Katrina arrives at Moore House dressed in a simple black dress with matching heels and handbag. A slim silver necklace with a cross on hangs from her neck.
She rings the door bell.
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Katrina arrives at Moore House dressed in a simple black dress with matching heels and handbag. A slim silver necklace with a cross on hangs from her neck.
She rings the door bell.
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Katrina finds a small, two-story building adjacent to a graveyard, in need of some repair, but obviously built sturdy and solid. She can see the rows of headstones from the walk to the entrance, and while paint peels from the facade of the building, the grounds are immaculately, perhaps even lovingly, maintained.
The Moore House was once a small, family owned and operated funeral home, with adjacent graveyard. After the second World War, the expatriated heir arranged to have it sold, as he had seen far too much death in his young life already. The property was purchased by a small congregation of Californian Unitarians for use as a house of worship, back when Unitarian was just another word for 'WITCH!'
The congregation flourished in the sixties as it became a haven for hippies. Many free-lovers assimilated, the ranks of the church swelled, and soon they had outgrown the small building. The church tried to sell, but the neighborhood around it had begun to crumble, and no buyer could be found. It fell to squatters, then to such disrepair that only the most foolhardy would lay their matted heads on its rotted floorboards.
And now it belonged to Bishop Heathcliff Staley of the Lancea et Sanctum, who bought it for a song and had it restored by a crew of illegal immigrants, though not completely, for he embraced its character, the way the broken building made no attempt to hide its deficiencies, its rot and rust. It was honest, and Heathcliff appreciated that.
The Haunt sat in one of the plain, utilitarian pews, reading quietly as he waited for Katrina's arrival, dressed in a light grey suit, pockets stuffed with the odds and ends that Theban Sorcery requires, and a thin, gold chain round his neck, from which hangs a simple, gold cross. At the door-knocker's ring, he places his bookmark with a sigh, gets up, and opens the heavy wood and brass fitted double doors. Two dead eyes fall upon the Gangrel, and that unmistakable wet croak of a voice greets her with a "Good evening," that ends more like a question.
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Katrina smiles at the man as he opens the door. "Bishop Staley it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Katrina Scherbotsky. I hope I am not late" She said in a hushed tone. She knew the etiquette involved here, however kneeling down and kissing his ring was not exactly appropriate whilst standing on the front step.
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"Likewise," Heathcliff deadpans, "do come in, Katrina." The Haunt backs away, holding the door open for her to enter ahead of him. Regrettably, the Moore House was not Elysium. He'd have to rectify that oversight at the earliest opportunity. Once the Gangrel has crossed the threshold, Heathcliff locks and bars the door. He smiles apologetically at Katrina. "I assure you, the precaution is required, my dear. Our last church was destroyed by a bomb, along with the diablerized remains of one of our own. I was one of those who escaped the blast." He laughs, the mirth of a damned man. "You arrive at a dangerous city at a dangerous time, Katrina Scherbotsky. Follow me to my study," he beckons her.
In contrast to the plainness of the worship area, the Bishop's study is outfit quite comfortably. The room is large, warmly lit, with two dark, rich leather chairs face each other across an oak desk. Several tomes lay haphazardly across the desk, along with a desktop computer. Behind the Bishop, a painting of Christ crucified, the wounds of the Stigmata flowing, and several full bookcases adorn the walls, though they are almost entirely the mundane variety of Christian religious texts.
Heathcliff has a seat behind the desk, offering the opposite to Katrina with a gesture. "Tell me about yourself, Katrina," the Nosferatu croaks, "your Clan, your Sire, your time amongst the Sanctified, and why our Lord has sent you to Sacramento." The Bishop's cursed, milky-gray eyes settle on her own, and the pleasant smile he is trying to affect is just as unnerving.
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"I am of clan Gangrel, my sire is Alexander Mikhailov. I come from south west Russia originally. I was brought into this existence within the church. The sanctified of Voronez took good care of me and made sure I had the best start in the city." Katrina pauses, she hated talking about home, despite its problems it made her home sick and was still a cause of pain for her.
"I got on well with the prince and was offered a position as the Deputy Sheriff. I accepted, It was seen as a positive move for the church. I fufilled that role for many years and had to clearly define my role as deputy sheriff and my role in this sanctified existence. That was not an easy task. After a few years a rather powerfull elder decided he wished to be prince. A war of influence started and every single city resident got swept up in the conflict. We all had to choose which side we would support. It was awfull, sire against child, clan member against clan member, our own church was split and we suddenly found there was the Bishop and a shadow Bishop. I myself stood by the prince and the citys true bishop."
She pauses again.
"I spent two years chasing kindred down that broke the law and hauling them in for the prince to judge. That kept me pretty busy. Towards the end we were closing in on Ogilvy, I was casuing him huge problems by bringing in his supporters and over-looking people that supported the prince. Robert came to me one night, he asked me to join his side and I would be rewarded. I told him three words, which I wont repeat in your presence your grace."
