#werebeast kin

[lycantooth]

werewolves and werebeasts! I’ve always considered myself a werewolf therian despite it technically being fictional and I wanted to see how werewolves categorise themselves within the community

PLEASE reblog if you vote for a larger sample size

(do not count other animal types in ‘multiple’ im looking specifically for werebeasts here)

[wholewolfsbane]

lycanthropy is usually depicted in a maner that a werewolf is suffering from a condition and is still human, but is taken over by this wolf side that is bad and murderous. but for me its kinda the opposite? im not a human suffering from becoming a wolf, im a wolf suffering from becoming a human

[runaway-workshop]

Working on a bear LARP commission today. The blank for this mask will be available soon, more commissions will be opening soon too

[paragonrobits]

some more fun (or, well, not so much fun as ‘horrifically depressing detail that clarifies the position of Werewolf: The Apocalypse as not solely the action-focused beatstick of World of Darkness, but a look at how part of the heroism of the Fera is them keeping up a fight they know they CAN’T win) details about the Garou (werewolves) in particular but pretty much all Fera suffer from, is a supernaturally brutal variant of depression that comes from the soul and spirit, and the wounds of the world around them

one of the most important aspects of the true werebeasts of the World of Darkness, collectively called the Fera, is that they are as much spirit-creatures as they are flesh. Just as the Garou are both wolf and men, or the Khan both tigers and humans, the Fera are in deep connection with the spirit world and all that implies; they FEEL things and it influences them, even the ones who have a harder time stepping across the barriers separating the shadow-spirit world from the material realm.

And the World of Darkness is fucked up, in many respects.

They FEEL it. When a werewolf states that something is deeply corrupted, its not a metaphor. They FEEL it; the evil done by human hands sinks deep into the world, poisoning the spirit world, lingering for an age afterwards. It may never entirely fade away. There are parts of the world where horrific atrocities have been done and those wise in the ways of the spirit insist: do NOT step sideways into the spirit world there. Do not do it; you may not come back, and you may not want to. Not because there are vile and awful spirits there, or the lingering echoes of the people who died in pain and despair (but there are plenty of both), but because to feel their pain is poison to ordinary humans alone.

Imagine what it does to beings who are intimately of all the worlds.

And so, the Fera feel the pain of the world, and it kills them. This is the sickness the Garou called Harano; a deep and horrifying form of spiritual depression, lingering from the world’s pain. It’s a little bit of guilt, for the werewolves KNOW that much of this is their fault. It’s a little bit of cosmic despair, for the Wyrm is WINNING. It wins with every single moment of indifference and apathy; it wins when horrible things happen because people turn a blind eye to suffering as long as it doesn’t affect them, and wins when awful things happen and the world just moves on, indifferent to the horrors in its wake. And it’s mostly just the perfectly mundane aspects of fighting losing battles, whether its the mundane of seeing people die and corporations prosper as the natural world the Fera care for slowly get withered away, or the people they try to protect are slowly whittled away bit by bit. It’s there for when the beasts they call kin fade away, the wolves and tigers and more faring even worse in WoD than they do in real life. One too many bad days and exhausting pyrric victories and terrible losses build up.

And somehow, some part of them dies, and they just stop.

This is Harano. More Fera succumb to this than they do to mundane injury. A werewolf may be able to shrug off all but the most vicious and powerful of weaponry, but their hearts and minds find the seeming hopelessness of their battles something you can’t heal from.

Of note, this effects the Mokole the most; the werealligators and crocodiles (and many other reptiles besides); who remember the past. They were THERE, 65 million years ago; they were there when the people before humans died. They have been there for countless eons since, watching so many things fade away and die. They carry an ancestral memory of everything an ancestor experience, and what THEIR ancestors experienced. And it is so much loss and despair.

There is a reason the advice of the Bastet when it comes to their scaled cousins is to let them lie. Brother Dragon, they say, has been through much; too much. Harano is a peril for all Fera, but it is especially terrible for the Mokole, as the ocean of despair behind them consumes them. Imagine all the most horrible things in human history, and the things that predate human history:

now imagine seeing it for yourself, and EXPERIENCING it first hand... over and over again.

