Van Richten's Guide to Ghosts

What beck'ning ghost, along the moonlight shade
Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?

- Alexander Pope
"Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady"

Types of Ghosts

Ghosts, spirits, apparitions - call them what you will. They come in a great many varieties. I have devoted a great deal of research to understanding them and the supernatural laws that govern their creation, existence, and destruction. In this chapter, I shall share with you what I have learned about the origins, natures, and abilities of ghosts.

If I were less stern about my desire to know all that I can about the undead - if I were less passionate in my need to uncover the truth about the supernatural - I might long ago have given up my quest. It often seems to me that, as soon as I am convinced I know all that can be known about these incorporeal creatures, new evidence is presented to me and I must reconsider my most solid convictions. I admit to despair on many occasions - but my yearning to know more is unending. Thus, my work goes on.

Before I continue, I must define an important term: karmic resonance. It is necessary to do so, for it is at the core of the subject of ghosts, spirits, and the like.

Supernatural creatures draw their power from numerous sources. In my first book, I wrote of the vampire and how the passing of the years allows him to draw more dark energy from the so-called Negative Material Plane. With each day that passes, vampires become minutely more powerful. Over the course of a month or even a year, this increase is minor. With the passing of a decade or century, however, they can become unstoppable.

Ghosts, unlike vampires, draw power not from the passing of time, but from the forces present at the moment of their creation. At the exact instant that a person's spirit is transformed into a spectral undead, its strength is set and locked by the emotions that surrounded it. I call this lingering energy that keeps ghosts empowered karmic resonance. Thus, the passing of time does nothing to increase the power of a ghost.

The instant of a ghost's creation is subject to intense energies. Just as the shock of birth is overwhelming to a child (and the mother), so too is the sudden plunge into the frigid, black waters of unlife. The intensity of this shock is based wholly upon the emotional and karmic energies of the transformation. In other words, the stronger the emotional state of those present at the ghost's creation, the more powerful the spirit that arises.

The level of power attained by a ghost is thus not haphazardly made. Two ghosts, created in similar manners, will be of roughly similar power levels. True, their exact powers are likely to be very different, but the actual danger they pose - their resistance to physical harm, their ability to resist a holy person's attempts to drive them away, or the strength of their special attacks - will be analogous.

I have chosen to classify ghosts according to six categories: magnitude of power, physical appearance, physical consistency, origin, anchor, and trigger. The distinctions between certain categories are very fine and may seem confusing to the layman, but this classification serves a purpose and will be helpful to the devoted ghost hunter.

The following text elucidates the terms I use and should prove helpful in any quest to rid the world of ghostly fiends. At the end of this chapter is a simple outline delineating the categories and subcategories by which ghosts may be classified.

The first category by which I classify ghosts is based on their levels of power, which I call magnitudes. In a previous work, I did much the same with vampires, which I classified according to their age. A ghost's magnitude is roughly the same as a vampire's age in measuring their total strength: The greater the magnitude, the more powerful the ghost; the older the vampire, the more powerful it is.

The least powerful of the incorporeal undead, these creatures are created when just enough emotional energy is available to empower the transformation to an undead state. This is, fortunately, the most common type of spirit.

Ghosts of the first magnitude are created the same way as are other ghosts, but they tend to have less dramatic origins. In fact, I have often considered first - magnitude ghosts to be almost boring - their power is weak, their afterlife passive, and their evil subdued.

As an example of this type of spirit, I must present the Loud Man of Lamordia - a spirit I found most amusing.

When I was young, I traveled to a small village along the coast, Leidenheim. While there, I learned of a spirit who haunted a lake outside town. It seems that those who fished in that lake were occasionally troubled by a ghostly fisherman a ghost who talked to them about the fine spot he had found for bass, the sudden changes in recent weather patterns, and other trivia. His conversations were so monotonous that it was said to be impossible for a listener to avoid failing asleep.

Escaping the spirit's babbling, it seems, was likewise impossible, for the Loud Man would follow the fishermen wherever they went. Only by leaving the lake, and thus abandoning bringing home the evening meal, could one escape this specter. Those who attempted to drive off the fellow found that they could do so easily, but any fish they pulled from the water for the next few months would spoil before they could be eaten.

The cold stone of the ancient tomb loomed before us. Lifting our lanterns high to light the way, we moved into ihe crypt. The going was slow, for even our brace dwarf, Geddar Ironheart, was reluctant to intrude upon the resting dead of this ancient place. Bantur, as talkative a swashbuckler I had ever met, was strangely quiet as he strained his eyes to pick out movement in the thundering darkness. The air, thick and cool, washed around us as if we were wading in a shallow pond. The sounds of our progress - the scraping of cleric Kevlin's boots, the clanking of Geddar's chain mail, and the occasional crunch of a beetle or spider beneath Bantur's shoes - seemed magnified by the shadows around us. I have never suffered from claustrophobia, but I must confess that I felt utterly trapped and isolated in that dark and evil place.

Ghosts of the second magnitude are more powerful than their lesser kindred, but are usually little more than nuisances. However, they are more aggressive and more easily angered than lesser spirits.

In order for a ghost of this type to form, the dying person must be in a state of some emotion. The emotion need not be overly consuming or of great duration, as is necessary for the more powerful spirits to form. For example, someone who dies during a spousal quarrel might have enough emotional energy to attain the second magnitude of unlife, as might an artist who is working on a painting that means a great deal to her. It is sometimes even possible for a person who knows he or she is going to die - by the hangman's noose, for example - to become a second-magnitude ghost. The so-called Laughing Man of Valachan is an example of this sort.

