By P.N. Elrod
...Some of the parchment pages have been the colour of cream, thick and great, made to final many, many lifetimes. different pages have been skinny and desiccated, definitely yellow from age, and crackled alarmingly as Van Richten grew to become them over. there have been no ornate illuminations, no fussy borders, simply traces of undeniable textual content in tough black ink. The flowing handwriting was once a section tricky to persist with in the beginning; the writer's form of calligraphy had now not been in universal use for 3 hundred years. No desk of contents, yet from the dates it appeared to be a few form of history.He became to the 1st web page and read:I, Strahd, Lord of Barovia, good conscious yes occasions of my reign were desperately misunderstood by means of people who find themselves higher at garbling background than recording it, hereby set down a precise checklist of these occasions, that the reality may perhaps eventually be identified . . . .He stuck his breath. through all of the strong gods, a private magazine?
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Additional resources for I, Strahd: The War Against Azalin
The croft was sealed shut now, with no glimmer of light from any chink in the door or shutters. The men were crouched in the dark, probably tensed and ready for anything. I crept close, braced myself, and gave the brittle wood a mighty kick, then moved to dodge clear. I did not get that far. Some tangible—at first I thought it an arrow—but unseen force hurled from the opening and caught me squarely, pinning me in place. The stale air shot forth from my dormant lungs and my legs turned to water.
The other man had apparently been waiting for this, but made no immediate move toward the front counter. Mrs. Heywood patiently picked up her latest knitting project, a striped scarf, and prepared to work on it until he was ready to talk to her. It was all part of the game of buying and selling. Neither party dared show too much eagerness lest it adversely effect the price of the product. Mrs. Heywood was very good player. The man finally replaced the book he had been pretending to flip through—he had been holding it upside down until finding a page with pictures on it—and made his way to her front counter.
Far too quickly, but I'd been too incensed to think clearly else I would have given him a full measure back of the pain he'd given to me. My hope for ever having happiness dead, I had returned to my cold castle, and continued existing— until years later when Alina had appeared. I found her again by accident while making an inspection round of Barovia in the guise of Lord Vasili von Hoist. My own name was ever too much for the locals. Lord Vasili was a man to be feared, but his lesser rank did not paralyze them with terror as did the vastly greater presence of the actual lord of Barovia.