Anthony Wells’ office at Columbia University is located on the third floor of Schermerhorn Hall, a four story, red brick edifice trimmed in white which bears every appearance of an institution of higher learning. As Dr. Wells’ fellow investigators make their way to his office, they find the halls notably quiet, with only a few students who are pursuing research over the summer months haunting the corridors.

The anthropologist’s office features bookshelves laden with a wide variety of books and an oak desk stacked with papers, the apparent byproduct of the professor’s current research. In one section of the room is a sofa and pair of chairs, arranged around a circular table. It is here that the investigators gather to discuss their individual discoveries.

When the first of them arrived, Wells had been wrapping up a conversation with a student, who quickly left as the other guests arrived. He gathered some of his papers, his small notebook that he frequently carried with him, and put them down in front of him. He made small talk with them until they were all gathered, at which point he closed the door and took his seat again.

"Hopefully this is a suitable place to meet. The picture that I've been able to gather from my research places the unfortunate incidents surrounding the young woman's demise as part of a pattern, though the picture it paints is well, many of my colleagues might call it...unorthodox."

He said the last with a sense of familiarity, as if he was accustomed to his theories being called such.

"Since as far back as the late 1870s - at least, that's as far back as I've been able to find anything - individuals have been going missing in that particular neighborhood."

He laid out a map in front of them, where he had charted out various disappearances in the general area.

"I charted them out on the map from Lassiter, and the great majority of the cases all occur within a two mile radius of a single landmark: the Stanton Street Cemetery, which was originally established under the name the Bishop Memorial Cemetery - close to the Essex Street Station. It's hard to pick out a pattern in the short term, but if you take the long view of things, it becomes more clear. Some of the disappearances here are spaced out in as many as seven years, but they keep happening."

He cleared his throat and seemed to hesitate.

"Now, here's the unorthodox part. There appear to be reported incidents in the vicinity, reported by one J. Mondale Crief of the Pillar-Riposte, reporting unearthly noises coming from the Greenberg family crypt. Additionally, there were reportings of a few sightings of what some cultures might describe as a manner of...undead revenant, if you will. Whatever these people think they're seeing or hearing, there seems to be something strange going on in this neighborhood - and if this characterizes the reports that have been issuing forth about it over the last few decades, well, then it's no wonder that no one has taken it seriously or been looking into it."

Morris cocks an eye at the professor, impressed that he's learned so much from . . . books in such a short time.

"That jibes with what the detective on the case tells me," he nods. "McBrady was willing enough to let me peek at the crime scene photos and he tells me there have been four killings in the past few weeks around that cemetery the Professor mentioned. Nothing directly connecting them, just the location.

"The pictures . . . you would not want to see them. Whatever it was, it tore that pretty girl apart, limb from limb, and then it ate part of her. The cops -- they think the teeth marks are human but sharpened. No sign of rape, though."

Sully consults his nitebook.

"In addition to Jennifer Hargraves, the recent victims include Percy Coleman, Faustina Abbatelli, and Kathleen O’Donnell, as well as an unidentified derelict. Three women, two men. The Tribune reporters seriously doubt the police story of an escaped lunatic; none of our sources have revealed any such escapee in recent weeks.

"The 1870s, Professor? That's about five decades. Was there any description of this so-called revenant at the time?

"You know, I grew up living at the Allen Hotel at Allen and Broome on the Lower East Side. I still reside there, just a few blocks from the Essex-Delancey Station. I seem to remember the cemetery having an unsavory reputation when I was growing up, but kids always scare themselves with tales of ghosts and boogeymen." He smiles.

"Jake, did the police give you any information about the locations of the killings, when they occurred, and so forth? Did they show you pictures of the other victims?"

[Is Flatt with us as an NPC? Did he bring prints of the photos in Jennifer's room?]

"MacBrady told me about the others," Jake nods. "He indicated that all of the killings have been within two miles of the old cemetery. I did not ask to see the other pictures. I don't want to crowd him, and we've only been hired to find out what happened to the girl. He's sympathetic to that and he tells me they were all about the same.

"They have no clue about who or why. Someone floated the escaped lunatic idea and they're not denying it. But they know it's not that."

