Kal stared at the grotesque form before him, half monster from a nightmare, half [Retired Professor] Jeremy.

“What exactly do you mean when you say you’re a friendly vampire, Jeremy?”

Kalin was starting to feel that the meager weekly wage paid by the Order wasn’t enough to be dealing with this particular situation. What was it, four silver a week? At least the real [Dragon-Mages] got social status and flashy powers to go along with their pay, and he’d heard that combat mages got bonuses.

The towering figure in question wiped blood off the front of his pale face with the back of a hand, and Kalin was treated to the sight of both his long, deadly looking claws as well as a mouth fully circled with dagger-like teeth. It reminded him of an anatomical drawing he’d seen in the abbey’s library of some sort of deep-sea creature he had assumed was more of an artist’s nightmare-inspired fancy than reality. Looking at the “Professor” before him, he wasn’t so sure.

The claws, at least, retracted after a moment. The teeth stayed. Kalin looked away, but didn’t find much else pleasant to look at in the thin light cast by the [Magelight] he kept bobbing in the air beside him. It would go out eventually, but for now it required no Mana after its creation, just the focus of maintaining a thin tether of Mana to keep it floating along.

It illuminated the area well, which Kalin wasn’t sure he was thankful for. The three of them stood in the filth of the sewers. He tried not to picture what precisely was squishing against his toes in his boot, but he had a pretty good idea.

“And aren’t vampires supposed to have just two fangs?” That wasn’t the most pertinent question to be asking, but Kalin found his mouth had gone rather dry, and it was the first thing that came into his head. It was shaping up to be a long day.

“Well, Kal,” the thing said in the Professor’s creaky voice—an unsettling contrast to its new monstrous appearance. “That’s a common misconception. And I’m not just a friendly vampire. I’m a [Friendly Vampire]. Well, that’s not the official class title, of course, because that would be silly, wouldn’t it? But [Sanctified Bloodthirster] has such a dry feel to it, don’t you think? Well not dry exactly, because of the blood. But conceptually. And despite what many would say about us undead, it’s not all bone-dust and corpse-dirt, you know. For example, I—”

“If he’s Scourge, we’ve gotta gut him.”

Jeremy cut off as Sam held her dagger to his throat, only to resume speaking a moment later.

“I’m hardly Scourge, madam.”

Kalin saw Sam grit her teeth as the undead…whatever he was continued. His voice had changed as he spoke, and now it sounded noticeably different from the Professor’s, and growing more unfamiliar by the word.

As Kalin watched he even thought the creature’s face was changing, somehow growing younger looking and more grotesque at the same time. He prepared to cast some sort of Force spell to back Sam up, if it came to it.

Faces weren’t supposed to have bones poking out, were they?

Or glowing red eyes. Or shark-teeth. Or waxy skin that…

“Not all of us like murdering babies. One bad apple and all that. Err, maybe it’s the other way around and I’m the one good apple.” [Whatever he really was] Jeremy shrugged. “Anyways, just so you know, I only stopped talking to be polite, not because I’m scared of that blade.” He sniffed pompously, then a panicked look came into his eyes, which with bloody red glow was not a friendly look. “Wait! That’s not silver, is it?” His face relaxed, a languid, toothy smile replacing the panicked expression. “Only joking, it’s a myth you know…”

Kalin and Sam looked at each-other in a sort of shock as the vampire rambled on and eventually came to a stop. Sam still held her knife to the thing’s throat. Finally Jeremy sighed and fished around inside his robe for something, before bringing out a small orb that glowed with beautiful golden light.

Sam squinted at it, then took it from his hand to get a closer look. The Bloodthirster protested, but she kept her knife pinned to his throat. After a minute or so of close examination, she removed the knife and tossed the orb back.

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“He’s clean,” she said with finality, like she’d just done a pat-down on him. When she spoke again her voice was more uncertain. “So, uh, what do we do with him?”

Kal could feel a headache coming on. It reminded him of the nights he’d spent up late at the outpost, that feeling of trying to absorb too much knowledge in one sitting. He’d heard of Sanctified undead once or twice, but honestly he’d thought they were made up as propaganda by one of the [Holy] sects of mages. Something about rogue Liches fighting against their own kind?

“Alright,” he said with a sigh, “what’s a [Sanctified Bloodthirster]? Were you a vampire this whole time?” If so, he must have had some serious {Disguise} skill.

