Tales of Ravenloft
Language: English
Pages: 316
ISBN: 1560769319
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
A collection of short stories set in the Ravenloft world of vampires, werewolves, and other monstrous creatures features the talents of P. N. Elrod (creator of Count Strahd Von Zarovich), James Lowder, J. Robert King, Elaine Bergstrom, and others. Original.
Vor Rukoth: An Ancient Ruins Adventure Site (Dungeons & Dragons 4th Ed: Supplement)
Elminster in Myth Drannor (Forgotten Realms: The Elminster Series, Book 2)
Windwalker (Forgotten Realms: Starlight and Shadows, Book 3)
Crimson light that poured forth. Hesitating only for a moment, she stepped inside. Clarisse had found the hundredth window. It dominated the entire far wall of the small room, a chaotic mosaic of jagged, colored shards that made her dizzy to gaze upon. Sunlight streamed through the nightmarish stained-glass window, tainted by the colored glass, and only dimly did Clarisse remember that, when last she looked, the sky outside had been dark and brooding, concealing the sun. The writhing patterns of.
Is Urik von Kharkov," he said, "and I did not bring you here. Beyond that, I know no more than you. And your name?" "Malika." Scowling, she looked around. "This is not Cormyr." "Is it not?" "You know it is not." Even as she spoke, he knew it was the truth. But how— "This Cormyr is your home?" The simple syllables felt strangely at home on his tongue. She nodded suspiciously. "And yours?" "Darkon." She shook her head. "That is not a land I know. How VON KHARKOV 135 do you come to be here?".
His breath. "Is there a problem?" the sharp asked coldly. "Unthar rode with Soth's patrols once," Tisiphone explained as she scooped up the dice and handed them to Oliver. "He saw firsthand what the elves can do." "Maybe you'll see them cut someone up," the brute rumbled. "You'll be real close and have to watch everything, all the blades and the needles. Then we'll see if you can joke about it." Tisiphone glared at the bouncer. Oliver recognized the look from the bloody game in Richemulot. Her.
Fallen beast. My son, whose rescue was my only chance for vindication—for redemption itself—is dead, again by my hand, for he was transformed into a monster by the vampire Metus, and it was 1 who drove the killing stake through his tender heart. My beloved wife Ingrid is dead, and still again I am to blame, for I threatened Baron Metus before fleeing Barouia, and he preceded me to Darkon and vented his wrath upon her! I should have died that night on the Ludendorf Road, when the blood hunters.
Honest-looking fellow named Jacques, was quick to give me the details. "You need not tell us, Monsieur Dragonov. We've seen comrades, and in my case my brother, disappear." "Or we haven't seen them disappear," said Henri, the other soldier, "but they're gone nonetheless!" Jacques nodded. "For the past six months, men of Dementlieu have been vanishing, one every few weeks. The first was a mill owner named St. Just. Three weeks later a cobbler who left behind a beautiful wife and two children. Then.