He takes out a pack of Luckies and offers them round before lighting one himself.

"What's this about the Greenberg family crypt and weird noises?"

He deliberately does not mention the undead, or revenants, or ghosts, or vampires, or any other such hooey.

"And who's this J. Mondale Crief? Someone we can go talk to?"

"The, ahem, revenant was most recently described as having 'the deadly pallor of a corpse' and 'weird, blazing-red eyes...like headlights from Hell.' Also there have been sounds from the crypt described as 'loud banging and thumping and growling noises.'

Reaching back decades, the descriptions aren't there - just an accounting of the disappearances."

He nodded at Quinn's tale of his childhood

"It isn't unusual for rumors to appear around cemeteries in my studies, and that cuts across nationality and culture to an extent. People fear death, and look at it with discomfort, suspicion, or hesitation, and these feelings gradually can coalesce into a belief in apparitions and manifestations of the dead in various ways, ranging from positive to negative. As children particularly we can be fascinated by this idea, and as we are further from the grave, it can be entertaining to think of death in such a manner, not how it is most likely to manifest."

He regarded Morris's questions curiously.

"J. Mondale Crief is the author of the article, and as the articles were recent, I presume we would be able to speak to him. As for the noises at the crypt...I don't know much more than I've told you. A couple of men in the area reported the sounds to the police, and the article said neither of the men was drunk at the time. The police attributed the sounds to young hooligans, but a man that heard them insisted that nothing was visible as a source for the sound and was very sure it was the crypt, but the crypt seemed undisturbed and locked properly."

Arthur listened to the conversation as it went on, allowing the others to speak at some length before making his own findings known.

"I spoke with a young boy when I dropped through the area for my photographs. He didn't seem to think it had anything to do with any revenant. He took me to see the area, and explained its reputation--he was quite realistic, you see. The alleyway connects to a wide open field near the cemetery, entirely unlit. At night, people from other parts of town will move through thinking it a convenient shortcut somewhere, only to be confronted by someone in the dark looking to rob them. That was the reputation the boy explained to me."

Then, tentatively, he fished out the photographs he took of the field, the cemetery, the crime scene.

"Now, it was violent...so a robbery might not have been the goal. Still..." He pointed to one of the photographs, of the site of the murder. "Notice where the greatest concentration of blood was, you can see fissures in the concrete. I'm certain that these were caused by a...very recent impact. Can you imagine a regular man so ferociously strong?"

"There's two more things. There is a house at the cemetery, and I saw a man from the other side of the fence looking out at me. He gave me a bad feeling. The boy also mentioned that his grandparents were around when something like this happened quite a long time ago. I can take you all to their barbershop, if it seems relevant."

OOC: Flatt is with you as a PC, I just had to fix my PC this weekend and getting back on track has been a real pain--I haven't had time to jump in for the update until now.

OOC: I’m going to presume that the Professor has retained the articles regarding the unusual occurrences on the Lower East Side for his fellow investigators’ perusal. He will, of course, have to return them to the Low Library in due course.

---

Subway Monster Sighted

Terror In The Streets? By J. Mondale Crief

(SPECIAL) “He looked like a walking dead man, with clawed hands and awful red eyes!”

So began Mrs. Francine Edwards’ moments of horror last night at the Essex Street Station on Manhattan’s lower east side.

Mrs. Edwards, age 33, of 1282 Grand, Apt 610, was waiting for a BMT M-local at about 8 P.M. when the stranger, a filthy ragged tramp, climbed onto the platform from the tracks below. When he crawled into the light, Mrs. Edwards realized that he was not human.

“It was horrible! He grabbed me, but I screamed and hit him with my handbag! Somehow I freed myself and ran!” In her statement, Mrs. Edwards spoke of “the deadly pallor of a corpse” and of “weird, blazing-red eyes that cut into my soul like headlights from Hell.”

Although no one else stood on the subway platform as witness to this astonishing apparition, passers-by on the street heard Mrs. Edwards’ screams for help.

A witness saw her: “She vas runnik out of the subway as if the Defil himself had appeared right zer on zis spot,” attested Pyotr Alexeivitch Rakuzmov, of 124 Rivington, rear. Mr. Rakuzmov, a precise man, showed the Pillar-Riposte the exact place where he saw, and also made sure of the spelling of his name.

