Dracula, The Hunters' Journals: 4 September Dr. Seward's Diary, Letter to Van Helsing

Seward checks in on Renfield. 

Dr. Seward’s Diary.

4 September.—Zoöphagous patient still keeps up our interest in him. He had only one outburst and that was yesterday at an unusual time. Just before the stroke of noon he began to grow restless. The attendant knew the symptoms, and at once summoned aid. Fortunately the men came at a run, and were just in time, for at the stroke of noon he became so violent that it took all their strength to hold him. In about five minutes, however, he began to get more and more quiet, and finally sank into a sort of melancholy, in which state he has remained up to now. The attendant tells me that his screams whilst in the paroxysm were really appalling; I found my hands full when I got in, attending to some of the other patients who were frightened by him. Indeed, I can quite understand the effect, for the sounds disturbed even me, though I was some distance away. It is now after the dinner-hour of the asylum, and as yet my patient sits in a corner brooding, with a dull, sullen, woe-begone look in his face, which seems rather to indicate than to show something directly. I cannot quite understand it.

 

Later.—Another change in my patient. At five o’clock I looked in on him, and found him seemingly as happy and contented as he used to be. He was catching flies and eating them, and was keeping note of his capture by making nail-marks on the edge of the door between the ridges of padding. When he saw me, he came over and apologised for his bad conduct, and asked me in a very humble, cringing way to be led back to his own room and to have his note-book again. I thought it well to humour him: so he is back in his room with the window open. He has the sugar of his tea spread out on the window-sill, and is reaping quite a harvest of flies. He is not now eating them, but putting them into a box, as of old, and is already examining the corners of his room to find a spider. I tried to get him to talk about the past few days, for any clue to his thoughts would be of immense help to me; but he would not rise. For a moment or two he looked very sad, and said in a sort of far-away voice, as though saying it rather to himself than to me:—

“All over! all over! He has deserted me. No hope for me now unless I do it for myself!” Then suddenly turning to me in a resolute way, he said: “Doctor, won’t you be very good to me and let me have a little more sugar? I think it would be good for me.”

“And the flies?” I said.

“Yes! The flies like it, too, and I like the flies; therefore I like it.” And there are people who know so little as to think that madmen do not argue. I procured him a double supply, and left him as happy a man as, I suppose, any in the world. I wish I could fathom his mind.

 

Midnight.—Another change in him. I had been to see Miss Westenra, whom I found much better, and had just returned, and was standing at our own gate looking at the sunset, when once more I heard him yelling. As his room is on this side of the house, I could hear it better than in the morning. It was a shock to me to turn from the wonderful smoky beauty of a sunset over London, with its lurid lights and inky shadows and all the marvellous tints that come on foul clouds even as on foul water, and to realise all the grim sternness of my own cold stone building, with its wealth of breathing misery, and my own desolate heart to endure it all. I reached him just as the sun was going down, and from his window saw the red disc sink. As it sank he became less and less frenzied; and just as it dipped he slid from the hands that held him, an inert mass, on the floor. It is wonderful, however, what intellectual recuperative power lunatics have, for within a few minutes he stood up quite calmly and looked around him. I signalled to the attendants not to hold him, for I was anxious to see what he would do. He went straight over to the window and brushed out the crumbs of sugar; then he took his fly-box, and emptied it outside, and threw away the box; then he shut the window, and crossing over, sat down on his bed. All this surprised me, so I asked him: “Are you not going to keep flies any more?”

“No,” said he; “I am sick of all that rubbish!” He certainly is a wonderfully interesting study. I wish I could get some glimpse of his mind or of the cause of his sudden passion. Stop; there may be a clue after all, if we can find why to-day his paroxysms came on at high noon and at sunset. Can it be that there is a malign influence of the sun at periods which affects certain natures—as at times the moon does others? We shall see.

Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.

“4 September.—Patient still better to-day.”

Notes: Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous

Renfield's moods line up with the ebb and flow of Dracula's own power. He rages when Dracula is at his lowest power.  We will compare this to Van Helsing's later discussion on the powers of the vampire (30 Sept, Mina Harker's Journal).

There is a long held belief that the at times of the full moon people will act crazier. It is the root of the word Lunatic. A belief that persists to this very day. I know back when I was working as a QMHP with a group of schizophrenics and working a suicide hotline that this was the belief. But there is no evidence to really support it.  Still though, I do keep reporting the moon phase.

Stoker is putting up a red herring for our good Doctor here. It's not the moon or the sun that change Renfield, it is their effect on Dracula and Dracula's influence on Renfield. 

Dracula, The Hunters' Journals: September Dr. Seward's Telegram to Van Helsing and Letter to Holmwood

Lucy gets worse and Seward summons Van Helsing. Holmwood is informed. 

Telegram, Seward, London, to Van Helsing, Amsterdam.

“6 September.—Terrible change for the worse. Come at once; do not lose an hour. I hold over telegram to Holmwood till have seen you.”

Letter, Dr. Seward to Hon. Arthur Holmwood.

“6 September.

“My dear Art,—

“My news to-day is not so good. Lucy this morning had gone back a bit. There is, however, one good thing which has arisen from it; Mrs. Westenra was naturally anxious concerning Lucy, and has consulted me professionally about her. I took advantage of the opportunity, and told her that my old master, Van Helsing, the great specialist, was coming to stay with me, and that I would put her in his charge conjointly with myself; so now we can come and go without alarming her unduly, for a shock to her would mean sudden death, and this, in Lucy’s weak condition, might be disastrous to her. We are hedged in with difficulties, all of us, my poor old fellow; but, please God, we shall come through them all right. If any need I shall write, so that, if you do not hear from me, take it for granted that I am simply waiting for news. In haste

Yours ever,
“John Seward.”

Notes: Moon Phase: Full Moon

Back when I was reading Dracula for the 6th or 7th time, I came upon the notion that certain things happened for different moon phases. I had a little hand-made calendar with the moon phases of 1892 that was using as a bookmark.  This is one of the dates that had sold me on 1892; Lucy gets worse during the full moon.

The purpose of these entries are of course to show how dire things with Lucy are and to get Van Helsing in a central character. 

These two entries are the start of Chapter 10. I have not been putting in the chapters to keep the flow going. 

Think about this, our two "main" characters, we have not heard from Dracula as a character since the end of Chapter 4. Van Helsing doesn't enter into the tale until Chapter 9 and not properly until Chapter 10. This is one of the reasons I have always said that it is Mina who is the main character of this tale. But more on that later.

Dracula, The Hunters' Journals: 11 August Mina Murry's Journal (Cont.)

Dracula attacks, though we don't know that just yet. Mina makes many diary entries.

