P. N. Elrod - Ravenloft - I, Strahd

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RAVENLOFT

I, STRAHD

P. N. Elrod

CONTENTS

Prologue

Part I

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Part II

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Part III

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

I, STRAHD

Cover art by Clyde Caldwell.

Interior art by Stephen Fabian.

For the three "M's" in my life,

Mark, Mac, and the Mite.

Acknowledgments

With sincere thanks to Tracy and Laura

Hickman,

Christie Golden, and the many other

explorers who came to Ravenloft first.

And a special thanks to Forrest J

Ackerman, who had a hand (or was that a

claw?)

in influencing my work.

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. Its 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 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 fifty-odd years of scholarly

life. The yellow glow of his lantern picked

up the sheen from well-oiled leather covers

and gilt titles, the occasional flash of a

gem, and the dull face of a tome 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 weakness, 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

suppressed 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?

But I can't think about that now. Time is

too short. Life is too short.

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摘要：

RAVENLOFTI,STRAHDByP.N.ElrodCONTENTSProloguePartIChapterOneChapterTwoChapterThreePartIIChapterFourChapterFiveChapterSixPartIIIChapterSevenChapterEightChapterNineEpilogueI,STRAHDCopyright©1993,1995TSR,Inc.AllRightsReserved.CoverartbyClydeCaldwell.InteriorartbyStephenFabian.Forthethree"M's"inmylife,Ma...

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