New York‘s finest summoned, responding officer Michael O’Shea was unable to find a trace of the ghastly form who had shattered the prosaic peace of the Essex Street station.

Officer O'Shea later speculated that the B-Uptown must have gotten whoever it was, since he didn’t, but Motorman Alvin B. (“Clayboy”) Heingrapper, of 1452 Schermerhorn, Brooklyn, finished what to him seemed a smooth trip. He stares that “I didn’t see nothin’ or feel nothin’ other than the bad curve after Bowery that ought to be retracked.”

Dispatched early this morning, a maintenance crew found nothing, according ro Brooklyn Transit authorities.

Mrs. Edwards is currently recovering from her experience at Bellevue Hospital and is unavailable for interview.

At present, police have no comment.

- NY Pillar-Riposte, February 27.

---

Haunted Cemetery?

Noises in the Night Scare Passersby By J. Mondale Crief

(SPECIAL) Their eyes still round and startled, Mesrs. Billy Joe Perkins and Jesus Romero described “loud banging and thumping and growling noises” coming from a crypt near the Houston street side of the Stanton Street Cemetery.

Though they denied seeing ghosts, wills-o-the-wisp, or other super-natural critters, Mr. Perkins stated firmly that the sounds were “just unearthly and like nothin’ I never heared before.” Mr. Romero succinctly seconded the opinion, but declined an interview.

Mr. Romero is presently of 241 W. 85th, with whom Mr. Perkins is presently staying.

Neither man was found to be under the influence of alcohol, and police attribute the disturbance they heard to pranksters playing a macabre practical joke.

Mr. Perkins disputed the police analysis. He stated that nothing and no one could be seen, and that the frequent and loud noises came unmistakably from a particular family crypt.

Nonetheless, inspection this morning found the seals and lock on the crypt undisturbed.

The crypt in question belongs to the Greenberg family, who coincidentally that morning had laid to rest there the late Mrs. Sonia Greenberg, family matriarch and daughter of Solomon Greenberg, a founder of the New York garment industry.

The owner of the Stanton Street Cemetery, Mr. Nathaniel Bishop, by telephone expressed complete confidence in the cemetery’s guardianship, which he pointed out with pride as having been maintained unbroken for nearly 200 years.

- NY Pillar-Riposte, March 3.

Sully lays the clippings back on the table. "That's classic J. Moncrief stuff all right, sensational drivel at its finest," he says with a smirk, "There's maybe a sliver of fact there. I'd never get anything that slim past my editor. But even a blind pig can find an acorn occasionally, I guess.

"The area around that cemetery is pretty desolate, especially at night, industrial and warehouses. What in the name of Heaven was the Hargrave girl doing there?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:18, Fri 29 Oct 2021.

Flatt shrugged. "Like the boy told me, people from other parts of town head into an alleyway looking for a shortcut and find themselves there. The working men, apparently, they use it until the sun sets. It seems convenient, unless you're being murdered, don't you think?"

Jake holds up the tiny vial he found in the girl's room.

"Maybe looking for more of this?" he postulates. "Drug pushers don't have storefronts on Fifth Avenue. They like dark, hidden places to do business."

He scans the articles again and begins to note down the dates of each crime or sighting to see if he can discern any regularity in them.

"We should go take a look-see, I'm thinking, at this Greenburg family crypt -- while it's still daylight. I got my Roscoe," he pats his holstered pistol, "But I don't fancy meeting this thing at night."

He shudders at the memory of the pictures MacBrady showed him.

"Yes, and perhaps we can speak with the family who was present for some of these previous events as well--and maybe even speak with that man who spotted me there." He scratched his chin, putting away his photographs once everyone had the chance to see them, especially the evidently fresh fissures in the ground, and turned to the others. "Well, is there anything else? Should we go?"

"Yeah, you mentioned a barbershop -- they saw something years ago?" Jake lights another smoke. "That sounds like it's worth following up on -- and the house with the creepy guy. That's in the cemetery?

"And we've got some names and addresses of other witnesses from the articles by Crief. We can talk to them, too.""