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The
distinct perfumes of incense and myrrh beckon from within the increasing
gap--but over and above, the common denominator tickling the fancies
of the collective brood outside brings not a few to the edge of restraint:
Vitae.
The
chill night air holds little appeal in comparison to the melody this
new siren proffers; the revelry of freedom becomes a slave once more
to the wanton sense of need.
All
movement ceases.
The
newborn frame reveals a great hall of oaken flooring, dark and smooth
with ageless tread of the varicultured. Great tapestries adorn the walls,
woven in rich tales of old, celebrating the triumphs and tragedies of
history--some who take this in will recognize the Fall of Carthage,
the Slaughter of Amnes, the Ordaining at Capris--and countless others
occupy those prone to nostalgia and sentimentality.
A
linen of deepest burgundy shows through between these masterworks of
art, graced occasionally by the presence of candelabrae here and there.
The glow from within caressing the cheeks of the stunned newcomers emanates
from these, and the massive wheels hung impossibly from above on iron
chains, each link of which the breadth of two splayed hands. Upon these
wheels ivory candles perpetually forfeit themselves in the giving of
their light...
The
room is not devoid of life--or, rather, unlife.
Myraid
booths pepper the voluminous space like bison in a fertile landscape--impressive
in number, subsisting on the surroundings--and attractive of parasites.
A
plethora of status, the division between the classes of kindred by kind
is uncountable.
Impossibly...."peace."
Wary,
uneasy, cautious and insecure, on-edge and barely restrained peace.
As
the party takes this in, the more attuned to secret life beneath the
seen feel the gentle caress of a nearby presence--there.
Above
the doorway, upon the wrought-iron cage of a defunct fire-escape--there.
Even the learned elders will acknowledge the mastery exhibited in the
dissolution of her form, the exquisite obfuscation of her presence--which,
upon relfection, a few had previously sensed, but quickly dismissed
with the appearance of so many new, and apparent, kindred.
Her
voice, a stringed instrument played to perfection in a melancholy key,
soothes the bloodlust invoked by the scent so dear...
"For
you."
Eyes
from within regard you all, sizing you up, tearing you down, categorizing
and filing you away as ally or enemy, predator or prey. Though chests
swell, not a hand raises. Though some shy away furtively, not a one
approaches.
"Please--come in. Unburden yourselves for a time--the war continues,
but even Sysyphus had his moments of respite as the rock... rollllled
back down the hill..."
The
doorway awaits.
So
far, no one has been able to figure out exactly what -- or exactly where
-- the Great Hall is. Its entrance appeared simultaneously in different
places all over the globe. In most instances, it appears from the outside
to be a rather smallish house. In Richmond, VA, for example, it appeared
to be a small two-story townhouse, a bit old and a bit run-down. It always
appears at the end of a seldom-used alleyway, and always seems to warp
space around it in order to make room for itself where
previously there was none.
Inside,
the place looks much, much different. The first thing people notice is
the Great Hall itself, a huge room where most of the visitors congregate
in this strange Elysium:
The
more astute of the fledgling coterie perhaps notice similar doorways
opening and closing over time, all along the expanse of the finely woven
confines of the Hall. Perhaps they see similar (though by no means affiliated)
bands of wayward malcontents, miscreants, Lords and Ladies--and the
occasional nomadic wayfarer--enter through shifting apertures in the
inconstant fabric.
Perhaps
they notice men, women and otherkine roaming without, free of hindrance
of obligation to remain.
Perhaps.
And
there are others who mayhap have their eyes drawn to the massive oaken
bar nestled between columns of slate grey alabaster and deepest onyx,
draped in Royal Violet wrappings of luxuriant velvet, trappings well
suited to the discerning aesthetic.
The
bar teems with the motley array of visitors: Some remain perched upon
the high oaken chairs girding the commanding presence of the station
of servitude; others procure their desires and retreat to the sanctity
of their booths.
All
seem quite content with the prizes they come away with.
