You arrived in Helorus within the past few days and per the instructions in your letter, you met with the executor of Dr. Pallaver’s estate, one Mr. Argentine Keel. Mr. Keel proved to be a young, well-to-do British gentleman who seems quite out of place in the rustic little town. He informed you that in his will the late Dr. Pallaver personally requested your presence at his funeral as well as at the reading of his will, the latter appearance being contingent upon the former.
The appointed hour for the funeral has come, and you stand within the small church at the edge of town amidst a handful of people who have gathered to lay the doctor to rest. There is Father Grimsby, the elderly priest who serves Helorus’s faithful, who seems to be waiting patiently for some unknown impetus to begin the proceedings; a handsome, pale, older gentleman who sweats under an extravagant and unseasonable fur hat and overcoat while steadying himself against a pew; a young veiled woman somberly dressed all in black, her hands clasped before her as she silently sobs; Mr. Keel, seated straight-backed and proper in the first row of pews and dressed in an entirely different well-tailored suit than he wore at your prior meeting; Dr. Pallaver himself, presumably, in a plain pine coffin beside the woman; and a somewhat motley mix of three other individuals…
Thom Andrews, a youngish man with pale skin and auburn hair neatly trimmed in the style of the day, sits solemnly in the second row. There is nothing remarkable about his stature but he too is dressed in an entirely different well-tailored suit than the one he wore to the previous meeting. This one is black, trimmed in velvet, with tails. On his lap he holds a matching top hat.
Strange that the Doctor would choose to have his funeral here, he reflects. Out of all the places he traveled, there must have been better options. Columbia, no doubt, would have honored him in the great hall with a procession of professors in their academicals. This... village doesn't even have a quality hotel to accommodate his guests, much less the caliber of citizenry to pay the respect he's deserved. He was a great help in establishing my career though and roughing it for a few days is the least I can do to repay his kindness...
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The Amazing Occulus steps into the church, leaning slightly on his ornate cane. After scanning the room for a moment he respectfully removes his azure blue cape, top hat, and places his matching gloves inside. He then slowly walks to a vacant pew and, with a slight groan of exertion, takes a seat. He is a man with harsh features slashed from the bone of his skull, strong, fleshless nose, deep eye cavities, and a long thin mouth framed by jet black hair of moderate length, slicked straight back. He stands six foot but seems taller due to his lanky, near emaciated frame. His long, graceful fingers are in constant motion, contrasting his steady piercing blue eye gaze.
The door opens again, and so enters an older man with dark caramel skin and strong hands. He is short, and his slight frame is accentuated by the over-sized greatcoat he wears. Both his overcoat and boots are trail-stained, and he sets a heavy bundle beside the rear door as he enters.
His face is creased with smile lines set off by a well grayed short boxed beard. His short-cropped gray hair reveals ornate gold earrings in both of his ears. He nods deeply to the glances of the assemblage and takes a seat in the rearmost pew.
Mr. Keel retrieves a silver pocketwatch from the vest of his three piece suit, checking it before turning in his seat to survey the room. His gaze rests on each of you for a brief moment, then he double checks the watch before snapping it shut and returning it to his vest.
He the stands and walks to the woman, gently laying his hand on her elbow. She turns and allows him to guide her to the front pew, and once they're both seated he nods to Father Grimsby.
At the sign from Mr. Keel, the Father clears his throat and steps up to the podium at the head of the simple room. Standing before the large wooden crucifix hung upon the back wall, he addresses the small assembly in a thin, wavering voice.
"Good afternoon, my good lady and gentlemen; thank you all for coming today. We are here to lay to rest Doctor August Pallaver, a patron of learning, healing, and justice the world over. It is with a heavy heart that I stand here today to bid him farewell, as a finer man I have never known. Though often misunderstood by his neighbors, he labored without complaint to better himself and those around him, and in so doing to build a new reputation for himself and his family. ‘For a good name is better than precious ointment; and the day of death than the day of one's birth.’
"In this I believe he was successful; while those here in Helorus are not quick to forget the past, I believe those of you in attendance today stand as testament to the breadth of men and women whose lives he affected for the better, of all cultures and all nations, with his dedication to medicine, his generosity of spirit, and his zeal for setting wrongs to right.”
He turns his gaze down to the simple coffin before him, and there is a slight catch in his voice as he proceeds.
