Author’s note: I’ve recently started a PF2 stream with a few friends on the Twitch channel Roll the Role. The premise: A bunch of dhampirs with the same ‘sire’ have banded together to make coin, a name for themselves, and sort out their complicated past and future. To get read for this, I wrote a backstory for my snobby summoner Anna… This takes place several years before the first game.

[ Next: Dhampir$: Family Reunion (session one) > ]

The Acadamae was never quiet, with students working at all hours to please patrons who were rarely satisfied. The first three years of a student’s life was never easy, balancing studies with constant work assigned by professors and older students. It wasn’t uncommon for a student to stumble, bone-tired, into a magical trap and end up eviscerated, exploded, or banished. 

So common was this, in fact, that a permanent nook had been set up in the main courtyard for remembrances: Flowers, candles, letters left sealed in wax and never to be read. The name of the student (or, in the case of a particularly good trap, several students) would be painted onto a plaque, and their likeness added beneath that. On this fair fall evening, the previous name had been washed away, and a new one left in its place. 

The last fallen student had been popular, a catfolk named Jyrre who had been quick with a smile and a joke, but not so quick with gusts of flame. The platform had overflowed with tokens, but these had been cleared away. The new name was one that the students barely recognized, and the portrait that went with it didn’t help matters much. Everett Danisoe, human, only on campus for a few months. The only tokens were from the followers of Pharasma, who leave a token for everyone, and one from a professor who was likely more annoyed that she’d have to find a new gopher. 

A woman stands in the courtyard, eyes appraising the paltry offerings. The best word to describe her is ‘pale.’ Her hair is blonde, close to white. Her skin looks as if the sun has never touched it. Even her eyes are gray. Even her dress is a dull blue. She looks as though all of the color has been wrung out of her, leaving only traces behind. The only mark of color she wears is a patch on her cloak, marking her as a student of the second year.

After a moment, she’s joined by two more second-years: A red-cheeked young man with a baby face and a mop of dark hair, and a half-elf man, his skin ruddy and eyes shining with a strange light. The apple-cheeked man curses at the tableau. “Not even a week. Pity.” 

The half-elf frowned. “Did you know him, Jace?”

“I ran into him a few times in the library. I told him to be careful around the southern perimeter.” Jace sighed and pulled a coin out of his pocket. He whispered a prayer over it and laid it on the altar. 

The woman tapped a finger against her lips, a sign of her thinking. “Did he have family?” Both of the men froze, and looked at her. She gave them a measured look. “I’m merely curious.” She looked at the half-elf. “Maizon, you have some shifts in the records office, don’t you? You could find out.”

The half-elf sighed. A sane man would tell her no, but he simply nodded. “I’m sure someone will be claiming his body, Anna. But I’ll check.”

✱✱✱

Maizon was wrong. 

When it was his time to work in the records office, he found some time to steal away and read poor dead Everett’s file. No next of kin. The only contact was a distant friend of the family’s, and he’d approved of Everett being interred in the cemetery next to the Acadamae. It was, after all, free. He didn’t even want the poor man’s paltry possessions. 

Golarion was set to forget him.

He told Anna. Of course, he told Anna. She was too good at reading people to risk lying to her, and he had a feeling if he told her no, she simply would have bribed someone else to check for her. She brightened when he told her, though as always, that never quite translated into a smile. She had the continence of a porcelain doll. Some noble thing, he assumed. 

“Excellent. Let’s meet in the lab tomorrow. Usual time.”‘

And she left to go bribe someone completely different…

✱✱✱

The ‘lab’ was actually a rented basement apartment. The owner upstairs was a pesh addict who seemed to be happy to turn a blind eye to whatever was going on under his feet in return for favors Maizon didn’t like to ask about. 

Jace and Anna were already there… as was their ‘guest.’ On a long oak table, Effron was laid out, face already puffy and discolored with decay. He was clean, though (Anna’s work, he guessed), and his modesty was covered by a cloth (probably Jace). 

Anna was inspecting a tray full of wicked tools when Maizon came through the door. She looked up. “Ah, good. He’s in remarkably good shape for having tangled with one of the traps. Normally, they’re in more pieces. Can you help me crack the chest?”

