Wanderkin Vampire

A new and lesser breed, these vampires come from a ruined elven domain ruled by a fallen lord of legend, a dreaded death knight. They keep the wanderkin frame: under four feet, slight and gymnast-lean, with impish, elfin eyes and ears. A closer look shows the rot of undeath. Pale, withered skin is drawn tight over bone like a mummy's, long sharp teeth give the face an unforgettable feral cast, and the fingers have shrunk to thinly fleshed bones tipped with claws. Speech is a painful hiss, so they rarely talk, though they still understand the few languages they knew.

The famous wanderkin nimbleness is gone. These vampires move stiffly, always act last in a round and never surprise anyone, but greater strength and new claws let them deal 1d6 in hand-to-hand. Many carry a forked sling-staff: as a sling it hurls stones for 1d4+1 against small or man-sized targets and 1d6+1 against larger ones, and as a staff it hits for 1d4 or 1d6.

The claws wound the spirit as well as the body. A victim must save vs. paralysis or lose their next round to shock, and whether or not the save succeeds, loses 1 point each of Intelligence and Wisdom. Wanderkin killed this way never rise, since these vampires can only be made through the death knight's own dark arts. Once per hour the vampire can throw back its head and cackle; everyone within 20 yards saves vs. spell or suffers as if they had seen a symbol of insanity. Remove fear and similar magic grants immunity.

It is hit only by +1 or better weapons. A mundane wooden weapon that strikes it rots away instantly, and a magical one must save vs. acid. It regenerates 2 hp per round, and a raise dead cast on it restores it to full. Sleep, charm, hold and all mind-affecting magic fail, as do toxins, poisons and diseases. Cold and heat deal half damage, lightning full.

At will it can become an invisible spirit with all the traits of a poltergeist. At 0 hp it is forced into this fragile form and races for its coffin; failing to arrive within 12 turns traps it as a poltergeist until slain. Killed in spirit form, it is gone forever.

Holy water or a holy symbol pressed to its skin deals 1d4, and the symbol forces a morale check or it flees. It is turned as a wraith, perhaps because its unbroken inner spirit lacks the resolve of other undead. Its own sling-staff, turned against it, deals full damage without rotting, and a natural 19 or 20 impales and kills it outright. Either way, its body bursts into flame and both it and the weapon burn away. The sight of glimmerweed, a crystalline flower found in hidden corners of its domain, keeps it 10 yards back, and if moonlight touches the blooms their prismatic glow deals 1d4 per round while it is within 20 yards.

It can never leave its domain. Crossing the border, willingly or not, turns it instantly to dust, and the pain of approaching keeps it at least a mile from the edge.

The death knight wanted undead servants the domain's elves would loathe, but feared undead elves might threaten him, so he pulled a wanderkin village through the mists and killed its people one by one, studying their agonies and testing rituals over their bodies. Half died horribly before he perfected a formula for vampires utterly loyal to him. Between 10 and 30 probably exist. They hate their maker but cannot act against him. Each leads 3d4 other undead servants plus 4d6 HD of zombies and skeletons.

The bond to the domain likely stems from a pact with the dark powers of the realm, at some terrible price to their creator. The domain's native elves sense one within 100 yards, first as vague unease that grows into horror and revulsion as it nears. These vampires never grow stronger with age, cursed to stay as they are without the curiosity and wanderlust that once filled their lives. On the night of each full moon, it is said, they can only sit beside their coffins and weep.