[astarab1aze]

The eyes are mesmerized by every oddity on every shelf. The things here are what one would expect to find within the confines of a fantasy novel, but the bottles V touches and herbs he scents in the air are not only tangible, they are real. As is the young woman tending the store, who he's noticed has stolen a few curious glances at him, at his curiosity (which, granted, must seem childlike to her). "You offer such...varied wares," he observes softly, cautiously. Some of them he's seen, given his line of work, but the rest... Frightfully fascinating. // V FOR VIRI 🔪

A Vitalean in Scarburn? The devil hunter was an awful long way from home, a stranger in a strange land where hunters of all sorts were looked down upon - too many chances for such a sort to bring unwanted attention to their kin. Nightfolk were second-class inhabitants of the continent, spit on and warred over enslaving every step of the way, and especially beastfolk. Hunters brought with them suspicion and violence, their presence proof enough of something amiss for why would a hunter be anywhere at all unless there was something to kill, some danger to eliminate?

She, however, didn't discriminate, but found herself a mite curious, watching as the gangly, almost-skeletal man with tattoos darkening his skin poked his head around the petta flowers and jars of various root blends, hovering between bottled blackwyrm eyes and widow innards, wincing nearly imperceptibly at some of the more horrific ingredients contained in the glass set upon wooden racks and the grisly trophies hanging upon the walls - most from Kirat, the rest from the Scarburran Foothills. Hunting used to be a celebrated profession on the western side of the continent. Rather, it still was, but not by nightfolk. Not by witches, wizards, shapeshifters, vampires, werebeasts, greater beastfolk, or sapient monsters. Too many too willing to abuse their positions, and much was the same with the sorcier class. What good were they, if they killed the very folk they were meant to protect? But as she thought, she was never one to discriminate.

He was safe here, as long as he was only a customer. Perhaps he was only a hunter on pilgrimage, seeing the world for its experience, popping into quaint little shops in city centers on his travels - perhaps a lover of souvenirs and self-given gifts. Or, maybe he had a lover in road leathers waiting for him outside, doing some shopping of their own elsewhere.

She hadn't moved from her post at the counter, but she did think to call out to him, address him properly. That was until he addressed her.

"--Well, if you've a wish to be successful, then you must offer that which folk have need, and in Scarburn, we've need for much," she answered plainly, blinking once, twice quickly. "What is it you've need for, devil hunter? There's course salt, chalk, the flesh and innards of many a powerful beast from beholder eyelids to the shit of a styxie - all ethically procured and in accordance with even Vitalean law. Long as you ring a purchase, you're welcome to peruse, but I must insist you ring. I'm running an apothacary, not a gallery."

[clinically-kitty]

Playing around w colors so those r subject to change but I like idea of the symbols having various specific versions too. Thoughts?

Also this is mainly meant for zoanthropes and other werebeast endels but im still considering whether werebeast kin r going to fall under it. A big factor in this unification is also the hardships that come with trasforming and/or physically believing yourself to be nonhuman which kin/therian isnt by definition and I dont rlly want this to be taken over by ppl who r just in it for the identity/for fun. Its a very different experience that gets treated like dirt enough by kin/therians and general public.

[bells-of-black-sunday]

Werewolves and Werebeasts

Conflicts between werewolves and humans go on for as long as time and they were one of the main groups targeted by the Monster Hunters Guild in the past due to how often conflict with humans would happen. Now and days werewolves are valued members of society with those being cursed to be the way they are even having readily available cures made by witches or alchemists that are available with a prescription.

It's not uncommon to see werewolves in pest control due to their keen senses to sniff out where they're hiding or even keeping livestock due to their natural scent keeping away predators. They're one of the most common types of monsters that live among humans even if a large majority are still effected by the cycles of the moon. Though werewolves and vampires have always had a long standing rivalry over territory disputes, most in modern day simply joke about it instead of taking it seriously.

