Curse of Strahd
Under raging stormclouds, a lone
figure stands silhouetted against the ancient
walls of Castle Ravenloft. The vampire
Count Strahd von Zarovich stares
down a sheer cliff at the village below. A
cold, bitter wind spins dead leaves about
him, billowing his cape in the darkness.
Lightning splits the clouds overhead, casting stark
white light across him. Strahd turns to the sky, revealing
the angular muscles of his face and hands. He
has a look of power-and of madness. His once handsome
face is contorted by a tragedy darker than the
night itself.
Rumbling thunder pounds the castle spires. The
wind's howling increases as Strahd turns his gaze back
to the village. Far below, yet not beyond his ken, a party
of adventurers has just entered his domain. Strahd's
face forms a twisted smile.
Another lightning flash rips through the darkness, its
thunder echoing through the castle's towers. But Strahd
is gone. Only the howling of the wind-or perhaps a lone
wolf-fills the midnight air. The master of Raven loft is
having guests for dinner. And you are invited.