Bestiary

These infamous “hopping vampires” are recidivism personified. Stiff corpses whose rigid physicality forces them to “hop” and thrash around with distinct unsubtlety, these undead parasites endure decades of being trapped within their own bodies before they manage to escape their graves. Such lengthy imprisonment and isolation gives them the shittiest attitudes imaginable. Most display a certain degree of the personalities they held in life; those personalities, however, have been hardened and coarsened by decades — sometimes centuries — of graceless non-death, and so these creatures remain stuck in a state somewhere between zombie, true vampire, and a really crappy excuse for a life.

Occasionally, this state results from a curse inflicted by some vengeful enemy. Most jiangshi, however, have no one but themselves to blame for their current predicament. Spectacularly bad luck (and bad Qi, known in the West as Quintessence) made their bodies too restless to properly die. Jiangshi owe their dismal state of life after death to a near absence of yin energies, and a monstrous amount of yang. Ironically, this crucial energetic imbalance means that a jiangshi who drains someone’s Quintessence is essentially committing suicide, because restoring balance to a jiangshi’s Qi breaks their control over the physical body, releasing their spiritual essence from that rigid form. Nevertheless, jiangshi must drain Quintessential energy from living things in order to retain their mortal state… and despite that rather uncomfortable state, the proposition of following being undead with several centuries in a Buddhist hell-realm is enough to keep a hopping vampire, well, hopping for their next meal.

When feeding, a jiangshi goads or entices would-be prey into emotional exertions that raise the vital energies (preferably in a passionate yang state: vibrant, active, perhaps amorous or violent) to a pitch. Some jiangshi then latch themselves onto the prey with grasping hands or a hungry mouth, but many — especially those of the more “old-school” variety — simply sit back and draw the energy into themselves from a discreet distance. Mages skilled in the Sphere of Prime can sense these energies, of course, but most mortal folk cannot unless their perceptions reach into sublime realms hidden from foolish human eyes. (In game terms, the Awareness Talent or similar energy-based Disciplines, Gifts, or other powers.) Regardless of the method employed, jiangshi must drain such energies in order to remain “alive.” Stealing Qi is essential for a jiangshi’s survival, as they must feed in order to heal injuries or even to repair their rigid bodies from the basic wear and tear of walking around. Some clever jiangshi preserve their unlife-spans by draining Qi only from feverish patients, unrepentantly violent criminals, and other folks with severe Qi imbalances. Others of a more philosophical bent accept their injuries rather than feed, and gradually become more decrepit as the rigors of not-death wear their mortal bodies away.

Restless by definition, jiangshi rarely stay idle or in the same place for long. While they’re most famous in China, jiangshi roam all over East Asia, with a few of them even choosing to migrate to other regions of the globe. Many take up work as club bouncers, construction workers, and workers from other physically active professions. These beings never sleep, and they can see into the Penumbra… often through the morbid Vidare Mortem which, incidentally, does not help with their sanity and anger issues.

If you happen to encounter a hopping vampire who’s trying to pass for a living person, be ready for that jiangshi to go full raving madman as soon as they realize that you can see them for what they are. Under better circumstances, the creature may act calmer and perhaps even personably. Bring a stick and a carrot if you plan on bargaining with one of them, though, just to be safe. Especially the stick, most especially if it came from a peach tree, whose sacred wood drives malignant energies away. Better still, bring a mirror (jiangshi fear and flee their own reflections), a Taoist paper talisman (affixed to the vampire’s head, such charms immobilize jiangshi), an axe or broom (to chop up the critter or beat it away), the blood of a black dog (splashed on a jiangshi, it burns them like acid), Taoist or Confucian prayers, the ba gua sign (which they flee as Christian vampires flee a cross), a bag of coins or glutinous rice (which, when spilled, distracts the vampire, who feels compelled to pick it all up), or maybe just a torch or other source of fire. Vampires — even the hopping kind — fucking hate fire.

Attributes: Strength 3, Dexterity 2, Stamina 4, Charisma 3, Manipulation 4, Appearance 3, Perception 4, Intelligence 5, Wits 3

Abilities: Academics 2, Alertness 1, Athletics 3, Awareness 2, Brawl 2, Enigmas 2, Esoterica (Taoist Alchemy) 4, Firearms 2, Intimidation 3, Martial Arts 2, Melee 2, Occult 3, Subterfuge 3

Willpower: 6

Rage: 2 (from Ferocity Advantage)

Health Levels: OK, OK, OK, OK, ‒1, ‒1, ‒2, ‒2, ‒5, Incapacitated

Armor Rating: 2 (six soak dice, total)

Powers/Advantages: Bite for Strength + 2 aggravated damage, claw for Strength + 3 aggravated damage; Armor (2 pts.); Aura; Fangs and Claws (aggravated); Ferocity (4 pts.); Human Guise; Mystic Shield (two dice, 4 pts.); Nightsight; Soak Lethal Damage; Soul-Sense /Death Sense (3 pts.); Spirit Vision

Image: Newly risen jiangshi stick out like pale, moldering corpses dressed in outdated funeral wear. Their iconic “hopping” pose generally clues people in, too. Once a jiangshi learns to control his body, however, his movements become more fluid, eventually surpassing his body’s original speed and strength. After a few years (and a bit of makeup), a jiangshi can look almost like any other person… to the naked eye, anyway. For anyone with paranormal perceptions, jiangshi (including those still interred) glow like hot coals, their massive spiritual imbalance making their nature plain.

Roleplaying Notes: Almost as chatty as you are pissed off. Your imbalanced yang energy makes you emotionally volatile, talkative, mercurial, and often hasty, while your stiff form is really… fucking… frustrating to work with.