Cursed

These are your universal monster looking werewolves, though they are a minority among werewolf populations, they still exist and pop up occasionally. These are humans cursed by witches, druids, wizards, or a god / many gods. They notably keep a much more human appearance, but are much more prone to violence with an unstable state of being. Their transformations are painful and can happen on both full and new moons. It wouldn't be a curse if it was pleasant now would it? These werewolves tend to have a life span closer to that of a humans give or take a decade or two, though most seek a cure before that ever becomes a problem.

Natural Born

These are werewolves that are born as werewolves. They don’t get their first transformations until puberty and have unnatural strength and features even when they’re not turned, usually having pointed ears, sharp canines, lots of body hair, slit pupils and claws. Not all of them are tied to only turning by full moon and it’s not clear exactly why, the leading theories are some werewolves lineages are more magic and others are more blessing based.

All natural werewolves are able to turn humans by biting them and having or making them drink their blood. Their lifespans are also immortal, only able to die by disease, starvation, dehydration and mortal wounds from silver weaponry. They also often surround themselves with other werewolves akin to pack behavior.

Turned

Turned werewolves are humans sired by natural born werewolf either willingly or forcefully. They are the weaker than their natural born kin, but still possess the same qualities though they are tied to the phases of the moon. Though unlike natural born werewolves they can speak within their transformations and their limbs aren't usually long enough to run on all fours they also have less fur. Though in the past turning others used to be frowned upon unless it was someone who had fallen in love with a human or using it to save an allies life, there are now clinics where you can walk in and become a werewolf on a whim.

Just like the cursed variety there are prescription cures, though your teeth and body hair will never be the same as before.

Spiritually Sired

Spiritually sired werewolves are similar to druids in that they're both blessed by the same spirits, though what sets them apart is the type of blessing given. Typically druids are blessed into turning into a larger version of the animal they were blessed by with a few more "human-like" features ex. long elf-like ears on a bear or short spiked manes on wolves. Spiritual werewolves do posses those qualities still, but they are much more of your typical bi-pedal animal. Their transformations aren't tied to the moon, but they also can speak within their form the similarities making some researchers believe they are the ancestors of modern naturally born werewolves.

They are the largest and arguably strongest of the types of werewolves and there aren't many around due to the Monster Hunter Guilds actions in the past making those that are often ancient beings. Due to their ties to nature they tend to follow the druidic and witch beliefs on sticking to the wilds often simply being rumors in the places they do exist making them quite difficult for the guild and those studying their populations to keep track of.

Werebeasts

Werebeasts follow the same types as above, but can be any animal given the nature of animal spirits. They also have historically had conflict with humans, but to a much lesser extent. There aren't as many around due to the modern shift away from the spirituality of old, but they are no less an impressive sight to see in the woods.

[lycantooth]

MEEEEE!!!

MEMEMEME ME BC I AM WEREBAT

(from batman: the animated series and the arkham games series)

[morihaus]

Domina

cw for a vampire talking about mortals like cattle and mentions of molag bal (just his name)

---

Atop a balcony of the Imperial Palace, the young emperor casts her gaze westward, over the canopy of the great forest, off to the dark horizon laid over the Colovian highlands. Past the borders of Cyrodiil, there lays the outlying province of the Empire, Craglorn, home to the distant Nedes never chained. Cities of stone and high towers, traditions older than the Empire of Man, faith older than Saint Alessia herself; Hestra was born to these lands, to the Cyrodiils who came from Colovia to lend aid to their kin, to enlighten them, to fasten and secure their ties to the Empire, and to keep wary watch of the expanding dominion of Verkarth, whose king had spent a century splitting the land in two, harrowing the Nedic allies of the Empire, unopposed in the distant and foreign borderland.

It was this that brought her to power. She became warrior to the faith as many in her family had been before her, as was the Colovian style of the priesthood, and she worked to stymie the tide of this burgeoning power henceforth unknown- as well as the dark creatures who cavorted within its borders, fanning out to the neighboring realms to terrorize the populace. Vampires, werebeasts, monsters of all sorts became the scourge of Craglorn in those days, and the Empire of Cyrodiil did nothing, for what was their concern for the fate of provincials? Nedes who knew nothing of Paravant, or Pelinal, or the One, whose degenerate practices ostracized them from polite Imperial society.

