<strong>Edwin and Blake</strong><br/>From the cliff side of the hotel, the two gentlemen can hear the sound of the wind moaning, hear the rustle of tree branches.  Depending on how lightly they sleep, it might be enough to keep them awake, the strange, alien sounds of a new place, the blackness outside almost total, suggesting almost anything the imagination can conjure, lurking outside of the hotel.<br/><br/>Some time later, both men are awakened by rustling and banging.  It takes a moment for them to realize that they are not random noises of the wind, but, rather the sound of a window, opening and slamming repeatedly into the frame.<br/><br/><strong>Beck</strong><br/>Perhaps your reading material had suggested something of the dreams that flavor your sleep, because you experience a brief, frightful nightmare that disturbs your sleep at around two in the morning.  The details are hazy, but you remember running through the snow, through trees lit by the bright, evil moon, the shadow of a ruined cabin in the clearing ahead of you.  The scent of blood is in the air, and, rather than being repulsed by it, you are inexplicably drawn to it; the urge to feed carries with it a powerful sense of joy and horror that makes you bolt upright, awake and covered in a sheen of sweat.<br/><br/><strong>Roger</strong><br/>You wake up from dreamless sleep, to screams high as cat's hiss.  "He's coming!  He's coming!  Wake up, Roger, he's coming to kill you!"