Ghost

There upon the house stairs stood the lady in question herself— more a thing of aether and ectoplasm than skin and substance. Still clad in a gown befitting a queen of the ladies of the night, her ivory skin shimmered in spectral translucence, the suggestive curves of her shoulders sweeping upward to a neck wearing gore like a ruby choker—and nothing more! Outstretched in a delicate claw, gripped unceremoniously by a shock of ephemeral hair, swung the lady’s misplaced head, her beguiling features darkened by the sight of vistas unknowable. Slowly she descended, her every spectral step heralded by a grave note from the towering salon clock’s invocation of the eleventh hour—exactly the time Boles had conjectured the house mistress had been so thoroughly finished.

—Ailson Kindler, Steps Upon the Sanguine Stair

Beyond the world of mortals lies a realm of spirits, an unknowable reach forbidden to all but departed souls and the guardians and gaolers of that fantastic and terrible realm. Death alone serves as both gate and key to this eternity, a supposedly one-way passage from which few return. Yet for some, even the laws of existence prove insufficient to drive them from the realm of the living, with injustice, delusion, fury, or fear compelling them to cling to the f leeting tendrils of their failing lives. In states of boundless sorrow or deathless malice, such spirits linger on, no longer kin to the quick, but death given an impression of thought and form, dire witnesses at the door to beyond—ghosts of the living.

With indescribable forms and myriad intentions, the wayward souls of those recently felled and long forgotten wreak their wills upon the mortal world, seeking to compel or terrorize the living with their undeniable ambitions. While the legends of ages spread stories of unquiet spirits, perhaps no tales prove so diverse and haunting as those of the disembodied dead, and what dread intentions they hold for the living.

Necrology

More than merely wayward souls cast from the cycle of eternity by random chance, the vast majority of ghosts manifest for a purpose—whether one of their own desires or born from the method of their deaths. So-called “ghost stories” often tell of souls lingering upon the mortal world in an attempt to put right some injustice—typically whatever evil led to their deaths—or to prevent some terrible fate. Yet the circumstances leading to the appearance of a ghost need not be so iconic. Although the mysteries of death may never be fully understood by mortals, the most significant requisite in a ghost’s appearance seems to be extraordinary circumstances of trauma surrounding its death. Such a condition need not be a torturous murder or a violent betrayal—the knowledge of a great responsibility or the jeopardized life of a loved one can potentially prove sufficient cause to compel a soul to linger on past its physical capacity. Such leads some scholars of the afterlife to debate whether or not ghosts are truly wayward souls, or rather mere impressions of a single powerful emotion or desire, left as an obsessed copy of a powerful will.

Aside from personal determination, extreme circumstances might also lead to the formation of ghosts. Tales of unquiet battlefields, ghostly ships, and whole haunted cities typically arise from some manner of terrible collective ordeal. Such conditions must be exceptionally painful or damaging to the mortal mind, as not every fallen fortress or disaster-scoured community results in some mass haunting. While individual ghosts typically require some measure of personal connection, suffering, or desire to bind them to the land of the living, such is lessened for ghosts created en masse. The shared experience of multitudinous lesser horrors are seemingly significant enough to match the singular distress of a lone spirit, allowing large groups of spirits to manifest due to an incident of extreme shared emotion or disturbance that might not provoke the ghostly manifestation of an individual.

While many forms of undeath carry with them some measure of dark appeal, such can never be said of ghosts. Foremost, the transition from life to spirit is mysterious and unreliable, with no known cases of a willing, purposeful transition into this state of unlife being recorded. Adding to this is the typically stagnant condition of the ghostly state. Unlike many varieties of undead, most ghosts are unable to retain new knowledge after their deaths, and even memories of their undead existences seem blurred and timeless. Only in exceedingly rare exceptions have ghosts that defy these truths been encountered, with even those existing for millennia having little impression of the modern age or the gulfs of time since their deaths.

Habitat & Society

Encountering a ghost rarely proves as simple as stories of the macabre often imply. Few, for example, care to linger about the monument-dotted graveyards or moldering potter’s fields containing their remains. Such a seeming incongruity is perhaps better understood if one views ghosts as remnants of the living rather than as manifestations of the dead. Typically, ghosts arise near the places they died or at sites to which their lives were connected, with the manors of fallen lords, the vaunted halls of deceased statesmen, and the simple hovels of wayward peasant spirits all holding more connection to the time and meaning of a life than the circumstances of death.

To say that a ghost might appear anywhere only slightly hyperbolizes the truth. As noted, a traumatic event and a place of meaning characterize the unlives of most wandering spirits. Beyond these truths, though, nearly any location might give rise to ghostly hauntings. A certain genuineness hides behind the common fear of aged places, crumbling ruins, abandoned residences, and even shadowy attics. Such settings typically hold connections to lives past, whether as the homes of the deceased or repositories of the trappings of past generations, and draw an undeniable weight from the histories, events, and meaningful happenings that transpired within and about them. And with such weight comes the potential for connection, possibly strong enough to draw the spirits of former owners. This is not to imply that ghosts only linger in the dusty places of the world, though. Tales tell of innumerable ghosts with unusual haunts—such as apparitions upon pilgrim roads, the spirits of fallen mountaineers, or the ghostly beasts of ravaged wildernesses—even those that follow the vestiges of their former homes into new dwellings. Only reaches devoid of contact with the living are sure to be entirely free of ghosts, for where the quick tread, their spirits inexorably follow.

Despite nearly any place’s potential for a ghost’s appearance, lost spirits are an extreme rarity, for the laws and paths of natural life are powerful beyond the strength of most mortal wills and all but the most potent magic to defy. Even those that do appear only do so temporarily, as many circumstances that might draw a soul away from its final rest lose their significance with the passing of time. Souls attempting to protect someone, avenge some wrong, or see a loved one once more typically linger only for a matter of hours or days before their desires are fulfilled and they willingly release their holds on life. The will or dementia that shackles a spirit to the world for ages proves far rarer and born of elaborate circumstances. Thus, while sightings of ghosts or brushes with the dead are relatively common in the folktales of even the smallest communities, actual incidents of an established ghostly resident or continuous haunting prove truly extraordinary.

Even in areas where multiple ghosts do arise through the most unusual of circumstances, these spirits typically have no concern for one another, showing little more interest toward the living. In most cases, such undead seek only to interact with those who hold some connection to their former lives, bearing on their deathless existences, or those who somehow interrupt their immortal reveries. For example, the ghost of a murder victim might only interact with those it deems sympathetic to avenging its death, while the spirit of lonesome dowager might only treat with those who resemble her lost ancestors. Even in exceptionally rare cases where multiple ghosts haunt the same area, how such apparitions interact largely ref lects their relations in life, with the apparitions of strangers ignoring one another even after centuries of cohabitation and enemies playing out rivalries over endless ages.

Facets of Fear

More so than even the dread of death, ghosts embody the eternally unknowable, and the irreconcilable fear of the afterlife. Among the oldest of humanity’s fears, the question of what occurs after one’s last breath has been addressed by philosophers, theologians, and storytellers since prehistory. Finding evidence lacking, nearly every approach to the question suggests some manner of life after death, each such answer proving from one vantage comforting and, from another, singularly terrifying. The concept of one’s flesh being possessed by a greater, spiritual self that goes on to life again—whether in reward or punishment, in this world again or on one wholly new—inspires more than just tales of the afterlife, but of spirits that fail to move past the mortal world, whether by cosmic accident or undying intention. Thus, one of the oldest literary and folkloric traditions, the ghost story, is born.

Aside from being intrinsically fearful creatures themselves—unnatural, disembodied manifestations of the dead—ghosts possess a deeper horror in the questions concerning their reasons for existence and intentions toward the living. Rarely do spirits forgo the afterlife without great cause, giving spirits typically dire motivations. The ghost that seeks to avenge its death, to right some injustice, to torment its murderer, or to lay claim to that which it eternally views as its own all occur again and again in the folklore and literature of dozens of cultures. To aid them in their dire goals, ghosts draw upon strange powers of the dead and the afterlife, manifesting a wide range of supernatural powers from intense cold to possession of bodies or items, moving or destroying objects, unnaturally changing their environment, or even wilder and stranger effects. The ghostly traditions of different cultures also have widely different explanations and descriptions of ghosts and their powers, making such spirits among the most variable and unpredictable of all undead.

Varieties of Ghosts

Much confusion arises in folktales and legends between the use of the word “ghost” referring to a specific type of undead and as a generalization for all ethereal undead. Aside from ghosts, numerous disembodied undead exist, just a smattering of the most common being noted here.

Allips: Few fates could be more horrifying than having a life of fear and suffering end, only to find another existence of such torment stretching into eternity. Such is the doom of allips, the mad dead. Souls of the insane too hate-crazed and vicious to find their ways to the afterlife, these shades blather endlessly, spouting profanities and demented tirades from forms stripped of all mortal reason, reduced to nightmarish hallucinations themselves.

Shadows: Little more than impressions of wickedness, shadows are the souls of petty villains too fearful of their eternal punishments to pass on to the outer planes, yet too weak-willed to manifest as greater undead. Cursed to wander the darkened places of the world, these pathetic spirits become scavengers of life, sapping vitality from the living in a hopeless attempt to reclaim even an impression of their forgotten lives.

Spectres: While ghosts take on a fearful variety of forms for all manner of traumatic reasons, instances of extreme violence and hatred often give rise to a lesser form of spirit: spectres, souls of rage. Compelled to linger upon the mortal plane by their fury, these vicious spirits seek to revenge themselves upon all living creatures, violently aff licting others with their own terrible condition. The light of the sun weakens spectres, forcing them into dark, dismal haunts that only further fuel their loathing for life in all its forms.

