A typical night for a Nosferatu in Port Obscura goes something like this: wake up, tend to any responsibilities, skulk about, feed if necessary, skulk about some more, maybe visit the city's nest, in which case they may proceed to skulk about in packs instead.

A typical night for a Nosferatu in Port Obscura, going by the name of Grave, on the other hand, goes a little something like wake up, tend to the pets, have a lovely conversation with a dead man, skulk about, feed if necessary and skulk about some more.

Tonight, however, the latter of the two patterns has been broken. Broken in an absolutely spectacular manner, even, as Grave slips through the grating that separates his little block of sewer from the catacombs only to be attacked by his usual conversational partner. Twice.

It is not a terribly pleasing way to begin his evening.

In fact, so displeasing is it that he soon follows the entire encounter with a rather righteous bout of storming right on up the two flights of stairs from the lowest catacombs, past a good number of empty caskets which had not been empty the previous evening and out to the ground level exit from the mausoleum. Even before he gets there, the doors have been thrown open wide and what he sees beyond them is even less pleasing than what he found downstairs. Open burial plots, shambling corpses. A great deal of the cemetery - his cemetery! - is really quite a mess.

As if he needed any more displeasing events to start his night off right.

"Mary, mother of God," Grave practically splutters in aggravation, too frustrated to even apply a Mask. "If you're going to dig yourselves out of my lawn, you could at least have the decency to get out of my lawn entirely!"

It's probably a very good thing that the better part of the normal folks around the area are out of town tonight.