Luther Van Sel began his life in a small town in the south of Barovia, he was born into a family of blacksmiths, good ones, all the males and some females, practiced and trained in the art of smithing, for they owned the only smith in the village of Khar'ravia.

From the age of seven, life was simple, but harsh, for Luther, in the mornings he would go to church to pray to the sun, then attend a simple school for the village children, during the afternoons he would train, or work, as a smith, he was also requied to take up arms, like all males of the village, whenever needed.

Unfortunately, Luther wasn't quite as natural at blacksmithing as most of his relatives, so there wasn't much need for him in the smith, his father also demanded that he pay an upkeep, so Luther, slightly let down, looked for another source of occupation.

Luther eventually landed a job washing dishes and cooking in "The Roaring Boar Inn", Khar'ravia's only, it wasn't something Luther particularly wanted to do, but it paid and there wasn't much work in the small village to go around anyway.

A year passed and Luther grew into a very good cook, but he also grew into a very attractive seventeen year old.

That summer the inn keepers niece travelled to Khar'ravia.  Marlena, with her thick locks of crimson hair, her lithe figure and burning emerald eyes, instantly stuck a note with the whole town and with Luther himself, but more importantly, Luther's attention to Marlena wasn't unreturned.

Luther and Marlena blossomed into a loving young pair with blessings from both families, all agreed that they made the perfect couple and all asked when they'd finally be wed, although, it was around this time when terror once again struck the village of Khar'ravia, and when it struck, it struck hard.

For several nights, the dead stalked the surronding woods, normally the townsfolk would attempt some kind of defense against this, but this time was like no other, it seemed that the entire, out of town, graveyard had come to life to spite their living neighbours.

During this period the townsfolk locked themselves away as soon as darkness neared, but it was also during this time that Marlena recieved a letter, simpley marked "Marlena", curious, Luther puzzled her about it, but she spoke not of it and kept it locked away.

For days after the letter, Marlena seemed different, quieter, more secretive, perhaps even shallow, the radiance of her slightly olive skin had seemed to drain away, the gleen on her blazing red hair, faded.

During a night time lock down, a bad one, as the dead freely walked the streets and scratched on doors of waiting victims, Luther sat in his room looking, just looking at Marlena's house, recently they had sat every night just looking at each other, or trying to talk with pictures or motions, but not this night, her house was as quiet and dark as the church.

As Luther sat sadly by his window, a noise began to rise over the groans of the dead, galloping, cobbles, then from the fog horses began to emerge, soon a drawn caravan sporting a cowled rider and two dimly lit laterns moved into the town, at first Luther was shocked, some poor, unknowing, merchant had ridden into town, he would be a meal in no time, but it wasn't to be so.

Luther gasped, as the caravan moved through the town, the dead seemed to move, no, shamble, away from it, giving it breadth, giving the caravan room to move and proceed, and without hesitation, proceed it did, and to Luther's horror, it stopped, directly outside Marlena's house.

Luther watched, his eyes locked on the distant scene, his hands, now clamy, pressed tightly against the window, slowly the house door opened, and Marlena, wrapped in a thick black cloak left the house, for a second she looked up, but a second was all it took.

Their eyes met, even with the fog, darkness and distance, Luther could instantly tell she was afraid, Marlena was scared, she needed him, or perhaps he needed her, it didn't matter, the outcome was the same, as Marlena was stepping into the coach, sitting down, preparing for her journey, Luther was throwing on his militia leather armour and taking up his axe.

Luther climbed through his bedroom window, although unable to relock it afterwards.  He couldn't risk telling his parents what he was doing, they'd surely force him to stop and stay at home where it was safe, he had to go after Marlena, he had too.

There was only one pass out of the area that the caravan could use, if Luther could get there by horse first, he'd be able to stop the caravan and help Marlena.

Luther quickly moved through the town avoiding the walking dead, soon he was at the stables, the horses were scared, but Luther managed to calm one enough to mount it and ride quickly from the town, again avoiding the shambling dead.

Soon Luther was galloping through the woods, at night, no one travels the woods, hardly during the day do people dare to risk them, but it wasn't an option for Luther, he had to travel the woods so that he could reach the mountain cross before the caravan did.

Luther raced through the woods, trees flashing passed him only lit with the dim moonlight, which was mostly blocked by the dense canopy above, then suddenly something was in front of the horse, the horse went down and Luther was just quickly thrown from the horse.

Injuried, Luther quickly picked himself to his feet and turned to the scene, the horse lay on it's side, thrashing, what the horse had collided with lay underneath it, although very much still alive, no, not alive, dead.

Drawing his axe Luther backed away from the area as the shadows moved to the horse, ripping into it, sweating and panicing Luther turned and ran from the area, now he would never make the pass, he may never even leave the woods, he thought how foolish he had been, now he would die out here, alone and his Marlena would forever be alone as well.

The journey back through the woods wasn't as quick, easy or safe as entering them, now shadows lurked and followed him, the dead seem drawn to him, like a gnat to a open flame, never-the-less Luther steadied his axe and tried to get back to town, it was the only thing he could think of doing, for he could not possibley catch a coach at night, especially a night like this, by foot.

Scared, Luther finally managed to work his way through the mists and back into town, avoiding everything he possibley could, and fighting off what he could not, as he parted the thick mist and stepped into town, Luther realised how bad this night had been, the militia was actually partly out, grouped in the town center, around Luther could see houses with open doors, it was obviously that they hadn't been opened on the inside.

Quickly Luther moved through the streets and back to his own house, eyes closed at first, he then glimpsed his house, Luther sighed in relief, the door remained bolted and closed, the windows sealed and shut, he paused, he looked up at his window, then again, he'd left it slightly open, Luther quickly climbed up the drainage pipe and entered through his bedroom window, although slightly before doing so he paused and examined the long, deep and very fresh claw marks on his window seal.

Once again drawing his axe, Luther looked around his room, clean, fresh, as he had left it, but wait, his bedroom door was open, the house silent as night and only dimly lit from the lanterns downstairs, slowly Luther crept from his bedroom and onto his landing, he called out to his parents, the house remained quiet.

Sweating for the second time in the night, Luther stepped onto the hallway, as he looked around his heart sunk, between the bedroom of his two brothers and sister and the bathroom lay a trail of blood, the kind of trail a body would make, with fear freely flowing through him he slowly kept down to his siblings room, the door was slightly ajar.

Luther peeked inside, with only the dim moonlight lighting the room he could make out little, slowly he ventured inside and looked around, empty, the room was empty, he moved over to one of their cots, the bed sheets were dark, he touched them, damp, he moved his shaking hand to his face, blood, it smelt of blood, suddenly something broke inside Luther and he rushed, teary eyed, from the bedroom and smashed the bathroom door apart.

The bathroom was lit up, Luther felt his knees weaken and he thumped into the side of the door, the white room was awash with blood, the bath curtain lay bloodied in the bath, but there was no bodies, there was nothing but blood, flowly blood.

Not thinking, Luther rushed to the rooms upstairs and bashed the doors open, all the rooms were empty, then he picked up the smell of incense from doorstairs, quickly Luther ran downstairs into the main room, the incense was thick, very thick, the room was also clouded, fogged even, Luther could make out distinctive lights spaced around the room, candles most likely.