Hestra was one of many in Craglorn and Cyrodiil who saw need for action, but alas, small militias could do nothing but root out loose ends, small cells of the fiends who dogged the western reaches. A coven here, a pack there, but this was to treat the symptoms rather than the sickness, and without organized action against Styriche and his Gray Host itself, nothing would be done.

And for all the dire circumstances, this is why she stands here, amulet of dragon-fire around her neck, looking west with purpose. She has been emperor for but two years, and the Empire is more united than it has been in some time. She is what Cyrodiil needs, a decisive emperor, to cut through the internal bickering of the Order; a conquering emperor, to show no quarter to the enemies of mankind; a common emperor, who understands the plight of her subjects and refuses to rest until justice is done.

With the Empire whole, it prepares for a full-scale invasion of Verkarth, to sunder and destroy the foul abominations commanded by its king.

Something approaches silently from behind her. She is without guard, but not alone, for tonight she is entertaining a particular guest.

"Second thoughts, Emperor?" The pale woman clad in deep red silks asks her with a playful tone. Playful as a cat toys with a mouse, but decidedly playful nonetheless.

Hestra turns to face her, Exarch of the Gray Council, undying vampire, a mistress of the dark forces she plans to destroy. She faces her and sees her ever-so-smug grin, her round face, pale like the moon with dark shadows and painted colors framing her scarlet-orange eyes. She sees her jewelry reflect the light of the night sky, a shimmer along the chain of her belt as her eyes trace her waist, a shine around the swirling ringlets of her arm, up to the clasp of her dress on her shoulder, even a sparkle from the jewel earrings when her long black hair fell just so to make way for the light. "I consider my actions more often than you think. This is why I'm here, Vem."

Vem moves forward to press up against the other woman, lifting a manicured hand to trace her jawline. She is without reverence for the Emperor, but not without admiration, and often she shows her appreciation with touch. "This is why I see such potential in you, fair Hestra." The mortal woman doesn't flinch- but might shiver- at the vampire's chilling touch, and allows it to happen. This close she can see the subtle scaly texture speckling Vem's skin, around her eyes and her bare neck and arms, her eyes fix to this instead of Vem's hypnotic gaze- she wouldn't dare attempt to bewitch the warrior emperor, but she does much without noticing it. "We have more in common than you do with your councilors. They fill their heads with petty concerns, worthless mortal vanity- you and I, we focus on what's truly important: power."

Hestra, for as steely as her countenance is, lets her head droop to one side, warm cheek pressed against Vem's cold hand. She raises one of her own to Vem's waist, closing her eyes. "I have power, Vem. I'm the Emperor, blessed by Akatosh, anointed before the One." She doesn't need sight to picture the frown grow on Vem's face as she speaks.

She hears a sigh, and the cold hand moves down from cradling her head, sliding across her bare neck and stopping at her shoulder. Hestra opens her eyes again to see the predictable sight. She'd call the expression on Vem's face perplexed, as she is always baffled by her refusal. "Have I not explained to you the difference in magnitude hundreds of time?" She scoffs. "You are a Queen, a mortal Queen, you command great armies and rule over all of your citizenry. But I could make you more. As vampire, you would never age, never die, you would be indomitable."

"Indomitable," Hestra repeats. "But dominated by the foul machinations of your master."

Vem furrows her brow, twitching her nose. "Lord Bal is our master in name alone. He holds no true sway over us- we only need make one pact, but one ritual, and we may reap the rewards of his gift as we serve ourselves. You cannot tell me you would not desire such a power."

"Power at a price." Hestra lets her hand fall back, and now furrows her own brow as she looks back at Vem, somewhat yearning for the years she hadn't known of her true nature, or for a time where they could spend time ignoring the doom that surrounds them, before this decision had to be reached. "I do not want to join your Gray Host."