11 August, 3 a. m.—Diary again. No sleep now, so I may as well write. I am too agitated to sleep. We have had such an adventure, such an agonising experience. I fell asleep as soon as I had closed my diary.... Suddenly I became broad awake, and sat up, with a horrible sense of fear upon me, and of some feeling of emptiness around me. The room was dark, so I could not see Lucy’s bed; I stole across and felt for her. The bed was empty. I lit a match and found that she was not in the room. The door was shut, but not locked, as I had left it. I feared to wake her mother, who has been more than usually ill lately, so threw on some clothes and got ready to look for her. As I was leaving the room it struck me that the clothes she wore might give me some clue to her dreaming intention. Dressing-gown would mean house; dress, outside. Dressing-gown and dress were both in their places. “Thank God,” I said to myself, “she cannot be far, as she is only in her nightdress.” I ran downstairs and looked in the sitting-room. Not there! Then I looked in all the other open rooms of the house, with an ever-growing fear chilling my heart. Finally I came to the hall door and found it open. It was not wide open, but the catch of the lock had not caught. The people of the house are careful to lock the door every night, so I feared that Lucy must have gone out as she was. There was no time to think of what might happen; a vague, overmastering fear obscured all details. I took a big, heavy shawl and ran out. The clock was striking one as I was in the Crescent, and there was not a soul in sight. I ran along the North Terrace, but could see no sign of the white figure which I expected. At the edge of the West Cliff above the pier I looked across the harbour to the East Cliff, in the hope or fear—I don’t know which—of seeing Lucy in our favourite seat. There was a bright full moon, with heavy black, driving clouds, which threw the whole scene into a fleeting diorama of light and shade as they sailed across. For a moment or two I could see nothing, as the shadow of a cloud obscured St. Mary’s Church and all around it. Then as the cloud passed I could see the ruins of the abbey coming into view; and as the edge of a narrow band of light as sharp as a sword-cut moved along, the church and the churchyard became gradually visible. Whatever my expectation was, it was not disappointed, for there, on our favourite seat, the silver light of the moon struck a half-reclining figure, snowy white. The coming of the cloud was too quick for me to see much, for shadow shut down on light almost immediately; but it seemed to me as though something dark stood behind the seat where the white figure shone, and bent over it. What it was, whether man or beast, I could not tell; I did not wait to catch another glance, but flew down the steep steps to the pier and along by the fish-market to the bridge, which was the only way to reach the East Cliff. The town seemed as dead, for not a soul did I see; I rejoiced that it was so, for I wanted no witness of poor Lucy’s condition. The time and distance seemed endless, and my knees trembled and my breath came laboured as I toiled up the endless steps to the abbey. I must have gone fast, and yet it seemed to me as if my feet were weighted with lead, and as though every joint in my body were rusty. When I got almost to the top I could see the seat and the white figure, for I was now close enough to distinguish it even through the spells of shadow. There was undoubtedly something, long and black, bending over the half-reclining white figure. I called in fright, “Lucy! Lucy!” and something raised a head, and from where I was I could see a white face and red, gleaming eyes. Lucy did not answer, and I ran on to the entrance of the churchyard. As I entered, the church was between me and the seat, and for a minute or so I lost sight of her. When I came in view again the cloud had passed, and the moonlight struck so brilliantly that I could see Lucy half reclining with her head lying over the back of the seat. She was quite alone, and there was not a sign of any living thing about.

When I bent over her I could see that she was still asleep. Her lips were parted, and she was breathing—not softly as usual with her, but in long, heavy gasps, as though striving to get her lungs full at every breath. As I came close, she put up her hand in her sleep and pulled the collar of her nightdress close around her throat. Whilst she did so there came a little shudder through her, as though she felt the cold. I flung the warm shawl over her, and drew the edges tight round her neck, for I dreaded lest she should get some deadly chill from the night air, unclad as she was. I feared to wake her all at once, so, in order to have my hands free that I might help her, I fastened the shawl at her throat with a big safety-pin; but I must have been clumsy in my anxiety and pinched or pricked her with it, for by-and-by, when her breathing became quieter, she put her hand to her throat again and moaned. When I had her carefully wrapped up I put my shoes on her feet and then began very gently to wake her. At first she did not respond; but gradually she became more and more uneasy in her sleep, moaning and sighing occasionally. At last, as time was passing fast, and, for many other reasons, I wished to get her home at once, I shook her more forcibly, till finally she opened her eyes and awoke. She did not seem surprised to see me, as, of course, she did not realise all at once where she was. Lucy always wakes prettily, and even at such a time, when her body must have been chilled with cold, and her mind somewhat appalled at waking unclad in a churchyard at night, she did not lose her grace. She trembled a little, and clung to me; when I told her to come at once with me home she rose without a word, with the obedience of a child. As we passed along, the gravel hurt my feet, and Lucy noticed me wince. She stopped and wanted to insist upon my taking my shoes; but I would not. However, when we got to the pathway outside the churchyard, where there was a puddle of water, remaining from the storm, I daubed my feet with mud, using each foot in turn on the other, so that as we went home, no one, in case we should meet any one, should notice my bare feet.

Fortune favoured us, and we got home without meeting a soul. Once we saw a man, who seemed not quite sober, passing along a street in front of us; but we hid in a door till he had disappeared up an opening such as there are here, steep little closes, or “wynds,” as they call them in Scotland. My heart beat so loud all the time that sometimes I thought I should faint. I was filled with anxiety about Lucy, not only for her health, lest she should suffer from the exposure, but for her reputation in case the story should get wind. When we got in, and had washed our feet, and had said a prayer of thankfulness together, I tucked her into bed. Before falling asleep she asked—even implored—me not to say a word to any one, even her mother, about her sleep-walking adventure. I hesitated at first to promise; but on thinking of the state of her mother’s health, and how the knowledge of such a thing would fret her, and thinking, too, of how such a story might become distorted—nay, infallibly would—in case it should leak out, I thought it wiser to do so. I hope I did right. I have locked the door, and the key is tied to my wrist, so perhaps I shall not be again disturbed. Lucy is sleeping soundly; the reflex of the dawn is high and far over the sea....

 

Same day, noon.—All goes well. Lucy slept till I woke her and seemed not to have even changed her side. The adventure of the night does not seem to have harmed her; on the contrary, it has benefited her, for she looks better this morning than she has done for weeks. I was sorry to notice that my clumsiness with the safety-pin hurt her. Indeed, it might have been serious, for the skin of her throat was pierced. I must have pinched up a piece of loose skin and have transfixed it, for there are two little red points like pin-pricks, and on the band of her nightdress was a drop of blood. When I apologised and was concerned about it, she laughed and petted me, and said she did not even feel it. Fortunately it cannot leave a scar, as it is so tiny.

 

Same day, night.—We passed a happy day. The air was clear, and the sun bright, and there was a cool breeze. We took our lunch to Mulgrave Woods, Mrs. Westenra driving by the road and Lucy and I walking by the cliff-path and joining her at the gate. I felt a little sad myself, for I could not but feel how absolutely happy it would have been had Jonathan been with me. But there! I must only be patient. In the evening we strolled in the Casino Terrace, and heard some good music by Spohr and Mackenzie, and went to bed early. Lucy seems more restful than she has been for some time, and fell asleep at once. I shall lock the door and secure the key the same as before, though I do not expect any trouble to-night.

Notes: Moon Phase: Waning Gibbous

Tonight, or rather last night, is the night Dracula first feeds on Lucy.

This is the section that also led me to first think that the story is set in 1892.  Mina tells us that last night (Aug 10) "(t)here was a bright full moon," well in 1892 the moon phase was one day past the full moon, though often we count the day before and the day after as the full moon. So her observations track with the real data.  This also tracks with 1897 with Aug 10 being the day before. 1897 is the year Dracula was written. 1889 is also a good potential date to be honest. This would also place the epilog in 1896. So maybe I should rethink my 1892 dates. I'll keep this in mind as I go forward.

