Ghosts of the Past

[Jacque]

It is a drizzling cold evening as the rain comes down like spitting mist. The moon and the stars are obscured by cloud cover. Off in the distance an owl hoots in the tree. Even at night, it is a remarkably dark evening. A street light flickers slowly, going out... and back on ... and out... and back on.

Before you stands a the derelict building called Moore House. The paint on the brick exterior is peeling away, flitting into the overgrown un-weeded lawn. Given the state of the exterior, it is remarkable that the windows are still intact. The front door of the building also remains, but where once was a ringed knocker sits a hole. It is safe to assume that the knocker was yanked free of its mooring.

Jacque stands in front of the building in a leather trench coat, waiting for his guest to arrive.

Conner Wells BoxingUnicorn

[Conner Wells]

Conner doesn't bother with a hood. Just his tough, leather jacket to ward off the rain from the rest of his body. There was a certain peace that he felt from hearing the rain pattering around him; some primal reassurance that tonight would not be a terrible night. That his chances wouldn't drown. Because they're destined to burn.

As he approaches the broken building, Conner can't help but feel his optimistic spirit falter just a bit. The Lancea has been gone a long time. But there was also the subtle unease of seeing Jacque and not feeling that immediate sense of dread that came from meeting a more experienced monster. He stops parallel to Jacque, with enough distance between them to not intrude. ​Or give space to run. "Thank you for calling me, Sir." He nods deeply, keeping his gestures of respect subtle to maintain the Masquerade.

[Jacque]

The Lord waved his hand to dismiss the gesture, "Think nothing of it. I've actually been looking forward to this evening."

"As you can probably surmise it has been unoccupied for quite some time, but fortunately it is still standing." The Lord slipped a slender hand into a pocket and produced both a sealed envelope and an ornate key to present to Conner. "Would you like to do the honors?"

[Conner Wells]

Connor looks vaguely surprised at the envelope, but accepts it nonetheless. It's the key that holds his attention with the look of a man who sees the future being handed to him on a silver platter. But, against the fears of the angry voices in his soul-gut, Jacque doesn't jerk his hand back before the key is his.

"Gladly."

A simple statement, but full of purpose and weight. He was actually looking forward to this. Conner turns towards the door to the ruined but steadfast Moore House. Sets the key in the lock. Turns it.

So this is it? The first Lancea to set foot here in ages. Conner enters as soon as the door opens, eagerly taking in whatever sights await him. After all, even ruins have their own inherent beauty.

[Jacque]

The tumblers set and the click of the lock echoed with an unexpected volume.

As Conner opens the door and steps into the funeral home he can quickly tell that this is a Lancea et Sanctum abode. To the untrained eye, it would just look like a Christian focused facility, but there are hits and traces. Art work with Longinus as the focus, or paintings with hidden glyphs that not even kindred would recognize. But for someone of the Lance, it reads like a journal.

A guest book can be found on a pedestal not far into the place. Its pages have the curl from moisture and the yellow tinge from time. There are many names in it, hundreds of names. Most mean absolutely nothing, and then there are others. This sanctum has had many leaders, from Heathcliff Staley to Sidor Grigoriev to Anton Flores to Kenneth Gilroy and others. Each left a little piece of themselves. From Staley's uncertainty, to Grigoriev's stoicism to Flores' madness...

The carpet is old and musty, their is a thick layer of dust turned grime from the humidity, however it was the book alone in this room that seemed unlike the rest. Still a thin layer of dust from the years, but significantly less so than the other decor. There is no graffiti or other signs of squatters. It seems even the most lowly of denizens knew this place was bad news.

With his back facing the door they entered through, Jack peers down a door to the right and then looks back to a door on the other side of the guestbook in the room they're in. Aside from the pivots of his neck, the Lord waited for Conner to take the lead in exploring. This was his covenant's location after all, and even with his Domain authority he chose for Conner to lead him wherever he felt comfortable to do so.

"As I understand it, this was once an active funeral home..." The Lord mentioned, breaking the still of the air. "The last of your covenant to come here was a Mister Adam Exliberist. I apologize that I don't recall what his title was within the Church. Unfortunately for him, he had been at odds with the then Regent of Florin. He had offended her and it led to her barring access from him. He was permitted to come here exactly one time, after he committed an extraordinary mistake one evening..."