”August, you left the world a better place than you had found it. May you receive the rest you so rightly deserve; and may your rest be easy, knowing that your legacy lives on in all those you’ve touched, as they continue your good work the world over. Goodbye, dear friend – you will be missed.”
Father Grimsby steps down from the podium, walking to the woman and taking her hand. He bends close and whispers a few quiet words to her and she stands, taking his arm for support.
”I need four volunteers to act as pallbearers; we’ll not be going far, the graveyard is right next door,” he decares as he looks about the room expectantly.
The well dressed young man in the second row glances over his shoulder to assess the motley spattering of guests.
I appear to be the only one attired for such a task, aside from that consumptive...
He rises from his seat, nods dutifully to the priest, and straightens his tuxedo jacket before walking to the front of the small chapel. Now in full view of everyone, Thom stands a little less than six feet tall and seems fairly fit. His rich purple waistcoat and golden watch chain reveal that he is a man of some means, or has gone to lengths to present himself as one. He waits next to the casket, unconsciously turning his top hat in his hands, for other volunteers to present themselves.
Occulus stands up from the pew and makes his way to the grieving woman.
"My condolences M'Lady, although I knew your father briefly, he had a profound influence on my life."
With a slight bow he turns his attention to Father Grimsby.
"Father, I solemnly volunteer my meager services,"
With a nod to the priest, he makes his way to the casket.
Awright geeezzaa! There is somethin' off wiv dis byrd, burg, an' fa' easter. Sorted mate.
Occulus approaches Thom and proffers his hand, and softly speaks to him in a proper English accent.
"I am known as The Amazing Occulus, a bit ostentatious, I know, but one needs to make a name for himself in my profession."
Blimey! Mates got bees, wonda' where's da honey.
"Thomas Bryson Andrews" Thom answers quietly, tentatively shaking the consumptive man's hand in return.
The Amazing Occulus... I wonder what profession exactly he's in...
Won't let it be said I wasn't of service to the Doc in this.
"I'll grab a corner preacher, my clothes ain't pretty but my back's strong."
The fur-clad man has remained standing throughout the eulogy, leaning on the pew behind him. At Father Grimsby's request, he draws himself up straight and walks to the front.
"Surely I shall help bear the good doctor to his rest, yes?" he asks Thom and Oculus in a thick Russian accent. "After all, he deserves to have men of... distinction carry out this final task." As he speaks he draws out a handkerchief and wipes the sweat from his brow.
Thom nods at the Russian as he takes his place.
I suppose three out of four pall bearers being reasonably attired is about the best one could hope for in this crowd.
As the blonde fella lurches into the aisle in front of him and steps up to the coffin,Louie shakes his head and turns towards the back pew, letting out a sighing whistle.
Serves me right for showing up sober. Guessing I'll just owe the doc another favor in the hereafter.
Father Grimsby covers the coffin with a black pall cloth as the four men take up their positions, the Russian and the Amazing Oculus on one side, Thom and Virgil on the other. A definite odor of some sort of rubbing alcohol or solvent can be detected by the bearers. Father Grimsby then leads them out of the church through the front doors, followed by the woman, Mr. Keel, and Louie.
The small procession walks outside into a pleasant Spring day; quite the change from the past few days, which had seen a hard, unrelenting rain through last night. Helorus’s inn had but four rooms and two were already rented, forcing some of you to find alternate accommodations, whether that had been letting a room from the prim Widow Johnson or just a stay in a farmer’s hayloft on the outskirts of town. The weather had kept you and the townsfolk inside for most of your stay, and it had seemed a dreary, desolate place.
Today, however, the sun shines from a clear blue sky down upon the town. Nestled amongst the hills about twenty miles north of the Erie Canal and nearest rail line, the farms of Helorus stretch along the eastern shore of Lake Hinon up into the wooded hills. The center of town is a cluster of buildings (most notably the town hall, inn, general store, pub, and the church) along a section of cobbled road a mile east of the lake; to the north and south the road turns to packed earth.
The church lies at the southern edge of the cobblestone, with the graveyard stretching south along the earthen road. A low stone wall surrounds the graveyard on three sides - 200' along the road, and 100' on the sides; the “back” of the graveyard to the west seems to simply devolve into wild shrubs and small trees. Graves appear to be marked with simple small headstones, in some cases even inscribed fieldstones.
Father Grimsby leads the procession down the towards an iron gate set in the graveyard’s wall, in front of which a half dozen men, apparently farmers by their dress and assortment of agricultural tools, have gathered. Any thoughts of them being additional mourners are quickly dispelled as you draw near.