"You would not have to." Vem retracts her hand as well, folding her arms over her chest. "As immortal Emperor of Cyrodiil, you would be of much greater use as an ally to the Gray Host, to relinquish your power over this land would be foolish."

"Imagine I disagree with what your Host does, terrorizing innocent people, drinking of their blood and eating of their flesh."

Vem tisks, she almost seems to roll her luminous eyes at that. "This is because you are clinging to mortal notions of morality. You do not weep for the butchered cow, do you? For us, it is no different than hunting simple animals."

"And if I care for these animals?" Hestra asks.

She receives a raised brow. "Do you really care for these people, Emperor? These people who are not yours, who you do not know- how much would you sacrifice for their lives?" After a pointed silence, she adds: "If you could trade your life for theirs, right now, would you?"

Hestra answers honestly. "No."

"If," Vem begins. "The inverse were true, and you could sacrifice the lives of many to achieve greater power, greater dominion, wouldn't you?"

Hestra considers. "...I might." She gazes off to the side, looking behind Vem into the palace's quarters. "But what you speak of, this is the truth of politics, of warfare, of the life of an Emperor. These ugly decisions are mine to make, and I must."

"This is what holds you back," Vem turns and begins to pace, steps silent as she does. "You deny what you truly want: power. You claim it out of responsibility, you make these excuses for yourself..." She looks over her shoulder, Hestra meets her piercing eyes. "Why do you let yourself be ruled by such foolish thoughts?" She approaches again, so gently as though gliding through the air. A fanged smile plays on her lips. "You are Emperor. I am offering you power, it is in your very nature to accept it. Do not deny your true calling."

Hestra looks to her vacantly. She wonders how often she has been tempted, how close she's come before now. "You talk of offering me power- power of my own- and yet you speak as though to dominate me yourself."

At this, Vem laughs. It breaks the tension somewhat, and she takes Hestra's hand in her own, rubbing circles on the back with her cold thumb. She looks at her with half-lidded eyes. "You would not like to belong to me, dear Hestra?"

And at this, Hestra is pulled two ways, and such a grave conversation becomes very silly, and for the first time tonight, the Emperor smiles. "You speak in circles, love, like a turning wheel." She leans in and very easily presses her lips against Vem's; a shallow kiss, undercoated with some feeling of fleeting passion and intimacy, something that feels like a last chance, a final moment in which they can both pretend they share the same future. Vem puts her arms around Hestra's head, the mortal reciprocates with a hold on her waist. Hestra pulls back to breathe and laugh. "Sometimes, I still can't tell- do you want me a vampire, or a thrall-" Vem interrupts her by kissing her cheek, laughing along.

They embrace and they laugh for awhile, standing on the balcony, nipped at by the chilly night air. Eventually they stop laughing and just hold each other. Vem tucks her head into the crook of Hestra's neck, and Hestra lets her, and runs a hand through her silky dark hair.

"...You know," Vem softly breaks the silence. "That of course I want you to join me as I am- a vampire, the rightful rulers of the unliving. Because you are a ruler, Hestra, and this drew me to you, for I recognized how great you could be if you could only see what lies beyond your mortality..." One of her pale hands turns to run across the close-cut hair on Hestra's head, and Vem turns to look her in the eye, one side of her head still pressed against her shoulder. Her expression is warm, and not regal. "I do not doubt how far you will go as a mortal. You will be remembered for centuries, for a hundred centuries, your death will be something glorious, remembered in song, you will be indelible... but you will die. And it breaks my heart-" A laugh- or maybe a sob- spills out between words. "I know you could never understand, you are mortal, impermanence is everywhere in your life, to be everlasting is... difficult, to communicate. It's something you need to feel for yourself. I ask... that you allow me to grant you this, Hestra. Please."

She'd never seen Vem posture in such a way. They have been intimate with one another, they've spoken of sadness before, but never has she been so melancholy, so sorrowful as to look up to her with those eyes, dry but full of sadness. "...My love, you know I can't-"

"Why?" Vem asks immediately.