Ghosts of the third magnitude are often outright evil and malicious. Their powers are generally such that they can resist much conventional harm, even from magical devices or spells. Often they can cripple or kill opponents with ease.

In order for a ghost of the third magnitude to form, a person must die while in a highly emotional state. An example would be a man forced to watch as his beloved family was slain by brigands before he himself was killed, dying in the grip of his overwhelming anguish. The karmic resonance of this tragedy might be strong enough to create a third-magnitude ghost. Similarly, someone enraged or horrified to an extreme degree at the time of death might attain this status.

Among the most powerful of apparitions, ghosts of the fourth magnitude are created only through scenes of death that involve great emotional stress or energy. Spirits of this type are generally warped by the power of their emotions, becoming highly aggressive, evil, and cruel. They are almost impossible to drive off or destroy by conventional means, requiring special care on the part of those who would eliminate them.

Rare indeed are the circumstances surrounding a person's death that are powerful enough to create a ghost of this type. In my travels, I have encountered only a half dozen or so of these evil and dangerous monsters. In each of the, cases I came across, the ghost had once been a person who had either embraced death with great fervor or felt himself so powerful that death could hold no sway over him. The evil General Athoul, one of the incorporeal leaders of the dread Kargat of my homeland Darken, may illustrate the first. It is said that his devotion to Azalin was so great that even death only meant a new manner in which for him to serve his beloved commander. The second is perhaps best illustrated by the infamous Martyr of the Moors, a man who sought death as the ultimate step in his devotion to a dark and evil deity, only to find that he had been cursed with eternal unlife.

The thought of these creatures is alone enough to make any sane person tremble with fear. Fifth-magnitude ghosts are so powerful that I know of not a single case in which one has been destroyed through conventional means. Without exception, ghosts of this magnitude who were destroyed required special means to eliminate them.

The emotional intensity needed to create a ghost of this power is so rare that it happens but once in a very great while. I would dare say that whole centuries might pass without a ghost of this type being formed, for which we can all be grateful.

Tristessa, the banshee that haunts Mount Lament in the Keening region, is one of only two spirits I know who falls into this category. The second is the dread Phantom Lover, a spirit said to prey upon poor souls who recently lost loved ones.

In cases where this type of ghost is aware of its special weakness (and few of this magnitude are not), woe be the hero who seeks to exploit it. Such a spirit has certainly taken precautions to ensure that its weakness is never used against it. (Weaknesses are discussed in Chapter Four.)

The second category into which I classify ghosts is that of physical consistency. When one thinks of ghosts, one often assumes that they are intangible things. Indeed, this is most often the case. However, those who assume this is a strict rule might unknowingly set themselves up for a horrible surprise. The subcategories below describe the physical nature of ghosts. I must warn the reader that these classifications are broad and, in some cases, as vague as the ghosts they define. I cannot be clearer, for the supernatural often defies mortal understanding.

This is the stereotypical state of a ghost. Having no physical existence, it moves about unfettered by physical objects such as walls or chains. Such creatures cannot be grappled, for no person can secure a hold on them. Indeed, they are immune to all manner of physical harm-swords and daggers do not bite them, and arrows and quarrels pass right through them. However, magical weapons are able to injure ghosts of this type, as might certain arms of unique manufacture, such as silver swords.

Such manifestations can easily pass right through the bodies of living beings. In most cases, no ill effect is suffered from such an encounter - although a sense of cold or apprehension is not uncommon.

In rare cases, however, a wholly incorporeal essence may have a profound effect upon an individual as it passes through. I myself was the victim of such an attack. As a younger man, I was confident that no incorporeal creature could directly affect me. The reader can imagine my surprise when one of these ethereal beings turned upon me and flashed through my body. The instant it penetrated me, I was overcome with a feeling of the deepest horror. All my careful plans, I believed, could not prevail against this fiend. I was as nothing against it. In stark terror, I turned and fled.

It was more than an hour later before I came to my senses. I had been a puppet under the mastery of some fearsome creature, and it had engineered my fear. I am thankful that the effect of the ghost's passage was not more dreadful, for I have seen the corpses of those less fortunate than I who fought ghosts with more terrible powers.

A specter such as the bizarre Strangling Man of Gundarak might have a body that is largely incorporeal, but still retains aspects of its being that are seemingly solid. My experience has proven that the solid areas are not, in most cases, actually firmer than the surrounding ethereal body. Rather, the ghost exerts some conscious or unconscious force through willpower in an almost telekinetic manner. While a victim of the Strangling Man surely felt the forceful hands of her attacker on her throat, this was a manifestation of a paranormal force and not the actual grip of solid hands. Were the hands truly substantial, the creature would not have been able to pass through walls and doors, as we know it did.

This is not a hard and fast rule. I have encountered a few creatures that did, in fact, seem partially solid. It may be that they were simply better able to manifest this physical "telekinetic" force. Whatever the case, these creatures did not seem able to pass through solid objects as truly incorporeal ghosts can.

The ethereal nature of this type of ghost is such that magical weapons or those of special manufacture are required to inflict any wounds upon the creature. It may be that a blow to a solid area of the ghost would injure it, but such attacks are usually too precise for the average combatant to make in the chaos of melee.

Corporeal spirits are far less common than their intangible counterparts, nearly as rare as ghosts in the shape of inanimate objects. Through vast mental willpower or supernatural ability, these creatures have solid and complete bodies. Often, the body resembles exactly the one the ghost had when alive, down to the clothing.

How then, one might ask, do I justify the claim that these are ghosts and not zombies or some other form of undead? The answer is exemplified by an encounter I had with such a spirit.