An white-haired man who appears in his 50s steps forward, an angry scowl upon his face.
“That’s far enough! We been talking, and we don’t want Pallaver buried here in town. You can take him up north and bury him there if you want, but he ain’t goin’ in the ground here!”
The man's words garner a round of agreement from the others with him.
"What is the meaning of this, Gustav?"
"Ye heard us, father. We don't want that heathen devil-doctor buried in the same place as our kin! Now we ain't fixin' t' strike no man of God, but the rest of ye best march that coffin somewheres else."
Again the man's allies voice their agreement, some pounding the ground with the butts of their hoes and pitchforks to emphasize the point.
Devil-doctor?!? Of all the ignorant drivel... these uneducated Luddites haven't a bit of sense between the whole lot! Perhaps I should show them my portable electric torch... if they don't lynch me for witchcraft it should have sufficient impact on their small superstitious minds to scare them off...
Thom remains properly stoic whilst he awaits some further response from Father Grimsby or one of the other locals.
Louie walks up to stand beside the preacher.
"Doc Pallaver wasn't a devil, he was a good man, understood family, knew that folks could be better than what folks expect of them. Speaking poor of the dead, particularly at their funeral, ain't a very right thing. What's got you so worked up that you can't be decent to the dead and their people?"
Gustav meets Louie's eye as he speaks, and he hesitates for a few moments and glances at the rest of the procession, who remain quiet.
"Can't be decent to the dead?" he mutters, before raising his voice in anger. "Decent to the dead? We aren't the ones tryin' to bury the damned alongside six generations of good folk who built this town 'til his ilk came along!" His words are met with cheers and more rake-pounding by the men accompanying him. "And we'll be damned if we're goin' to let you!"
Gustav, now truly enraged, hauls back to throw a punch at Louie.
Combat Order:
1. Gustav
2. All funeral procession members
3. Agrarian mob
Situation
Gustav Mayer and 5 other men block the entrance to the graveyard. Adjacent to Gustav are Louie and Father Grimsby. Behind them are the pallbearers with Dr. Pallaver's coffin, and behind them are Mr. Keel and the woman. You are all standing on the edge of a cobbled road, with 5 feet of muddy ground between the road and the low (3'-4' tall) stone wall of the graveyard.
Woman___5'___Oculus / Stanislav___5'__Grimsby / __5'__ / Mob
Keel___5'____Virgil / Thom_____5'_____ Louie / Gustav / Mob
ROUND 1 / Order 1
Gustav swings a gnarled fist before Louie can react, but in his anger misjudges his attack and only clips the cook's right ear. The blow stings, but little more.
ROUND 1 / Order 2
Louie bristles but rather than flinching from the blow stands his ground.
"Starting a fight you can't win, in front of a lady and a preacher, in front of god's own house, and you calling someone else names. Back down old-timer, you're not acting like the good folk you claim to come from, buried right here."
He gestures to the cemetery.
ROUND 1 / Reaction
Gustav flinches back a step at Louie's display of bluster and resolve, scowling as he looks the dark-skinned man up and down.
Round 1, order 3
Thom's stoic expression momentarily breaks as violence erupts. Startled and worried he almost drops his corner of the coffin. Regaining some composure before it's too late he grips handle on the plain box tightly while crouching slightly and doing his best to prepare himself against any attacks.
ROUND 1 / Block 2
Father Grimsby takes a small step forwards, hands raised with open palms.
"Gustav! Stop this madness at once!"
ROUND 1 / Block 2
Mr. Keel puts one arm behind the woman and takes her by the elbow with the other, backing her several paces away from the procession and turning to interpose himself between her and the ruckus. He maintains a keen but dispassionate interest in the goings-ons.
ROUND 1/ Block 2
Occulus struggles to keep his balance as more coffin weight shifts to him.
Hope deese guys can 'andle da weight, awer old doc may be puttin' in an appearance!, innit.
Releasing the coffin, Occulus stands up straight and draws his sword cane.
"Gentlemen, this man speaks the truth. I have been trained by Her Majesty's finest swordsmen, it would be unfortunate if I had to demonstrate my lethal skills on such hard working folk as yourselves."
