Curse of Strahd

Under raging storm clouds, 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 thenight 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 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 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.