Behind
the framework of the bar is a blur of activity--drinks here, there,
and most assuredly everywhere a hand is raised find themselves effortlessly
owned by needy fingers. The procurators of said relief are several,
alternately gliding blithely to and fro from patron to patron, or bedecking
the tiers of bottles rising high behind--yea, they take the air at times,
gravity losing her volitional chains upon the bodies in motion.
Silken-garbed,
they work patiently, methodically, effortless in their pursuit of the
next request.
Perhaps
the more discerning ear will hear polite refusal to certain desires,
coupled with a sudden stillness of movement otherwise unbroken--a stillness
punctuating cause and effect. There will be no part of "No" that you
will not understand.
And
not a being so halted so much as offers a rebuttal--perhaps a lifting
of the eyebrow at length, before the request is remedied to bring acceptance
and good cheer.
From
a distance, one might not understand the wellspring of such instant
submission.
From
a distance, one might learn that some questions are better off understood
before asked.
And
as the evening begins, those with senses capable of such a task pick
out the underlying tension of mutual, tentative truce--
overwhelmed
by a blanket of grateful awe.
The
room awaits...
It
is quite possible to stay in this room, to get lost in this room, to never
leave the Great Hall and still always find something new. It seems impossibly
large, in fact attempting to cross the room from one end to the other
takes so long it appears the other end never gets closer as your starting
point recedes.
There
is also a massive spiral staircase in the center of the call, climbing
high into the arched ceiling. It connects with other floors that overlook
the Great Hall like huge balconies.
This
is not, however, all there is to this place. The Great Hall has many other
rooms, that seem to appear and vanish on a whim, making actual navigation
through the rest of the place difficult. There do seem, however, to be
a few consistent elements:
The
Hall of Doors
He
was standing in a long hallway. It was narrow by comparison to the place
he'd left -- no wider than three shoulder spans -- but the ceiling arched
as high at it had in the Great Hall. The feel of the place was different,
however: where the Great Hall was festive and grand, this hallway was
somber and dark, covered in thick carpet, thick curtain and thick tapestries,
all a dark red, perhaps maroon. It smelled of dust and cobweb.
The
hall seemed to go on forever. On each side of the hall were doors much
like the ones behind him... massive oaken doors with iron rings, all
bearing the Great Halls sigil. Above each door was a large window, curtained,
and to the left and right of each window was a tapestry that travelled
the length of the wall to the next set of doors and window.
No
window over the door behind him, Elijah noticed. No tapestries either.
He tried opening the doors, but they wouldn't budge.
Shrugging
his shoulders, the hunter began to walk down the length of the hall,
occasionally trying an oaken door and finding that it, too, would not
open. Soft light -- moonlight perhaps -- streamed through the occasional
breaks in the curtains hanging over the doors. It wasn't much, but it
was enough for Elijah to see relatively clearly.
As
he began walking down the hall, he began to worry that this place, like
the Great Hall, would play the same trick on his eyes, where it would
go on forever, no doors opening. He wondered if this was perhaps some
kind of elaborate trap. After a minute, however, he could make out a
wall on the other side... and he noticed soon after that the doors on
that side looked open.
Happy
to be going somewhere, even if he didn't know exactly where, he quickened
his pace.
The
tapestries, he noticed, were very old, depicting tall, strong, dark-haired
men and women of noble bearing, engaged in various activities. One or
two of the figures looked a bit like... the hostess? Perhaps? There
was a passing similarity to the lady who seemed to have entranced Vash,
Florindo, and, well, every other male creature in the Great Hall...
but he couldn't be certain it was the same person.
A
relative, maybe? Or maybe just a lousy artist? Or maybe just the ravages
of time affecting what was once a clearer picture. In truth, all of
the tapestries were worn and covered in dust.
At
present only Elijah, and perhaps Voracia, have discovered this hallway.
Elijah suspects that it is the spine of the Great Hall, and that someone
with the proper knowledge can use the doors to travel anywhere else in
the Hall they please, and perhaps even to places beyond. It is not known
why Elijah keeps running into this hallway when he's travelling alone.