"He warned me that I had one night to change my mind, should I chose incorrectly and lose then I would have to pay the price. I of course told the Bishop and Prince straight away. A few months later Ogivly was desperate and we got wind of an all out attack. The sheriff played body guard to the prince while I led the defence of the princes manor house. We won the battle but lost the War. I trusted the sheriff, the prince trusted him and in the end it was the sheriff that killed him."
"Ogilvy took the throne as you can expect and I was given one last chance to join him and accept the bonds of blood. I refused and the alternative was that I had one hour to leave the city before a blood-hunt was called."
"So I left russia, away from any influence that ogilvy has and that brought me here. Despite what happened I would make the same choices again. Knowing full well I would lose again. Sometimes the right thing to do is just the right thing to do."
"I think that the war was part of gods plan, I don't pretend to know what he wants or what his plans are, but he led me here and to do so and in such a way he has a reason. In time that reason will become clear to me. Longinus had no idea of gods plan until after he pierced the side of christ with the spear of destiny. I am not saying I am anything like Longinus, meerly that like him I am wont be aware of what my destiny is until the time comes."
She smiles at the Bishop. Damn that was a bit too long and that was the short version.
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Heathcliff smiled faintly as the as Katrina told the tale of her journey here, very pleased to find such a beautiful, and dangerous, if her story is true, predator among his flock at this early stage in the Lancea et Sanctum's reinstatement here in Sacramento. She reminded him of the Prince's own Hound Twist, but prettier, with an adorable accent, and possibly with claws. And either she was young or humble enough to not believe she knew His will. "A remarkable story, Katrina, I am certain you will be an asset."
The Bishop's admiration of her beauty begins to veer toward the carnal, unsettling him. He had not found it difficult to keep such thoughts at bay while he was mourning his divorced wife and daughter, but lately they've begun to return. He simply avoided the world, staying here in his study, or stalking back alleys, but now, here, in his refuge..."Tell me, what responsibilities have you previously held for the Church?" he asks quickly, "And have you been initiated into the Theban Mysteries?"
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"My previous duties were to take on a city role so any duties I had were usually minor. It was usually security and help the inquisitor when he requested my assisstance. I used to help new members get accustomed to the basics. I am afraid that is about it." She pauses. "Yes I have, however I only know one ritual at this point in time. Now that I am here I hope to learn more, it can be rather difficult when you are on the move."
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"I suppose the ritual you were taught was how to create a Vitae reliquary?" the Bishop muses aloud, not really expecting any other answer. "Yes, I have much I could teach you," he continues without a hint of innuendo. The Haunt steeples his fingers and sets his face into a visage of utter seriousness, "Katrina Scherbotsky, if you intend to serve me, then you must prove your mettle and your loyalty. Come." Heathcliff rises, taking a knife from his drawer and placing it inside his jacket pocket. "Our Church owes a debt to the Regent of West Jackson, Arnold Culler, that we must help police his land. We will do so tonight, you and I." He opens the door to his office to lead her out. "Do you have all that you require with you?"
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"I was taught a ritual that was a popular punishment for ghouls and sanctified that broke the rules. The crown of Thorns your grace. I do have everything I need."
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Heathcliff smiles at Katrina. "Of course. What a silly question to ask a Gangrel," he chuckles lightly, nodding toward her hands. He removes a map of the city from his desk and spreads it out, showing Katrina the borders of the West Jackson Regency. "This is our home- it is vital you learn every inch if you are to secure it, Katrina. Regent Culler has agreed to not only allow our church, but feeding rights to all Sanctified within his Domain, for this service. Now, once we've secured our own grounds," the Haunt drones, tracing their route with his stubby finger, "we'll travel south through Camden Park to Elk Grove Blvd, returning up Bradshaw and then Sheldon."
Heathcliff regretted travelling about without his Cloak, but the beautiful woman would attract all the wrong kind of attention travelling on foot alone, and they are after other predators tonight, not prey. "I just need a few moments to pray for our success in this evening's endeavors," the Bishop tells her, sitting back down and closing his eyes. "Feel free," he mumbles, in case she was waiting for permission to join in. After a moment's consideration, he removes the blade from his jacket pocket and places it upon the desk. "Lord, that we might be worthy of carrying out your wrath, that we be the scourge on the backs of your enemies and the wolves amongst your flocks, bless we damned, oh Lord, to the task."
Legionaire's Blessing 6 sux
The Bishop smiles and rises, replacing the knife in his jacket. "He is generous, indeed. Let us depart, dawn draws ever closer." He walks around the desk to let Katrina out of the office, out the entrance, making sure to lock it behind them. They'll have a look around the grounds of the Moore House before continuing on their route by foot.
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