Some years ago, I attended the funeral of a lovely young woman, an acquaintance who had assisted me on an investigation. Her body was secure in its coffin when a woman confronted me who looked exactly as the dead woman had at the time of her death. We battled fiercely before the funeral ceremony, and I barely held the apparition back from attacking other guests. Throughout our clash, it was clear to me that this nightmarish double was as solid and complete a being as I myself, for my enchanted dagger bit into its flesh as cleanly as it would have cut you or me. Yet it did not bleed, nor did it acknowledge pain or weariness, warning me of its supernatural nature.

In the end, when I triumphed over the "woman", the "body" of the ghost (though not that of the girl in the coffin, for I checked later) broke down into an elemental mist. The transformation was such that it put me in mind of a vampire, giving me quite a start. But when a chill wind howled through the drifting vapors, breaking them up and scattering them freely out the open windows, I was convinced I had faced something new.

I have since encountered but one other corporeal spirit, and I thankfully believe them to be very rare. I can only assume that a spirit of great mental fortitude is required for so concrete a manifestation of the apparition to occur.

I would be remiss in my account if I did not draw the reader's attention to a type of ghost I can only describe as "mutable". Spirits of this nature seem able to shift from insubstantial to solid form and back with ease. For example, a ghost that proved itself intangible by walking through the wall of a tomb might then become corporeal and lash out at intruders.

In many cases, the difference between this type of spirit and its various cousins is very subtle. It could well be, for example, that the aforementioned Strangling Man was able to transform from a semicorporeal state to an incorporeal state-making it a mutable spirit. Evidence in the case has led me to conclude otherwise, but the point is worth noting.

It has been my experience that ghosts who seem to be of a corporeal nature are, in fact, mutable. They seem freely able to assume corporeal or incorporeal states at will. The fact that exceptions exist, however, merits the division of these creatures into separate and distinct categories, as noted above.

The third category by which I classify ghosts is that of physical appearance. A ghost will usually fall into one of the following subcategories: vaporous, spectral, humanoid, bestial, monstrous, object, preserved, corrupted, distorted, or beauteous.

In my travels and attempts to battle the evil of the undead wherever it may stand, I have encountered so many unusual ghosts that it seems impossible to think of them as variants on a single theme. In most cases, ghosts look as they did in life more precisely, as they did at the time of their deaths. In some cases, however, the ghosts' appearances are transformed, perhaps by becoming vaporous or spectral. (However, some spirits can change their shape at will.)

I have found that the incorporeal undead come in a great variety of shapes and sizes. While the typical image of a "ghost" is that of a translucent creature of more or less human visage, it is dangerous to always expect this. Yet, for all their dissimilarities, I have found that ghosts share a number of physical characteristics. Thus, I have been able to categorize most apparitions in the ways I describe below.

Many ghosts lack the power or desire to assume recognizable physical shapes. They often appear as misty clouds or swirling fogs. Particular features can be discerned in some, while in others nothing is recognizable. Most often, those who come into contact with this type of ghost describe it as cold or damp.

Ghosts of this type may have special abilities associated with their form. I recall one man who told me the tragic tale of a vaporous form that descended upon his family one evening in their home. As the mists engulfed them, the air became infused with a foul essence that was unfit to breathe. Gasping and choking, the man dragged himself clear of his home before losing consciousness. When he awoke, he found that only he had survived.

Some ghosts appear as a point of brilliant light not unlike a will o'wisp or a light spell. These lights vary greatly in intensity, although I do not believe one can always gauge the power of the creature by the magnitude of light it gives off. In some cases, the emotional state of such a ghost is indicated by the hue of its light.

Ghosts of this type are often accompanied by a telltale sound, such as a whistling or humming. I have heard stories of spectral phantoms that were accompanied by a singular ringing said to be much like the tinkling of crystal bells.

This type of ghost is believed by many scholars of the undead to be the most common. Humanoid spirits, most of them human in origin, look much as they did in life. They are clearly of humanoid shape, although not always fully defined. Such a ghost might have a well-defined head, torso, and arms, but have legs that trail away as a cloud of vapor.

Stories are told in hushed tones by the inhabitants of Ungrad, in Valachan, of a faceless horror that roams the streets on nights when thunder rumbles across a cloudless sky. It is said that this spectral horror kills his victims and steals their faces to ease the eternal agony he suffers. I have seen the body of one of his victims, and the sight of the faceless corpse was - to say the least - ghastly. Although I have never encountered the creature itself, my guess is that he is a humanoid ghost who has a misshapen or injured face. In this case, perhaps some facet of the ghost's creation accounts for his unusual appearance and behavior.

We have all heard stories of phantom hounds that roam fens and marshes in search of mortal prey. These examples illustrate yet another type of ghost - the bestial. I have heard stories of ghost sharks that prowl the Sea of Sorrows, wolf spirits that stalk the woods of Kartakass, and similar manifestations.

In some cases, bestial ghosts seem to have a kinship with like creatures of mortal nature. The aforementioned ghost wolves of Kartakass, for example, have been reported to lead a pack of living canines. I cannot say if the live animals followed the spirit ones of their own volition or from magical domination.

It is not unreasonable to believe that some ghosts were originally not humans or demihumans, but true living monsters. Indeed, I have recorded in my journals a number of encounters with such creatures. Without exception, a monster transformed into an undead spirit is even more horrible than it was in life. In many cases, it not only retains its former powers and abilities, but it also gains new ones because of its horrible metamorphosis.

The most frightening creature of this type that I have encountered was a gruesome medusa. I had vowed to help a friend who found it lurking beneath the mountains of Tepest. We had sought out the creature, believing it was as mortal as any of us. By the time we discovered our mistake, half of our party was slain - either turned to stone by its deadly gaze (which it had retained from its mortal form) or drained of life by its chilling touch (which it had gained upon becoming a ghost).