However, when other people attempt to leave the hall, or when Elijah is
travelling with other people, they inevitably wind up in...
The
Labyrinth
A
strange maze of corridors appears to take up a fair amount of space within
the Great Hall... a few Kindred were able to successfully navigate this
area only by placing candles at every intersection and following the trail
of light. It is extremely easy to get lost in here.
It
is worth noting that at one point in time Elijah, travelling alone, found
that before many of the doors in the Hall of Doors were candles -- the
very same candles the Kindred had placed in the Labyrinth to guide their
way. It may be that the Labyrinth and the Hall of Doors are in fact the
same thing, changed only by forces playing on the minds of whoever is
travelling through it...
Occasionally
the doors found in the Labyrinth can be entered. Most of these doors lead
to...
The
Harrowing-Rooms
Altiriel
walked through the maze of tunnels, making sure that Elijah followed
close behind. They had already almost been separated several times,
and that would be disastrous. In this maze, Altiriel did not want to
take any chances.
He
had already seen Elijah's room--at least, he thought that he had. It
looked exactly the same as the room that his Sight had picked up from
Elijah's chesspiece, but when he looked again down that corridor, it
was only a blank wall. Twice since then, he thought that he had seen
it...but nothing ever came of it besides a empty wall or another endless
passage.
The
maze spread out in all directions like a vine--or a cancer. Altiriel
had already lost all sense of direction, merely wandering wherever his
whims took him.
"Is
that it?" Elijah asked.
Altiriel
turned to look. He followed Elijah's finger and saw a room looming just
ahead. He could see shadowed shapes looming just inside the entrance,
but noticed that they did not seem to be moving.
"No..."
Altiriel answered, "but it would be worth checking out." He walked into
the room and looked around, drawing on the gifts that Aoibheann had
taught him. In the red glow of his eyes, the shapes lost their shadows
and became clear.
Zadkiel? Altiriel thought. There he was--as lifelike a carving as Altiriel
had ever seen. Even the sword was there, and the flames along its blade
were carved so realistically that Elijah flinched away for a moment,
before realizing what it was he faced.
"It's...him,"
Altiriel whispered. For a moment--a moment only--his serenity cracked
as a single blood-tear rolled down his cheek. He turned around and found
himself face to face with a statue of Aoibheann O'Connor, the Gangrel
who taught him how to survive in the wild.
He
looked around the rest of the room now. They were all here--Aoibheann,
Zadkiel, Gustav, Renee, Ardanol, Don Fernando...all the characters from
his unlife, done in stone and arranged in the order he had met them.
"What
is this place?" Elijah asked.
"My
history," Altiriel answered. "I'm not sure I like this Hall so much
anymore. It looks innocent, and it is open to all, but many of the most
colorful animals are the most poisonous."
Travellers
moving through the Labyrinth often find doors with symbols on them --
symbols that relate in some way to their own past. Within this room is
almost invariably something unpleasant... a scene from their past presented
in the most malevolent way possible. While none of the rooms appear deadly,
they are, without fail, extremely stressful--and tend to leave the visitor
quite shaken when (if) they eventually leave...
The
Chess Room
In
one corner, a fire in a small fireplace popped merrily. Elijah forced
down the urge to run -- it's over there, I'm over here, he reminded
himself. To one side of the fireplace was a small table with a tray
of what looked to be tea or coffee on it, on the other side was small
bookcase filled with old books bearing titles he'd never heard of.
In
the center of the room was a coffee table with a chess set on it and
extra game pieces set off to one side. At the end of the room was a
large bay window overlooking, of all things, a bay.
Elijah
looked out the window. It was night over some kind of seaport... somewhere
up north, he thought. It overlooked the docks... not necessarily a beautiful
view, but certainly striking. Picturesque. He could smell the thick
scent of sea air, as well as the smell of diesel from the ships arriving
by night. The crecent of a moon was just rising over the edge of the
water, and the skies were clear.