Wraiths: The souls of exceptionally malevolent individuals, wraiths are manifestations of true evil. They torment the living not out of any particular desire or rampant emotion, but in the indulgence and sadistic enjoyment of malice for malice’s sake. Those that intrude upon their darkened realms risk falling victim to their deadly touch, a freezing grip that drains the vital energy from the living until all that’s left is an ashen husk and a pathetic soul enslaved to the wraith’s cruel whims.

Ghostly Corruptions

Just as the reasons for ghostly materialization differ wildly, so too do the abilities manifested by the disembodied dead. Upon becoming a Ghost the dead have displayed a range of special powers, each representative of the spirit’s cause of death or undead intentions. Presented here are a variety of special attacks, encountered by foes of these lost souls. 

Corrupting Gaze (Su): The ghost is disfigured through age or violence, and has a gaze attack with a range of 30 feet that causes 2d10 damage and 1d4 Charisma damage (Fortitude save negates Charisma damage but not physical damage).

Corrupting Touch (Su): All ghosts gain this incorporeal touch attack. By passing part of its incorporeal body through a foe’s body as a the ghost inflicts a number of d6s equal to its CR in damage. This damage is not negative energy—it manifests in the form of physical wounds and aches from supernatural aging. Creatures immune to magical aging are immune to this damage, but otherwise the damage bypasses all forms of damage reduction. A Fortitude save halves the damage inflicted.

Deathly Delusion (Su): The ghost died suddenly or unexpectedly. Not even realizing it’s dead, this spirit goes about the routines of its daily life, ignoring the living in a state of undead denial. Should a ghost with this ability pass through the square of a living being, that creature must make a Will save or fall into a fitful sleep full of nightmares that aren’t its own for 1d4 minutes. For a number of following nights equal to the ghost’s Charisma modifier, the victim must make an additional Will save or be affected as per the spell nightmare. (CR +0)

Draining Touch (Su): The ghost died while insane or diseased. It gains a touch attack that drains 1d4 points from any one ability score it selects on a hit. On each such successful attack, the ghost heals 5 points of damage to itself. When a ghost makes a draining touch attack, it cannot use its standard ghostly touch attack.

Fatal Fate (Su): The ghost died with some work undone or desire unfulfilled. In its desire to see its efforts completed, once per day, a ghost can lay a compulsive curse upon the living, forcing them to either take up its work or face a terrible end. A ghost can lay this curse by making a touch attack, which forces the target to make a Will save or be stunned for 1 round. During this round, the target receives a f lood of images suggesting a course of action—though such might remain vague or require research into the ghost’s history to discern an exact meaning. The target has a number of days to fulfill the ghost’s intentions equal to 14 days minus the ghost’s Charisma modifier, to a minimum of 7 days. If the target does not fulfill the course of action suggested by the vision within this set period, he takes 1d4 points of Constitution drain per day. This effect can be overcome via the spell remove curse, requiring a caster level check with a DC equal to this effect’s initial DC. (CR +0)

Frightener (Su): The ghost’s unique personality manifests even in death. The ghost gains a number of spell-like abilities equal to its Charisma modifier. It may select these abilities from the following list: animate rope, chill metal, control undead, dancing lights, entangle, faerie fire, fog cloud, ghost sound, heat metal, hideous laughter, invisibility, minor image, open/close, pyrotechnics, scare, sleep, spiritual weapon, soften earth and stone, summon swarm, warp wood, or whispering wind. A ghost may use each of these abilities 3 times per day. The DCs are 10 + spell level + the ghost’s Charisma modifier. (CR +0)

Frightful Moan (Su): The ghost died in the throes of crippling terror. It can emit a frightful moan as a standard action. All living creatures within a 30-foot spread must succeed on a Will save or become panicked for 2d4 rounds. This is a sonic mind-affecting fear effect. A creature that successfully saves against the moan cannot be affected by the same ghost’s moan for 24 hours.

Grave Trappings (Su) The ghost died with a strong attachment to a specific item or set of objects. A ghost with this ability may choose a number of items it died with equal to its Charisma modifier to carry with it into death. The ghost continues to be able to use and benefit from these spectral duplicates just as though they were the real things. Weapons and armor are treated as having the ghost touch special ability, while other items act as being incorporeal themselves and can be manipulated by the ghost. Regardless of the type of object, all selected items are treated as being part of the ghost’s form and cannot be disarmed or removed from the ghost (even by the ghost). Should a ghost be destroyed, its equipment reappears with it upon rejuvenating. (CR +0) Occasionally, the transition into death might imbue a single ghostly item with strange powers, granting it powers comparable to a magic item suited to the ghost’s character level.

Malevolence (Su): The ghost’s jealousy of the living is particularly potent. Once per round, the ghost can merge its body with a creature on the Material Plane. This ability is similar to a magic jar spell (caster level 10th or the ghost’s Hit Dice, whichever is higher), except that it does not require a receptacle. To use this ability, the ghost must be adjacent to the target. The target can resist the attack with a successful Will save. A creature that successfully saves is immune to that same ghost’s malevolence for 24 hours.

Phantasmagoria (Su): The ghost died as a victim of its own delusions or folly. A number of times per day equal to the ghost’s Charisma modifier, the ghost can create an elaborate illusion. This illusion functions similarly to the spell mirage arcana in combination with multiple major images, allowing the ghost to recreate any scene, setting, or characters it wishes. The ghost can even incorporate itself into the effect, appearing as it wishes within the illusion as if it were under the effects of alter self. The entire illusion can be disbelieved with a Will save. The illusion is treated as a 6th-level spell created by a caster with a level equal to the ghost’s CR. If any part of the illusion is dispelled, the entire illusion fades. (CR +0)

Reinvigoration (Su): The ghost died in the throes of a terrible fear, and is desperate for any way to escape its fate, both perceived and actual. Once per round a ghost can possess an adjacent corpse, merging with the remains and reanimating them as a skeleton or zombie. The skeleton or zombie animated by this ability may be no higher than the ghost’s CR minus 2. If the animated corpse is destroyed, the ghost reappears in the corpse’s square and cannot possess another body for 1d4 rounds. (CR +0)

Telekinesis (Su): The ghost’s death involved great physical trauma. The ghost can use telekinesis as a standard action once every 1d4 rounds (caster level 12th or equal to the ghost’s HD, whichever is higher).

Vehemence (Su): A ghost with a powerful connection to a specific location gains a measure of mastery over the objects in that place. Once per round, a ghost can possess an object of size Large or smaller, giving it life as an animated object. This animated object’s CR can be no higher than the ghost’s CR minus 2. If the target object is being held by a creature, the object can make a Will save using its bearer’s saving throw to resist possession. If the animated object is destroyed, the ghost reappears in its square and cannot possess another object for 1d4 rounds. (CR +0)

Known Ghosts

All manner of geists and apparitions linger in the dark, ancient, and mysterious places of Golarion. A handful of some of the best-known local ghosts follows.

Coath, The Wight Whale: Tales along the eastern coast of Garund have long told of Coath, the Black Whale, a murderous leviathan that seemed to take umbrage at man’s incursion into its watery realm. For years, the gigantic, dusky whale roamed the seas and brought ruin to even the best-armed vessels, typically under the cover of starless night. Finally, whalers from Ilizmagorti managed to coax the beast into a stretch of sandy shallows, and with blade, poison, and great loss of life finally laid the monster low. Soon after, a gigantic ghost of radiant darkness was spotted near Mediogalti Island, seeming to circle the vast landmass in search of land-bound prey, with several able ships disappearing soon after. Claimed by pirates to be the vengeful spirit of that hateful sea beast Coath, many sailors of Ilizmagorti fear to travel on moonless nights, when the sea proves darker and the stars less bright, out of fear of what they call the Wight Whale, the king of the stormy seas returned to take revenge on not just its killers, but all who sail.

Lord Carnavy Trous: In life, the good-natured Lord Trous straddled Oppara’s social and scholarly world, being a gentleman antiquarian of some repute. The third son of a minor noble family, he filled his sumptuous home with room upon room of bookshelves, creating a maze-like library mansion. When Trous finally took a wife (late in life and at his family’s insistence), Lady Sharrine Lemmor, it was for show and entirely loveless. Lemmor, a vain and moody woman, demanded Carnavy dote on her, giving him little peace and coming to resent his historical pursuits. In her instability and bitterness, it was little problem to murder her husband by crushing him under a stack of his beloved tomes. In death, however, the timid nobleman found himself free of the demands of standing and courtesy, taking to haunting his terrible former wife with zeal. The Trous Manor, a halfday’s travel from Oppara, is now a deadly trap of winding halls and shifting tomes wherein lurk the thoroughly insane Lady Sharrine Lemmor and the spirit of her vengeful husband.

Ordellia Whilwren: Tales in the Varisian city of Magnimar tell of the ghost of one of the city’s first leaders, Mistress Ordellia Whilwren, who aided in establishing friendly relations between the fledgling city and the region’s Varisian wanderers. Magnimarians have long claimed that during poor fishing seasons, at the threat of war, or when the people seem lost, a vision of the dead leader appears upon the towering Arvensoar, her comforting ghost often leaving some token to aid the city through its need, such as a historical relic or an encouraging Harrow card. The sightings and tokens often serve to hearten the people and comfort the city with the knowledge that the spirits of the past still watch over their descendents.