Stoker here does a good job of describing Lucy's anemia with symptoms that were very common. 

We also see Lucy seeming get better at times. Why? Because she is enjoying Dracula's visits. 

Blogfest: Ray Harryhausen Aprreciation

Today is a celebration of the work of Ray Harryhausen and is hosted by +R.J. Thompson at Gamers & Grognards.  Like many gamers my age I saw Clash of the Titans and IMMEDIATELY grabbed everything in it for D&D (yes. even that owl).  But that is not what I want to talk about today.

No, my favorite Ray Harryhausen movie is "The First Men in the Moon".

I am not sure exactly when I first saw this movie, but I am sure it was on WGN's Family Classics movies on Saturday Afternoon. (or was is Sunday) and it was the same time I was really into gaming. Anyway, the movie was a great distillation of all my interests at the time; sci-fi, horror, fantasy, Victorian England.  It was a heady brew to be sure.

Plus those aliens.  The stop motion was glorious for the time and those monsters were just so creepy.

I remember spending sometime trying to figure out how to get these creatures into my games, or at least some of these ideas.  There is though some obvious homages to this movie to be found in Q1 Queen of the Demonweb Pits.

The most obvious "child" though of this movie (and the H.G. Wells book) is Space: 1899. The game even features Selenites and an adventure on the moon.

For the longest time I wanted bugs on the moon because of this film.

Selenite
Selenites are a race native to Earth's Moon.  They are named after the Greek Goddess of the Moon, Selene.
They are smaller than humans, 4'6" to 5'3" tall, they are of a slight build and not very strong.  They appear to be some form of humanoid insect. They are hairless and large compound eyes.  They do require oxygen to breathe, but not as much as a human.  Most Selenites are members of a working caste.  They work on the Selenite cities and help harvest the great moon cows that they use for food. The Selenites psychology and behavior was very much like that of ants or other social insects. (creatures in the book had wings and could fly, I don't remember if they flew in the movie) When not needed a Selenite can go into a self-imposed coma-like suspended animation.
Selenite cities and machines are all solar powered. They were able to keep their cities lit and oxygenated, but during solar-earth eclipses all non essential machines shut down.  The Selenites would also use  this time to enter a rest phase of their own.
The leader of the Selenites is the Grand Lunar.  This being is smaller in size but commands a keen intellect.

Selenite (Ghosts of Albion)
Motivation: Serve the Colony
Critter Type: Alien
Attributes: Strength 2, Dexterity 2, Constitution 1, Intelligence 3, Perception 4, Willpower 3
Ability Scores: Muscle 8, Combat 7, Brains 9
Life Points: 30
Drama Points: 1
Qualities: Acute Senses (sight)
Drawbacks: Attractiveness -2
Skills: Armed Mayhem 1

Combat Maneuvers
Name Score Damage Notes
claw(x2) 7 4 bash
stun gun 7 6 +Con check stun

Selenite (OSR/Basic/S&W/D&D)
Hit Dice: 2
Armor Class: 8 [11]
Attacks: 2 claws (1d4) or solar gun (1d6 + stun, save vs. Paralysis)
Move: 18'
Save: F2
Alignment: Neutral
Challenge/XP: 2/200

The Grand Lunar has no move, lesser strength (1 and 5) but very high intelligence (7 and 20).
If you game uses psionics then there is a chance "he" has them.

Looking forward to seeing what everyone else does!

I am also participating in the May Monster Madness.  So today is my first post for that.
http://www.anniewalls.com/2013/04/may-monster-madness-sign-up-linky-list.html

Dracula, The Hunters' Journals: 23 September; Mina Harker's Journal

A quick word from Mina as we begin Chapter 14.

CHAPTER XIV
MINA HARKER’S JOURNAL

23 September.—Jonathan is better after a bad night. I am so glad that he has plenty of work to do, for that keeps his mind off the terrible things; and oh, I am rejoiced that he is not now weighed down with the responsibility of his new position. I knew he would be true to himself, and now how proud I am to see my Jonathan rising to the height of his advancement and keeping pace in all ways with the duties that come upon him. He will be away all day till late, for he said he could not lunch at home. My household work is done, so I shall take his foreign journal, and lock myself up in my room and read it....

Notes: Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent

A short, but profound, entry today. Jonathan is at work (and not contributing to the plot) so Mina secludes herself by reading Jonathan's journal. This event is every bit as important, if not more so, than Van Helsing proclamation yesterday. 

Van Helsing might "know," but Mina is about to figure it all out on her own. 

While I am not trying to put a lot of stock in the various moon phases and times of year, I can't help but draw the parallels of Lucy dying during a new (dark) moon and Mina and Van Helsing having their revelations during the waxing, or brightening, of the moon. 

Spell Research

It's August and the theme of this month's RPG Blog Carnival hosted by Kobold Press is all about Magic!

Today I want to talk about something I am very much involved in right now. Spell Research.

One of the more nebulous rulings in *D&D covers research new spells.  Across all versions of the game there are spells named after various wizards and magic-users.  Some have real world significance such as Otiluke, Rary, Mordenkainen, and Melf.   Others represent historical or mythical figures.  But all have the implication that this spell was created by or named for these spell-casters.  So someone had to write them.

There are thousands of D&D spells. I think my 2nd Ed database (in Microsoft Access 97) has 3000+ spells.  I know the 3rd edition has to be more; there are about 2000 attributed to Pathfinder alone.  A project I am working on now tells me that my own OSR witch books have 700+ unique spells.

Someone had to write all of these.
Someone that is other the authors of these games and books.  Someone in the game itself. (But both are true).

So what are the hows and whys of Spell Research?

Why Should a PC Spell Caster Research a Spell?
This one is the easier of our two questions.  Why? Lots of reasons. The PC might want some new effect or magic not listed in PHB.  Say they want to cast "Frost Ball" instead of "Fire Ball" because they are more fond of cold based attacks and not fire ones.  Maybe the new spell comes about as part of other magical research. Maybe it was a total accident while casting a spell and not having the material components on hand or even a poorly memorized spell.
There are a number of in-game reasons.  In Ghosts of Albion, spells are cast based on Success Levels.  If a character casts a spell and gets really high successes on it then sometimes something new can happen.  I would give the same sort of ruling to D&D sorcerers and bards, they do something strange and a crazy new spell effect happens.  But that is an accident, what about doing that on purpose.

The most compelling reason, of course, is need.

Take a look at my witch (not important that it is a witch just yet) spell "Moonstone".  This spell stores moonlight.

Moonstone
Level: Witch 1
Range: Touch
Duration: 1 day per witch level
The witch can store moonlight in a small stone. The stones must be enchanted and then exposed to moonlight. Each stone will last 1 day per caster level unless discharged. Once invoked, the moonstone will shed soft light, equal to torchlight, and give off no heat. The moonstone does not affect low-light vision and does not cause damage to creatures that would normally be affected by light.
Note: Despite the wich's level, no Moonstone can last past the full cycleof the moon. So if moonlight is stored during a full moon then it will only last till the first night of the next full moon. If the witch's level is less than the number of days to the next full phase then the spell ends then.
Material Components: A bit of moonstone and the light of the moon.
(Special thanks to +Paolo Greco for pointing out some errors on this spell.)