There
wasn't anyone in the room, however. The tea (it didn't smell like coffee,
Elijah decided) was still hot, so he assumed who was here would be coming
back. He sat down in a chair and admired the finely wrought figurines
sitting on the chess board...
...and
then he froze. And then, finally, he swore to himself, softly.
The
chess board itself was a common faux-cherry, mass produced item, but
the chess pieces were exquisite. He picked up one of the Bishops from
the board, hand trembling. It seemed to be carved of a heavy, strong
rock, but the features were exquisite. He could very clearly make out
the expression, the clothing, everything about the character it portrayed.
"It's
me."
Elijah Robert Marks stared in horror at a chess figurine of Elijah Robert
Marks.
They
were all there -- Nikodemus, Vash, Oldan, Larson, Mr. Giovanni, the
Malkavians, everyone he'd met in the Great Hall -- even Father "Forgiveme"
was represented (another Bishop, but on the other side of the board.
Elijah tucked that away as irony to appreciate at a later date). Those
who weren't on the board were arranged carefully to the side, as if
they were waiting their turn.
Sweat
tricked down Elijah's forhead. It wasn't until he brushed it away that
he rembered he no longer perspired. Elijah looked on the blood on his
hands, dripping on to the figurine with his image on it, in horror.
With
a cry, he kicked over the table, flinging the chess board and the intricately
carved figurines onto the floor.
The
air felt heavy, oppressive. "My life is not a game!" he shouted
hoarsely. "Do you hear me, who ever you are? It is not a game!"
One
of the rooms in the Great Hall appears to have been claimed by the Tall
Man; this is the room where Elijah discovered that a band of Kindred in
the Great Hall were being manipulated in some way by outside forces. This
room is a mystery to many except perhaps Voracia, who has existed and
survived in the Great Hall for quite some time.
What
is it for? According to Altiriel, this may be where a very old creature
plots out his moves for the Jyhad, using the visitors in the Great Hall
as pawns. At present, however, there isn't enough information on this
place to know for certain...
The
Room of Games Past
A
flick of the eyes to the board. A table-tent bearing an intricate calligraphy
rests beside the board, which now looks as though it has seen a difficult
game--the gypsy white knight still stands amidst a handful of black
pieces, none of which bear familiarity. Another, smaller pawn has advanced
almost the length of the field, but stands ready one space diagonal
to a looming tower, anticipating his demise.
And
lying face down in one corner of the board, a large white piece bearing
a sceptre lies felled between an ominous knight astride a winged gargoyle
and a woman bearing a hideous, malevolent grin that splits her face
ear to ear.
A
fallen king.
And
a closer look at the card reveals a single word:
"Ravnos."
"No
tactics, caitiff?"
Regarding
Marks with that cocked eye which offsets his flat tone, another minute
gesture.
The
two turn to observe the bookcase.
Which
stands open, revealing another room beyond.
"Go
and see."
As
they step through, both are confronted by a room vast as the Great Hall
itself.
A
room full of tables.
And
on each table, a glass dome.
And
under each dome, a board.
And
on each board, pieces, frozen in time.
With
dawning horror, they stand transfixed as they notice each table bears
a table-tent ascribed with intricate calligraphy.
And
next to this, an overturned hourglass with not a grain of sand remaining
topside.
This
room was discovered once, and never seen again. It appears to hold games
that were once in play, but now finished. No other information is known
about this room at present.
The
Underhall
Beneath
the Great Hall itself is a strange area that the Lasombra Darkana discovered...
a kind of tomb designed in a mixture of styles from wildly differing periods
of history. Darkana discovered one tomb that, according to the inscriptions
on the side, apparently contained the remains of King Arthur. However,
the style of the tomb and language of the writing was so far removed from
the actual historical period that Arthur allegedly existed in that Darkana
didn't know this could be.
There
are apparently denizens of the Underhall who do not take kindly to interruptions.
When Darkana appeared in the Great Hall after her explorations, it was
obvious she had been fighting something. She would not, however, talk
about what it was... she only mentioned she wasn't willing to go back.
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