Melancthon was born between the union of a mortal woman and an immortal vampire male. Melancthon knows very little of his parents for his mother was a mere consort of the man and she loathed the child she bore from it. While in Nidal, where Melancthon was born, it is not unusual to see vampires living among people casually; many of these vampires hold positions of powers and Melancthon's father was most likely one of these officials, though he is unaware of who his true father is. As for his mother, her name is Reeveka, and she was unaware of raising a vampiric child nor did she have the money to sponsor such a child despite the father. She raised the child past infancy though around the time he was merely a child of 8, Melancthon was dumped on the doorsteps of a clandestine chruch dedicated to Desna one such church that was aligned with the Whispered Song.

Among the worshipers of Desna, Melancthon certainly did not fit in exactly, with many assuming like most other vampries he was a mere worshiper of Zon-Kuthon and would seek to uphold the current monothestic state; however, being raised among the Desna worshipers Melancthon had no such desire and such assumptions of his nature were purely derived by racial profiling. He began to study different dieties, that of Desna of course, but Pharasma and Alseta too. From a young age, he was aware of his unique heritage—a descendant of the undead, caught between the realms of the living and the dead. Melancthon's elongated lifespan would grant him the burden of witnessing countless lives flicker away like candles, as he became an unwilling spectator to the passage of time. He lived among humans and fetchlings and as he watched them age, he never changed much.

As he grew up he began to seek labor within society as she was not fit to uphold the clerical duties of Desna's cult. Melancthon found solace in the role of a chronicler of death. He immersed himself in the customs of funeral rites, chronicling letters and records of the departed. By honoring the dead, he sought to find meaning amidst the sorrow, paying homage to lives extinguished too soon or marked by tragedy. He spent a great deal of time reading and gathering the pieces of those who had passed away and soon found it be his purpose as someone who has a lifespan as long as his. As he continued his work he found that something about himself began to change, he felt as if he himself was slipping away from the chains of time. As he kept reading and indulging in magic the bent time and dealt with the past Melancthon himself found the countless march of milliseconds built up and he was becoming more and more out of sync with reality. While in one regard this granted him more power over time however small and feeble he felt even more hopeless as he felt he was becoming even less so tethered to the society he chronicled.

His most grim reminder of this was with the one lady in his life he felt connected to. She was the daughter of a fetchling man he had come to send off. He was used to comforting the people who mourned after their passed away relatives, but she was even more distraught then the normal family he was used to dealing with. She was his only daughter and as it seemed she was his only family member left alive. His wife had passed years ago from old age, and it was now his time as well. His daughters name was Pauline and she was 32 a single child and a librarian at a local branch. At first Melancthon merely did his duty, he took her father, performed his rite, and processed his will alongside any important documents he left, but Pauline was deeply intermingled with his duties. She helped him sort through what was there as she had skills in bookkeeping as a librarian; though the main reason she wanted to help was out of obligation to her father. Now that he had passed she expressed feeling completely isolated in the world, a sentiment that Melancthon could understand. While he knew it was unprofessional to continue talking personally with her after his job was done, Melancthon continued and he and Pauline grew close both due to their feelings of isolation.

Melancthon was worried about being attached to someone with such a short lifespan, but he could not help it. In her he saw himself, someone who was lonely and isolated. He could not help but fall in love with her and she too with him. His goal was to give her the best life that he could so that he knew she would die happy, and perhaps he could bare with her a child so that he could guide them through life as he could easily outlive both the mother and child not only due to his dhampir blood but also his curse. They tried to conceive a child but as it turns out many dhampir have difficulty producing children of their own, and those few born to a dhampir are never dhampirs themselves. He saw that this hurt Pauline, she truely wished to have a child too.

Pauline began to grow old, and Melancthon stayed by her side loyally. Taking care of her in her sunset years. He tried to steel his heart against this inevitable fate of her but it still hurt him so much. With each passing year, Melancthon's isolation grew, as he witnessed his her wither away while he remained unchanged. The weight of his existence threatened to consume him even before her passing and he feared what would happen after the time came. He had never been a religious man despite his upbringing, his studies, or his own nations monothestic ruling but for the first time in his life he prayed with fervor the day she passed. He prayed to Alseta, praying the Pauline would transfer into the afterlife with no issue, but he also prayed for himself so that he could find what he needed to do now, so that he could transition on from his own sorrow and loss and what he was to do with his blessing and curse of time.

He recieved a message, when he looked into a mirror his own after-image, an artifact of his curse, formed a miror to his face. Even for just a fraction of a fraction of a second he saw what he believed to be Alseta gracing him in a mirror. He had an opiphany and a sudden understanding of a burden he was meant to carry but he was given the strength to press on. While he may live to watch things die, he could guide them as well. He could continue to comfort those in their times of weakness in a way that he never had the understanding to before. Now that he knew his own suffering he could understand those he had worked with beforehand. He now truly understood loss and the infinite march of time. Thus, Melancthon embarked on a new chapter of his melancholic story. With every step he took, he carried the weight of his curse, the sorrow of countless lives lost, and the burden of immortality. Yet, within his desolate heart, a flicker of resilience burned. Through his journey, he yearned not only to find solace for himself but also to use his powers and knowledge to bring comfort and closure to those he encountered along the way.

As Melancthon chronicled the letters and records of the fallen, he held within him the stories of their lives, ensuring they would not be forgotten. And though his path remained shadowed by the curse that bound him, he vowed to leave a lasting legacy, a testament to the enduring power of compassion, even in the face of unending melancholy. His duty was to be a chronicler, and this is how he came to find the Grand Archives of the Pathfinder society and begin to work for them.