"Like the cigarette brand?" Andrea smiled. "I'm sure that must cause a lot of stupid comments from people. My brother is named Johnny. I have no idea what my parents were thinking. Probably was my dad, he was much into anything strong from a bottle." The way she said it was obvious her opinion of her father was less than stellar.

Getting out of the taxi, Sam scanned the building noting two men and a girl on the steps.  Perhaps one was the girl's father, brother or uncle?  The building was not what she expected, but did have a museum feel to it.

Paying the cab, she moved to the assembled, noting the weird smooth steps and that none of the three gave a vibe of being related.

Hi, we're all waiting for the place to open? She asked though the question sounded stupid as soon as it left her mouth.

"yeah I wonder what's inside" Robert said

Andrea checked her watch again. "It's time, we should ring a bell or something..." her voice trailed off as the large double doors opened inward on their own. A short corridor came into view, with a small check in area for clothes and bags to the left. A tall young man appeared in the entrance, bowing quickly, then pointing to the inside. "Welcome to the Museum of Oddities," he said, in a voice practiced and also somewhat bored. He looked like a butler,except that he was dressed all in blue. It was what would be called mediterranean blue or azure. It made him look somewhat...not ridiculous as such, no, but certainly strange.  "If you would please follow me, ladies and gentlemen? This way, please."

Robert followed the man with curiosity looking around wondering why haven't I been here before

Antha hesitated.  This seemed odd and the suit was, frankly strange.  This, she thought was against her better judgement.  But why then was she there if not for a little adventure.  She shook off her apprehension and followed the others into the building.

Andrea shrugged. "Maybe sometimes they give tours and he also acts as a tour guide?" she whispered. "Saves on suits?" She followed the weird butler deeper into the museum, into an anteroom where a mixture of gobelins -all showing some sort of goblins, and the wordplay made her giggle - covered the walls.

A grand concrete staircase wound up left and right to the upper levels, and an equally grand door made of some dark wood - teak, maybe? - was directly in the middle opposite the entrance. It all smelled like lots of money - and lots of bad taste. "I bet the dead guy also put his socks with his underwear and put a football logo on his Ferrari," Andrea whispered again.

"He did not," the butler exclaimed, obviously having better ears than anticipated. He opened the door, bowed a little and made a sweeping gesture. "If you would enter,please, you are expected after all." He did not sound quite impatient, but he did not seem to want them linger out here any longer.

Antha looked around the room with a bit of awe.  It would not be allowed to take photos she was sure, so getting out her phone was probably pointless.

It felt like they all had little choice but to follow. Watch it Kiddo, Lurch has no sense of humor.  Antha whispered to the girl with a smirk.  The kid was also a bit weird, but she was starting to like her.

The room they were lead into was like an overstuffed, giant living room. It might have been a reception hall once, but with all the couches, chairs, lamps, cabinets, clocks and knicknacks, it was hard to tell the original purpose. There were 3 different sorts of curtains, in different shades of green and with gold tassels, so little light came in. It was reminiscent of those hidden object games, just that no one gave any hint as to what you were looking for. The butler had silently disappeared and closed the door.

A figure stirred and rose from one of the chairs.

"'Peace be unto you.'  I am Jason Wyrman.  Well met."

"Well met indeed," a female voice came from one of the other chairs. "This gentleman has been here early, which makes you late,in a way." For some reason, the voice sounded sarcastic, but on the other had there was the impression she always talked like that.

The woman in the chair was overweight, pale and with curly hair which gave the impression if a mouse nest. She held monocle, of all things,to her right eye, which made said eye appear overly large. Like a green emerald staring at everyone. "I'm the curator, Agnes Tallon. And this man here is Dr. Jason Wyrman, the brother of the deceased. " Again, there was a hint of sarcasm.

Antha glanced around the room.  No clock.  She resisted the urge to check the time and gave a partial shrug to the curious girl whom she'd followed in.

I'm sorry, I guess I was unawares some one died.  Had she known that and forgotten?  It was possible.  Samantha Addams. She introduced herself with a cautious nod to both adults in the room.

Andrea twirled her hair and looked quickly at Samantha, then back to the overweight woman again. "Andrea Walkers," she said, with a hint of indignation. "We were on time and the half-member of the Blue Man Group who let us in opened the door just on spot so we are definitely not late!"

The woman frowned, but the chuckled."So you are not." As everyone introduced themselves,she nodded and frowned and nodded. "I'm not sure any of you will be up to the task, but maybe it will do." She got up with a surprising agility. "Well, then, let's take a tour. It'll be slow as I am not the quickest. Follow me, please." With that, she kind of rolled out of the door, quicker than her words would have made one thing. Her walk was somewhat similar to that of a penguin and had a certain hypnotic quality.

As everyone filed right out behind her again, Andrea wondered. "We are here because we are to inherit something," she said. "But Mrs Tallon treats us as if we are interviewing for a job."

The older man considered their words thoughtfully, and responded as he began to follow the curator.

"Did my estranged brother die?  He is officially deceased, but that is not at all the same thing.  Until I see his body, Samantha, I also am unaware that he has actually died."