Maizon picked up one of the more severe looking tools. The trio worked quickly, the sounds of cracking bones and ripping flesh muffled by a clockwork recorder, playing the sounds of a popular bard. They each had their own interests… Jace’s practical research leaned towards making items that could be used by the common man in the field, for areas where there wasn’t a healer nearby. Maizon leaned more theoretical, fascinated by differences in the various ancestries and how they affected their internal workings, and how it lead to some being stronger, or faster, or sturdier. Anna’s interest… 

Maizon wasn’t quite sure what her interests were. She wrote her notes in a language he didn’t know, and she guarded her journal closely. Even talking to her about the natural sciences didn’t yield many clues: Her interest was so broad, she could talk about anything, but she pulled back as soon as he tried to go deeper.

Normally, Maizon wouldn’t have paired with her, but she had one thing he didn’t: Money. Money to pay graverobbers. Money to keep a pesh addict happy and silent. Money for hats of disguise to keep their movements secret. But not, apparently, enough money to skip to the upper echelons of the Acadamae, where she could study bodies without reporting to some gray beard about her findings.

She also lacked scruples, but that was something they had in common. 

Finally, Jace sat back with a sigh. “Poor sod. I’m not sure anything could have saved him besides a healer in the room. The blade went through his carotid. Maybe a special patch of some sort?”

“Healer’s gloves?” Maizon decided to take a break as well. Jace snorted.

“That’s the problem with medicine in Golarion. It’s so magic focused. The gods have died and left before. They’ve refused services. And even if they were reliable, it’s not like we can put a cleric in every town. We need more practical solutions. Practical knowledge is lacking because magic makes everything so easy.”

Anna continued her examination of the dead student’s eyeball. “You’re starting to sound populist.”

Jace glared at her. “So sorry, milady. My concern for the common man must be distressing for your delicate soul.” His tone dripped with sarcasm, but she shrugged it off. 

“Hardly. It’s just an observation.” She picked up a spoon and, as delicately as if she were retrieving a cherry from a syllabub, plucked the eye from its socket. “I agree, you know. I think it’s absurd that knowledge is hoarded.” She snipped the nerve. “The elder mages aren’t clever: They simply moved faster. They’re standing in the way of progress.”

Jace blinked. “Oh… well. Glad to hear we agree.”

“Mm.” She looked between Jace and Maizon. “I can clean up the body. My associates will be here to retrieve him soon. You two should probably head back.”

The ‘should’ wasn’t a suggestion. Anna may sometimes use conditionals, but her meaning was always in absolutes. Jace and Maizon cleaned themselves up, donned their disguises, and headed back to the university, the smell of the grave still clinging to them.

✱✱✱

It was a week later when Maizon was woken by the slamming of a fist on his dormitory door. He stumbled out of bed, and for a panicked moment, he considered throwing himself out of the window. Yes, he was three stories up, but if he were lucky, it would kill him. Surely, someone had found out. Someone had found out about all of the bodies they had stolen and dissected and even though they were all returned surely they had broken enough laws to leave the three of them disgraced, ridiculed, and hanging from a scaffold–

But then he realized the voice on the other side of the door wasn’t security. It was merely his neighbor. “Maizon! Get up! The library!”

Maizon wrenched open the door to find himself face to face with Garundi whose dark skin was strangely pale. Maizon tried to merely look annoyed rather than panicked. “What is it?”

“It’s Jace.” 

And then Maizon saw the rest of the other man. Blood splattered the front of his robes. He didn’t have to say more. 

Maizon dressed in a hurry and sprinted across the campus to the library. The crowd was still there, in the east wing, near one of the sections that was riddled with traps and alarms due to the nature of the books within. A newer student sat on the ground sobbing, rocking, covered in blood, moaning about how the ‘other boy’ had been trying to help her and how she wanted to go home…

And, in the crowd, a gray rose amid weeds, stood Anna. Of course. She looked unwell, her normally placid visage cracking as she stared at the body that had been her friend. The trap had left his body mostly whole, but had shredded his chest open, making a mess of his internal organs and bones and muscle and skin. Jace’s face was frozen in a look of surprise, tinged with resignation. 

Maizon went to Anna’s side, tempted to ask what happened, but it was obvious. Instead, he did something he’d never done before. He took her hand. It seemed natural, but he almost immediately regretted it. He was shocked at how cold her skin was, as if she’d been holding a ball of ice seconds ago. Her slim fingers locked with his, though, and he couldn’t pull back.

“I have enough for them to bring him back,” she said, a tremor in her voice. “Not in this body, but… good enough. He has work to do. This can’t be how he ends.” 

Technically, students had to pre-pay for reincarnation or resurrection, and most didn’t have the funds. But the Acadamae wasn’t above bribes. Money solves many problems. Anna had proven that over and over again… One of the permanent staff in the natural sciences wing agreed to take her gold, and with the addition of a few gems, even offered to show them the ritual. 