Why do I need this spell?  I mean it's only first level, but a torch is cheaper.  Also, it is actually LESS effective than the first level spell Light.  You can't cast it into someone's eyes to blind them.
The reason here is need.  Moonstone is a fine spell all on it's own. But it's true value comes when paired with other spells.
Spells like Moon’s Heart (finding the time and direction, 1st level), Witch Writing (writing that can only be read by moonlight, 3rd level) Moonlit Way (finding the safe path, 4th level), and Moonbow (create a weapon out of moonlight, 6th level) all need moonlight to work.  Not something that can happen easily underground OR during the daylight hours.  Unless, of course, you have a fully charged Moonstone.

Another need is maybe less defined.  Back in the 3e days, I created a Prestige Class that had as a part of their requirements the applicant had to submit a new spell for the use of the other members of the Class.

Plus there is always the challenge and joy of discovery. Spells like Wave of Mutilation and Brigit's Flame Sheet were created just for the sheer joy of it.

I think this holds true for any sort of Arcane spellcaster.  What about clerics? druids? Heck, even witches!

Clerics & Druids
In the 3.5 SRD is says that Divine Casters can research a spell much like Arcane Spellcasters can.   But that section only says "A wizard also can research a spell independently, duplicating an existing spell or creating an entirely new one."
That's not really a lot to go on.
More to the point why would they do it?  I mean aren't clerics supposed to be given their spells by their gods?  Does it make sense that a cleric would tell his god "hey, look I know you are busy, but instead of light can you give me a spell that casts moonlight instead?"

It does if you think of clerical spells like a liturgy or even a sermon.  Think of modern day priests, preachers and other people of the cloth.  They have their holy books. They have some sermons and prayers they have always done (common book of prayer for example), some hymns that have been used since the middle ages and so on.  But they also write a sermon, sometimes a new one, each week.  The purpose is to take divine inspiration, common language, and new ideas to make something new.
Now. Truth be told Clerics (and Druids) should get a set amount of "spell levels" of power to work with an then they can perform their miracles as needed.  That might be a little too much like Mage for most D&D players' taste (but it would be fun to try it!).  From this perspective, even a tradition bound "old" class like the druid could invent new spells.   In theory, an all knowing god should know which spells to give when.  For this reason, I do allow clerics and druids to swap out spells on the fly.  Much like how D&D 3 introduced the idea of spontaneous healing magic.

But what about witches?

Witches

This is an 8th level Ritual Spell for witches.

Depending on my mood and the book in question witches can either be Divine or Arcane spellcasters. Typically I think of them as Witches.  The magic they use is Witchcraft. It has both Divine and Arcane aspects.  They learn their magic from their Patron, via a familiar, but record the spell formula in a spell book.   The underlined terms can have various meanings.  Take the girls from Charmed (why, you will see later).  Their Patrons are the past witches in their family line.  Each one learning more and more than and from the witches that came before. Their familiar in this case is their Book of Shadows.  Their spellbook is also their book of shadows.   In my Pathfinder Warlock book I have rules for a Book of Shadows that is spellbook AND familiar.

At one point in the show Charmed, the witches learn that they can also create new spells rather than just relie on the ones in their Book of Shadows.  It actually becomes a feature of the show where Phoebe (Alyssa Milano) is the sister with the best ability to come up with new spells. It is this ability they have that allows them to tap into greater and greater sources of their power.  One such spell summons the power of all their family witches to destroy what is essentially the Devil (Source of All Evil. But not without cost.)

Given this would I allow "10th level" spells?  That's a good question.  Most spells of significantly high level do a lot. A spell that powerful would need to be limited in other ways.

So that's the why, what about the how?

That depends on the edition.

1st Edition starts with some advice on page 115 of the DMG.  The hardest part of this is determining the level of the spell in question.  This is done only by comparing the spell to be created to others in the Player's Handbook.  +Bruce Heard expands on this in Dragon magazine #82 (more on that tomorrow!), but it does cover somethings not in the DMG that are important. Namely to properly stock your occult/arcane library.

An occult library.

For the moment let's assume that your character has the tools and books needed.  The time needed for research and materials is 200 gp per level per week.

2nd Edition covers much of the same ground, but with less information to be honest.  Even the amount spent is now only given as a range of gp.

3rd Edition and 5th Edition have similar advice on pages 95 and 283 (respectively). So similar in fact that it felt like I was reading the same text. Though they both give good advice on setting levels based on the amount of damage caused.  The numbers differ, but the logic is the same.

I could not find any Spell Creation or Spell Research rules in BECMI or 4th Edition.

So really. The level of the spell is largely a matter of guesswork and tradition.  I spend a lot of time, maybe too much time, trying to figure these things out.

Yeah. A lot.

Creating a Spell

I wonder if we can use what we know already to create a new spell.  This is one I am actually working on right now.  As I type these words the spell is not written, but it will be by the end of this post.

The spell is one I have thought about for a while. It allows a caster to make a perfect copy of another spell into a specially prepared spellbook.  I have decided that the spell needs the following.
A specially prepared but blank spell book. This will be 200 gp per the level of the spell copied. Following the rules above.  The quill used to scribe the spell has to come from the rare Giant Mimid Bird (or Dire Mockingbird if you prefer) and the ink is a rarer distillation of the ink of an octopus (not a squid).

The spell makes a duplicate so it is beyond Mirror Image or even Minor Creation since the creation is magical (in a sense).  It is less than Wish.  It is permanent, but more so than Permanent Image.
It can reduce the time needed to copy a spell down to hours from weeks, that is pretty powerful.
8th Level feels right, but I could go as low as 6th and maybe, just maybe up to 9th.

It's a new spell, so let's give it a name. My iconic witch is named Larina. I always imagined this was her spell.  Since it deals with the copying of spellbooks some form of Liber should be used. After all, aren't all spell books written in Latin?   Liberum works and that is a call back to my d20 Witch book.  Since the words are being set free then Libre is also good.  Alliterations are always fun.
So let's go with Larina's Liberum Libre.

Larina is a witch, but this would be good for wizards too.
Let's try it in Basic-Era/S&W/OSR format.

Larina's Liberum Libre
Level: Witch 8, Wizard 8
Range: 1 Spellbook
Duration: Permanent; see below
This spell was named for the first witch to successfully use it to make a copy of another spellbook.  The spell requires a book of the same size, shape and page numbers of the spell book to be copied. The base cost for this book is 200gp per spell level copied.  Also needed are a special quill of a Giant Mimid Bird and distilled ink of an octopus. Both may be purchased, base cost of 100 gp, or prepared by the caster ahead of time.  The ink is used up in the spell casting, the quill can be used for 1d6+6 uses.
The blank book, quill, ink and the spell book to be copied are placed on a specially prepared cloth (not rare, just clean and white). The spell is cast and the cloth covers both books.  The spell will take 1 hour per spell level to copy.  Once complete the spell will create a perfect copy of the book in question.  If the spell is interrupted during this time; the cloth removed or either book opened, then the spell is canceled and the new book, ink, and quill are destroyed.

Note: Normal non-magical books may be copied as well, but only require normal ink and a regular book with the same number of pages.