Unprepared for a battle with such a fiendish creature, we were forced to withdraw. In the months that followed, while we regrouped to prepare for another assault on the ghost, the spirit ventured out of its lair and struck at the innocents of that region. By the time we had destroyed the phantom, nearly two dozen people had been killed - many of them my close friends. It was a hollow victory, indeed.

As impossible as it may seem, I have encountered "inanimate" objects that are, as far as I can tell, actually ghosts. To say the least, they are extremely rare. I believe that ghosts of this type are formed when an individual is greatly attached to or associated with a physical object. Upon the individual's death, he is anchored to that object so strongly that the object itself is transformed into a ghostly state.

In half of these cases, the ghost object is physically transformed so that it bears the countenance of the individual, appearing to be a painting or engraving of a face or person somewhere on the object. Needless to say, this can be a difficult type of spirit to accurately identify. In other cases, the object itself appears ghostly and insubstantial.

As an example of the latter kind of ghost, I offer the Phantom Ax of Gildabarren. Some years ago, a series of murders occurred in an isolated dwarf community in Darkon. I was in the area and joined the investigation. We soon found that the murders were being committed by what seemed to be a magically animated battle ax.

With the aid of a talented spiritualist, however, we were able to uncover the truth: This weapon was imbued with the spirit of a dwarf warrior named Gildabarren. Qildabarren had been exiled from his community in his youth, and he had returned to haunt it upon his death. His spirit had focused its energy on the ax, an heirloom of great importance to his family. The karmic resonance surrounding his tragic drowning death was so strong that the ax itself became, in effect, Gildabarren's spirit. With this information, we were able to overcome the menace and put this unsettled soul to rest.

Strange and ethereal creatures were they, barely visible as clouds of wispy vapor and twinkling, shimmering lights. As we watched, they resolved themselves into more familiar forms. Bantur cursed under his breath, then stepped forward.

This is the most common state of an apparition. A ghost in a preserved state is unchanged from its appearance at the time of death. In cases where a ghost's living form died of unobtrusive means (poison, a deadly magical spell, and the like), the ghost will look just as it did when alive. Violent death marks, as from a sword wound or similar attack, are fully visible. In extreme cases, where death was the result of an overwhelming injury, the form of the ghost may be horribly mutilated. I have seen the apparition of a man who died in a burning house, and it was, I assure you, a most unpleasant sight.

It is possible for a ghost to reflect the appearance of its corpse as it exists in the grave. As time passes, the ghost begins to look rotted and decayed, just as the body does. A corrupted ghost is often so horrible to look upon that it inspires fear and revulsion in the strongest of men. I have seen such creatures in my travels and can testify that this effect does not lessen with time - there is something so utterly macabre about these unearthly, rotting images that it challenges one's reason with madness.

It has happened that, where a body has been preserved, the ghost's visage remains unchanged though the ghost is, in fact, corrupted. I have heard stories from a reliable source in the distant land of Har'Akir of a ghost who rose from the body of a mummified priest when the rituals surrounding his death and burial were left incomplete. Many adventurers mistook the ghost for a mummy - an error that cost most of them their lives. Only through the efforts of a local priest was the true nature of the creature uncovered. The ghost was returned to a restful death upon completion of the proper rituals and sacraments.

Some apparitions have their physical appearance twisted and distorted in ways that can hardly be described. These creatures are nightmarish reflections of what they were in life. I have heard it said that they are aspects of the madness that must surely exist in the tortured mind of a ghost. Whatever the cause, they are horrible to look upon.

Many examples come to mind, but I think that none is perhaps more awful than the dreadful Baying Hound of Willisford. This foul creature looked, from a distance, to be a great mastiff or hunting dog. When examined more closely, however, the hound was really a man whose body was warped so that it resembled that of a great canine. The transformation seemed to cause it pain, for it let out such cries of agony that they were mistaken by the locals for the frightful howling that gave the creature its name.

I cannot account for the strange shape of this creature - I merely recount its tale. Its origin remains a mystery to me, as does its fate, for I don't know if it still exists or if some brave adventurers have been able to dispatch it.

Some ghosts assume an appearance that is almost angelic in its innocence and seeming passivity. They take on the guise of the most beautiful of women, the most handsome of men, or the sweetest of children. In most cases, those who knew the being in life can recognize the ghost. The creature's appearance, however, is more perfect than it could ever have been in the natural world. All of its less admirable qualities are softened or replaced in ways that make it endearing and alluring - how it wished to be in life.

I remember when I first encountered such a creature and it opened its arms to me. It came in the form of a lovely girl who had raven hair and the dark complexion of the tropics. In a voice so sweet that even now it sends shivers through my body to think of it, the spirit invited me to embrace it. It whispered to me of its desire for me and its love for me. A part of me knew that it lied, but I could not resist. Had it not been for the intervention of a close friend, the ghost would have killed me that night.

Such ghosts are uniformly evil, using their veil of illusion to lure victims close so that they may lash out at them. In many cases, spirits of this type are able to charm those who knew them in life.

The fourth category by which I classify ghosts is their origins. Although most ghosts will fit into one of the subcategories I discuss below, other means of origination should not be discounted.

I have, over the years, collected hundreds of documents that profess to detail the origins of numerous ghosts. In many cases, I have been able to assemble a number of accounts detailing the "birth" of a single apparition. One might think that so many references could not help but provide a clear and insightful view of the events leading to the creation of a ghost. Rather, the converse is quite often true. In instances where two or more authors chronicle the details by which a specific haunting occurred, I have found myself confronted with conflicting facts, theories, conjectures, and opinions that cloud the matter as surely as the swirling clouds of autumn hide the face of the moon.

