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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Catulle" data-source="post: 827869" data-attributes="member: 9942">Frederick Douglas Memorial Cemetery, Staten IslandWednesday 11th December, 2002The harsh chill of the air cut them again, bone deep, now. The temperature was dropping, and they could see the steam of the policeman's warm breath rise to the heavens with his every mumbled utterance. He was praying, Nikolai realised, a note of  faith in his voice that was aowed entirely to desperation rather than conviction. A deathbed conversion, as it were.As his clanmate focused, Gabriel could see the scourge moving around in a wide circle to roughly the point at which a path had wound towards the cemetery gates; the flagstones had been torn up and piled to one side. Something, he realised, was crushed beneath the weight of the makeshift concrete cairn. Something that had been alive, to judge by the dark stains on the chipped slabs. By the time he looked up from this latest discovery, there was no sign of David. He could surmise that the witness' line of escape was cut off, though.Through the blood, Nikolai could discern the grain of the wood used on the sign beneath the peeling off-white paint, and make out the rust on each link of the chain that had held it, wrapped tight against dead wood, to be nailed atop the tree.He could see words daubed upon it in blood, and bitter memories dragged him backwards in time. That night. This night. His percerptions of reality blurred about him and, as he struggled to reassert himself, the Beast raged.(OOC - Nikolai self control - 9,7,4,1 = 1 success; good for a single turn before checking again) </blockquote>

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