Roderick Farshaw's page

Roderick looks on at the woman stripping down to run around the car; 'Are all American women like this?' he thinks smiling to himself not being able to take his eyes from the dilettante.

She starts to change as the horrific creature tears it's way from her; he is not able to take his eyes away from her form. 'I hope all American women aren't like this!'

Sanity Roll: 1d100 ⇒ 4

He has seen worse ;p

Roderick waggles his eyebrows suggestively; "That sounds like an idea!"

And he hasn't posted in any of the games I run or play with him. But with the announcement of his appendicitis, I hope he is doing well.

Roderick seems slightly out of his depth with this talk of movies. Certainly he liked art and had even done a turn in the Chippingham Amateur Dramatics Society. "Ad-libbing? I thought all the 'talkies' were rigorously scripted."

"It's perfectly fine old chap. Although Miss Fitzsimmons probably would have liked a more sedate journey." Rod winks, "Yeah, it's amazing how far technology has progress. Just a few years ago I flew for the British Air Corp in the Great War and now there is talk of commercial aircraft! But to the Moon; I would love to pilot that plane." he adds wistfully.

Roderick takes the proferred cigarette, and lighting it up. Whilst keeping away from the ill Isabelle, not wishing for her to feel any worse. "Settles the stomach, especially after that drive. Seymour did you want to be a racing driver?" He asks in his plumy accent with a hint of teasing.

Roderick stands beside the actor; his eyes appraising of the giant stone erection. "Yes, back home we have more Georgian or baroque buildings. That is beautiful, I expect there's a porter about somewhere." Roderick says before asking the actor; "Have you played any of those swash-bucklers, in old 'gothic' castles? Was it your magnificent performance in Prince Valiant?"

"We have arrived, Miss." he kindly says, soft words trying not to disturb the Lady further. Cautiously he gets out of the vehicle, whilst not looking of help with the up turned purse. 'One does not look into a Ladies purse, there is a sense of propriety.'

Roderick stares out of the window, admiring the beautiful scenery. In some ways like the Home Counties of England, whilst in others so different. The scenery seems to stretch despite the pace of the vehicle. Rodericks mind is calmed although he cannot help to see what happened in the hotel in his minds eye. The gentleman occasionally glances to Isabelle, to ensure proprietary is upheld. "Miss Fitzsimmons, please wake up we are here." he speaks quietly in her ear and softly shakes her shoulder.

"Shocking, we need to do something. Yes, travel to see this lecturer maybe he has covered them in his anthropological studies." Roderick says whilst taking a sip and passing his hip-flask around before getting in the vehicle.

Slicking back his hair, before replacing his hat Roderick nods to his companions. His sharp suit and casual demeanour provide the example of a relaxed English gent; "Well met, I would not dream of causing a Lady any discomfort."

In his hand his long cane, that he leans upon whilst retrieving a hip-flask. [smaller]"Care for a morning nip?" he offers the silver container around as it gleams in the morning light.

Behind Rod is a large well-packed bag, obviously he was in Baden-Powell's Scouting for Boys and he is well-prepared.

Rod shakes his head; "Afraid not old chap. Appears the lecture was from over a week ago, as predicted. However, the visiting Professor still is at the Miskatonic University." he smiles.

"You feel ready for a trip to New England? It should be very beautiful scenery. Maybe we can work out who these aboriginal murderers are." Rod says sadly despite being slightly enthused by a trip around this strange foreign land.

IIRC there were definitely phone booths and many businesses had phones (see 'The Sting' set 5-10 years later). Private individuals especially upon the east coast would have had telephones if they were wealthy (and innovative) enough. I would hope the University would have a night porter, that may answer a phone to take a message. Of course everything is upto our GM.

Roderick answers swiftly; "Certainly not and your company would be pleasure. As would Miss Fitzsimmons and the rest. I haven't had a chance to see much of the area and although I would love to do it under happier circumstances." he leaves the words hanging in the air as he recollects the scene and blanches slightly.

Wow, hope you feel better soon. Thanks for letting us know.

Wishing you a quick recovery

Roderick is quiet in the back of the cab, maybe the bloody murder is affecting him.... or he is thinking about the New England antiquities.

"Yes, a road trip to Miskatonic University sounds intellectual. We do have to be careful about the other clues the savages left. Not to ignore them....However, if you can Seymour contact your publisher about that book?" Rod says sitting in the car.

"Those sound like ripping yarns. Real boys adventure stuff. Unfortunately, it would cost a fortune getting them shipped across the Atlantic, unless you're with one of the huge publishing houses. We have to make do with our own writers mostly." he makes an excuse for not having read any of Seymours work.

"So Elias was a real adventurer, with both thee and Mr Westfield seeking his council for anthropological advice. Good thinking about the stenographs." He compliments the author.