The Amazing Oculus steps out from under Dr. Pallaver's coffin and brandishes a slim sword from his cane with a flourish as he steps forward to confront the angry townsfolk alongside Louie and Father Grimsby. As he does so, the Russian pallbearer goes down to one knee with a look of surprise on his face, the coffin rolling over onto his back and spilling it's contents into the street.
The assembled hecklers give a collective gasp and shrink away from the procession, momentarily giving Oculus a thrill of satisfaction before he realizes they're all looking behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees what everyone else is staring at.
Doctor Pallaver's corpse lies sprawled on the cobblestones, the fine black suit it wears providing a stark contrast to the pale flesh of its face -
With Oculus gone, the DC becomes 14 but the combined STR bonus of the bearers actually goes up by 1 (due to Oculus's deficiency of musculature).
Virgil, you are shaken by the sight!
ROUND 1 / Block 2
The veiled woman lets out an anguished scream at the sight of Dr. Pallaver's corpse and collapses to her knees, one arm outstretched towards the body.
"Father!"
ROUND 1
It is clear for all to see that the determination of the hecklers is wavering on a razor's edge; a firm push would break their resolve...
round 1/passive
Stunned by the coffin's fall, and the revelation that accompanied it, Thom stares momentarily at the corpse trying to recall any medical condition that might result such a thing.
In this case, however, Dr. Pallaver is remarkably well-preserved and his jaw is, in fact, tied shut with a silk handkerchief, as is sometimes customary. You're led to assume that the chilling expression on the doctor's corpse, while it may have altered slightly due to embalming and/or decay, is largely the one he had upon his moment of death.
ROUND 1 / Block 2
Now on his kness, the Russian struggles under the weight of the coffin, trying unsuccessfully to roll it off of him. He lets out a strangled string of angry Russian, presumably cursing his state.
ROUND 1 / Order 2
- BOT
Virgil peers over the coffin skewed across the Russian's back, his eyes going wide as saucers.
"Tarnation!" he exclaims, unable to keep the waver out of his voice. As the coffin suddenly begins to jerk and curses in a strange tongue spew out from under it, he jumps back in fright.
"Fer God sakes, run fer it!" he yells to no-one in particular.
ROUND 1 / Order 3
&
ROUND 2/ Order 1
The hecklers, already set on edge, scatter at Virgil's shout, running off down the road into their fields. Gustav, made of somewhat sterner stuff, stays put for a moment.
"This ain't over!" he growls at the procession, then turns and follows his erstwhile compatriots.
"Let's get this fella of distinction out from under there."
On ne s'ennuie jamais a cet enterrement.
Louie steps over and attempts to help the cussing Russian with the coffin.
Thom does his best to help maneuver the casket off of the Russian and place it safely on the ground. Once that work is done he turns his attention to the indisposed remains of the good doctor. "Would you be so kind?" he asks the large Texan, gesturing towards Dr. Pallaver's feet while he himself walks over and takes hold the shoulders.
I must remember to inquire of Mister Keel regarding the specifics of the Doctor's demise, once his daughter is no longer present of course...
Occulus sheathes his sword cane and leans on it while he watches the pallbearer party attempts to get the body back in the coffin.
With the disturbance passed, the members of the funerary procession extricate the Russian from beneath the coffin and place Dr. Pallaver's remains back in it.
"My apologies, Miss Pallaver; such an act is intolerable - I'll report Gustav to the authorities immediately once we're finished here."
Once the pallbearers have the coffin in hand again the procession moves forward, Father Grimsby opening the simple latch on the low wrought iron gates and swinging them open wide. He leads onwards into the graveyard, back through several rows of headstones seemingly towards the only mausoleum present on the grounds: a short, squat granite affair that seems to glower out across the yard from beneath its mantle of moss and creeping ivy at the back corner of the grounds. He comes to a stop, however, at an open grave alongside an mound of dirt several headstones down from the overgrown tomb. Faint snoring noises can be heard from the brush behind the gravesite.
"Ernest! Ernest, wake yourself, boy!" Grimsby calls in his high voice. Immediately the snoring breaks into snorting coughs and a gangly young man of no more than 16 years quickly rises to his feet behind the gravestone, attempting in vain to smooth out his oversized overalls and cotton shirt. He beams a smile at the Father for a moment before suddenly dropping to his hands and knees to search the brush for a few long seconds, after which he jerkily stands back up, spade in hand.
"Yes, ready, Father."
"Very well." Grimsby motions for the coffin to be placed upon two wooden boards stretched across the grave alongside two lengths of rope. Once placed, he speaks again.
