Dr. Paul Udko



You are driven by a need to discover that which is unknown and
to understand that which is elusive. From time to time this compulsion has
seen you neglect good hygiene, offend the overly sensitive, and propose the
unthinkable for the sake of argument. It probably explains your continued
bachelorhood. Even for the social drawbacks it brings, though, you are
never more alive than when debating and dissecting wild theories with
the potential to explain even wilder peculiarities. You would not change the
fundamental makeup of your psyche if you could.


You were hired to consult a pharmaceutical magnate
named Walter Winston. Having just left Dixmont, you welcomed the stable source of income. The man had suffered some ordeal in 1924 and,
according to his family, had never been the same since. At the time, you were
less interested in what happened to him than the psychological barriers he had
constructed to block it out. When his wife passed away in 1932, you were let
go. Then when you heard that Walter died earlier this year, you suddenly
became intrigued by the incident that haunted this man’s life. When
his daughter Janet Winston-Rogers telephoned, you thought you might
have your chance to find out the truth — or something close to it.



At medical school, your interest in the intricacies of
the mind far surpassed any draw the menial functions of the rest of the body
held. Your professional career began at Dixmont Hospital for the Insane,
where your curiosity continued to thrive. While your contemporaries
were primarily driven to cure their patients of their psychological
afflictions, you’d rather prolong them if only to study them better. As the Great
Depression set in and the hospital lost a majority of its funding, you decided
to go into private practice rather than suffer a reduced salary. But the inane
complaints of the clients who could afford your services soon bored you,
and you began to seek out stranger and more disturbed customers — whether
they had the cash or not.

Dr. Paul Udko

Trail of Cthulhu: Eternal Lies DanielReed