Brahm Stroker was born in Buddhapest, Hungry, in 1347 during the Black Death. Inspired by all of the chaos around him during Western Civilization's greatest outbreak, he wrote down this very prescient epic on a series of parchments which were kept in secrecy in a monastery for over six and a half centuries. These moldy parchments were then recently discovered in an old trunk won at auction by the proprietors of Verboten Books, a boutique publisher based in a very small cottage in the Schwarzwald in Baden-Württemberg. In fact, the cottage was so incredibly small that the firm had to store the trunk outside while very diminutive persons transferred the documents one page at a time to a reading table, carrying them like a bunch of Amazonian ants lifting a very large leaf. Several translators subsequently died from uncontrollable laughter as they attempted to translate the tale into English for the US and UK markets. Stroker himself had succumbed to the Black Death soon after penning the tale -- in fact, he likely died before completing it. The publisher remains uncertain as to the completeness of the tale until such a time as all of the parchments have been successfully translated.
We now believe everything told you about author Brahm Stroker and his origins is just pure silliness. The publisher has engaged in an investigation to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible. In the meantime, the manuscript was just too good to pass up. So we are proceeding to publish without any certainty who the gentleman, or lady, is. To be truthful, we never saw the person who passed the manuscript under the barrier between bathroom stalls in the Baltimore-Washington International airport back in late 2017. The contract had been pushed back and forth in the same manner--negotiated via quiet whispers between stall occupants. Lord only knows what the many visitors passing through on their way to and from the urinals thought was going on. The only clue was a pair of very large black leather shoes--probably Allen Edmonds. Fortunately, no one called security. Mr. Stroker, per our agreement, insisted we leave first and not look back. Who or what left that stall that day remains a mystery ... for now.