Vampire

“What? I don’t compare to the beauties of Caliphas?” she dared, her cool breath on my neck, startling me with her closeness. In truth, she didn’t compare. Even through her arresting vermilion gown she was naked, her boldness and fire making her so, nothing like the precocious, empty-headed debutantes of the capital with their painted-on faces and poisonous whispers. Her intentions were obvious and overwhelming, and with the wound of Duristan’s loss there was little I could do to resist those eyes, that skin, those lips. I tried to mutter something, but even to myself it sounded like nothing more than a moan of consent. The last thing I remember was glimpsing the glow of jaundiced eyes through the crazed salon glass and a fanged sneer that followed me even into darkness.

—Ailson Kindler, Galdyce’s Guest: Feast of the Nosferatu

Priests often call death a release, a liberation from the bonds and concerns of life, allowing one to pass on into a state of rapture. In the vampire, such comforting words take on a terrifying cast, for once freed from the fears and cares of the living, only the basest hunger and unsatisfied lusts survive, desires that transform even the most virtuous souls into monsters.

The legendary hunger of vampires stretches across endless years and countless tales. From the base, bestial nature of the nosferatu, to the delicate, perfumed cravings of the vetalas, vampires are creatures of unbound desire and subjects of endless fascination for mortals. Their very nature drips with our desires-to be like them, to be with them, to destroy the parts of us that they represent. We fear not only the physical harm they can inflict, but also that we may not be able to resist their tempting gifts. After all, the promise of the vampire is not death, but an eternity of wicked decadence and powerful  sensuality.

Any discussion of vampires is one tainted by ages of lore and fiction, where superstition and fantasy muddle life-sparing fact. The truths of these horrors lie riddled with contradiction: vampires are dead, but live on; their bodies are cold, yet their beauty never fades; they sow suffering and death, yet they bear the faces of friends. While much is made of the ability of holy talismans, coffin dirt, hawthorne stakes, and sunlight to combat and destroy these undead, in practice there is no such thing as a common vampire, nor one that is not aware of its vulnerabilities and won’t summon lifetimes of experience to continue its deathless rampage. Only an understanding of the goals and fundamental natures of these elusive undead might aid one in deterring their undying appetites, yet even then, all the resources of the living stand wanting when compared to the unnatural might and ages-old cunning of these princes of the undead.

A vampire who can manage its vulnerabilities and dependencies is free to roam far and wide in search of prey, power, or even adventure. Vampiric influence is seen, or whispered of, across Golarion, and with such a long life and keen mind, the typical vampire leaves a mark upon its environment that goes beyond mere butchery.

Origins of Vampires

The many distinct vampire races of Golarion all share a common ancestry: the strigoi. These first vampires bled into Golarion from the Plane of Shadow. What brought them into the light has long been forgotten, though hissed secrets of the Whispering Way hint at a portal made by a primal necromancer who imagined vampirism as the secret to unlife. Over thousands of years, these ancient creatures died out, returned to their homeland, or evolved into the modern vampire races that now prey on the lives of mortals.

Among the first vampiric descendants of the strigoi were the nosferatu. Enraged by their own hunger and decay, these villains fell with bestial fury onto the bodies of Golarion's inhabitants and supped on their warmth and blood millennia ago.

In time, some spurned the animalistic ways of their brethren and embraced the cult of youth that pervaded their mortal prey. These became the moroi, the most common among vampirekind. Proud of their perceived ascension, ageless skin, and ability to spawn, they soon outnumbered their withered forefathers, and are what most people mean when referring to "vampires."

A few strigoi too proud to feed on the filthy fluids of lesser beings starved almost to extinction, but from among these evolved the vetalas, vampires able to consume the pure humanity from their victims' minds. 

Last of the true vampires, the jiang-shis evolved from strigoi who fell into deep hibernation for countless centuries, only to be awakened by their overwhelming desires, starved and half mad. Forgetting their pride, they swiftly took to sucking the life force from the very breath of their prey.

Youngest and most distant of all vampire kind are the dhampirs-the inevitable result of thousands of years of vampires walking among the fertile races of Golarion. Shunned by both their undead progenitors and the mortals cursed to bear them, dhampirs face a difficult and often short life.

Birth of the Undead 

Whereas the transformation to other kinds of undead often robs the subject of its humanity, vampirism instead heightens the subject's state of being into a force of personality unequalled.

Since transformation leaves mortal knowledge largely intact, some consider vampirism an alternative to lichdom. What they fail to anticipate is the true horror of conversion. Even the gentlest turning is more harrowing than death. In death, the horror of passing is forgotten, but a vampire lives on with the agonizing memory of its very life force being drained-of awakening to the torment of stagnant blood and useless organs.

Necrology

Even given the wide range of folklore and legends in various cultures, few fail to possess at least passing knowledge of the vampiric cycle of predation and rejuvenation. While fireside tales do much to spread general details, such can hardly be relied upon when identifying one of these undead, and even less so when combating them. 

The ultimate fear of vampires rises from their storied kiss, the bite and telltale marks that spread death and the dark curse of unlife. As the most discussed and feared power of these unliving hunters, vampires’ pronounced fangs draw the blood of the living, allowing the vampire both to feed upon the vital fluid and, more terrifyingly, to create more of its kind from its victims. Though this is not an uncommon trait of the undead, in vampires such corruption finds refinement, affording them the choice of slaying their victims outright or resurrecting them, as either deathless thralls or true vampires. The distinctions between these similar abominations escape most would-be hunters, yet two distinct types of vampire exist: true vampires and vampire spawn (also known as vampire thralls, slaves, or brides). While details of true vampires dominate discussions of these terrors, the secondary vampire spawn is often entirely overlooked. These lesser yet still exceptionally dangerous vampires possess many of the strengths and weaknesses of their creators, yet lack true vampires’ lordly domination over base creatures of the night, their power to transform into beasts, and their ability to create more of their kind. Typically, too, these spawn come from mortals without the willpower or exceptional character that would attract vampires to remake them as peers rather than servants. Thus, vampire spawn are bound to the will of their masters, being slaves to their whims, typically exhibiting no more control or ambition of their own than feral ghouls or untamed hunters without the control and foresight of their masters.

Much mystery surrounds the properties of a vampire’s bite, the fanged kiss through which they drain the blood of the living. Debates extend even unto the manner in which vampiric fangs aid in feeding, whether they merely serve as tools to start blood f lowing or siphon blood themselves. Regardless of such particulars, the effects of a vampire’s bite remain the same: gradual weakening unto death. While most vampires visit their victims night after night, draining them of their vitality little by little, some gorge themselves, drinking away an entire life in a single feast. It is from such deaths that new vampires might arise—though victims physically unfit for the transformation might still resurrect as mere vampire spawn. With such in mind, many vampires drain mortals near to death, but allow them to succumb to death from mere weakness and wasting, not the act of being drained directly. Thus, vampires choose who they pass their curse onto, avoiding the hindrances and evidence that multiple members of their kind sometimes present.

Draining blood is not the only way new vampires are created, however. Little known is the fact that the very touch of the vampire can drain one’s power and weaken one’s resolve—a condition that seems to be more a manner of fundamental deterioration than mere physical draining. Rarely used by vampires except in desperate conf licts, as it supplies them with no vital blood, their energy-sapping touch can easily extinguish a life, and from such withering deaths new vampires arise, cursing even the most exceptional souls to an existence as undead slaves.

The act of draining blood serves vampires as more than merely a method of creating new

servants. Although none can truly say what drives these undead to thirst for blood, a vampire’s lifelike appearance and the liquid source of mortal vitality are inseparably intertwined. Despite their own confessed need for blood, even unto nightly feeding, vampires held captive can seemingly go for months, even years, without drinking—yet the transformation this hunger causes is terrifying. Vampires deprived of blood gradually lose their lifelike appearance, withering into corpses ravaged to the extent time would naturally intend. In addition, the obsession with blood comes to dominate their starved psyches, driving them to the brink of madness and, in cases of extreme deprivation, irretrievably over it. Although their physical abilities seem unimpeded, their ravenous states cause them to forget much of the pomp and charm associated with their kind, revealing them for the nightmarish ghoul-kin they truly are. Those allowed to drink over the course of several nights regain their appearance and control, but the experience proves so physically and psychologically painful—likened to dying again with every moment—that no vampire would willingly endure it.

Beyond the need for sustenance, vampires possess baser requirements to continue their undead existences. To rest, heal, and avoid the destructive properties of sunlight, vampires keep coffin sanctuaries. These resting places serve as a place for the undead to reconstitute if wounded and find a measure of the death-like repose they require to sustain their nightly hunts. All vampires have a unique connection with their coffins, preventing any common wooden box from sustaining them. Such a resting place must hold a personal connection for its user, typically being the coffin it was interred within, that of a family member, one that bears the grave dirt of its homeland, or a perfect facsimile of a lost coffin. Should its coffin be destroyed, a vampire goes to great lengths to find or create a new one that satisfies its deathly needs. Exactly what such needs are, however, varies between individuals, and only a tenacious hunter might reveal the specific mystery of a vampire’s resting place.

The powers and methods of destroying a vampire also vary widely, both among individual vampires and in tales of these creatures. These undead are often described as holding power over vermin and nocturnal beasts, summoning such creatures forth and transforming into their shapes, or even discorporating into creeping mist. More exotic reports even tell of vampires controlling the weather, spreading disease, or taking on the appearances of living individuals. Such abilities and mastery of form make these undead notoriously difficult to detect, track, and defend against. Those who must, however, are confronted with equally varied advice on these menaces’ vulnerabilities, ranging from wooden stakes through the heart to the abjuring properties of certain plants. Although no weakness can be called universal, most vampires truly are scorched by sunlight, weakened by rushing water, and immobilized—but not vanquished—by a stake through the heart. Yet even these supposed truths cannot be relied upon in every case, as vampires make for cunning, adaptable, and varied opponents. Typically, a vampire’s weakness lies within its own history, and while the accounts of successful vampire hunts might suggest tools and practices to prepare those who would combat these horrors, in truth, little besides a patient mind, tenacity in the face of terror, and the grace of the gods can assure a vampire’s final destruction.