Ok. So I like the spell, might tweak it a bit before publication. Still not happy with the guesswork involved with the levels.
I would love to develop a system like I did for Ghosts of Albion but that would take a time and the return might not really be worth it.

How do you go about researching spells? Both in game and in real life?

Dracula, The Hunters' Journals: 26 May Telegram from Arthur Holmwood to Quincey P. Morris.

 A note from Arthur to Quincey

Telegram from Arthur Holmwood to Quincey P. Morris.

“26 May.

“Count me in every time. I bear messages which will make both your ears tingle.

“Art.”

--

Notes

Moon Phase: New Moon

Not much here. But I do want to call out the use of the Telegram.  Later on, we will see Harker trying to pass a note to the Count's servants to get a message back to London. These two methods, telegrams and letters, help show the divide between our heroes and Dracula even more.

I wonder if a tale like this could have been done in any other time and done as well. The Victorian, especially the late Victorian, was on the cusp of a brand-new world. The 20th Century would shrink the world down to just one place in the minds of many. World Wars I and II would later make this painfully and tragically obvious. But for now, in the 1890s, there are still "two worlds," the Old World and the New World. Our heroes are firmly part of the New.

Also, Dracula was published on this day in 1897.

Dracula, The Hunters' Journals: 20 August Dr. Seward's Diary (Cont.)

Dr. Seward continues to monitor Renfield.

20 August.—The case of Renfield grows even more interesting. He has now so far quieted that there are spells of cessation from his passion. For the first week after his attack he was perpetually violent. Then one night, just as the moon rose, he grew quiet, and kept murmuring to himself: “Now I can wait; now I can wait.” The attendant came to tell me, so I ran down at once to have a look at him. He was still in the strait-waistcoat and in the padded room, but the suffused look had gone from his face, and his eyes had something of their old pleading—I might almost say, “cringing”—softness. I was satisfied with his present condition, and directed him to be relieved. The attendants hesitated, but finally carried out my wishes without protest. It was a strange thing that the patient had humour enough to see their distrust, for, coming close to me, he said in a whisper, all the while looking furtively at them:—

“They think I could hurt you! Fancy me hurting you! The fools!”

It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to find myself dissociated even in the mind of this poor madman from the others; but all the same I do not follow his thought. Am I to take it that I have anything in common with him, so that we are, as it were, to stand together; or has he to gain from me some good so stupendous that my well-being is needful to him? I must find out later on. To-night he will not speak. Even the offer of a kitten or even a full-grown cat will not tempt him. He will only say: “I don’t take any stock in cats. I have more to think of now, and I can wait; I can wait.”

After a while I left him. The attendant tells me that he was quiet until just before dawn, and that then he began to get uneasy, and at length violent, until at last he fell into a paroxysm which exhausted him so that he swooned into a sort of coma.

 

... Three nights has the same thing happened—violent all day then quiet from moonrise to sunrise. I wish I could get some clue to the cause. It would almost seem as if there was some influence which came and went. Happy thought! We shall to-night play sane wits against mad ones. He escaped before without our help; to-night he shall escape with it. We shall give him a chance, and have the men ready to follow in case they are required....

Notes: Moon Phase: Waning Crescent

Renfield has made some significant changes here. First is his behavior switches between the daylit and night time hours. 

He also seem less interested in his collection of lives to consume, even refusing Seward's offer of a cat.

Dracula, The Hunters' Journals: 24 June, Jonathan Harker's Journal (Cont.)

 Johnathan sees more of Dracula's power, and evil, on display.

24 June, before morning.—Last night the Count left me early, and locked himself into his own room. As soon as I dared I ran up the winding stair, and looked out of the window, which opened south. I thought I would watch for the Count, for there is something going on. The Szgany are quartered somewhere in the castle and are doing work of some kind. I know it, for now and then I hear a far-away muffled sound as of mattock and spade, and, whatever it is, it must be the end of some ruthless villainy.

I had been at the window somewhat less than half an hour, when I saw something coming out of the Count’s window. I drew back and watched carefully, and saw the whole man emerge. It was a new shock to me to find that he had on the suit of clothes which I had worn whilst travelling here, and slung over his shoulder the terrible bag which I had seen the women take away. There could be no doubt as to his quest, and in my garb, too! This, then, is his new scheme of evil: that he will allow others to see me, as they think, so that he may both leave evidence that I have been seen in the towns or villages posting my own letters, and that any wickedness which he may do shall by the local people be attributed to me.

It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst I am shut up here, a veritable prisoner, but without that protection of the law which is even a criminal’s right and consolation.

I thought I would watch for the Count’s return, and for a long time sat doggedly at the window. Then I began to notice that there were some quaint little specks floating in the rays of the moonlight. They were like the tiniest grains of dust, and they whirled round and gathered in clusters in a nebulous sort of way. I watched them with a sense of soothing, and a sort of calm stole over me. I leaned back in the embrasure in a more comfortable position, so that I could enjoy more fully the aërial gambolling.

Something made me start up, a low, piteous howling of dogs somewhere far below in the valley, which was hidden from my sight. Louder it seemed to ring in my ears, and the floating motes of dust to take new shapes to the sound as they danced in the moonlight. I felt myself struggling to awake to some call of my instincts; nay, my very soul was struggling, and my half-remembered sensibilities were striving to answer the call. I was becoming hypnotised! Quicker and quicker danced the dust; the moonbeams seemed to quiver as they went by me into the mass of gloom beyond. More and more they gathered till they seemed to take dim phantom shapes. And then I started, broad awake and in full possession of my senses, and ran screaming from the place. The phantom shapes, which were becoming gradually materialised from the moonbeams, were those of the three ghostly women to whom I was doomed. I fled, and felt somewhat safer in my own room, where there was no moonlight and where the lamp was burning brightly.

When a couple of hours had passed I heard something stirring in the Count’s room, something like a sharp wail quickly suppressed; and then there was silence, deep, awful silence, which chilled me. With a beating heart, I tried the door; but I was locked in my prison, and could do nothing. I sat down and simply cried.

As I sat I heard a sound in the courtyard without—the agonised cry of a woman. I rushed to the window, and throwing it up, peered out between the bars. There, indeed, was a woman with dishevelled hair, holding her hands over her heart as one distressed with running. She was leaning against a corner of the gateway. When she saw my face at the window she threw herself forward, and shouted in a voice laden with menace:—

“Monster, give me my child!”

She threw herself on her knees, and raising up her hands, cried the same words in tones which wrung my heart. Then she tore her hair and beat her breast, and abandoned herself to all the violences of extravagant emotion. Finally, she threw herself forward, and, though I could not see her, I could hear the beating of her naked hands against the door.

Somewhere high overhead, probably on the tower, I heard the voice of the Count calling in his harsh, metallic whisper. His call seemed to be answered from far and wide by the howling of wolves. Before many minutes had passed a pack of them poured, like a pent-up dam when liberated, through the wide entrance into the courtyard.

There was no cry from the woman, and the howling of the wolves was but short. Before long they streamed away singly, licking their lips.

I could not pity her, for I knew now what had become of her child, and she was better dead.

What shall I do? what can I do? How can I escape from this dreadful thing of night and gloom and fear?