"August Byron Pallaver, forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself your soul, we therefore commit your body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ; who shall change our vile body, that it may be like unto his glorious body, according to the mighty working, whereby he is able to subdue all things to himself.
"Gentlemen, if you would," Grimsby says to the pallbearers, indicating the ropes. Each man takes up on one end of a rope, and Ernest pulls out each board from underneath, after which the bearers slowly lower the coffin into the ground. Once done, Ernest steps forward and begins shoveling dirt onto the casket.
After her outburst at the sight of her father's corpse, Miss Pallaver remains silent throughout the rest of the proceedings. She stands and stares down into the grave as Ernest shovels it back in, Father Grimsby beside her murmuring words of support.
Mr. Keel retrieves and consults his pocketwatch before waving the remainder of the attendees a short distance away from the grave and adressing them.
"Gentlemen, thank your for your attendance. If you would like to be present at the reading of the deceased's will, please join me this evening at the Pallaver residence, 6 o'clock sharp." He returns his watch to his vest, then gives a polite bow of his head to the group of men.
"Until then." He walks back to the grave and stands a respectful distance behind Miss Pallaver and Father Grimsby as they watch Ernest do his work.
Oculus turns and addresses the group.
"Gentlemen, I am known as the Amazing Oculus, I am still working out a proper superlative, but for brevities sake you may address me as Oculus. Perhaps we should retire to the Inn for some well deserved refreshment. I know I could use a drink."
Oculus approaches Louie, and proffers his hand.
"You were well spoken, and you took that simpleton's jab like a prize fighter, I believe you saved us all from the inconvenience of violence with the locals and for that I thank you most heartily. How may I address you?"
He then turns to Virgil, and proffers his hand.
"Nice to meet you Sir, and how may I address you?"
Finally, Oculus approaches the Russian and proffers his hand.
"My apologies Sir for leaving my post on the coffin, with our group being unarmed and outnumbered I was concerned for our safety. I fear that my bravado trumped my good sense. Please allow me the honor of your name, and let me make restitution in the form of a cold beverage."
Thom draws his pocket watch as well and takes note of any difference with Mr. Keel's time. After returning it to his waistcoat he listens attentively to Oculus' introductions before adding "I'm Thom. Thank you for assisting in the doctor's interment," and offering each man his hand as well.
"I don't make it a practice to drink this early in the day, but after all this commotion a drink may, indeed, be in order. I'd like to speak to Mister Keel privately for a moment but perhaps after that we could return to the inn at which I'm lodging? Sadly the accommodations are insufficient to host you in my suite but I suspect there is less chance of us running into any of that mob in the common room there than there would be at a local tavern."
When some arrangements have been settled upon, Mister Andrews approaches the executor and quietly asks, "Mister Keel, I couldn't help but notice that the good doctor was in quite a state at the time of his passing; what exactly were the circumstances of his demise?"
The Russian stands up against a gravestone, grasping the top with one hand for support. After the events during the procession and, no doubt, his exposure to direct sunlight, he is sweating even more profusely than before.
"A drink would be an excellent start to restitution," he states. When Oculus extends his hand, the man stands up straight and raises his chin, adopting a formal, almost military bearing. He extends his own sweaty hand and gives Oculus a very firm, if somewhat slippery, handshake.
"I am Stanislav Telovich Vredovsky, late of the Russian Empire. Your reaction to such behavior is understandable, and would even be commendable had it not led us to drop to doctor's coffin. But you are young, and it is better to be brave and foolish than craven and clever."
Mr. Keel turns his head at Thom's inquiry, his face impassive.
"I hardly think think that this is the time or the place, Mr. Andrews. Regardless, any inquiries you may have will be addressed this evening after the reading of Dr. Pallaver's will, should you choose to attend; until that time, I may make no comment concerning the doctor or his estate."
"Glad to know you Oculus, my name's Louie. Thanks for stepping up, I was worried we was going to have to make bricks without straw, what without any of us armed and you four busy with the Doc."
He shakes his hand and bobs his head as he does.
"Glad to know you too, Thom. The common room sounds like a safer bet than the tavern or milling about the street looking for trouble."
Again he shakes his hand, head bobbing.
"Let me have a go at that shovel, Ernest, wouldn't feel right having not done my share."
He walks over to where the boy is filling the grave, draping his coat over a nearby gravestone and rolling up his sleeves.