Habitat & Society

Just as the facets of the vampiric mindset defy reliable generalization, so too do details of their nightly habits. Perhaps the sole truth that applies to all vampires is their fundamental difference from other undead. While lingering souls and unquiet corpses typically tarry in haunts forsaken by the living, vampires seek out avenues coursing with vitality, their existences sustained by robbing life from the living one sanguine splash at a time. Thus, just as vampirism might be likened to a disease, vampires plague mortal civilization, following, feeding upon, and spreading through it wherever it might arise. Typically, vampires prefer to hunt within sizable urban centers where they might blend in and their depredations might be disguised. Smaller communities can rarely satisfy a vampire’s hungers, and feeding upon or driving away all the residents of an area serves these predators no better than a farmer who consumes his entire harvest before winter. As such, all but the most feral vampires strive to exercise subtlety and self control when it comes to their nightly feasts, so as not to deny themselves future prey. Only in the rarest situations might a vampire be able to exist in seclusion, and typically only then with complex arrangements to provide them with the endless stream of living blood they require.

In their interactions, either with the living or others of their kind, vampires prove just as likely to parody what they remember of mortal relations as to abandon such conventions entirely. Such translates into the manner in which these terrors hunt, either hiding as serpents within the shadows of mortal society, or prowling like wolves at the edge of civilization, picking off the weak and unwary who cross their paths.

In the case of vampires who infiltrate the streets and shadows of their former homelands, many go to great lengths adhering to what they perceive as the height of their chosen culture’s society. In their undead egotism, most remake themselves as aristocrats or other elite, allowing themselves to hollowly enjoy in death what petty comforts they relished or longed for in life. In their socialization, such vampires wear the facade of dignity and culture, many becoming quite adept at passing as obscure nobility through centuries of such mimicry—though their manners often seem outdated or from another time. Yet even such etiquette merely serves as a mask, a pleasing visage that, when exposed by hunger or rage, reveals the unnatural predator within.

At the other extreme, many vampires completely divest themselves of their past mortality, letting all suggestion of reason, patience, and presentation drop away. While some continue to exist merely for themselves, becoming lords of their own private worlds, others lack the ambition or desire to master even themselves, degrading into little better than beasts, driven on only by their nightly hungers.

Which path a vampire chooses to spend its immortality pursuing varies largely depending on its psyche in life. Most fail to acclimate to their unliving states, especially those turned to undeath against their wills. Individuals with hearts and mindsets too virtuous or rigid to survive by feeding upon their former families and neighbors often starve, murder themselves, or go insane, rampaging until their hungers or conspicuousness destroy them. Such crazed undead might be pitiable, but rarely does any vestige of their former mortality survive, granting such terrors merely additional masks behind which to hide their monstrous hungers.

With powers godlike in comparison to those they possessed as mortals, most vampires are arrogant to the extreme. Such extends to their interactions with both the living and the dead. As such, vampires rarely fraternize with one another except in a master-slave arrangement. Should two vampires meet by happenstance, differences of personality and methodology typically predispose these undead to rivalry if not barefaced loathing. Should two vampires manage to overcome their initial distaste, seeing their own hungers ref lected in another typically leads to deep-seated revulsion, both for their companion and themselves, which might only be satisfied by distance, or better, destruction. Thus, only when a vampire can look upon others of its kind as inferior servants, masters to replace, or evils to temporarily suffer might such abominations survive one another.

Vampire Desires

Beyond the inherent hungry desires of their race, the vampires of Golarion have goals as varied and complex as any other creature.

Interaction: Vampires lack the insane purpose of the lich or the monstrous psychosis of the ghoul, so their lucidity soon becomes a curse. They exist through so much time but are able to partake in so little of it. Centuries of isolation separate them from the societal advances of mortals, and for some this breeds an aristocratic arrogance and a belief that the "old ways" are somehow purer or otherwise
superior. Others try to accept change, but claws and fangs are better suited to rending flesh than to embracing it, and no number of terrified slaves or dominated spawn can substitute for willing cohorts or friends. For some lonely vampires, the promise of companionship drives them to change their isolationist nature, and more often than repentance it is loneliness that pushes the rare vampire from wanton evil to hopeful neutrality.

Magic: Indefinitely long life presents the chance to complete the endless hours of research that spells, artifacts, and lost secrets demand. Some vampire spellcasters rival liches in their knowledge, particularly of necromancy. There are even those who, though hated by their own kind for such a notion, search high and low for a magical cure from their affliction.

Peace: Some vampires, particularly the very ancient, have grown bored with the constant zealotry of enthusiastic slayers. Much of their lives is spent lurking, trapped and paranoid, awaiting the hunt or the hunters. These weary few eschew a life of decadent feasting to seek solitude, far from the silver blades and holy symbols of the fearful and devout. Those who have found success in this endeavor are often sought out by dhampirs fleeing similar persecution.

Power: Like most of Golarion's evil creatures, vampires seek power in many forms, but this desire ends up curtailed by their very pursuit of it-their arrogance, greed, and brutality have paved the way for a host of organizations dedicated to the destruction of vampires. Additionally, war is common among their own kind, so though some vampires gain footholds in certain lands, most fail to gain recognition as anything but cold-blooded killers.

Vampiric Breeds

Unlike the appellations of many undead, the name “vampire” can apply to a wide variety of terrible creatures, this undead aff liction proving variable to such an extent that numerous distinct types of vampires reputedly exist. While these unusual vampires might pervade the tales and fears of secluded or exotic regions—and even outnumber more typical vampires in such areas—they are generally far more reclusive than their better-known and more populous cousins.

Most mortals never knowingly meet a vampire in their short lives and consider such creatures horrific and deadly. While they certainly are, evolution and intelligence have made vampires much more than simple monsters, and those who study, encounter, or revere vampires find them as vibrant and varied as any other race of creatures.

A vampire's relationships with other creatures changes drastically throughout its unlife. When newly spawned or created, a vampire still carries the ambitious spark of humanity, and it may be decades before it realizes that a few years of glory are meaningless within the span of an eternity. These upstart vampires are the most troublesome for other races, and hungry new spawn are hunted (and slain) much more often than ancient masters. Ancient vampires pose much less of a threat to mortals who will long be dust by the time the vampire's goals bear fruit.

Aswang: 

A terrifying breed of vampire typically haunting lands of the distant east, aswangs only arise from female victims. While these cunning undead predators fear no light and appear relatively human by day, they possess significant shapeshifting powers, undergoing a monstrous transformation, in which they grow terrible wings, claws, and a long, sharp tongue which they use to feed upon f lesh and hearts—especially those of the young or unborn. Seemingly related to these grotesque undead are the dismembered manananggal and penanggalan, horrifying vampiric witches that respectively abandon their lower bodies or all but their heads and dangling entrails as they take to the hunt.

Dhampir: 

Known as ghoul-blooded or half-vampires, those cursed to live as dhampirs know a miserable half-life. Born from mothers infected with vampirism in the final days of their pregnancy or sired by freshly spawned vampire fathers, dhampirs live with the curse of vampirism in their mortal blood. Although the taint grants these rare souls eerie abilities, such as sensing nearby undead, so too are they cursed with a measure of their accursed parents’ ravenous natures, making many just as dangerous as vampires themselves.

Few women voluntarily desire to breed with a vampire, and few vampires have the proper vitality to be fertile, so the unnatural conception that results in a dhampir is incredibly rare, and usually dangerous. Many dhampirs die unborn at the hands of distraught mothers or grimfaced vampire hunters, or they inadvertently kill their mothers before they come to term and expire in stale wombs. Those who survive gestation and birth are pained upon emergence at the sudden light of the outside world, as well as either the horror of those expecting a normal child, or the gleeful evil of their wicked parents. Few have the chance to mature into creatures of value and dignity, so it is unsurprising that most fall into evil habits.

This diatribe refers to a dhampir's vampire parent as "father," for it is almost always the case that a dhampir is born of a female living mortal and a male vampire. It is unknown whether this is because a female vampire's womb is barren or because no mortal man's seed can survive long enough to impregnate her. As rare and legendary as dhampir births are, verifiable stories of female vampires birthing a dhampir child are all but unheard of.

Ecology of the Dhampir

A dhampir benefits from all the grace of her immortal parent, just as she is plagued by her father's aversions. Even if maltreated and malnourished, a dhampir grows tall and lean, finding secret, shameful sustenance in the flesh of rodents or beasts of burden if necessary. Her sharp, angular features accentuate the best parts of her mortal heritage while flawless skin hides her age. To mortals, the combination is captivating, although in sunlight a dhampir's sensitivity to light encourages her to hunch, giving her a shrunken, sickly look, accentuated by the bright rays against the pallor of her flesh.

In early life, a dhampir rarely experiences love, and develops a fear of intimacy that sees her shy away from a touch in the same way that she shrinks away from sunlight. A dhampir grows up seeing commoners make evil-warding gestures at the sight of her, which does not encourage friendship or openness. Most dhampirs never feel the warm embrace of another person, giving them a physical distance that can be mistaken for aloofness.

Though a dhampir is generally despised by her mortal family, she may find some solace in the court or lair of her undead parent. A dhampir's difficult and often violent life as an outcast teaches her that she is closer to being a vampire than a mortal, and the promise of acceptance by the undead makes her an easy convert to evil. Her ability to walk in daylight (albeit uncomfortably) makes her a valuable agent to her undead brethren, and because she does not need to feed on blood and cannot create spawn of her own, she is less of a burden to her vampire master.

