Six Flags over Barovia

Under raging storm clouds, a lone figure stands silhouetted against the an­cient walls of Castle Ravenloft. The figure 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. The shadow 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 figure turns his gaze back to the village. Far below, yet not beyond his ken, a party of adventurers has just entered his domain. his face forms a twisted smile as his dark plan unfolds. He knew they were coming, and he knows why they have come-all according to his plan. He, the master of Ravenloft, will attend to them. Another lightning flash rips through the darkness, its thunder echoing through the castle's towers. But the shadow is gone. Only the howling of the wind-or perhaps a lone wolf-fills the midnight air.