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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Catulle" data-source="post: 818748" data-attributes="member: 9942">Frederick Douglas Memorial Cemetery, Staten IslandWednesday 11th December, 2002The scent of decay was on the air, they could all sense it as the sharp, crisp breeze carried the smell towards them. Nikolai could taste the bittersweet rot on his tongue, feel the cloying hand of death about him. It emanated, clearly, from the valley that lay, silent, before them.As they moved, Gabriel became aware of another presence, flanking the coterie's movements. He was about to react when a shaft of weak moonlight revealed the scourge's features for a fraction of a second, paralleling the neonates' movements, knife in hand and crouched low. It looked as if he would remain a little behind Nikolai, but far to the group's left. All semblence of human mores had fled from the Malkavian, now, and he moved like an animal in the night; swift, silent and predatory.Nikolai could hear every rustle of his group's movement, the creak of Max's boots, the near-silent rattle of the sword concealed in Gabriel's cane - everything. Too-loud, but still softer than the harsh breathing coming from the figure stood by a portable light in the midst of the valley. The impurity and wet echo to the sound testified to his recently having been sick.The graves in the dip were in total disarray, torn up here and there as if by force majeur, bones strewn across the charnel-field and parhaps a dozen corpses in a variety of states of putrefaction and integrity ripped free of the earth, to lie exposed and naked on the bloody earth. A bare tree stood in the midst of it all, and in drawing closer, a man's form was hooked to it, branches forced hard through flesh and muscle alike; one bloodied bough protruded from his chest and had been broken off.A portable light threw illumination up onto the tree, as a figure dressed as a police officer cast it upwards, towards the body that hung there. His posture radiated unease, and such was his concentration that he paid no heed to the approach of the Kindred.Above the victim's head was hung a wooden plaque, lettering indistinct in the shadow. Lodged in the tip of the broken branch, and sprayed red with blood, was a single white rose.</blockquote>

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