Looking at the empty building and only the few students scurrying around, he turns to Seymour; "A writer, a word-smith, a composer of lyrical bliss? What type of books do you write? Anything I would have heard of?"

Roderick pays attention to the reply as they walk the long disappointing walk around. "I thought it might be a few nights ago, and now I appear very foolish. Although a man on your arm, Miss Isabelle, could never be a fool. Now maybe Professor Cowles is still around. He could give us a general overview or is lecture. And although those people looked African, they could have been Polynesian." He says with an accidental racism and a furrowed brow.

Lord Farshaw is not just moving slowly due to his trick knee and cane, but he also tries to make sure thy are not followed.

Spot Hidden (45%) 1d100 ⇒ 73

A note of warning, I am going to be away at a music festival from Thursday afternoon to Monday afternoon.

Feel free to NPC me as necessary.

"Mighty kind of you, Mr Caine and Westfield. You have my business card and address if you need to contact me." He turns to Ms. Fitzsimmon; "And it will be a pleasure to escort you." He looks to Seymour; "And of course Mr Stodgell. This lecture should prove interesting."

"I wonder who Miriam Atwright is, a collector of books, maybe a librarian or private collector." Rod says examining the letter; "Something of import that that took even a letter referencing this volume."

"Good point, sir. Although is it dated for tonight? I would feel very foolish if 'tonight only' performance was 3 weeks ago." Roderick winks. "I have never heard of the 'Bloody Tongue', it conjures a very tribal, visceral imagery. Completely different to the ephemeral name of the 'Golden Dawn' or other groups."

"No, I am afraid not" Rod answers Miss Fitzsimmons last question as they enter the suite once more.

To Jakes inquiry of health Rodericks voice sounds dark; "Yes fortunately, we attempted to cut them off....I am no coward. However my knee gave out." he finishes lamely, tapping at his leg with the cane he has been heavily leaning on.

"So, Mr...? I do not have any acquaintances amongst the constabulary, a couple at the import authority." he refers to Mr Seymours question.

Roderick smiles and with a wink replies; "Yes, you are a belle." He shakes her hand and gently brings it up to kiss the back of it. "I hope that's not too presumptuous. I was just coming here with my friend Jake, you knew Mr Elias?"

Rod swallows slightly nervous; "That's horrible what happened to him, but we should return to the room see how the others are and who those people were." Rod trudges to the elevator, making sure the Isabelle hasn't disturbing ride this time.

Hope Rod doesn't have to worry about Belles' expert knee :P

I'll be away for the next day, going down to London for the Olympic Athletics.

Should be back by this time tomorrow.

Roderick looks across to Lady Isabelle; "Oh pish and bother, they escaped. I hope that chap can follow them." then he looks at her and realises "Oh I don't think we have been introduced, I am Roderick Farnshaw." he puts out a hand and ignores a twinge in his knee.

"Darn and blast." Rod says as he twists his knee and his ankle rolls over aggravating an old war injury. Looking round guiltily at his outburst he hobbles on towards the rear knowing he'll be much too late.... although he hopes to find some clues.

Roderick thinks for a moment; 'I wish I had my pistol, I would show these blighters a thing or two. No way I will be able to stop them with my fists.' He sees the Lady rush down the stairs, to try and cut their route off. "My lady, be careful." He limps after her, his hip and knee burning with every step as he hobbles down the stairs.

Each bend of his knees creates a flash of pain that he just manages to control without an exclamation. He tries to get to the bottom of the fire escape before the murderers, hoping that Jake and Chang will be able to hold them there long enough.

Roderick stumbles into the room, trying not to look at the bloody mess that was once a man. Instead he looks nearby to try and see if there is any lamp oil or open lamp.

Spot Hidden (45) 1d100 ⇒ 54

If so Roderick will pick it up and throw it at the evil bloody man trying to escape through the window.

Regaining his senses; Roderick stumbles into the room. "They are getting away..." he see Chang swing wildly at them with his wooden sword. "Good man." 'If an unlucky shot' Roderick looks around the room, realising that the men are likely to escape.

Roderick looks away as the door breaks, once the others start to move or stare on. Roderick bustles towards the doorway peering through the portal upon the bloody vista, his gorge rises and his knees start to buckle only by placing a hand upon the doors architraves can he still stand.

"Crikey..." he splutters. 'Daniel?...Some sort of foreign gibber-jabber?' Despite his astonishment he can just about process thoughts.

At the crunch against the door Roderick coughs gently, ignoring any possible wrong-doings with an English reserve.

Roderick looks at the door, a worried expression upon his face. "We would look foolish if he is fine, but...." He bites his lip, sidling slightly away from the door.

Rod looks concerned at this turn of events; 'Surely he should be around if he is to receive visitors? Unless his ablutions have run over-long; but then he would have left notice or be making some sound?'

Eyebrows furrowing he turns to the others, trying to make out their thoughts. "I'll go down to the front desk, see if they have a key?" he asks of the others in a concerned fashion.