Still, putting aside the less reliable accounts, there does emerge a certain pattern in the creation of ghosts. Based on this pattern, I have been able to classify most ghosts according to eight origins. In some cases, this involves the manner of the person's physical death; in others, it depends upon the events of the person's life. Occasionally, events that occurred soon after death play a part.

The eight methods or motivations by which ghosts seem to originate include: sudden death, dedication, stewardship, justice, vengeance, reincarnation, curses, and dark pacts. There are likely to be other situations through which ghosts may form, but these seem the most common.

A ghost can be created when an individual unexpectedly dies. The spirit of the doomed person simply doesn't realize he or she is dead. A spirit of this type tends to retain the alignment held in life - at least at first. As the years flow by, however, the spirit becomes less sane. Eventually, the spirit assumes a personality hostile to the living world, or else slips helplessly into madness.

Consider the case of the infamous Laughing Man, said to haunt the Valachan countryside. I have no fewer than five accounts of his "death". While they differ in details, the important points match perfectly.

The Laughing Man was a hunter who often set traps in the woods near his home. Tending the trap line required him to spend the night in the woods, something many folk - myself included - are reluctant to do in that land. Because of this, the hunter would often go into the woods with several of his neighbors in the mistaken belief that there would be safety in numbers.

One night, the group completed the chores and settled down to an evening of stories around the campfire. While the hunter was consumed with laughter following the telling of a joke by one of his companions, a group of bandits attacked them. The hunter was slain by a single arrow that struck the back of his head. Magical conversations with the spirit of the Laughing Man reveal he did not know what happened to him by the fire. He watched the massacre, unable to affect anything in any way, as the bandits swept down and killed his friends. Only in the end, it is said, when he turned and saw his own body lying at the edge of the campfire, did the awful truth become clear to him.

The apparitions before us seemed to come from all walks of life. There were common folk (transparent and vague but clearly visible) and heroes, too, of some long-forgotten conflict, clad in armor and wielding swords. I had no idea how long they had rested here before the vandals gave them cause to return.

Kevlin raised his holy symbol, a gleaming silver trident that seemed to give off a faint glow of its own, and beseeched his god for protection from these restless spirits. Somehow I knew it wouldn't be enough. This was their place, a domain of and for the dead - we would have no power ouer them here.

"Van Richten!" called Bantur. "Begin your work; Geddar and I will hold them for as long as we can!" As the brave pair raised their magical weapons in my defense, I opened the leather pouch that we had recovered from the thieves.

Some ghosts are drawn from beyond the grave out of devotion to a task or interest. A learned scholar who has spent her life researching ancient tomes in an effort to decipher a lost language might return to haunt her old library if she died before completing her studies. Dedicated ghosts are almost always anchored (a term discussed later) to a specific place or item. This is also true of ghosts who are stewards, as noted below.

Among the most fascinating spirits are those I call stewards or sentinels. These ghosts are seldom truly evil, and they seek only to protect something that was important to them in life. In almost every case, these spirits are anchored to a specific person, location, or object - although I have heard reports of wandering spirits that seek to guard over travelers in general or some other less clearly defined group.

A steward is quite adamant about his desire to protect the thing to which he is anchored. In general, his power is greater than that of other ghosts, for he is strongly dedicated to the task and seems to draw energy from the bond to the mortal world. I cannot help but pity the rogue who attempts to loot a family crypt that is protected by a sentinel spirit, for it will bend every bit of its will against him in order to destroy him.

Among the most common stewards are those who appear to guard ancestral estates. This type of spirit is often at the root of many "haunted house" stories, and they can be quite violent when confronted with trespassers and other unwelcome guests.

It is seldom possible to remove a spirit of this type except by destruction of the thing that it guards. In the case of a building or an object, this is often possible with some effort, although the ghost will obviously lash out sharply in an attempt to thwart this endeavor. In a less manifest focus, such as when a ghost is determined to watch over its descendants, this can be almost impossible to accomplish.

I have come to the conclusion that this category is distinct from the following one, vengeance, for several reasons. Perhaps the most important of these is the fact that ghosts who seek justice almost uniformly were good people prior to death. Additionally, these ghosts never act upon imagined wrongs and, for the most part, are satisfied enough with the correction of a wrong to rest again - even if this means that those who originally wronged them go unpunished. In short this type of ghost has a certain nobility, as opposed to the sort that seeks only blind revenge.

To make this distinction clearer, consider the well-known case of the Headless Gypsy. Here we have a man who was cast out from his people, the Vistani, for a crime he did not commit, When he returned to them in an effort to plead for reconsideration, he was sentenced to death and promptly beheaded. That night, his spirit returned in the shape of a swirling cloud of sparkling, shimmering dust This vaporous apparition was able to I move freely about the camp and seemed to take great delight in causing mischief, for it was able to manipulate physical objects to some extent.

As time passed, this ghost became more and more troublesome to the Vistani - valuable objects would vanish or break, horses and dogs would be released then frightened into flight, and so on. In an effort to stem this tide before it could become dangerous, one of the elder women of the band used her prophetic powers to contact the spirit. Under the Headless Gypsy's guidance, she uncovered evidence that cleared his name of any wrongdoing. As soon as this was done, the ghost vanished and was never seen again. How sweet life would be if all such hauntings could be so easily ended and all restless spirits so quickly stilled.

Perhaps the most common type of ghost is the vengeful spirit. This is the restless soul of someone who suffered a great wrong in life. Unable to avenge himself in the mortal world, this apparition rises from the grave to harass or destroy those who maltreated him in life.