"Because- Because I am Emperor first, divine regent of the One, descendant of the Ascended Saint Alessia, defender of Cyrodiil and the Faith. I am dutybound to destroy the Gray Host... and I cannot accept your power, it would render me an abomination in the eyes of the Order, and all I've worked for would be for naught."

Vem pulls back, Hestra lets open her arms to give her space. She looks at Hestra, fear in her face, steeled by frustration. "They would not have to know. There are ways- many of us disguise our true nature, some get away with it for a century or more. You yourself had no idea before I revealed to you my nature."

"You're right. I didn't," Hestra admits. "But this is because I was young and stupid. The pelates of the Order are older, wiser, many of them savvy to the affronts to the divine. And in any case, I would still need to invade Verkarth."

"No, no you don't. We could- if you'd postpone, delay, we could destroy this Alessian Order-"

"Destroy the Order?" Hestra's brows fly up at this, almost more shocked than insulted.

Vem clenches her fists at her sides. "They are just mortals, Hestra. Mortals can be manipulated, they can be herded and culled by their true masters. If all of the threats to your power were turned, were on our side, would you still deny this?"

"You're speaking in fantasies." The Emperor says, colder than she meant to. She is just as frustrated, not only by Vem's assertions, but by how her mind meanders and considers them.

"Answer me, Hestra!"

"I could not- I could not disgrace my line, my ancestors-"

"Your ancestors were nothing more than cattle!" Vem shouts.

"Your family is nothing but a pack of monsters!" Hestra replies.

Vem, incensed, points a sharp finger at Hestra as she bares her fangs. "We are NOT monsters!" She growls, throwing a hand up. "'Monsters', 'daimons', 'abominations', these are all the labels feeble-minded sheep apply to us, the true masters of Tamriel! And here you are- so different from them, so close to us, and you refuse your rightful place on our Council, your rightful taste of our blood, all because of these vapid mortal commitments to the lives and deeds of mortals, the ways of people who lived and died as nothing more than stupid animals- you let them limit you, hold you back, drag you down to their level!" Snarling, there is a quivering to her frame and face that belies her nerves. "You do not deserve to be another pile of bones in a pasture! You deserve to be Domina, High Emperor of All Tamriel, Immortal Ruler of the weak and impermanent!!"

Hestra stands stock still, shadows cast on her creased face. "I cannot do this. I will not take knee before your king."

"You would not have to! Do you know how few of us respect King Styriche? How fewer revere Lord Bal? To depose him, to usurp him, it would not be difficult, you would only have to delay your invasion!" Vem's composure is all but faded as she pleads for what she wants, the safety of her family, an immortal paramour, and all that she wills be made real, as in true domination of the world. The fact that she screams this hoarsely and with such desperation- the desperation of someone not in control- is not lost on her.

The Emperor hangs her head, heavy with troubles. She grits her teeth as she speaks with attempted finality. "I cannot, Vem, and I'm sorry that I cannot." Her own eyes, still living, well up as she speaks. "It does not mean I don't love you- I do, I give you my word and I mean it: I do, and if I were anyone different... you need to know how much I want to be forever beside you, I truly want this, but..."

Vem suddenly darts forward, pressing herself against her, looking up at her with pleading eyes. "If you want it, you can have it. Let me turn you, forget the Empire, let it fall under someone else's rule- we could make of it that you died in battle, that you were- you were betrayed somehow, sow dissent in the Empire, let it rot and fall. Leave my family alone, let us go together into a new life." Her plan is flimsy, her voice is quickened and shaking, but she bears her soul to Hestra like never before. "Take what you want, Hestra."

She bows her head. Hestra leans down to press her forehead against hers. She wants to take her into her arms, as they used to, like lovers would, but she doesn't.

[werewolfsuggestions]

Call for suggestions, and now also any werewolf questions you may have!

My queue is now at zero, so we are in desperate need for more of your amazing suggestions! Thank you for all your incredible suggestions so far, and please continue to send them in and help spread the love and appreciation for werebeasts! 