Notes

Moon Phase: New Moon

More time has passed. It seems Harker and Count are still having their meetings, but what are they talking about. He is also moving about in Harker's clothes, presumably to conduct business as Harker. Dracula is going out of his way to make sure no one comes looking for him.

His brides can manifest out of moonbeams, not so much as mist. We also see this from the count himself later on. 

Here we see the count summoning wolves to deal with the mother of the baby he stole for his brides. Why did she take so long? I am sure there is a story there. What language is she speaking that Johnathon can understand her. German maybe?

Larina Nix for Dungeons & Dragons 4th Edition

 While working on my post for earlier today on Dungeons & Dragons 4th Edition, I can't help but think about the lost opportunities that game had. I read through the books and they are barely used compared to my 1st and 5th Edition books. Though if you scratch the surface of 5e you will find some 4e DNA.

It is too bad, really, since 4e had a lot going for it. Or maybe I had invested a lot in some of the ideas that came out at the same time as 4e. I mean, if I am honest, there isn't anything I can do in 4e that I also couldn't do in 5e or BECMI, really. In any case, while going over my 4e materials, I did uncover all sorts of neat ideas. After all, this edition gave birth to my warlock character Taryn. 

But I am not here to talk about Taryn. I am here to talk about her mother, my witch Larina.

Witches in D&D 4e

4e is notable for giving us a proper witch class in Heroes of the Feywild. Well...it is a type of Wizard, but one that learned in the Feywild, aka D&D's Land of Faerie. Honestly, that works for me. I mean, I know Larina spent a long time in the Feywild, met the Faerie Lord Scáthaithe, and gave birth to Taryn. So doing all my D&D 4 playing in the Feywild would work, it would explain why magic is different in this edition.

So that all works. I know I am going to get a warlock out of the process with Taryn, but what else? I spent some time here stating up some characters for 4e and 4e Essentials, but character building by hand with this game, especially a high-level character, is a long process. It was a fun process, don't get me wrong, but long. I just forgot how many character options there are for later 4e characters. 

Here are some of the characters I did when 4e was still active. There are few witches here along with some classics.

• Aleena, the Cleric from D&D Basic (Mentzer)
• Morgan Ironwolf, the Fighter from D&D Basic (Moldvay)
• Hex, the Dark Elf witch from Skylanders
• Skylla, the "Evil Magic-user" from the D&D toy line.
• Eireann, a "proto-Sinéad" concept who now has a life of her own.

While these each took some time, each one was a really fun build. So much, really, that I could see myself running some sort of one-shot for 4e set in Feywild.  I will get to doing stats for Sinéad and Taryn for 4e when I discuss the 4e Forgotten Realms.

Larina Nix for 4e

Larina is, as always, a test-bed character for me. In 3e when I first started I tried her out as an "out of the box" sorcerer. When 4e came out I tried her as a Warlock. But Larina is no sorcerer and certainly not a warlock. I know these differences are largely academic, but I am the academic who cares about them.

Thankfully my 4e experiments could move on with Taryn who IS a warlock. Eventually, the Heroes of the Feywild book came out and solved my problems.

For this build, I am going to use the following books.

• Player Handbook 4th Edition
• Arcane Power
• Player's Option: Heroes of the Feywild 

Heroes of the Feywild is the main book, but I am also taking powers, feats, and ideas from the others. There are other books I could have used, but I wanted to limit myself to these. There is a third-party witch book, World of the Witch, that is quite good, but I wanted to stick to the official WotC books this time.

For this build, I went all out. This is Larina as a 30th-level Queen of Witches (the Epic Destiny in the book). I figured...what the hell, go fo it.

Given that in 4e, newer powers replace older ones, I just built the character backward. So, I started at what she gets as the 30th level and worked my way down. I didn't have to do a lot because while going through all my notes and character sheets, I found character sheets for her at 1st (several of these), 7th, 13th, and 25th levels. Differences exist between all of these, but all in all, I got a pretty good picture of what I wanted to do.  

Larina Nix, Witch Queen

30th-level Female Human Witch (Wizard)

Unaligned (Lawful Neutral)
Class: Witch (Full Moon Coven)
Paragon Path: Legendary Witch
Epic Destiny: Witch Queen

Abilities
Strength: 12 +1
Constitution: 16 +3
Dexterity: 16 +3
Intelligence: 22 +6
Wisdom: 22 +6
Charisma: 20 +5

Combat
Initiative: +18
Speed: 6 (30ft)
Hit Points: 155
Bloodied 77
Healing surges: 38hp

Defenses
AC: 36
Fortitude: 33
Reflex: 36
Will: 38

Vision: Normal
Passive Insight: 31
Passive Perception: 31

Skills
Acrobatics +18, Arcana +29, Athletics +16, Bluff +23, Diplomacy +24, Dungeoneering +21, Endurance +18, Heal +28, History +26, Insight +21, Intimidate +25, Nature +21, Perception +21, Religion +26, Stealth +18, Streetwise +20, Thievery +18

Feats
Human: Linguist, Toughness, Implement Focus, Fey Bond, Combat Medic, Armor Proficiency: Leather, Skill Focus: Arcana, Improved Defences, Familar Utility, Enlarge Spell, Arcane Resources, Ritual Caster, Arcane Mastery, Irresistible Flame, Arcane Fire, Pact Initiate: Warlock (Fey), Spell Accuracy, Nightmare Wizardry, Arcane Ritualist

Features
Familiar, Witch Cantrips (3), Bonus Skill: Healing, Full Moon Coven, Favor of the Moon, Move Coven Action, Witch Apotheosis, Witch Queen Presence, Pact Initiate (Fey Pact Warlock)

Languages
Common, Goblin, Elven, Draconis, Primordial, Sylvan

Powers (Spells)
Cantrips
Light, Mage Hand, Prestidigitation

At-will
Bonus: Ray of Frost, +6 vs Fortitude, 2d6+6 cold damage
Breath of Night, +6 vs Fortitude, 2d10+6 damage
Witch Bolt, +6 vs Reflex, 2d10+6 damage

Encounter
Warlock: Eye Bite, +5 vs Will, 2d6+5 psychic damage
Madness of the Full Moon, +6 vs Will, 2d10+6 psychic damage
Night Tempest, +6 vs Fortitude, 2d8+6 cold damage, knocked back 5 squares
Chain Lightning, +6 vs Reflex, 4d6+6, 2d6+5, 1d6+6 lightning damage
Supreme Glorious Presence, +6 vs Will, 4d6+6 damage, target knocked back, Allies heal

Daily
Acid Wave, +6 vs Reflex, 5d6+6 acid damage, 10 ongoing
Unicorn Form, Polymorph, secondary 5d8+6, push 1 square
Prismatic Wall
Herbal Healing
Evanesce
Witch Thorns
Moonlight Mischief, teleport 6 squares
Ride the Night Wind, Fly 8, +2 to Reflex
Umbral Stride, phase, move 10 squares
True Prophecy, +2 to all rolls

Rituals
Arcane Barrier, Comprehend Language, Consult Mystic Sages, Consult Oracle, Enchant Magic Item, Eye of Warning, Guards and Wards, Hand of Fate, Magic Circle, Magic Map, Object Reading, Remove Affliction, Telepathic Bond, Wizard's Sight

Equipment
Staff, books, dagger, shoulder bag, leather armor +6, Bracers of Defense, Ring of Wizardry, Cloak of Feywild Escape, Broom of Flying, Elven Boots

--

So I really like this build. If I were still playing 4e I might house rule that some of the other witch spells from other games could be rituals. That is the easiest way to bring them in. 