The desire for revenge burns strongly in such creatures, eventually turning their minds to evil. It seems, in fact, that the desire for revenge is so corrupting that even those who seek an understandable vindication grow evil. It matters little, I believe, whether the wrong that has caused such a spirit to rise from the dead is real or imagined. Indeed, in many cases the most evil and powerful of these spirits thrive on the belief that they have been slighted when no evidence of prejudicial treatment exists.

A perfect example of this type of ghost can be found in the domain of Tepest. There, several years ago, I ran into a most unusual spirit whom I recounted in my journal as the Reflection of Evil.

It seems that a young woman named Keni was prone to jealousy whenever her husband Drakob even spoke to another woman. I have never found anyone who would even begin to suggest she had cause for this, for Drakob was as devoted and loving a spouse as any woman could want. Her jealousy became so consuming, however, that she was unable to stand the thought of his being gone from their home for more than a few hours at a time. One day, while Drakob was going about his business in the town of Viktal, a fire broke out in their home. Unable to escape the sudden, horrible blaze, Keni died.

As the months passed, Drakob mastered his grief. He eventually wooed a young woman named Zjen; two years after the death of Keni, he remarried. On Drakob's wedding night, however, the image of his first wife appeared in the mirror on a dressing table. The frantic newlyweds destroyed the mirror, only to find that the one they replaced it with was promptly inhabited by the same apparition. Over and over again, they discarded or destroyed mirrors in an attempt to drive this phantom from their life. Eventually, they were forced to flee from their home, for every reflective surface began to bear the image of the dead first wife.

The couple's new house seemed a safe enough refuge for the first few weeks, but soon the jealous eyes of Keni haunted it. When Drakob beseeched a priest from the local church to drive the restless spirit back to its grave, matters grew worse. The exorcism enraged the spirit and, if anything, magnified its power. On the night after the attempted banishment, Zjen looked down and saw the reflection of the dead girl in a bucket of water. Keni's spectral hand lashed out at Zjen and left a horrible scar upon the woman's face. The wound was unresponsive to medical care, and Zjen soon sickened and died.

When last I spoke with him, Drakob told me that he was still being haunted by the image of Keni and he dared not make another attempt to drive it off for fear that matters would become even worse. I do not know what became of him, but I left him in a state of mental exhaustion that was as close to death as any living being can bear. He made me swear not to interfere, and I could not refuse him.

This sort of apparition is extremely rare and is quite distinct from the others described here. Although I have never encountered such a creature, I have it on the most reliable authorities that it does exist.

A reincarnated (descendant) spirit appears when a being of exceptional willpower chooses to return to life by usurping or possessing the body of one of its descendants. The victim of this possession must be a direct relation; the importance of blood ties in this diabolical relationship cannot be overstated.

Once the ghost has gained control of the host's body, it utterly dominates the descendant's spirit. Unlike other forms of ghostly control, however, the victim is not instantly killed by the domination. He or she may linger on for years unconscious, in a state perhaps like that of sleep, before succumbing to the evil within the body. Yet there is hope, for the removal of the intruding spirit frees the body to return to its natural owner. Usually, a dominated individual will have no memory of the events that took place while he or she was dominated and manipulated.

Ours is a land filled with the accursed. I cannot say with certainty how it came to be this way, but it is so. Some say that each of us lives under the looming shadow of some dark curse. For myself, I can think of no greater weight to bear than the memories of my beloved Erasmus and dear Ingrid. Some of our people, however, are cursed in ways unimaginable to the common man: They are shackled by unlife.

Ghosts of this type may be created by a curse that is external in origin. For example, a man may offend an ancient and powerful Vistani woman who chooses to retaliate with the dreaded evil eye of the gypsies. Under the power of such a spell, the offender might be condemned to live out eternity at the spot where his misstep was made, until the gypsy takes pity and releases him from the curse.

Ghosts may also be forged by a curse brought upon them by wrongs committed during life. These curses are far more horrible than those laid on by an outside party, for there is no quick solution by which the victims may be released from their suffering - suffering they themselves caused. Further, those who condemn themselves in this manner are uniformly evil and seldom repent in the afterlife.

To illustrate the latter type of curse, consider the mysterious Counting Man of Barovia. My research indicates this is the spirit of a wealthy and powerful banker who had been miserly and stinting all his life. When he passed away, no one lamented the loss of such a cold, cruel person. On the anniversary of his death, the Counting Man was seen wandering the streets of Barovia night, dressed in the rags of a pauper and begging for change. Those who dropped a coin in the spirit's cup (which seemed, curiously, quite able to catch and hold their money) were left in peace. Those who did not contribute to this ethereal beggar were attacked and driven screaming into the night, aging many years from the encounter.

The final method I record by which ghosts are formed is one that I shudder to mention. However, the truth is that some would willingly trade away their humanity for the eternal life of the undead, in order to gain some advantage. They make a pact with evil forces.

It is my belief that, without exception, these people cannot even begin to understand the scope of their thirst for immortality. The ramifications of this desire to survive beyond one's own death are staggering. That desire, coupled with the centuries of ghostly life that follow, is a burden far too heavy for any mind to bear. In the end, madness and destruction loom up to claim anyone who would barter life away in so vain an attempt to cheat the master of death.

Of course, entering into a pact with some being or force is difficult, for creatures capable of bestowing the gift (or curse, rather) of immortal undeath in any form are rare. Most commonly, these pacts are made with the vile creatures that, the sages say, lurk in alien realms and planes outside our own world. Those who seek to strike a bargain with these forces of the supernatural must first locate such beings and attract their attention. This in itself is a dangerous and foolhardy thing to do. In almost every case, dealing with such powerful, evil creatures results only in tragedy and death.