"Andrea, that is an astute observation.  It has been many years since I have seen my brother, but I would not be surprised if they are both in fact true.  That is, it may be that at least part of the inheritance is in fact a task..."

"As far as I am concerned," the curator said in a rather contemptuous voice, "he is dead. Officially, he is assumed to be dead, as he has been lost at sea. Which is why his assets are already in probate. A real headache, all that,especially considering that no one knows where his diaries are, in which he had been keeping notes about all of his... collectibles. I know he's not been taking them with him."

The rushed tour through the ugly building revealed a collection which seemed thrown together without a thought - gems and antique looking clothes, very many pictures, a few statues, medieval weapons, books, parts of buildings arranged in a middle hall with sunlight from above,tools... as it was explained, it was all arranged in the order it was acquired. The pictures were separate from the rest, but here,too, they were ordered by date of acquisition. It was very hard,from all the stuff, to discern what type of taste, if any, the collector really cultivated. It looked a lot more like someone just collecting whatever was hard to get or expensive, and probably both. A few things did not fit in with this idea though, as there was also a room with technological collections,some rather outdated, like an old printing press and what looked like parts of old computers. There were also futuristic looking things, for the most part unidentifiable. Through all the tour, the curator droned on about this and that.

The most important information was that,while all of you would have to play, as she called it, significant parts in the museum's affairs to be able to inherit, you were all free to do what you wanted with the rest of the estate. And that was what the last room was about. Not part of the museum, but also a collection. Scale models of various buildings, from small huts and farms in various sizes to large mansions and even a skyscraper, a whole village build into a mountainside, and single apartments occupied the middle, models of cars, a small plane and a lear jet and one very large yacht were on shelves on the walls. On a very modern glass screen serving as monitor to one side, numbers were slowly running along, one set in green and one in red. It took a moment to register, but the figures seemed to be daily expenses in red and daily income in green. The green number was significantly larger.

Questions during the tour can of course be asked, also, if there is a certain type of picture you'd be more likely to look at let me know and I'll post an image

I..I.. Samantha stammered a moment. I thought the invite was related to my research only.  Inheritance...? She didn't know what to think or say. Then realized her manners.

I'm sorry for your loss, or, presumed loss. She said to the man, trying not to be distracted by the 'collection' or the odd little woman giving the tour.

After a little while she turned to Andrea, How did you come to be here? If I may ask. She asked unable to hide her curiousity.

The older man smiled kindly, his eyes an interesting mixture of pain and peace.

"Thank you.  I grew increasingly concerned with his... activities... over the years, but he would not heed my concerns, and grew distant as his... preoccupation... progressed.  But we are all in Sovereign Hands."

He sighed, shook his head slightly, and regarded her thoughtfully.

"Please, tell me of your research, and of the paths that have brought you to this place today..."

Andrea blushed and then thought how to answer this. "I am not totally sure. The letter we got suggested he might be my father, but my mother didn't want to give any explanation."

 Samantha had listened to Andrea and nodded. Wow. She replied feeling a need to say something and not sure what. That's tough... She began happy when the other member of their party spoke.

With a glance between them, she answered.

I'm ABD at Brown. Well, more than all but, the book is finished, I just have to defend, and get a job.  But my advisor is inconveniently on sabbatical. And I don't have a job. She sighed and realized she was probably straying off topic with her own preoccupations.

Sociology. Cultural Studies, really. That's why I'm here. She shrugged again and looked between man and girl.

The older man listened to the words of the two ladies thoughtfully.

"How about your letter, Samantha?  Did it suggest why my brother wanted you to be here?"

When the Curator referred to the part they were to play, the older man gently queried.

"Excuse me...  What are the significant parts that my brother wished us to play?"

Samantha opened her mouth to respond to the man's question, "Well, kinda..." She began. For her it was an email, nothing out of the ordinary.  She'd written to ask if the place were open, if she could have greater access, academic research, bla bla.  The reply had been quick and unmemorable, sure, come on down.  She hadn't given it a second thought.  She didn't think she had even saved it.

But the man's second question was more significant.  She glanced at Andrea then to their guide.

"Well," the fat woman smiled, "there is a stipulation in the probate. Everyone who is to get any of the wealth has to help setting right the wrongs committed by Thomas Dennis Wyrman. He did not get his wealth all by morally clean or even legal means. Amends have to be made. So if all you are here for would be the money, that won't work. And believe me, there is a lot to set right."

With a stern look, she turned to look at everybody. "If you think you can help to set some of the things right at least, we can do the...paperwork right here."

Well, that's an odd thing all around. Samantha frowned. I would be happy to set things right, if I could, of course.  Though I'm afraid I still don't really understand.  Can you explain more? Give an example?  Can we see the...paperwork? Antha asked, still frowning.  She was starting to feel like Alice and it was very disconcerting.

The older man nodded in agreement with a sigh.

"I am not enamored with wealth, but I do feel a duty to try to help make amends for whatever transgressions my brother has made."

"If we lack my brother's diaries, what information is available to us, such that the probate was able to make such stipulations?  And how were those assembled here today chosen for the task?"

Hearing What the others said Robert just nods and walks along


OOC

Im back sorry for the delay
This message was last edited by the player at 13:24, Fri 27 Aug 2021.