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Nope, no lycanthropes, or as Aggie said, none that bear the silver bullet, howlin' at the moon, Lon Chaney Jr. hirsuteness, ah-oooo Werewolves of London-type persona.
Oh, and no Bela Lugosi-type vampirish Nosferatus either (in case you were wondering).
How about a nice undead Barrow-wight?
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And your little sister's immaculate virginity wings away on the bony shoulders of a young horse named George who stole surreptitiously into her geography revision.
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