Van Richten's Guide to Ghosts

Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her shin was white as leprosy,
The nightmare Life-in-Death was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.

- Samuel Taylor Coleridge
"The Rime of the Ancient Mariner"

Mor as long as the people of our world have kept written records, the comings and goings of spirits among us have been noted. Some ghosts appear as lights or recognizable shapes hovering in darkness. Others seem to be real people or creatures, but they are nothing more than insubstantial images - as incorporeal as they are unliving. Ghosts are known in all shapes and sizes. They undertake macabre missions toward deadly goals, and have any number of motivations. Most are evil, some indifferent, and few good and kind.

In this work, I shall examine all known types of ghosts. I shall share with you what I can of my knowledge and pray with all my heart that it may be enough to keep you alive if you encounter such spirits by chance or design. If all else fails, I pray even more that this knowledge shall be enough to allow you to rest in true death and not to rise and haunt the night as an apparition in our darkened land.

I have lived a long life, and if I am lucky, it shall not end soon. I am in good health, despite all the storms I have weathered. Still, I know that the black shroud of death will one day fall across me. When it does, I will look back upon a life that was long and hard but not without its rewards. I have done much good, and I shall face the grave with no regrets - but one sorrow. Let me recount it for you.

My first encounter with the undead was with the horrible vampire who called himself Baron Metus. When that monster stole my beloved son Erasmus, then murdered my dear wife Ingrid, I vowed I would devote myself to the annihilation of all his diabolical kind.

My sorrow, of course, is that I have become what I am only at the cost of losing my family. At the time I began my quest for revenge, I was a much younger and more foolish man. I meant only that I should battle the dreaded vampires in all their shapes, that I should seek their every lair and see to it that these monsters were destroyed. I did not understand the scope of my quest then. To track down and destroy all the vampires on all the worlds that I now know of is an impossible task, but I never hesitated to rise to battle.

No single person can do all that I set forth to do. It is my hope, however, that by placing what I know in a series of books, I will aid those who would follow me on my quest. If you have seen the eyes of death look down at you, if you have heard an inhuman hiss in the darkness, if you have known terror and dread, then you know the importance of my work. I offer you my heart, my prayers, and - most important - my knowledge.

In the two decades that have passed since the death of my wife and child, I have traveled much. I have seen horror in all its shapes. I have faced monsters that could have issued forth only from the deepest pits of evil. In every case, I have been tempered by the meeting. Those times when I destroyed my foes filled me with the energy to continue in my holy work. Those times when foes escaped my vengeance left me the wiser; never again, I vowed, would I be as shortsighted in a future meeting. Those foes who defeated me - and there have been many, despite my undeserved reputation for invincibility - have left me all the stronger for the wounds they inflicted upon me.

How many times have I been driven to death's door by the creatures of darkness? I cannot say. But in every instance I was determined to battle back from the injuries I suffered and to have my revenge. I am a peaceful, merciful man, but such vengeance is dear, indeed.

How did I, a devoted vampire hunter, come to be an enemy of the incorporeal undead as well? The inclusion was not a difficult one. It began on a cold autumn night in Lamordia. I was close on the trail of a vile creature that I call the child vampire. The details of my encounter with that dark beast are presented elsewhere [RR1 Darklords, TSR #9331], so I shall not dwell on them here. While researching the creature, I happened upon a lonely country inn, the Thistle & Bonnet. The place was so charming and the darkness approaching so fast that I bade my companions stop. We discussed the matter briefly, then decided to spend the night.

The innkeeper, a cheerful fellow with the unlikely name of Bellikok, saw to our every need. He presented us with a great feast of a dinner, saw to it that our glasses were always full, and never seemed at a loss for some clever comment or anecdote to move the conversation along at a merry pace. In all, he was the perfect hostler.

All that changed, however, as the gleaming copper clock on his mantle rang ten. No sooner had the last chime died than a look of concern crept across merry Bellikok's face. I feared that he had grown ill and moved to comfort him. "I am a physician", I said. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

For an instant he seemed taken aback by my concern. Then he allowed a wry smile to cross his face and let out a short laugh. "Would that you could, kind sir", he sighed, shaking his head.

Seeing that my companions were as curious as I was about the cause of his sudden change of spirits, I bade him continue. Dropping his head so that he looked only upon the floor and not upon our faces, the innkeeper did as I suggested.

"Do you hear the sound of that carriage, sir? Low and distant, like thunder looming on the horizon?"