It was fine, Anna kept assuring Maizon. It was dealt with. She had it under control. Jace would adjust and they’d be back to work in no time. Maizon started to wonder who she was reassuring: Him, or her.

The day of the ritual, the sun was blotted out by gray heavy clouds. As they set out the oils and herbs and recited the incantations, the rain started to fall heavily against the windows. Time stretched, and the air grew heavy with the smell of incense and the storm. The final words were spoken…

And nothing happened. The staff member sighed.

Anna was still as death, holding her specially cast candle in her hands. “Well?”

“I’m sorry. Pharasma has closed this–“

Her words were cut off by dozens of bottles shattering. The light of the candles dimmed, Maizon felt his blood run cold. For a moment, no longer than a heartbeat, he swore he saw something behind Anna, shadowy and indistinct. Anna was the only one who didn’t jump. Instead, she carefully set down the candle and smoothed out her dress.

“Someone will be by to collect him. We’ll attend to his burial.” 

And she swept out of the room, glass shards crunching under her shoes. 

✱✱✱

Of course they didn’t take the body to the morgue. Maizon had hoped his cohort had found it in her, just this once, to rein in her curiosity, but no. The staff in the morgue had looked at him blankly and said they never got such a body in, and had been informed a private caretaker was dealing with Jace. The only ones he could imagine Anna going to all pointed to each other, claiming to have never seen the body of a young student.

In a rage, he stormed over to the secret lab. As he threw open the door, he realized he should have gone there first. Jace, affable, concerned, self-sacrificing Jace was laid out on the table, flayed open, his innards spread out over several tables, his eyes staring blankly to the uncaring heavens. 

Anna didn’t even look up. She was too busy examining the man’s still heart. “I was wondering if you were going to join me.”

“He was our friend.”

“Alive, he was our friend. Wherever his soul is now, he’s our friend. But this? This is a husk that we can learn from. I want to know why the ritual failed. He would have wanted us to–“

Maizon was never known for moving fast, but he found speed now. He crossed to where Anna stood and grabbed her arm. He wrenched her back, forcing her to look at him, something dark in his mind telling him to hurt her if she wouldn’t listen to reason– And then, he was across the room. His chest ached, and he realized that this was because something had hit him. Hard. Hard enough to send him flying. He looked up, and saw the shadow behind Anna once more. It blossomed out from behind her, a nightmare made real. And Anna…

For the first time, he saw fear in her eyes.

“You should go,” she said, a tremor in her voice. “Before…”

He didn’t stay long enough to find out what would come next. He scrambled to his feet and was gone, as the sounds of shattering glass filled the room behind him.

✱✱✱

Nights passed. He saw the notice that Jace had been buried. He left tokens at Jace’s portrait. He visited the grave and wondered what was under his feet. He’d forget the whole mess. He merely had to survive another year. He only had to keep his head down. After a week, he had almost convinced himself that this was possible…

And then the reports came from the graveyards: The dead rising up. 

All recent students.

All students that had been in that secret lab, under Anna’s careful knife.

Anna got word to him, and they met at the memorial. She looked unwell. Her skin was paler than usual, and there were circles under her eyes. She started, before he could say anything. “He won’t rise up like the others.”

Maizon’s fists tightened, then released. “Because the resurrection didn’t work?”

“No.” She tugged at her cuff, a rare show of anxiety. She didn’t elaborate. “I’m going home. I’ll need someone to accompany me. You could make yourself free, yes? It’s only until things calm at the school. It’s simply too difficult to focus right now, don’t you agree?” 

It wasn’t really a request. Maizon signed, nodded, and left to put in his leave of absence notice.

✱✱✱

At the very least, she traveled in style.

She had a carriage that was sturdy and comfortable. The only complaint (coming from Anna) was that it was several years out of fashion. She hired a driver who agreed to double as a porter, and he found them two sturdy horses. They packed quickly, and were on the road within a day, barely noticed by a panicking campus. No one seemed to question their rapid departure. After all, they’d been friends with Jace, and Anna, a noble, was already seen as ‘weaker’ when it came to ‘troubles.’ 

The porter, a rough half-orc, spoke no Elvish, so that’s what Maizon and Anna stuck to, when they spoke. Most of the time, they sat in silence with the books they’d borrowed for the trip, or worked on theoretical research. It wasn’t until it was clear they weren’t being pursued that Maizon felt comfortable asking about anything more than where they might stop on the way.

