talk more from a place of less idle speculation in the 'morrow?"
"This... this is rather peculiar. Were he perhaps a chemist, or engineer, I could understand the secrecy in his research, but he was an archeologist! Why so much detachment in this field? Darwin published his works some 70 years ago." "Ms. Warden, I hate to be indelicate and boorish, but were you particularly close to your uncle? Could you shed some light on this matter? By my companion's faces, they seem to be just as mystified as I am."
"Ms. Warden, are you coming to the will reading, and do you have a ride? I must admit to being somewhat perplexed as to why I was invited, perhaps you'd care to join me? I told my driver to pick me up at around this time. I told him to rent a Bentley 3-litre, so I'm sure there will be space..."
"Mr. Morgan, although you can call me Howard if you'd like."
No, I meant that I literally rolled as low as possible for my in-game luck stat.
Howard approaches Ms. Warden in between some well-wishes. "Dreadfully cramped in here, isn't it? Far too many loud, noisy people. I'm going to stand nearby, eat my food. You give me a signal if someone you don't want to talk to starts using up too much of your time, and I'll butt in, distract them." He smiles, sadly. "All I can do for you in this time of grief I'm afraid. I'd like to talk with you later, but not here."
Ah luck... couldn't be me...
I just don't know enough about why I was invited here. A letter perhaps thanking me for my contributions, but an invitation to his funeral and will? What have I gotten into? I'll talk to the niece. Looking properly somber, Howard moves through the crowd, waiting for the opportune time to introduce himself to Ms. Warden. He curses himself for not filling up a hip-flask before coming here, but it is what it is.
What an odd eulogy. Fitting perhaps for an odd man. And what's this about his passing being difficult to comprehend? He was old. People fall over dead all the time, not least those who may have picked up some strange illness in a distant country.
Howard, being a young, rich, and attractive man wears an obviously expensive fashionable suit, close cut to his body to highlight his somewhat hourglass form. He looked somewhat uncomfortable in it, the drab black not being what he preferred to wear when out and about. Tucked crisply into a pocket is a bottle green handkerchief, providing a dash of color. He wasn't sure where his top hat was, he had given it to someone as soon as he arrived at St. Paul's. It was too close to his father's private collection of books- although he cut himself off from that line of thinking. The Morgan Library was a public museum now, and he was sure that the more unpleasant volumes had been removed from public viewing.
I'm satisfied with my expectations as well! Big fan of the original Lovecraft work and a lot of his author friends extended universe, so it'll be easier to keep any meta game knowledge out and away if I don't know anything about the setting in the first place!
I have been finding some difficulty with starting wealth/stuff to buy, anyone got any tips?
Yeah! Always wanted to play some CoC, could never find a group to teach me/who was interested in learning with me! I'm a newcomer to the hobby, only been playing since 2012. Teamwork is great, and always a priority; what's important is that everyone is having fun, even if we disagree in character, it's probably not out of character at all!
Oh right! Biggest fear is of dying alone, and his biggest secret is probably either his pre-adoption background, or a more actionable secret that he actually knows direct information about is their faked psychiatry degree! -- Sorry, I got too caught up in learning about railroads to be a Schweppe, and wanted to try being a bit more serious!
Not quite complete, but I hope this will do! Background: Howard Morgan was the adopted son of J.P. Morgan, famous banker and railroad tycoon. His adopted father only was with him for about a 15 years before he died of a stroke in 1913. To be frank, his death did not particularly fluster Howard. J.P. Morgan never spent much time with Howard, looking at him with a mixture of pity and loathing whenever they were forced to spend time together. He could not remember anything about his time before being adopted, everyone told him that he had fallen from a horse when young, and had a nasty head injury that caused him to forget many things. Curious about why he was adopted, Howard investigated, never to find an answer. He never even found out what state he was born in. Before his adopted father's death, he was put in a lesser board role in the Boston & Maine railroad company, specifically to oversee the management of Iron Horse Park in Billerica Mass. Howard, not being particularly business savvy, but quite wise in his own right, appointed an assistant to help him maintain his business ventures that he paid handsomely, and made an early retirement to Salem Massachusetts to live out his true passion; fraternization. Being rather wealthy, and a product of his father's philanthropy, Howard was an avid philanthropist himself. Donating money to the less-fortunate, and to academia were passions of his, or at least ways to make himself feel better about what his hedonistic lifestyle. It was then a surprise that after spending quite a bit of money to fund some expedition that a Professor Elias Farnwright was going on (the exact nature of which Howard never particularly cared about learning), that the old man showed up at Howard's Salem residence. The conversation was quick, and cordial, he thanked Howard profusely for the donation of funds, nothing that normally would have stuck out in Howard's mind. However, the professor looked at him with the exact same expressions of fear and pity that his late father looked at him, something no one else had ever done since. As much as Howard tried to forget about it through the various vices of the time, the expression stuck with him, like a thorn in his mind. He was not entirely surprised then, to learn that apparently he had stuck in the old man's mind too, and had been invited to his funeral.
Kazmanaught here!
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