A dhampir who is not fortunate enough to serve a true vampire often becomes a loner, both by choice and because of t he rejection of others. Her quick hands and the ability to see in darkness make her a consummate thief even without training, and her glib tongue helps her evade confinement if caught. Alternatively, a dhampir may meet with success as a slayer, using her unnatural resistances to stalk wights and similar creatures, and indeed those dhampirs who hold their cursed ancestors in disdain find this path particularly appealing.

Secrets of the Dhampir

A dhampir ally can be difficult for adventurers of more conventional races to accept, both in terms of personality conflicts and having to deal with the dhampir's distinctive abilities and hindrances.

Dhampirs have a hard time adventuring in daylight, a trait that can prove somewhat frustrating for parties who frequently find themselves in open areas with few shadowy places to hide. Handily, while dhampirs prove to be at a disadvantage in the light, they prove remarkably adept in the dark, and especially tactical dhampirs can use their innate abilities to get the drop on less attuned foes. Deceit and their natural ability to hunt undead are a dhampir's specialties.

Dhampirs' vampiric heritage makes them unable to absorb divine energy like most races, and clerics of good gods would have a hard time indeed healing a dhampir companion. On the other hand, when faced with evil clerics whose channeled energies taint the souls of the living, dhampirs prove all but unstoppable. Most of the time, however, dhampirs must take special considerations to ensure their allies don't accidentally slay them in a shower of holy energy.

The extent to which a dhampir's powers resemble her vampire father's determines her aptitude as a hunter of creatures of the night. A dhampir shrugs off energy drain and can magically detect undead, and her weaknesses are similar enough to a vampire's that a vampire trying to exploit this weakness would only hurt itself. A dhampir's will to hunt is fueled not only by the promise of glory and riches, but also by a dark and endless resentment for her origins. Many relish the chance to kill the foul creatures responsible for their own cursed existences, and dhampir slayers are feared by vampires more than those of any other race.

Dhampir Heritages

Presented here are alternative dhampirs descended from specific breeds of vampires. Each heritage presents new features that have been encountered in place of the common dhampir racial trails (the alternate weaknesses replace a dhampir's light sensitivity racial trait), as well as race trails. Each heritage also includes typical personalities and appearances, and likely places of origin of these unique breeds of dhampir.

Jiang-Shi Born
the Ru-Shi

Ru-shis possess an unsettlingly, graceless bearing, as well as a fierce determination to accomplish their mysterious goals.

Also called a ru-shi, a jiang-shi-born i s usually the result of some foul ritual or a magically possessed father rather than direct congress between a human and jiang-shi. Jiang-shis lack any natural desire for physical contact or procreation, and their putrefying internal organs make most unable to conceive.

Ru-shis' skin remains gray, regardless of exposure to the sun, and their eyes have unusually light irises and pupils. Their movements are typically stiff and awkward. Ru-shis are often mathematically or linguistically gifted, though some cast aside such natural gifts, bitter and scornful as they are of anything that might remind them of their monstrous forebears.

Most ru-shis are found in Tian Xia where jiang-shis are more common, but ru-shi vagabonds are also drawn to the technological wonders of Numeria.

Traits:

Linguistic Genius: Words and letters say more to you than their writers ever intended. You gain a +1 trait bonus on Linguistics checks, and learn to speak and read one additional language from your list of racial languages. Linguistics is always a class skill for you.

Numerological Gift: Since birth you have had an intimate connection with a certain number. When you select this trait, roll 3d6. The resulting number becomes your numerological totem and can never be changed. Once per day, when you roll your totem number on a d2o (such as an attack roll, save, or skill check), you may treat that roll as if you had rolled a natural 2o on the die.

Moroi Born
the Svetocher

Brought forth by the haughty and brutal moroi, svetochers are renowned and feared for their silver tongues and deadly strength.

Dhampirs who can trace their heritage t o moroi are known as svetochers, and they inherit much of the unnatural charm and beauty exhibited by their vampiric forebears. Svetochers tend to have an easier time than other dhampirs when associating with mortals, though they must be careful that their relatively wanton social interactions do not breed jealousy, resentment, or disdain. They are more often hunted out of covetousness or spite than outright prejudice, so they typically develop social skills that allow them to soothe wounds caused by accidental slights or careless acts.

Since their undead progenitors often deal with royalty, svetochers have a fair chance of being born into nobility. Though some aristocrats are content to raise their moroiborn children in the shadowy corners of high society, less scrupulous nobles have few qualms about leaving their disgraceful offspring on the doorsteps of unfortunate commoners. Moroi rarely care for their half-breed progeny any more than the nobles forced to bear them, but those who do feel a sense of possession over misbegotten children might seek them out in the village they were abandoned in.

Traits 

Mind Trapper: Your honeyed words are nearly impossible for your enchanted subjects to ignore. You gain a +2 trait bonus on Charisma checks to convince an ally enchanted by one of your charm spells (such as charm person or charm monster) to do things it wouldn't normally do.

Sensual Graces: Your unearthly beauty enchants those who court you. You gain a +2 trait bonus on Bluff checks made against humanoids who would be attracted to you.

Nosferatu Born
the Ancient Born

Cursed from birth with a remnant of their forebears' wasting illness, the ancient-born instinctively know both hate and fear in ample quantities.

The union that results in an ancient-born is too horrific for most to imagine. Even in relative youth a nosferatu is so terrible to behold that any such coupling must be the result of arcane manipulation or insanity.

Ancient-born's hatred for humanity is reflected in their appearance; from birth they are misshapen, sallow, and painfully thin. Abuse from their disgusted peers wears deep on ancient-born's skin thanks to their physical weakness. Lacking the gift of immortality to offset the wasting effect of the curse they are born with, their chalky complexion scars easily and bruises like an overripe peach.

Ancient-born's unsettling appearance makes their participation in society challenging. If they are not chased from their homes by the time they hit puberty, nosferatu-born usually leave of their own volition as soon as possible. Some seek isolation, some revenge, and some even their own glorification-or destruction-as adventurers.

Ancient-born are more common in Ustalav than in other parts of the world. Some say they gravitate to the wickedness of that place, but others suggest that they are all related to a single nosferatu whose search to rid itself of its curse has included a number of "experiments" on mortal women.

Traits 

Old Before Your Time: Your fragile flesh shows signs of years not yet lived. Any creature trying to discern your true age must make a Perception or Sense Motive check opposed by your Bluff check; you gain a +s trait bonus on this check. You gain a +2 trait bonus on Disguise checks if your disguise makes you look at least one age category older, and ignore the check penalty for disguising yourself as a different age category while doing so.

Thrall Spotter: Your heritage gives you an understanding of the powers of domination. You gain a +s trait bonus on Sense Motive checks made to determine whether a creature is acting under the effects of a charm or compulsion.

Vetala Born
the Ajibachana

With skin like faded brass, ajibachanas reveal their undead taint through their unnatural agility and childlike trains of thought.

More often the result of curiosity or experimentation than mating, the dhampir offspring of vetalas are born with sharp minds and are inclined to ask questions. Known as ajibachanas, they are forceful and precocious, but their progenitors' distaste for the devout is mirrored in their weakness around holy or unholy sites.

Just like their vampire parents, ajibachanas yearn for knowledge and often engage in scholarly pursuits, but their mortality drives them to work harder and learn faster. In a few short decades, they might gain a better understanding of themselves and their accumulated knowledge than their eternally childish parents ever could have.

Unable to change bodies like vetalas, ajibachanas lack the variation of their vampire parents, but many excel at dance or contortion, turning their lithe forms into works of art, and possibly earning money through performance. Ajibachanas understand how avaricious vetalas and mortals can be, and thus many of the wiser ones become ascetics, preferring knowledge over gold and ever fearful of becoming as covetous as their ancestors.

Ajibachanas hail most commonly from Vudra, but their thirst for knowledge sees them travel anywhere on the globe where they can glean wisdom. Unlike most dhampirs, vetalas' heritage gives them a certain status as scholars, and their natural beauty grants them an easier passage through life than other people with undead forebears.

Traits

Half- Forgotten Secrets: A whisper of knowledge was transferred to you at the time of your creation. You gain a +l trait bonus on checks with two Knowledge skills of your choice, and one of these skills becomes a class skill. 

Unidentifiable Appeal: The unnatural symmetry of your face gives you an attractiveness that is at once captivating but hard to quantify. You gain a +1 trait bonus on Disguise checks and a +l trait bonus on Diplomacy checks made to influence those who would be attracted to you.

Jiang-shi: 

Because they are typically more predictable and less murderous than other vampires, many jiang-shis enjoy a relatively unmolested existence. Tian peasants tend to have a laxer attitude toward spiritual beings, living as they do among the oni and the kami, and so jiang-shis in the Dragon Empires are only slightly more terrifying than the creatures encountered day to day.

Most jiang-shis are found in Tian-Xia, particularly in rural areas or towns whose population and wealth have dwindled. Elsewhere they are rare, but Rahadoumi jiangshis are not unheard of, thanks in part to their faithless burials, and ambitious pretenders who escape Galt's .final blades but not the weapons of the Gray Gardeners occasionally return decades later as jiang-shis to pursue a revolutionary plot cut short. Jiang-shis who are not buried following traditional Tian practices do not rise with scrolls fixed to their brows, but must craft their own. Depending on their land of origin, non-Tian jiang-shis may use other markers to protect themselves from spells and effects, such as placing stylized copper coins over their eyes or donning intricate headdresses.