“I’m not a vampire,” Jeremy started. “I’m a [Sanctified Bloodthirster], and if you don’t even care to—”

Without realizing it, Kalin had formed a shimmering glove of purple energy around his right hand, and before he knew it he had grabbed Bloodthirster Jeremy by the throat.

“Listen,” he said slowly, as another part of his mind dully registered the fact that he had never used or even seen purple magic before. “You know what I mean, and you know why I’m asking. Explain, before the city guards get here and kill all three of us.” It seemed a reasonable request to Kal, given the circumstances. He looked pointedly at the dead and ravaged body of the bandit at their feet.

This seemed to dull the man’s enthusiasm somewhat, and he looked down in alarm, though Kal wasn’t sure why he was worried about the city guard if a bolt through the chest and a knife to the gut didn’t slow him down any. Jeremy sighed extravagantly.

“Oh, fine. But just know that you’re no fun.” He glanced at Sam dismissively. “Either of you.” They both glared at him, but Kalin let his hand drop, and he felt the unfamiliar magic fade as Jeremy continued. “I am a [Professor], in fact, just, ah, not at an institution you are probably familiar with. Unless…does the Center for Reformed Undead strike any bells?”

Sam nodded. “Sure, the CRU.”

Now it was Jeremy’s turn to stare, along with Kalin.

Sam blushed. “Just a joke,” she grumbled. “Jeez.”

Jeremy’s eyes lit up like he’d just had the biggest and most satisfying surprise of his life. They looked like rubies drenched in blood, Kal thought.

He brought a hand to his forehead as Jeremy gave Sam an appraising look and then a conspiratorial grin. Kalin wondered how he had ended up being the responsible one here?

“Please,” he said wearily. “I nearly blew myself up a few hours ago, so if we could just get back to the part where we figure out what’s going on and whether or not we need to kill you, I would appreciate it.”

“Oh sure, sure.” Jeremy said, still looking at Sam. By now he looked almost nothing like the Professor Kal had met…only yesterday, he realized foggily. No wait, the day before? Kal wasn’t sure anymore, but it was clear that the thing before him was not a [Retired Professor].

Jeremy now stood a good two feet above Kalin’s own head, and Kalin realized that a portion of the skin on Jeremy’s hand was coming off. Sliding slowly like a tender piece of meat off the bone.

He saw Kalin’s gaze and flicked his hand dismissively. At which point the meat of his hand came sloughing off like a weight of old snow from the dead branches of a tree.

“Ah, first just let me…”

As he watched, Jeremy brushed his shoulder with a disdainful look like he was flicking off dust, and another chunk of flesh came sliding off, splashing into the fetid water with a sickening splash. Jeremy wiggled the newly-freed bone of his shoulder, then his whole body gave a rattling shudder, and lumps of flesh slid off from all over his body, splashing into the water and leaving behind something rather more like a skeleton than a human or vampire.

There were still bits of fleshy material stretched over the bones in many places, but it was more…gristle than muscle or fat, along with some yellowing connective tissue and cartilage that looked like they had seen better days.

Jeremy the [Sanctified Bloodthirster] sighed in apparent relief.

“That’s so much better,” he said with a slight groan, brushing his bony hands over his torso to get off the last large chunks of muscle and fat. His fingers—finger bones rather, made a scraping noise as he did, and he paused.

“Well,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe we are rather dry, now that I think about it. But conceptually I mean, like I said, we’re really more…” he gestured with his hand-bones in the air as he searched for the right word. “…moist.”

Kalin thought he might be sick. Then he remembered that this was the creature who had given him the precious egg weighing down his pack, and his nausea intensified.

Then he saw a warm golden glow leaking out from between Jeremy’s ribs where his robe had come open, and realized he hadn’t been storing the Sigil in his robe; he had just shoved it into his chest, where it sat like some pseudo-heart behind his ribcage.

Jeremy saw Kalin staring and gave a scandalized little ‘hmph’ before cinching his robe shut tight, once again the image of the Professor.

Except for the skeleton face, glowing eyes, and talon-edged bony feet sticking out below.

Kalin’s felt his nausea fade as a cold tide of dread washed over him.

What had he gotten himself into?

Just before he turned away, Kalin heard the Bloodthirster gasp like he'd just remembered something incredibly important.

"Oh! I almost forgot, how silly of me. My name isn't really Jeremy, just so you know."

"Then why didn't you--" Kal cut himself off. "Nevermind. What is it?"

"Drakthareon the Grim, if you please." He swept a dramatic bow.

Kalin sighed. Of course it was.