[Conner Wells]

The sound of the lock disengaging might as well have been a sonic boom for Conner. For a brief moment the monster inside him was still in reverent silence. And then he enters...

Superhuman senses blare at the long-abandoned interior with its many reliefs and...Are those glyphs? Messages? Conner is grateful for the lack of vandalism here, if only because it would mean less work in restoring the space. Even with the smell and the aura of lost glory he feels strangely at home. Surrounded by the secrets and rituals of the Lancea Sanctum. He moves towards the guest book and gingerly runs his fingers over the pages, taking in the names and locking them in his steel-trap mind. Staley...Grigoriev...Flores...Gilroy...so many. So many failures. Failures for us to surpass!

"Was this place used by others outside of the Lancea?" There's curiosity there, but it masks a surge of jealousy. He didn't like the idea of this places' rightful owners being kept out for the sake of politics. "What were you then? Still Seneschal?" Or some upstart pup? Conner is genuinely curious here about the passage of time. "Some of these names are familiar to me, if only by mention. But most of the Sanctified I worked with didn't have much communication with the Sacramento branch."

He looks beyond the guest book and, unless impeded, moves around it to the room beyond. His eyes peeled for hidden knocks and crannies.

[Jacque]

"Not that I'm aware of," The Lord responded to the inquiry. "Access may have been denied, but it remained locked until someone from the Lancea could claim it."

"I believe I was the whip of the Ventrue at that time... it was just before being named Herald." Conner seemed interesting in the political landscape at the time, so the Lord obliged, "The Seneschal at the time was Vivian York and the Sheriff, Grand Wyrm of the Dragons and Regent of Florin was Lina Moretti. The Priscus of the Ventrue at the time was also the Harpy for Her Grace's Court- Rebecca Simmons."

The Lord followed Conner through the door and into a hallway. Conner scanned over the glyphs, trying to put together the pieces. Jacque seemed... disoriented for some reason. He looked around and realize this hallway, that has no doors, doesn't lead anywhere, It literally just goes around the main sanctuary hall and back out to the main room they just left. Also, The walls are slanted and the ceiling is slops down to make it get just a little shorter, enough to be... disconcerted. Jacque's movements kept in step with Conner, using him as a figurative anchor in the maze-like corridors.

"Lina and Adam's relationship was complicated. At the time, the Dragons had quite the population and with it came political influence. She was a valued member of the Domain and sought to respected through political theatre in Court. Adam found himself capable of being an obstacle to Lina's goals... so she refused him access until he changed his public views to aide her. He in turn refused to change those views unless he was given free access to the Moore House. It was quite the conundrum for the both of them."

[Conner Wells]

Conner ponders this story of the Moore House's abandonment; not doubting it but wondering with that incessant curiosity aggravated by his Mekhet Beast. There was a kind of Biblical certainty to it: a lost home reclaimed after ages of failure and betrayal. Perhaps there's something to be gleaned from this...

More names come about as the story unfolds and as the two Kindred walk through this curving hallway. Conner has to adjust his gaze to avoid feeling suffocated by this extension of the Moore House, like it was a living thing trying to trap them in its fangs. We could make good use of this. Imagine the long walks and talks while whoever feels trapped? Conner shut down that train of thought, less the list of names he'd like to see uncomfortable get verbalized.

As they re-enter the sanctuary, Conner looks more intrigued than surprised. As an idea comes into his head. "And how was this 'conundrum' resolved? Did the Prince intervene? Did Moretti force him into exile? Was there a fight?" There were wheels turning in his mind. Possibilities of how to make the most of this opportunity to learn from someone so well-entrenched in the Domain's history and spheres. As he does so, he takes a look at the unexplored door to the right of the entryway and moves cautiously toward it, making sure to keep the Seneschal in good distance and keep alert in their conversation/storytelling.

