My night consists of two executions...

The first a failure amongst the Sabbat, the second; A traitor. Not to the Sabbat, he was aiding us... but a traitor to the Camarilla who has outlived his usefullness to my crusade.

The traitor was Locus Fender, a gangrel outcast who helped conceal our feeding, even revealed the tunnels in the mountains to us... He had hoped to join the Sabbat for his troubles.

He was rewarded with a shovel to the head and shadowy tentacles rammed up his ass. I hope someone will find his body... as he fell into torpor with the brutality of my attack...

His body is hanging over the fireplace in the lodge, like a prize deer... his face is barely recognizable, his arms and legs obviously broken. He is spread out like he was crucified... With a trio of stakes driven into his heart. Carved into his dead flesh are the words: 'Camarilla Traitor.'