Once someone makes contact with a creature capable of granting his wish for immortality, he must offer some payment for the "boon". In many cases, this favor will take the form of a service, as material wealth means little to fiends of this power. Often, the task will do nothing to further the goals of the beast, but will instead provide it with chaotic amusement.

In order to illustrate this type of origin, I must recount a story that causes me much heartache, for it involves a close friend. When I was a boy in Darken, I knew a bright and energetic lad named Eldrenn Van Dorn. We were close childhood friends, but we were separated when his parents moved to seek their fortunes elsewhere.

Years later, I saw Eldrenn again when I was in Darkon, hunting a vampire. At first, I did not recognize him. He was gaunt and pale, looking almost as if he hadn't eaten since last I had seen him. His eyes were dark and seemed to look right through me when he spoke. The striking contrast between this shell of a man and the robust boy I had known could not have been greater. The fact that he was now a sparkling, transparent ghost seemed of only secondary importance.

We talked, the ghost and I, and as the hours passed he told me of his life. He explained that his family had settled not far from one of Darkon's largest cities and that he had been raised in an atmosphere of happiness and prosperity. As he entered his teen years, his mind began to wander and he looked beyond his father's tinsmithing business for work.

He explained that his senses had seemed to him shallow and incomplete, except for the ability to see something more than what was there. I nodded, for I had heard of this yearning from others who were called to the magician's path. Eldrenn was born with the blood of commoners in his veins, but the mystical fire of an enchanter lay in his soul.

Over the course of the next few years, he began to study wizardry. His powers grew slowly at first, but he found he had a natural affinity for the working of magic. Eventually, he became quite powerful. In fact, he found he could learn nothing more from his studies and set out to contact the only man who seemed a suitable mentor to him - the dreaded Lord Azalin, master of Darkon. My poor friend seemed hesitant to say the name, and he was slow in telling me of the foul pact of obedience he swore to the dark lord.

Eldrenn spent months under the guidance of this powerful figure. All the while, he learned more and more - not only about magic, but also about Lord Azalin himself. It was through my talk with Eldrenn that I learned the horrible extent of the powers of Darkon's Wizard King.

Compilers' Note: Of Lord Azalin's true nature, more is revealed in Van Richten's manuscript on liches, which is the next section of this volume.

What Eldrenn did not know, however, was that Azalin was teaching him powers he could never fully contain. In the end, those powers destroyed my friend - consuming his flesh and blood and stealing the magical power he had accumulated in his life. Tragically, death was not a release for Eldrenn. The powerful oath he had sworn anchored him to the servitude of Azalin for all time, even beyond death.

Our interview ended when Eldrenn looked past me, out a window into the distance. I turned and saw that he was entranced by the distant spires of Lord Azalin's castle, Avernus. He bade me farewell, for (he said) his master was calling him. He then floated slowly through the room toward the castle, fading from sight until he was gone. It was several hours before I was able to compose myself and force my mind from the dreadful tale I had been told. I mourned my lost friend.

A fifth category by which ghosts may be classified is whether they are anchored. Many spirits are tied to a specific person or place; some are found haunting a singular item. I call these anchored spirits, for just as a ship's anchor keeps it in place during rough weather, so do the bonds that these ghosts feel for certain things prevent them from ranging afar. In some ways this is a blessing. Finding a spirit who is anchored to a specific house, for example, is far easier than finding a ghost who roams the countryside seeking revenge for its death.

Anchored spirits can, however, be more horrible than their wandering counterparts, as anchored ghosts are terribly powerful. They tend to be extremely aggressive, often becoming territorial and protective of the region c object to which they are secured.

Spirits can be anchored to one of three things in the material realm: a relationship, a place, or an item.

This anchor connects a spirit to an individual. In some cases, a ghost's relationship with its anchor is adversarial, in others symbiotic, or even - on rare occasions - beneficial.

The majority of personal anchors are formed when a person has served as steward to a family line. If the karmic resonance surrounding the faithful servant's death is strong enough, his soul is transformed into a ghost. His magnitude is dependent upon the emotional energy at the time of death, and he is also a ghost whose origin is that of stewardship. Likewise, in this instance, he is an anchored spirit, for he is anchored to the family he swore to serve.

Occasionally, an anchored spirit forms from someone who seeks revenge against a single person. Such a spirit is nearly always hostile to all people who interfere in the revenge plot.

Interestingly enough, personal anchors can be passed on. Thus, a ghost who returns to haunt the woman who had wronged it in life might drive its primary victim to destruction, then transfer its obsession to the woman's daughter, and so on throughout many generations.

Geddar brought his dwarven ax down in a long sweeping arc. His blade passed through two of the ghosts, causing them to cry out in pain. In retaliation, one of the other spirits surged forward and reached out its fingers to brush across the brow of the dwarf. He seemed unaffected at first, but a look of horror then spread across his face such as I had never seen in a dwarf warrior. Geddar fell, clutching his chest, and I knew in my heart that we would never hear his booming laugh again.

As I placed the last of the amulets back in the coffins, Kevlin began to pray again. He called upon his deity to return these lost souls to the peaceful sleep of the dead. Too late for our beloved Geddar, we watched as the phantasms fade from sight, and the evil of this place vanished.

- From the personal journal of
Dr. Van Richten

It may be that this is the most common type of anchor, or at least the best known. Who among us has not heard tales of a haunted grove where none dare travel after dark? Who has not heard of a house said to be home to the lingering spirits of the family who built it?