[Jacque]

"Adam much preferred being given access to this place as opposed to starting from the ground up elsewhere. As time marched forward his anxiety grew from continuously being denied." The Lord's arm shifted as he waved his hand off to the side, "He appealed in Court that he be permitted to come here, as it was the purpose he was sent here for by the Cardinal in San Francisco. He expressed a fear that further delay could trigger a visit from Inquisitors." The Lord frowned, remembering the gravity of Adam's mistake. "I believe in his mind, he felt that bluffing Moretti into access was the wisest choice. Unfortunately, he did not consider the threat he implied to the Domain."

"The rest of the story is quite brief from that point. The Prince's decision was to exile him from this Domain and return him to San Francisco. Not wanting to return a failure, Adam offered a blood boon to the Prince for the offense, and a Major boon to Moretti. He was then permitted to visit the Moore House once to collect anything of value to the Lancea and end the public squabbling between him and Lina. He was also permitted to stay in Sacramento, albeit a resident of the Barrens."

The revelation that spaces within the Moore House are purposely maze-like and disorientating was not a surprise for someone of the Lancea. Conner had found that there are no secret rooms or spaces attached to this hallway, it literally exists to screw with people. The sanctuary space is the same way, its architecture is such to make the room be just a little at an angle, so anyone sitting in the pews are sliding just a little to the left and constantly having to adjust. It's as if someone has put a matchbook under the leg of a pool table. Not enough to cause a ton of damage to the game, but enough to annoy.

As the two continue their walk they make their way to the morgue area. The smell of chemicals and rot strain the room, but this is where Conner notices one thing out of place. There is a painting above a column of three vertical body drawers. The keen Lancea eye notices a glyph hidden in the art meaning "Passage". It could be the symbolic sense of the afterlife, but given the concealed nature of the message there was a more likely explanation-a hidden door.

"Adam Exliberist's requiem came to an end when..." The Lord's countenance shifted to annoyance, "...In an effort to do simple reconnaissance on the City Morgue, he felt it prudent to make terroristic threats to gain access. He fell into Torpor upon SWAT's rapid response, and records were found that the John Doe was cremated."

"As for Moretti... she continued her political theatre for a few more months. She had a habit of trying to oppress people into following her, or at the very least her way. After a continuous pattern of this behavior and specifically targeting Domain officials the Prince stripped her of her Regency as punishment for the public discord she caused in Her Court. Upset at the sudden downward shift in power and influence, she and vast majority of the Dragons loyal to her vacated Sacramento and were never heard from again."

[Conner Wells]

Conner is now walking more in pace with Jacque as the intrigue rolls of the Lord's tongue, made every more powerful by the theatre they were walking through. Focus! ​The predator snaps Conner's attention to the present to keep him from submerging himself in the trials and tribulations of others. Especially when he was with someone with the power to manipulate minds through speech.

The morgue sparks a number of questions in Conner's mind. How many of these drawers are filled? Who was last rested here? Could this place be used to hold blood-tithes? Then there's the glyph. Conner's seen glyphs like these before, though mostly in books. Promises of more secrets...the Mekhet's inner lust for the power of those secrets stokes. But Conner doesn't draw too much attention to it, instead choosing to finally open the letter Jacque had given him...

Regardless of his immediate reaction to the letter, Conner will pocket it in his jacket for later study. "The Inquisition are the Lancea's military branch. Invoking them is meant to be a last resort, and even then not for personal gain." The Seneschal's frustration is echoed in Conner's furrowed brow. He wonders if the Inquisition could actually cause any lasting damage in Sacramento if they were called here. And the scary thing is that he doesn't have an answer right now.

And so the saga of Moretti and Exliberist comes to a tragic, Shakesperean end as Conner holds at the threshold between the morgue and the sanctuary. He mulls over his words. "I can understand why the Lancea hasn't bothered touching this place in so long. With so much bad blood..." But bad blood was irrelevant here. This was a time for a clean slate. ​"Though I imagine nobody lost sleep over Moretti's decline." He looks to Jacque. "What was your take on all this? Even if you weren't in the immediate circles of these people, you must've seen something. Did the other Covenants demand action from the Court?" He might not get another chance to hear this story again, so Conner wants to make the most of this history lesson/parable.