A jiang-shi is brought to being by an obsession unfulfilled and distilled in the putrefaction of its corpse. In a cruel twist, the years that it took for the creature to reanimate may have destroyed the object of the vampire's obsession, and the jiang-shi returns to a world that has long since moved on. Denied fulfillment, the vampire perceives deep connections to the past in signs and symbols unrecognizable to others. These signs become its new obsession, and woe betide any on whom thejiang-shi sees this "mark." The nature of this obsession is erratic. One morning ajiang-shi may focus on the color red and stalk the first person it sees with that color hair or clothing; the next day it may see a flock of swallows and hunt as many people as there were birds in the flock. It is impossible to say whether a permanent resolution lies at the end of this trail of symbols, but for a creature facing eternity without fulfillment, even the remotest chance of release is worth pursuing.

Necrology of the Jiang-Shi

Many years rotting in the cool earth strip a jiang-shi of anything but a macabre depiction of its original form. Taught skin is stretched over brittle bones, and inside roils a putrid soup of decaying offal. Ajiang-shi's physical appearance alone marks it as the unliving, and its unusual and obsessive nature gives it an otherworldly quality. Jiang-shis see the world very differently from the living, and rarely conform without good reason.

Jiang-shis typically dwell in places that they interpret as intimately tied to the signs they perceive. Their obsession with semiotics drives them to choose "auspicious" locations such as caves that open due south, marshlands fed by an even number of rivers, or buildings that were struck more than once by lightning in a single storm.

They hunt using stealth, surprise, and their deadly grip to achieve their kills, pouncing from rough natural terrain where their hopping movement grants them an advantage against unwary foes. They kill both to feed and when directed to do so by perceived symbols. When hungry, they conveniently start to spot more signs in their environment-this may indicate the infallibility of their omens, or merely a convenient coincidence.

Desires of the Jiang-Shi

Desire so strong as to bring one back from the dead cannot be easily shaken, and while jiang-shis are not directly compelled to seek a resolution to their desires, signs and portents remain the primary focus for most of their kind. This obsession does not prevent involvement in other schemes and plots, however, and it is likely that in the course of any endeavor a jiang-shi encounters many signs that confirm it has chosen the correct path. Whatever divine intelligence, superstition, or intuition speaks to a jiang-shi in these symbols, it is usually in tune with the creature's own earthly desires, and it is sometimes difficult to identify which came first. While at times the coincidences between a jiang-shi's signs and its grander goals may seem entirely too convenient, pointing out such to a jiang-shi would be a dire error indeed.

Secrets of the Jiang-Shi

Despite the stiffness of its form, a jiang-shi is one of the most dextrous kinds of vampires. Its unusual hopping gait is deceptively agile. Lacking the varied special abilities of moroi, it favors a hit-and-run style of combat, relying on its agility to catch foes one at a time, inhaling their chi and weakening their resistance to each subsequent strike.

Although a jiang-shi's focus is driven (or justified) by its secret numerology, any creature that threatens completion of the vampire's quests become part of its obsession, and counting on a jiang-shi's single-mindedness has been the downfall of many misguided slayers. A jiang-shi is intelligent,
and it puts this intelligence to good use in combat. As a living corpse, it has seen the entire religious cycle from birth to burial, and knows the power of divine spellcasters. These opponents are its first targets to kill, stemming the flow of healing and the inevitable wealth of undead controlling spells. With divine casters neutralized, mages are next, as each rune, gesture, and utterance is an insult to the jiang-shi's semiotic sensibility. Easily susceptible to close-quarters attacks and grapples, mages' soft bodies offer little resistance to the vampire's chi-siphoning powers.

Like a vetala, a jiang-shi suffers from a vulnerability to certain sounds, but it is aware that a silence spell is a great defense against the ringing of hand bells. Its aversion to cooked rice is more problematic thanks to the ubiquitous nature of that food staple, but it can choose a lair accessible only through water in order spoil rice and minimize its effectiveness as a weapon.

Because a jiang-shi's prayer scroll makes it immune to scrolls, wands, and staves, it has an advantage against wouldbe slayers who rely too much on magic items. A jiang-shi prefers to attack spellcasters at night or early morning in the hope that the victims have expended magic during the day and have not had time to rest and replenish spells.

Moroi: 

The most "sociable" of vampire races, moroi often put themselves into positions of power within the courts of mortals. Few mortals appreciate the presence of a known moroi in their court. This is a result of xenophobia as much as fear-vampires are a race, and few nobles appreciate foreign influence in their politics.

Moroi make their homes all over Golarion, and as the most prolific of vampire breeds, they are also the most recognizable. They are particularly common in Ustalav and Geb, where they are relatively free to enjoy notoriety without reprisal among a terrified population. Some of the most powerful moroi on Golarion serve as members of the Blood Lords in Geb. A tiny, secretive cabal of moroi who survived the vampire lord Malyas's Blood Drought purge of 3220 AR have returned to Ustalav, but still live in fear of the Whispering Tyrant's reprisal. They are now led by a powerful vampire called Jentani Valvasor (previously Countess Valvasor).

Moroi have worked for centuries to rewrite their affliction, seeding folklore with romantic notions of sensuous manipulators and downplaying their acts of bloody brutality as torture or punishment, never instinct or desire. But this assumed nobility is a myth. Their affliction fosters only bloodlust and evil, not culture and refinement, and each moroi is but a product of its environment. In the steaming south, savage lizardfolk moroi stalk the eternal gloom of the Mwangi Jungle. Across the Crown of the World, Snowcaster elves tell of long exiled, ever-living brethren driven savage and insane by cold loneliness and existing on the blood of wayward travelers. While the most infamous moroi are the refined, fashionable variety, only their arrogance separates them from their brutal brethren elsewhere.

Necrology of the Moroi

Of all vampires, the moroi perhaps best demonstrate the characteristics of a civilized race of beings rather than a category of monsters. They breed, they rule, they emulate and participate in the political structures of civilized races. They are no mere interlopers, however, and they pride themselves on outdoing the decadence and excesses of the creatures they engage with. Their abilities make moroi extremely well suited to "life" in shadows political or otherwise.

Though they lack reflections, moroi are obsessed with their appearance, and in their paranoia end up elaborately clothed and coiffured. Their style is often archaic, but ideally suited to their ageless faces (at least, according to how they recall their appearances).

Unless for sport, conquest, or revenge, hunting is considered undignified among most civilized moroi, and instead they make themselves or their environments so desirable that prey simply deliver themselves up. Dazzled by moroi wit and beauty, intelligent cattle deliberately seek their embrace, right up to the moment of the deep, painful kiss that spells the end. Beauty and charm are the moroi's greatest weapons, and these cunning vampires are rightly feared for their ability to draw submission from the strongest will. This fear is a special kind, forged from jealousy-a fear that even if we mortals can resist the moroi, those we love will abandon us in favor of the vampires' offer of unimaginable pleasures.

Desires of the Moroi

A huge variety of personalities and motivations thrive within the clans and courts of the moroi, but in essence they are all killers-creatures driven by a deep desire for living blood and wracked with the insecurity and paranoia of the powerful but despised. They rage against their own weakness, spending half their existence in a box, helpless and terrified, and the other half proving their strength and domination until the first rays of sun send them scurrying back to become rigid portraits of death, the very force they pretend to have defeated.

One of the unique tools of the moroi is the ability to create spawn. While this may appear a huge advantage for the race, offering the chance to flood the world with willing servants, managing a coven is a delicate business. Every spawn is a mouth to feed, and for vampires in civilized lands where would-be cattle are armed, suspicious, and often guarded, these hungry minions can be problematic. Even the more barbaric moroi understand that they are part of an ecosystem, and balance their desire for companionship and domination against the availability of the local food supply. There is also an emotional cost to creating spawn, and a creature forced to serve is not forced to love. Indeed, their slavery often precludes their affection, and for a lonely moroi the companionship of an equal is much more attractive than the prospect of a mere slave.

Secrets of the Moroi

Moroi are careful to gauge their enemies from a distance, and slayers often find their most trusted tactics carefully mitigated by an informed foe. Of course this works both ways-a slayer's strongest weapon against a moroi is likewise knowledge. Powerful resistances make these creatures seem indestructible to the uninitiated, but those with the correct rituals, spells, and equipment might fight on a much more even plane. Knowledge of an individual moroi can be just as valuable since its class abilities, or even peculiarities in the construction of its lair, can help mitigate the creature's weaknesses or enhance its advantages. Spells like darkness and protective penumbra provide temporary respite from the dawn, and a necklace of adaptation eliminates the troublesome effects of garlic odor.

With the ability to climb walls and turn into mist at will, a moroi is difficult to pin down. Knowing every crack and corner in its lair, it is particularly effective at using hit-and-run tactics to wear down intruders. These tactics can be interrupted by a carefully timed dispel magic spell or a strong grappler, and a smart moroi has a backup plan for dealing with the momentary vulnerability created by these attacks.

A vampire's inherent ability to dominate is a tool as well as a toy. Charmed innocents serve as a particularly effective buffer between would-be slayers and the vampire master, for hunters usually shy away from using aggressive tactics against an enchanted barmaid or a village elder just to get at the vampire pulling the strings.

For most moroi with any sense, combat is a last resort, but a last resort at which they excel profoundly. If things turn sour in battle, a moroi's natural abilities are equally well suited for escape, and though being beaten into a misty form is humiliating, it does give the moroi a remarkable tool for survival.