In most cases, a spirit anchored to a specific place is a steward. It will not allow any desecration of the area the ghost inhabits. Generally, only acts of violence against the ghost's "home" will anger it; those seeking to pass through the area will not be troubled so long as they show proper respect and leave quickly. Only in rare instances is the mere act of trespassing upon the soil protected by a specific spirit enough to earn its wrath - and possibly the trespasser's death.

In the distant and elusive land of Har'Akir, for example, each and every tomb is said to be watched over by the spirits of those interred there. Grave robbers who disturb their sleep, it is believed, bring death and destruction upon themselves for the crimes they commit against the dead. While I have never been able to prove this, I had occasion once to speak with an elderly man who, although he claimed to be but seventeen years old, appeared to be on the verge of death from the frailty of many decades. He assured me that the rumors told of Har'Akir's guardian spirits are true, based upon his own sad experience as a onetime tomb robber - and I must say I felt moved to accept his testimony.

Perhaps the rarest form of anchor is that of a spirit's attachment to a singular item. I have rarely encountered such spirits, but I have heard tales and read accounts of others from sources that I consider credible. Thus, I include these ghosts in this work.

Compilers' Note: Dr. Van Richten's many notes reveal that he considered the Phantom Ax of Gildabarren (mentioned earlier) a true ghost and not merely the anchor for a ghost, though perhaps it once was merely an anchor. The battle ax was originally a nonmagical heirloom, but over time the attachment of the dwarf's spirit to it perhaps infused the weapon with magical abilities before it was absorbed into the ghost's essence, becoming the ghost of the dwarf himself. Possibly objects serving as the anchors for ghosts eventually go through this process and become ghosts themselves in a merging of the material and spiritual.

In order for a spirit to become anchored to an object, that object must have held great significance for the person in life. The case that best illustrates this, at least in my mind, is the tragic yet fascinating tale of the Gray Lady of Invidia.

This woman was obsessed with a small cameo she wore constantly. I believe her young son gave the brooch to her as a birthday gift. The boy was killed in an accident that very day, and she fixed upon the item as a last link to her lost child.

When the woman died some years later, her will requested that the trinket be buried with her. Her sister, however, had always coveted the pretty brooch, and she removed it from the body just before the casket was sealed. In the months that followed, the spirit of the Gray Lady drove her to madness and death.

Things did not end there, for the cameo changed hands several more times. In each instance, it brought grief and destruction. Eventually, a young wizard with a keen eye discerned the focus of the suffering. He saw to it that the Gray Lady's body was exhumed, and the charm was at last laid to rest with its rightful owner. Once the coffin was resealed and returned to the earth, the hauntings ceased.

The sixth and final category I will discuss is that of triggers (borrowing the word from the firing mechanism of smoke power weapons). Generally, once a ghost has been created, it becomes a permanent inhabitant of the world. It remains in existence until its goals are accomplished, it is laid to rest by the actions of mortals, or it is utterly destroyed in combat.

Sometimes, however, a trigger is involved that causes the ghost to appear at a certain event or time, or under certain conditions. A trigger can be thought of as a temporal anchor, if one wishes, for that is essentially what it is.

Ghosts who are triggered by the passing of time are troublesome to track down and destroy, for one seldom knows where to begin looking for them If a ghost rises every one hundred years from a certain tomb, the origin of its curse is soon lost to memory. Furthermore, a ghost hunter might feel he has destroyed the apparition when, in reality, it has simply gone into "hibernation" for another century.

A natural phenomenon may trigger the appearance of some ghosts of this type. For example, the night of the full moon might bring forth the spirit of a slain constable who makes his lonely rounds just as he did on the night he died. The dramatic return of a bloodred comet to the skies above a harbor town might herald the appearance of a ghost ship.

Some ghosts are triggered when a certain action is performed. In a sense, the guardian spirits of Har'Akir might be regarded this way, for they are harmless unless their tombs are violated. Disrespect for the dead is the most common trigger for a recurring ghost.

The arrival of an action-triggered ghost is usually violent and immediate, Take, for example, the case of a steward ghost who returns to haunt anyone who defiles the home he built and inhabited. The descendants of the ghost sell the house to a man who wishes to destroy it in order to make room for a larger structure. As soon as the first of the demolition workers begins to practice his art, he finds himself confronted by the misty, howling shape of the house's original owner. A person who entered the house but did the structure and its contents no harm would likewise leave the house unharmed.

Cyclic ghosts are uncommon. They seem to be trapped or cursed to repeat their deeds and responses, their actions forever limited by similar times and circumstances. The tragic bussengeist, a tortured spirit forced to witness one horrible disaster after another as the years go by, is a perfect example of a cyclic ghost [MC-10 Monstrous Compendium Ravenloft Appendix I, TSR#2122].

On a less dramatic scale, I once read of a spirit who climbed the same set of stairs in a church's clock tower every time the clock chimed twelve. His walk would begin just as the first bell sounded, and he would reach the top step just as the last one ended, only to fade away once he had completed his journey. As long as it was left alone, this apparition was more a curiosity than anything else. However, those who interfered with its climbing met with a gruesome end, as the creature's touch caused flesh to run like water from their bones.

Classifying a ghost is a time-consuming task. However, the ghost hunter who has done the requisite research is equal to the challenge of returning a spirit to its proper resting place. It pays to understand as much as possible about the type of ghost being confronted, its origins, and its manner. The following outline may help the reader classify any ghosts encountered.

II. Physical consistency

Incorporeal

Semicorporeal

Corporeal

Mutable

III. Physical appearance

Vaporous

Spectral

Humanoid

Bestial

Monstrous

Object

Preserved

Corrupted

Distorted

Beauteous

IV. Origins

Sudden death

Dedication

Stewardship

Justice

Vengeance

Reincarnation

Curses

Dark pacts