Roderick listens intently before lowering his voice to a whisper; "Golly, this is mighty curious. He should be here?"

Roderick looks down the corridor to either end, just in case he can see the heels of anyone who has visited.

Listen 1d100 ⇒ 92

"Ahhh, the cleansing precipitation that I know so well." He waxes loquaciously; "At least it'll in all probability cleanse the streets."

"Of course, we should not be late. That isn't done. Feel free to use my facilities if you wish to freshen up." Roderick gestures to the WC and bathroom. Then nips of just to freshen up and look his best.

"Well, then come with me and Mr Westfield" he turns to Jake to confirm this; "Then we can got out to meet Mr Elias about the props and his needs for the production. There should be a couple of women, too. And we could go to out for a few cocktails later?"

"Of course, having been there he will be an expert. I am sure we can find some genuine items." he adds pretending to be knowledgable about the Movie Industry; "That also have strong filmographic presence and a visceral resonance with the watcher."

Rod takes a small sip of tea, letting the flavour suffuse his mouth. "This is rather nice, a pity as you say Chang that we had not the time for the ceremony."

Rod watches as the tea brews; with a curt nod at the actors exuberance. "Oh, the East Indies, well they are certainly in a Golden Era once more (under our rule). That sounds an incredible tale, I am sure you will do it justice."

Gently running a gloved finger with the grain of the table; "I do have a friend over there, a Rajah involved with a Darjeeling consortium. Thus I do have a couple of pieces in London."

"I could source some over here too, if you need it soon." Rod queries.

"Is that what you are doing at the moment? Making a movie?" Rod asks hopeful. "Or are you here socialising?"

Rod gently claps Chang on the shoulder; "No, don't worry about it old boy. Certainly I wasn't try to imply anything of the sort, you manners are impeccable as we have come to expect from the Orient."

"We must catch up." Roderick escorts everyone through to the back, around a beautifully polished table of a light soft wood. Placed upon it are coasters and a tray. Picking up a freshly boiled kettle he offers it to Chang, whilst placing an adequate Japanese tea set upon the table.

"Would you care to do the honours?" The English gentleman offers out of courtesy.

His lip quivering, Rod blusters. "Not that I rip people off, no, no, no I do a good service and will have to ship them across the Atlantic."

He taps his cane on the ground nervously; "Yes, tea, tea sounds like a very good idea. Oh, absolutely top-hole, you have your own." Rod moves towards the counter. 'What's he saying, Mr Westfield will think me an absolute blaggard. And I won't be able to make a profit from him, or only a miserly one at that.'

Rod raises an eyebrow; "Of course not, dear boy, it's a privilege to meet you. We were just talking shop, you know procuring oddities." Rod smiles "How have you being doing? I heard that your leading lady was awfully pretty."

"Of course back in London some fellows have sword canes, in my fathers time it was quite fashionable to duel or fend off blaggards." Rod winks slyly; "But now it is more civilised."

"That is a fine piece, willow?" he asks.

*Click, click*

The regular soft click of nickel upon concrete side-walk, then the tinkle of the shop bell. Roderick enters the shop, subtly ensuring that the light favours his right side. He half looks back to Chang, their business not concluded as Falshaw doesn't carry that kind of money on him.

Scanning the shop Roderick sees Jake, he moves forward with an easy smile but long strides before putting his hand out. "Mr Westfield, good to see you again. I apologise profusely for being late."

"Mr Westfield, may I introduce you to Mr Caine, an Oriental expert, specialising in Japanese culture. And Mr Westfield, he's a man of style and taste." Rod nods as his eloquent voice tries to smooth the waters of his poor timekeeping.

"That's a dashed clever idea, I suppose it will also be a challenge like 'The Crossword'" He says referring to the Times crossword as if non-other existed.

"I believe we could even make these a fad amongst the Deb's and Society. Say that cane you carry, I haven't seen one like it?" Rod queries lightly.

Absent-mindedly brushing a lock of hair over one eye; "Well a nicely veneered bureau, like one that the herbalists use with lots of compartments. I am sure that some eccentric Lord would love one."

He ponders slightly more; "A nice bit of Jade would be magnificent, however I am not going to break the bank. Even if it's a lovely specimen." he pauses; "Why do you know, anything suitable? I was going downtown to meet some friends but..." There's a twinkle in his eye, knowing that they can both make a profit whilst helping those with less fortunate tastes improve their life.

"That's a dashed fine piece, I think we could do some deals together." Roderick is not one to turn down a profit, he travels to Chinatown whilst in NY to get some 'genuine' Chinese antiques to sell back home. He encounters the man half a decade his junior, hoping that together they could make some money and a friendship.

Same here, old chap. That's a bally good idea.

D'oh, did n't read the spoilers or the IC thread closely thus wasn't sure whether to introduce myself....whoops.

Alias here.