“Why don’t you think he’ll come back?”

Anna looked up from her book. “Because I only looked with him.”

“The others. They’re you?”

She sighed and set her book aside. “I suppose. I thought the rituals had failed, but… perhaps there was a delay. I wish I could have looked one over before we left. They burned them, though.”

“How shortsighted,” drawled Maizon, but then dropped the sarcasm. “Necromancy. That’s been your interest all along. Why? You could go to Geb and have endless research material. You could make a fortune out there.”

She rolled her eyes. “Necromancy isn’t just churning out endless undead. If I only wanted coin, I would have stayed home and gotten married. This is… personal.” She looked out of the window, raising an eyebrow at the landscape. “We’re close.”

“Changing the subject?”

“Not really. But some things, you have to see. If my guess is right, we’ll be home by dinner tomorrow.”

And she settled back in with her book. Apparently, the discussion was over.

✱✱✱

Anna was right. Before long, they were riding through a small town. It was downtrodden under gray skies. Some buildings were empty, abandoned long ago. Those that were filled blocked out the day with heavy, dark curtains. Anna frowned as they rode by, her fingers beating a nervous tattoo on her knee. 

For only the second time, Maizon dared touch her, taking up her slim fingers in his. They were ice cold. “Something’s wrong?”

She nodded, only once. “Black curtains. It’s a local tradition.”

“For what?”

“Keeping out evil spirits. Something’s happened.”

And again… Anna was right.

The LeClerche estate was large, and in better times, might have been lovely. But now, the orchard was rotting, the grass was a sickly yellow, and the colors of the building had faded into a muddy brown. The only thing fresh were black banners set to hang from the parapets. Anna’s face, normally expressionless, was suddenly fragile. She laughed. “Oh… it always had a sense of timing.” And then… she was crying. Maizon searched frantically for a handkerchief. 

“What is it?”

“My father. He’s dead.”

✱✱✱

They were greeted by staff in deep mourning and fed cold funeral meats. They seemed confused to see her, since they had just sent a notice, and hadn’t expected her for at least another two weeks. She waived off their questions, then sequestered herself with her family’s solicitor.

Maizon took the chance to freshen up. The estate was large, and if it were better maintained, would be comfortable, but as it was, every room held a draft, and the air was thick with the smell of mold and mildew, even if the room looked clean. Still, he was tired, so he found himself falling into a deep sleep before long.

He dreamed… a woman, pale of hair and skin, eyes dilated with need, dressed in a pale chemise that was mostly lace. The bed shifted to accommodate her weight as she joined him. Her cool body warmed to his touch. Her breath, strangely sweet, as they kissed. The way she nuzzled his neck, cooing for him to relax… And then a pain, sweet and sinful and dangerous– His hands went to lift her chemise, but something shot out from the dark, shaped like a person, but lost in inky tendrils. It pulled the woman away and pushed him into the abyss.

He woke up with a start, crying out and reaching for the dagger he always kept on his nightstand. It wasn’t there, because he wasn’t in his room. No, he was in a different room, larger, quieter… and there was a woman sitting at the foot of his bed. He shook off the sleep and sat up. “Anna?” He twisted his fingers and produced light.

She’d been crying. Of course she had been crying. Her father had just died. What else would she have been doing? “I’m so sorry about your loss.”

She nodded, then held out a paper to him. “A letter of introduction. Magaambya should still be taking students, and our family worked with them in the past. This should be enough to get you a seat. It would suit you better.”

He read the note. Whoever had done the wordsmithing knew their craft. Maizon sounded like a god’s gift to academia. “Will you be coming?” She shook her head. “Ah. I… suppose you have to be the Lady of the House, now.”

She gave him a thin smile. “No. My position is uncertain.”

Maizon frowned. “Are you illegitimate?” He pushed himself up, realizing he had probably overstepped. “I mean, no worries if you are. I’m a bastard, myself. Some elf bard came through town and did what elf bards do.”

She shook her head. “No… It’s more that my existence is something of a gray area.” She smiled, and it was only then that Maizon realized he never saw her smile. At best, if she laughed, her mouth was hidden behind her sleeve. He assumed it was a noble affect, or her feminie side coming out.

By the light of his magic, he saw her fangs for the first time. 

The smile vanished. “I’m still leaving, though. I have research to do. I’ll simply do it elsewhere. Good luck, Maizon.”

And with that, she left his room. Maizon’s fingers went to his neck, and came back wet, spotted with his blood.

[ Next: Dhampir$: Family Reunion (session one) > ]