She has a lot of feats, just the reality of 4e. But I was able to do some interesting things with them that have great in-universe and in-character explanations.  Linguist and Toughness are the ones she always takes. She is the party translator and "face." Because of that she is usually in front where the action is, so she needs to survive long enough to be powerful enough on her own. Feats to make her magic more potent, to be more fiery, and things like that.

But two in particular are really fun. Fey Bond and Pact Intitate. I had plans to do a Feywild-centric set of adventures for some time. The more I work on 4e versions of Larina, Taryn, and Sinéad, the more I want to do it, and do it with 4e. These two feats then represent her time in the Feywild and her bond with Faerie Lord Scáthaithe, who would become the father of her daughter Taryn and Taryn's Warlock Patron.  I know I said above that Larina was a lot of things, but no warlock. Well... a lot of her earlier sheets were warlocks. The way 4e does multi-classing is very different than the other versions of D&D, so it's not like she is a true Warlock, just a dabbler.

Scáthaithe the Knight of Swords and a young Larina

I look forward to digging up my 4e sheets on Taryn and making some new ones for Sinéad.

Maybe I should get that Feywild 4e game going sometime. That sounds like a lot of fun.

Dracula, The Hunters' Journals: 17 September, Multiple Entries

Multiple entries from multiple sources. A lot is happening over the next few days.

Lucy Westenra’s Diary.

17 September.—Four days and nights of peace. I am getting so strong again that I hardly know myself. It is as if I had passed through some long nightmare, and had just awakened to see the beautiful sunshine and feel the fresh air of the morning around me. I have a dim half-remembrance of long, anxious times of waiting and fearing; darkness in which there was not even the pain of hope to make present distress more poignant: and then long spells of oblivion, and the rising back to life as a diver coming up through a great press of water. Since, however, Dr. Van Helsing has been with me, all this bad dreaming seems to have passed away; the noises that used to frighten me out of my wits—the flapping against the windows, the distant voices which seemed so close to me, the harsh sounds that came from I know not where and commanded me to do I know not what—have all ceased. I go to bed now without any fear of sleep. I do not even try to keep awake. I have grown quite fond of the garlic, and a boxful arrives for me every day from Haarlem. To-night Dr. Van Helsing is going away, as he has to be for a day in Amsterdam. But I need not be watched; I am well enough to be left alone. Thank God for mother’s sake, and dear Arthur’s, and for all our friends who have been so kind! I shall not even feel the change, for last night Dr. Van Helsing slept in his chair a lot of the time. I found him asleep twice when I awoke; but I did not fear to go to sleep again, although the boughs or bats or something napped almost angrily against the window-panes.

Dr. Seward’s Diary.

17 September.—I was engaged after dinner in my study posting up my books, which, through press of other work and the many visits to Lucy, had fallen sadly into arrear. Suddenly the door was burst open, and in rushed my patient, with his face distorted with passion. I was thunderstruck, for such a thing as a patient getting of his own accord into the Superintendent’s study is almost unknown. Without an instant’s pause he made straight at me. He had a dinner-knife in his hand, and, as I saw he was dangerous, I tried to keep the table between us. He was too quick and too strong for me, however; for before I could get my balance he had struck at me and cut my left wrist rather severely. Before he could strike again, however, I got in my right and he was sprawling on his back on the floor. My wrist bled freely, and quite a little pool trickled on to the carpet. I saw that my friend was not intent on further effort, and occupied myself binding up my wrist, keeping a wary eye on the prostrate figure all the time. When the attendants rushed in, and we turned our attention to him, his employment positively sickened me. He was lying on his belly on the floor licking up, like a dog, the blood which had fallen from my wounded wrist. He was easily secured, and, to my surprise, went with the attendants quite placidly, simply repeating over and over again: “The blood is the life! The blood is the life!”

I cannot afford to lose blood just at present; I have lost too much of late for my physical good, and then the prolonged strain of Lucy’s illness and its horrible phases is telling on me. I am over-excited and weary, and I need rest, rest, rest. Happily Van Helsing has not summoned me, so I need not forego my sleep; to-night I could not well do without it.

Telegram, Van Helsing, Antwerp, to Seward, Carfax.

(Sent to Carfax, Sussex, as no county given; delivered late by twenty-two hours.)

“17 September.—Do not fail to be at Hillingham to-night. If not watching all the time frequently, visit and see that flowers are as placed; very important; do not fail. Shall be with you as soon as possible after arrival.”

Memorandum left by Lucy Westenra.

17 September. Night.—I write this and leave it to be seen, so that no one may by any chance get into trouble through me. This is an exact record of what took place to-night. I feel I am dying of weakness, and have barely strength to write, but it must be done if I die in the doing.

I went to bed as usual, taking care that the flowers were placed as Dr. Van Helsing directed, and soon fell asleep.

I was waked by the flapping at the window, which had begun after that sleep-walking on the cliff at Whitby when Mina saved me, and which now I know so well. I was not afraid, but I did wish that Dr. Seward was in the next room—as Dr. Van Helsing said he would be—so that I might have called him. I tried to go to sleep, but could not. Then there came to me the old fear of sleep, and I determined to keep awake. Perversely sleep would try to come then when I did not want it; so, as I feared to be alone, I opened my door and called out: “Is there anybody there?” There was no answer. I was afraid to wake mother, and so closed my door again. Then outside in the shrubbery I heard a sort of howl like a dog’s, but more fierce and deeper. I went to the window and looked out, but could see nothing, except a big bat, which had evidently been buffeting its wings against the window. So I went back to bed again, but determined not to go to sleep. Presently the door opened, and mother looked in; seeing by my moving that I was not asleep, came in, and sat by me. She said to me even more sweetly and softly than her wont:—

“I was uneasy about you, darling, and came in to see that you were all right.”

I feared she might catch cold sitting there, and asked her to come in and sleep with me, so she came into bed, and lay down beside me; she did not take off her dressing gown, for she said she would only stay a while and then go back to her own bed. As she lay there in my arms, and I in hers, the flapping and buffeting came to the window again. She was startled and a little frightened, and cried out: “What is that?” I tried to pacify her, and at last succeeded, and she lay quiet; but I could hear her poor dear heart still beating terribly. After a while there was the low howl again out in the shrubbery, and shortly after there was a crash at the window, and a lot of broken glass was hurled on the floor. The window blind blew back with the wind that rushed in, and in the aperture of the broken panes there was the head of a great, gaunt grey wolf. Mother cried out in a fright, and struggled up into a sitting posture, and clutched wildly at anything that would help her. Amongst other things, she clutched the wreath of flowers that Dr. Van Helsing insisted on my wearing round my neck, and tore it away from me. For a second or two she sat up, pointing at the wolf, and there was a strange and horrible gurgling in her throat; then she fell over—as if struck with lightning, and her head hit my forehead and made me dizzy for a moment or two. The room and all round seemed to spin round. I kept my eyes fixed on the window, but the wolf drew his head back, and a whole myriad of little specks seemed to come blowing in through the broken window, and wheeling and circling round like the pillar of dust that travellers describe when there is a simoon in the desert. I tried to stir, but there was some spell upon me, and dear mother’s poor body, which seemed to grow cold already—for her dear heart had ceased to beat—weighed me down; and I remembered no more for a while.

