GHOST STORIES

The stories here are some out of my favorite books.  I am only going to write one out of each so that you might read the whole books later.  Sone of these you can get either at your local library,  but you can also buy them at Barnes and Noble here by clicking on an ad.  These are just a few of my favorite stories.  I think you will find them all to be quite interesting.

They say foul beings of Old Times still lurk.
In dark forgotten corners of the world, and gates still gape loose, on certain nights, Shapes pent in Hell.
       Robert E. Howard (As by Justin Geoffrey)
A great quote in the begining of the book,
"Necroscope II: Vamphyri!" by Brian Lumley.

This book is excellent, if you get a chance to buy it or borrow it, do.  It is called I, Strahd.  I am only going to give you the Prologue because it is just a taste of the story.  The book is in many ways like the Anne Rice series, but pertaining to the Ravenloff stories and Role Playing.  TSR has the rights to this story so I ask you not to copy any of the stories I write here.  Almost all the stories, unless said otherwise, are under copywrite and are only placed here for your entertainment and to share some of my favorites with you.  If you want a copy please, as I said before,  feel free to buy them or go to your library to borrow them. 
Ravenloff seems to stick to the most famous and most told stories of the legends of the Carpathian Mountains.  Most of the stories that are read about Vampires seem to come from Transelvanian folk lore.  Dracula, Vlad Tepes, Elizebeth Bathordy, and Nosforatu have been glamorized by Hollywood and the Entertainment industry so each story has it's own unique quality of entertainment of folklore, myth and imagination.  Although in many countries as the educated know, there are other Vampires or Vampire types of myth, history, and legend.  I hope you like this tale and the others I will leave for you here.  I, Strahd was written by,  author P.N. Elrod.

I, Strahd

This is only the Prologue, I, Strahd at this time is already a Vampire and might I say, a devistatingly handsome one at that.  This is the Vampire Hunter's tale of terror.
                                                  PROLOGUE
                       
                                 Though it was a bright, hot dawn outside, there were no windows in this part of the castle.  Van Richten had to provide his own light in the form of a small lantern, which he gripped with a white knuckled fist.  He paused on the last, rough-hewn step at the top of the spiral staircase, caught his breath, and held the lantern as high as his slight stature allowed.  It's feeble glow only managed to push back the darkness for a scant few yards, just enough for him to see that the room was apparently empty of threatening occupants.  That fact, of course, meant nothing in in this place.
                       he glanced back the way he'd come.  Cold stone walls curved sharply down into utter blackness, utter silence.  The fingertips of his left hand, which had brushed against the walls as he'd gone up, were still numb from the chill. as if the rock itself had sucked the warmth right out of them.  With a thin but rueful smile that tugged at only one corner of his mouth, he flexed his stiff hand.  Like master, like castle, he thought, then his smile vanished as he turned into the room.
   If not the true heart of the place, the chamber was certainly a vital organ.  Each high wall was covered with books-- hundreds. thousands of them, more than Van Richten had seen in one place in his fiffty-odd years of scholarly life.  The yellow glow of his lantern picked up the sheen from well-oiled leather covers and gilt titles, the ocassional flash of a gem, and the dull faced tome of so ancient that no amount of care or  restoration could revitalize it.  But the outer shell hardly mattered, it was what lay inside that was important.
  Van Richten breathed in the books' scent and felt his heart begin to race a little.  If the monster had a weekness, and they all did in one form or another, perhaps it would be found here.  As a man might be judged by the books he reads, so might a clue be revealed in the neat ranks of titles that marched up the walls.  Van Richten surpressed another smile.  Not by any stretch of fancy could Count Strahd Von Zarovich be considered a mere man anymore, though the local people seemed unaware of his true nature.  He'd lost his allotted portion of humanity.....how many centuries ago?  And at what cost in lives and misery and agony of spirit for those hapless souls he'd touched in that time?