Their versatility, along with the complex rituals required to permanently destroy their bodies, can make moroi infuriating foes. Even their greatest weaknesses are somewhat situational, and extremely careless-or extremely unlucky-is the moroi that meets its end in sunlight or running water.

A moroi must be destroyed in its lair, but no moroi rests unguarded. Devious traps, summoned minions, or lesser undead often lie in wait. By employing creatures with resistances very different from their own, moroi can turn a slayer's careful preparations into needless burdens; no amount of silver or garlic can subdue a bound demon, for example. In addition, a moroi always hides its coffin somewhere inaccessible to most creatures but easily reached by the shapeshifting vampire.

Customs of Noble Moroi

Moreso than any other type of vampire,  moroi hold grace and manners in particularly high esteem. The following are some of a noble moroi's most common practices when dealing with other aristocrats.

Moroi greet each other with a shallow bow, hands held out to the sides, palms facing each other.

Since kissing is similar to feeding, a moroi rarely includes kisses in a greeting. Pressing one's cheek lightly to the back of a lady's hand is sufficient.

A polite moroi retires to another room to change form.

Sharing a feeding from a victim is an intimate affair. A moroi only offers to share a meal with a lover, spawn, or an ally as a symbol of good faith.

A polite moroi is careful to leave victims in a sleeping pose, where practical .

A moroi steals nothing but life.


A moroi never refuses a politely requested audience.

Nosferatu: 

The nosferatu remains a bogeyman to most, lurking in the shadows of history books and horror stories alike. It shuns the company of mortals unless it must feed or it can use them as pawns in some greater plot. Nosferatu have few relationships at all if they can help it.

Thought by many to be bearers of an ancient strain of vampirism, nosferatu possess many traits common to vampires, yet notably lack the immortal youth and vigor of other breeds. With strange similarities to and powers over beasts and vermin, these reclusive, withered vampires typically avoid interactions with the living except those who fall victim to their eerie powers of mind control. Yet, despite their age and dreadful manipulations, nosferatu are a waning breed, with none known to be able to pass on their monstrous curse

and thus create more of their kind. 

They tend to dwell in the darker, less accessible places on Golarion. Their broken bodies pay no heed to heat or cold, and they lair in frozen caves or deep underground in baking deserts. Some have thrown in their lot with a moroi amused enough by their plight to show them pity. A handful make their homes in places where other undead are prolific, particularly in Ustalav. A nosferatu does not seek acceptance in such lands, but its own withered flesh is more accepted by the dead than by the living.

Even among vampires, the nosferatu are considered ancient and powerful. Though they are the first vampires to make Golarion their home, only a handful now remain. All of them are forlorn, furious, or insane, for despite their formidable powers and abilities, the nosferatu are the most wretched of vampires. Their ancient bodies hoard the very ravages of age, withering more each year and seeding them with a desperate longing for the bodily youth of which they are robbed. Shame and self-loathing marry endless decay to create the anguish of a being who creeps ever closer to the coattails of death, but whose inevitable demise yet eludes it.

Necrology of the Nosferatu

For most nosferatu, vampirism is a perpetual nightmare from which they cannot awake. Granted immortality but not eternal youth, they must watch their bodies wither a little more each day as their understanding of their own plight sharpens. They cling to unlife in the vain hope of regenerating their ravaged form through complicated, century-spanning schemes, devotion to dark powers, or discovery of a cure for their infinite malady. Their habit of flashing between quiet, contemplative despair and a savage feeding frenzy has cemented their reputation as the most bestial of vampires. Some believe this viciousness to be a holdover from times primordial, but others see it as the physical manifestation
of their temporal fears, a desperate attempt to consume life faster than their own bodies die. For all their brooding lethality, they remain on the fringes of civilization, mistreated, misshapen, and outcast by all, shuffling their dynasty toward a silent end without purpose or dignity.

While a moroi is able to coax willing prey to its door, a nosferatu has little to offer warm-blooded mortals. Though some nosferatu are sought for their knowledge, most are attacked on sight, and constant flight from dank hole to dank hole makes the acquisition of great wealth impractical. Instead
these vampires must actively hunt to survive. Self-loathing and perennial despair have stolen any sense of entitlement from the nosferatu, and they willingly suck the blood f animals and vermin if no
humanoids are available. Preying on lesser creatures helps reduce rumors that a vampire is about, though few creatures in nature rend and mutilate their kills in way of the nosferatu, providing a trail for the canny hunter.

Although forever filled with sadness, the nosferatu are not insane. Unlike liches or ghosts, they remain painfully rational. Their isolation is self-enforced, made necessary by their horrific appearance and unnatural desires, and many still long for the company of others who are not dominated or subjugated. Nosferatu rarely band together since there is little comfort in the company of another cursed soul, and most are too disgusted by their own decay to bear watching it in the body of another.

Desires of the Nosferatu

The decay of its flesh grants a nosferatu a special fascination with the flesh of the living, particularly the youthful. All mortal races seem "youthful" to these ancient immortals, but the tight, unmarked skin of those considered young among their own kind holds a special allure, drawing even cautious nosferatu to places where such youths are found. A nosferatu covets tender flesh, dominating its prey just for the joy of an embrace, but such joy is fleeting, and as easily as the vampire is captivated by the soft pulse of its victim's flesh, it becomes enraged at the pallid, desiccated, state of its own body. In fury and aching hunger it descends into the frenzied brutality that characterizes its race's feeding.

For some nosferatu, the desire for youth is so great that they would give up all their vampiric power to achieve it. Of all vampires, the nosferatu are the most likely to pursue a cure, and some have come perilously close to such a discovery. However, despite having centuries to perform such research, their solitary nature retards much progress in this field; nosferatu rarely meet to share scientific or arcane developments, half afraid to admit their goals to other vampires and half afraid that success will bring them true death. The best results have come from the blending of alchemy and necromancy, but there are some nosferatu who believe the answer is in the infinite expanses of the planes or the cold reaches of the Dark Tapestry and reach out to the timeless knowledge of old, forgotten gods.

Secrets of the Nosferatu

The power of a nosferatu lies in the scope of the special abilities it enjoys. Physically and mentally powerful, it has no trouble crushing an opponent's body or mind. Able to transform into swarms of vermin or scale whole buildings with incredible ease, nosferatu are masters of any environment, while their bestial senses and telepathy allow them to operate with extreme efficiency in total silence and darkness. 

Sharing the same vulnerabilities as the moroi is a source of frustration for a nosferatu. As a member of an incredibly rare race, it might be expected to enjoy some mystery around the methods of how it can be destroyed, but vampire slayers can use moroi-killing techniques against nosferatu just as easily. A nosferatu can mitigate these weaknesses with the same defenses as moroi do.

Tracking a nosferatu can be considerably harder than tracking other vampires, as it lacks the bravado and dignity of a moroi and isn't above fleeing through a sewer to throw off pursuit. As one of the last of its race, a nosferatu is cautious and defiant, and must be tracked like an animal rather than hunted like humanoid prey. Although it needs to rest in a coffin during the day, it lacks the moroi's predilection for opulent lairs, instead preferring dark, forgotten places whose decay and ruin match their own.

A slayer may enjoy greater success when preying not on the nosferatu's physical weaknesses, but on its desires, coaxing it out with some scrap of vital lore or an unmarked youth. These traps had better be well laid, however, for if the nosferatu scents danger on the wind, it is likely to shatter into a thousand spiders and vanish into the night before a single blow can be struck.

When cornered, a nosferatu becomes even more dangerous, harboring no respect for life, even its own. It fights bitterly and brutally to the end, taking down as many opponents as it can. If clearly outnumbered or outclassed, a nosferatu will attempt to maim, cripple, or disfigure as many adversaries as possible so that its own hideousness lives on in their scars.

Vetala: 

A vetala is an insidious creature of great knowledge, great mystery, and great desire. This child spirit clothed in stolen flesh covets deeply the rich experiences missed in life and hunts the brightest of beings to feed on their memories and exploits, claiming them for its own. With its immature mind and the knowledge of a thousand victims, a vetala is unpredictable at best, treating living creatures as a toddler might treat its favorite dolls, one day protecting them with sharp nails, and the next tearing them apart to see how they're put together.

The Vudrani see vetalas as a warped but natural link in the ongoing process of renewal, tolerating and in some cases even revering them for their seemingly transcendental nature. Some even perceive in vetalas all states of being at once: the wisdom of age tangled with the naivete of youth.

Vudra and its holdings remain the most common places to find vetalas, and it is rumored that a number of Vudrani states keep these creatures as sages and advisors. Their very nature makes them difficult to contain, however, and these tentative alliances last only as long as a vetala's employers can keep the vampire from boredom. Elsewhere on Golarion, states torn by war and disease or populated by savage races bury more children than others (and often must bury them hurriedly); Nirmathas, the Sodden Lands, and even Irrisen have thus seen their fair share of vetalas rise from the dead.

Necrology of the Vetala

While the moroi and the nosferatu persist as earthly beings, a vetala seeks to transcend its physical form, existing between bodies and feeding on pure essence instead of baser blood. Although it remains trapped on this plane, its malevolence and possession abilities allow it to roam free for a few glorious hours, even among the living. It drifts from host to host, hunting and feeding on the memories and thoughts of intelligent creatures-the conscious, vibrant, essence of a being that defines it much more than an empty body or formless soul. The vetala devours the creativity, imagination, and memories stored in the prana of its victims, and it is this jumbled collection of unconnected secrets that makes the creature so valued by students of lore. The few mortals who do not wish to destroy a vetala as an abomination seek to consult with it, convinced that somewhere within its undead mind lie the secrets to bring empires to war or the unequalled power to undermine a despot with the truth.