I cocked my head and, as he had said, I did indeed hear the sound of a coach in the distance. Still, nothing seemed unusual about it. Indeed, thinking that it might promise another customer for the night, I offered him that consolation. "Surely you have room for another guest?"

As the sound drew nearer and nearer, he became more agitated. "That conveyance bears no guest I'll have in this place", he hissed. "No, indeed. That carriage rides forth from the gaping maw of blackness itself. I know not where she travels to, but I know what comes with her passing. Here, move to the windows. You'll see what I mean".

With that, he blew out the lights in the inn and gathered us all about the large window that looked out upon the road. In the distance, we saw an eerie glow moving down the highway toward us. It seemed to be moving at an incredible speed and to be giving off an eerie glow like pale lightning.

Suddenly the horrific conveyance was upon us. It flashed past our window at a speed I would not have thought possible. I had only the briefest of looks at the thing, but its impression is forever set in my mind. The wagon was large, as bulky as any merchant's coach I've ever seen. It was drawn by a team of four great horses from whom all flesh and tissues had been removed. At every step of these skeletal steeds, lightning flashed when hoof struck earth. The ebon wood of the coach-carved and etched with evil runes and dark figures - was illuminated clearly by a shower of azure sparks that sprayed away from the wheels as the coach rolled along the road.

As shocking as this macabre vehicle was, its occupants were even more memorable. The coachman was a gaunt and skeletal creature, well suited to the team he drove. As he passed, I saw him strike at his horses with a whip, the lash of which was composed of pure lightning. When it snapped above the beast, a great crash of thunder roared out, and the animals seemed moved to even greater speed.

Through windows set in the coach's doors, I could see the grim passengers of this nightmarish wagon. Gaunt and thin, but still draped in flesh, they reached out at us through windows barred with bones. Their faces were pitiful, etched with agony and torment. In the second that they were before me, I felt all of the suffering and anguish that radiated from their tragic faces. These were the damned.

Then, even before I saw it was upon us, the conveyance was gone - racing away down the highway at a speed beyond my comprehension. I was about to speak, seeking to voice my horror, when the innkeeper motioned for silence.

Instantly the sky erupted in thunder. Huge sheets of lightning raced from horizon to horizon, shedding a brilliant blue light across the countryside. Rain fell upon us in a mighty cascade, battering the windows with the ferocity of a hurricane and turning the road outside into a morass of mud. The storm, more savage than any I had ever felt before, lasted only for a few minutes, then it was gone.

My horror turned to anger, that such an apparition should so freely spread fear and destruction in its path. My crusade against vampires now became one against ghosts as well, and soon against nearly every form of undead or wicked creature.

In this book, I shall attempt to put forth all that I have learned about the incorporeal undead. I shall discuss their creation, their habits, their physiology, and their weaknesses. All of this information will, I hope, help others who have chosen to battle the forces of darkness on every front. I have organized this information into the following chapters.

Chapter One: Types of Ghosts. Here I will present several broad categorizations I have made regarding the origins of ghosts. It is my belief that such tools enable us to better keep track of the horrors we face in this world. By battling them with both the keen sword of ancient knowledge and the powerful firearm of modern learning, I believe we can triumph over the incorporeal undead.

Chapter Two: Ordinary Powers. Before one can hope to prevail against the forces of darkness, one must have an understanding of their nature. In this chapter, I detail the common abilities of ghosts and provide some cautionary notes on how one might hope to battle against this supernatural enemy.

Chapter Three: Extraordinary Powers. While all ghosts have certain elements in common, as discussed in the previous chapter, many are unique. Ghosts gifted with special powers can be deadly and must be stalked with great care. In this chapter, I shall examine those powers that make ghosts truly deadly adversaries.

Chapter Four: Vulnerabilities. It is a good thing for us all that even the most powerful of ghosts is certain to have its weaknesses. While some ghosts are among the most powerful of horrors it has been my misfortune to meet, they are all hindered in some way by their past. In my years of fighting these creatures, I have yet to encounter one that did not have some vulnerability that could be exploited in combat.

Chapter Five: Speaking with the Dead. One of the most valuable tools in the battle against ghosts is information. The old adage that knowledge is power is never truer than when dealing with these ethereal horrors. In this chapter, I shall discuss the spiritualists one is likely to require, guidelines on locating them, and tips on how to spot those who would deceive ghost hunters and make claims of powers they do not have.

Chapter Six: Investigating a Haunting. In this chapter, I outline the steps I advocate in order to stalk and destroy ghosts. I use my experience gained from a most unusual mass hunting to illustrate the techniques. It is my belief that failure to follow these guidelines will inevitably result in deaths or worse.