The time did not seem long, but very, very awful, till I recovered consciousness again. Somewhere near, a passing bell was tolling; the dogs all round the neighbourhood were howling; and in our shrubbery, seemingly just outside, a nightingale was singing. I was dazed and stupid with pain and terror and weakness, but the sound of the nightingale seemed like the voice of my dead mother come back to comfort me. The sounds seemed to have awakened the maids, too, for I could hear their bare feet pattering outside my door. I called to them, and they came in, and when they saw what had happened, and what it was that lay over me on the bed, they screamed out. The wind rushed in through the broken window, and the door slammed to. They lifted off the body of my dear mother, and laid her, covered up with a sheet, on the bed after I had got up. They were all so frightened and nervous that I directed them to go to the dining-room and have each a glass of wine. The door flew open for an instant and closed again. The maids shrieked, and then went in a body to the dining-room; and I laid what flowers I had on my dear mother’s breast. When they were there I remembered what Dr. Van Helsing had told me, but I didn’t like to remove them, and, besides, I would have some of the servants to sit up with me now. I was surprised that the maids did not come back. I called them, but got no answer, so I went to the dining-room to look for them.

My heart sank when I saw what had happened. They all four lay helpless on the floor, breathing heavily. The decanter of sherry was on the table half full, but there was a queer, acrid smell about. I was suspicious, and examined the decanter. It smelt of laudanum, and looking on the sideboard, I found that the bottle which mother’s doctor uses for her—oh! did use—was empty. What am I to do? what am I to do? I am back in the room with mother. I cannot leave her, and I am alone, save for the sleeping servants, whom some one has drugged. Alone with the dead! I dare not go out, for I can hear the low howl of the wolf through the broken window.

The air seems full of specks, floating and circling in the draught from the window, and the lights burn blue and dim. What am I to do? God shield me from harm this night! I shall hide this paper in my breast, where they shall find it when they come to lay me out. My dear mother gone! It is time that I go too. Good-bye, dear Arthur, if I should not survive this night. God keep you, dear, and God help me!

Letter, Mina Harker to Lucy Westenra.
(Unopened by her.)

“17 September.

“My dearest Lucy,—

“It seems an age since I heard from you, or indeed since I wrote. You will pardon me, I know, for all my faults when you have read all my budget of news. Well, I got my husband back all right; when we arrived at Exeter there was a carriage waiting for us, and in it, though he had an attack of gout, Mr. Hawkins. He took us to his house, where there were rooms for us all nice and comfortable, and we dined together. After dinner Mr. Hawkins said:—

“‘My dears, I want to drink your health and prosperity; and may every blessing attend you both. I know you both from children, and have, with love and pride, seen you grow up. Now I want you to make your home here with me. I have left to me neither chick nor child; all are gone, and in my will I have left you everything.’ I cried, Lucy dear, as Jonathan and the old man clasped hands. Our evening was a very, very happy one.

“So here we are, installed in this beautiful old house, and from both my bedroom and the drawing-room I can see the great elms of the cathedral close, with their great black stems standing out against the old yellow stone of the cathedral and I can hear the rooks overhead cawing and cawing and chattering and gossiping all day, after the manner of rooks—and humans. I am busy, I need not tell you, arranging things and housekeeping. Jonathan and Mr. Hawkins are busy all day; for, now that Jonathan is a partner, Mr. Hawkins wants to tell him all about the clients.

“How is your dear mother getting on? I wish I could run up to town for a day or two to see you, dear, but I dare not go yet, with so much on my shoulders; and Jonathan wants looking after still. He is beginning to put some flesh on his bones again, but he was terribly weakened by the long illness; even now he sometimes starts out of his sleep in a sudden way and awakes all trembling until I can coax him back to his usual placidity. However, thank God, these occasions grow less frequent as the days go on, and they will in time pass away altogether, I trust. And now I have told you my news, let me ask yours. When are you to be married, and where, and who is to perform the ceremony, and what are you to wear, and is it to be a public or a private wedding? Tell me all about it, dear; tell me all about everything, for there is nothing which interests you which will not be dear to me. Jonathan asks me to send his ‘respectful duty,’ but I do not think that is good enough from the junior partner of the important firm Hawkins & Harker; and so, as you love me, and he loves me, and I love you with all the moods and tenses of the verb, I send you simply his ‘love’ instead. Good-bye, my dearest Lucy, and all blessings on you.

“Yours,
“Mina Harker.”

Notes: Moon Phase: Waning Crescent

Ok. A lot going on here. While it might be a coincidence, the moon phase is following Lucy's life.  

Lucy's first entry marks Dracula's return from London. In bat form, Dracula is hitting against her window, and surely, thanks to the garlic, Dracula knows that someone suspects what he is.

Seward, meanwhile, is going over his accounts ("book") when Renfield renews his attack. This is also a sign that Dracula is back. It is also the first time he utters the near-biblical phrase, "The blood is the life!" 

Van Helsing is urgently reminding Seward not to fail to be at Hillingham to be at Lucy's side. It was however delayed, and instead of being at Lucy's side, Seward was doing his accounts. We will deal with this tomorrow.

Lucy's final entry (though she is not out of the story yet) is the culmination of all the suspense built up to this point. Reading between the lines, this is Dracula's first attack on her once he returns to Carfax, and it likely would have killed Lucy outright had it not been for Van Helsing and the transfusions. 

Here we get an example of Dracula's powers over beasts. The grey wolf, which will be detailed tomorrow, "escaped" from a local zoo and Dracula used it to break the glass in Lucy's room, something he could not do on his own. Lucy's mother, in her fright, grabs the garlic flowers Lucy was wearing. 

We see Dracula enter Lucy's room as a "simoom" or akin to a dust-devil. This whole affair is what ends up killing Lucy's mother. Whether Dracula had been feeding on her or not, this was the final blow.  This is also the time when Dracula taints the wine with laudanum so he can feed on Lucy without the servants interfering. The specks in the air that burn blue are reminiscent of the blue flames seen by Jonathan. 

Mina's letter of wedded bliss to Lucy contrasts and makes this horror worse. A letter that Lucy never gets to read. Mina, again in an almost school-girl-like fashion, refers to Jonathan as "my husband." I am willing to cut her some slack on that. It is something she had been looking forward to for some time, and if she wants to parade this in front of her richer friend, who is still unmarried, then she can be excused. Of course, had Mina known what was happening, she would have dispensed with the letter and returned it to Lucy right away. The story would have taken a different turn, to be sure.

Does Lucy Have to Die?

I hate to say it, but Lucy's biggest contribution to this tale is to bring all the players together in one place and then die...and then come back.  This is a Gothic Horror tale, after all, and for a horror novel with a vampire, the death toll so far has been low on named characters. Yes, there was the baby and mother Dracula fed to his brides and all the sailors on the Demeter, but Lucy is the first named victim we can pin squarely on Dracula. I also say her mother was, but that is not a sure thing.  Lucy's death is the catalyst for everything that happens next.

But we need to get to that death first.