Although a vetala's malevolence mocks the obsession mortals have with the flesh (for the vampire quickly discards bodies like old clothing), its own corpse anchors it to this world, and this is both its greatest regret and its greatest weakness. A vetala mitigates this dependency by !airing in forgotten mines, ancient battlefields, or similar repositories of the dead where the many corpses available for possession make its host-corpse seem innocuous among the crowd of bodies. It prefers these lonely places to graveyards, as burial in consecrated ground would swiftly end the cursed being. At play, however, its spirit frequently roams burial grounds to find new "toys" to wear.

To feed, a vetala draws creatures to it with supernatural power, calling out to widows and widowers in the voice of long-dead spouses or whispering secrets into the ears of innocents. Sometimes it possesses the body of a living creature, then sends young adventurers to its corpse's lair where it can reassume its true form and kill them. 

The vetala's ability to modify memories makes it adept at manipulation, wiping the knowledge of important events, learning the memories it consumes, or planting false memories of criminal deeds to leave the victim confused and ashamed. Capricious and self-centered, it is rarely interested in collaboration, but may be persuaded to assist in the schemes of others. Any who seek the help of these creatures must remember that they can erase the secrets they reveal, even from their own allies.

Desires of the Vetala

A vetala is driven by the desire to experience life-not its own short mortal life, but those of its victims. It feeds and feels by siphoning its victims' prana (consciousness, psyche, or life force). For many vetalas, this greed manifests in wanton, covetous destruction, and they steal lives both literally and figuratively. Other vetalas select only the best and brightest lives to consume, drawn to the strongest personalities or people with great potential.

The memories stolen by draining prana become an unorganized jumble in the vetala's mind, much like a dragon's lair has coins from many realms heaped into piles. For most vetalas, this vast jumble of unconnected secrets is used only for nourishment. A rare few find they are changed in a fundamental way by the absorption of an exceptionally wise or self-aware consciousness, gaining temporary enlightenment. In this state, the vetala sifts through its mental hoard with newfound perspective, recognizing secret patterns and achieving unique clarity and perspective. These vetalas recite secrets like mantras or retell them as parables to mortal supplicants seeking guidance. The stolen moments become the vetala's philosophy, leading it to true enlightenment or even freedom from an evil or undead existence.

When it grows tired of its corpse-toys, a vetala sometimes kidnaps a child, modifies family members' memories so they only half-remember the lost youth, and drags its new companion back to its lair, where the child quickly starves. Dying in the company of a vetala taints the child's soul, and its lack of burial makes it rise as a vetala itself This new undead is subservient to its older "sibling" until it consumes a memory of someone who knew it in life, revealing to it the truth of its origins and freeing it from its unnatural obedience, though not its wretched form.

Secrets of the Vetala

A vetala's weakness lies in its host-corpse. A vetala is exceptionally careful about where it hides its true body when wearing a temporary one, and lacking the unusual movement modes of other vampires (such as turning into animals or mist), it relies on more conventional means of protection. A typical method is hiding its body in a longforgotten place or secret hideaway. If the location of its true body is found out, a vetala attempts to wipe away all knowledge of its location from the infiltrator's mind. A vetala litters its lair with extra corpses to control at a moment's whim, and most prefer to do things themselves than rely on less-competent minions.

This ability to inhabit and discard broken bodies at will makes a well-prepared vetala an extremely challenging foe. Under the right circumstances it becomes an entire legion of undead, albeit one at a time. The frustrating task of cutting through these endless corpses gets a slayer no closer to destroying the vetala, but expends precious resources before he ever meets its real form.

Since chants and mantras are a vetala's only unique vampire weakness, a well-placed silence spell (or magic item that prevents sound) can quickly negate a slayer's careful preparations. Because it is repelled by the sound of prayers rather than the prayer itself, a vetala bard can use countersong to thwart this attack, often using ancient dirges from its repertoire of stolen memories to unnerve its attackers and remind them of the consequences of failure.

Vrykolakas: 

Bestial creatures, vrykolakas lack all the pride, romanticism, and seductive qualities of other vampiric breeds. Similar to ghouls yet far more cunning, these animalistic, shape-changing corpses rise from their graves by night to haunt the living and spread a terrifying, life-draining disease. Bereft of numerous vampiric weaknesses, they prove notoriously difficult to kill and can easily scour the life from overconfident hunters or entire unwary communities.

Variant Vampiric Abilities

Just as various breeds of vampires exist, so too does diversity exist within regional or otherwise related groups of such undead.

Ancient Youth (Su): A vampire with this ability transformed into one of the undead at a very young age, and has been trapped within an adolescent body for an existence possibly measuring in centuries. Vampires with this ability are size Small and gain a +4 bonus on all Bluff checks. (+0 CR)

Mastermind (Su): Vampires with this ability can have a number of enslaved spawn totaling four times its total Hit Dice. In addition, the vampire chooses one of the following three abilities: clairaudience, clairvoyance, or telepathy. Depending on the ability chosen, the vampire can hear what its spawn hears, see what it sees, or communicate telepathically with it. The vampire may exercise or end its use of this ability as a standard action and maintain its connection to its spawn for as long as it wishes. A vampire may only use this ability with one spawn at a time. The vampire and vampire spawn must be on the same plane for this ability to function. While using this ability, the vampire enters a catatonic state similar to its daily rest and is treated as helpless, though it is alerted to any jarring noises, the presence of any visible creature within 5 feet, or any damage that befalls its body. (CR +0)

Noble Dead (Su): A vampire with this ability possesses an ancient and legendary bloodline. He gains a +2 bonus on all Diplomacy checks, which increases to +4 if being utilized against another undead creature. In addition, he gains channel resistance +6, and the DC of his dominate ability increases by +2. (CR +0)

Sunlight Resistance (Su): This ability provides a vampire a measure of resistance against sunlight. On the second and all later rounds of exposure to direct sunlight, the vampire takes damage equal to one-third of its maximum hit points and is destroyed if this brings it to 0 hit points. The vampire is staggered on any round it is exposed to direct sunlight. (CR +0)

Swarm Form (Su): As a standard action, a vampire with this ability can change into a bat swarm, centipede swarm, rat swarm, or spider swarm. The swarm has a number of hit points equal to the vampire, and any damage done to the swarm affects the vampire’s hit point total. While in swarm form, a vampire cannot use any of its natural or special attacks, although it gains the movement, natural weapons, and extraordinary special abilities of the swarm into which it has transformed. The vampire also retains all of its usual special qualities. While in swarm form the vampire is still considered to be an undead creature with its total number of Hit Dice. A vampire can remain in swarm form until it assumes another form or retakes it original form (a standard action), or until the next sunrise. (CR +0)

Religion

Like all evil creatures, vampires have a huge range of deities to which they dedicate their slaughter. Less concerned with the afterlife than mortals, a vampire nevertheless fears destruction, and there is always some time to set aside for prayer in an immortal existence. Presented here are some of the most popular deities among vampires.

Demon Lord Zura: The Vampire Queen is easily the most common deity among lone vampires, and many are those who would sup blood to earn her favor.

Infernal Duke Lorcan and Blood Emperor Ruithvein: Some vampires make pacts with these two lords of Hell. Lorcan presides over blood, rebirth, and undeath; Ruithvein is the third of all vampires, and rules their infernal kingdom in Malebolge.

Urgathoa: None appreciate the ravenous consumption of life more than the Pallid Princess. One of her most faithful servants is Olix, a vampire priest of mysterious powers.

Zon-Kuthon: Suffering follows a vampire around like a cloying perfume, and many cruel vampires anoint their fangs in the name of Zon-Kuthon. Their victims are drained slowly and hoTTifically to please the Midnight Lord. Although less popular, other vampire-favored deities include Fumeiyoshi, Yaezhing, Mahathalla, Xhamen-Dor, Dhalavei, and Calistria.

Known Vampires

Untold populations of bloodthirsty undead hunt Golarion by night. Noted here are but two of these undying predators.

GRANDMASTER GUO QIANRU A jiang-shi monk of unrivaled skill devoted to the battle prowess of General Susumu, Grand  master Guo Qianru is said to travel the back roads of Shokuro, dealing out wisdom and painas she sees fit. Occasionally she takes on a mortal apprentice who seems to bear a mark of glory, but few can maintain the brutal training and the sleepless schedule required by this ancient sensei.

JENTANI VALVASOR Stripped of her title and wealth millennia ago for opposing the Whispering Tyrant, the moroi Jentani Valvasor heads a handful of vampires once exiled from Ustalav but who are now returning to their ancestral homes in secret. Valvasor fights a constant internal battle between her desire for revenge and her fear of destruction, and has fallen in to an uneasy peace now that she has finally begun to regain some of the comforts of her early existence.

Galdyce: The aged viscount of the Ustalavic county of Amaans long sated his lusts among the peasantry of that mountainous region, claiming bride after ill-fated bride in a supposed attempt to father a male heir. Revealed as a nosferatu, Galdyce was supposedly slain in 4685 by the adventurers Duristan Barlhein and Ailson Kindler, leaving the Vale of Red Breath and the nearby village of Sen’s Pass to return to a sleepy existence. In recent months, though, mysterious lights have been spotted among the half-ruined Castle Galdyce, leading many to fearfully whisper that the dreaded viscount or one of his terrible brides have returned home.

Jhalhasef: The Merchant of Life serves as a broker between the traders and alchemists of Merab and the ghouls of Nemret Noktoria in the Darklands deep below Thuvia. The dark-robed vampire seeks out dread secrets among the ghoulish scholars, trading them to the surface for prices paid in gold bars, amphoras of human blood, and veiled wagons bearing moaning cargo.