I now wish to open up the blog to conversations around werebeasts and the folklore and history they have! If you have a question on an aspect of werebeast life or history, do not hesitate to send them in and I will do my best to answer them! these can be anything from advice to questions about our history. 

Also, if you have a prompt of a particular piece of writing for me, I’d love to get those too! I love writing scenes from the life of a werewolf and any suggestions around what you’d like to read, or from a character/creature of your own are more than welcome. 

Again, thank you for following this blog and helping to keep it running!! 

Stay wild! 🐺💙

[dailycharacteroption]

Corrupting Influences: Lycanthropy part 3

 Implications

 As one of the classic forms of horror corruption that taps into both body horror and the psychological, it comes as no surprise that, with the exception of the slow-burn nature of the corruption, not much changes thematically from the baseline version of the curse and this corruption.

What does become interesting though is how the lore of your setting interacts with the corruption and indeed the curse. Ask yourselves, what is the origin of the curse, and why does it exist?

Was it the creation of some fell demon lord or other dark power? If so, how does this explain the more classically goodly werebeast strains like werebears, assuming they even exist in your setting or have this corruption?

Is it the result of divine wrath that resulted in a curse that spread beyond those it was meant to punish? If so, it might be indicative of the cruelty of the gods or of a divine mistake, making lycanthropes almost kin to asuras in pathfinder.

Conversely, some might view the curse as a blessing from a moon deity, a test of discipline that sadly many fail, or succeed if the deity is a wild and violent being.

Are lycanthropes agents or victims of supernatural nature, blessed or cursed with the power to take on the might of animals? In the former case you could borrow a lot of inspiration from World of Darkness’s Werewolf: The Apocalypse lore, while in the latter it could be a weapon of nature or the fey to remind mortals that they are merely clever animals.

Lycanthropy might even be the result of a particularly potent spontaneous curse when someone wished that their enemy never know peace and live as beasts.

 None of these potential origins are of comfort to the victim of this corruption, of course. For them, the horror of this curse comes from the dread of every full moon, the fear that they will lose control and commit terrible acts… or worse, that they will start to enjoy it.

Indeed, that’s the beauty of the corruption version of the curse, as it implies a slow alteration of outlook as the corruption takes hold. Of course, strictly speaking unlike other systems, Pathfinder does not force an alignment upon the afflicted, but these generalizations do come about for a reason, and a lycanthrope must have a strong personality indeed to deny those instincts. For this reason, I’d advise against using this corruption with stereotypically good or non-evil forms of lycanthropy unless you want to use them to represent the worst of the worst of werebeasts of those types, because to use this corruption to say that a werebear-lycanthrope goes on a “lawful good” rampage when the moon is full is silly and undermines the horror element that corruptions are meant to evoke.

 If you’re looking for inspiration for how to roleplay someone suffering this corruption, try looking up Lon Chaney Jr’s performance in the original Wolfman and it’s sequels and tie-ins. Despite being very much a product of it’s time, Chaney really sells the impression of a man whose life is rapidly going to pieces thanks to the presence of this curse and the effect it has on others.

As a character that is very much in tune with the natural world and has experience dealing with predatory beasts, it is dreadfully ironic that Lini the iconic gnome druid is used to illustrate this corruption, being twisted into a beast herself and becoming the same sort of threat that she has defended against in the past. One wonders if snow leopard companion even recognizes her in this state.

 That does it for today, but tune in tomorrow for a look at how we might vary things up.

[sebastianshaw]

@sammysdewysensitiveeyes - And finally, Shinobi for World of Darkness, three different versions/games! Under cut because like always, it’s long!

For a vampire, he’d be a Toreador. They’re the type who will turn someone just because they’re pretty, then get tired of them within the week, and that’s how their ranks get flooded with dilettantes who don’t posses any artistic talent, like Shinobi. Toreador are famous for being the most emotional and passionate and in touch with humanity, but in truth, many are emotionally hollow, chasing fleeting highs of false feelings that are shallow and brief despite their deceptive intensity. This leads them to become callow and callous, trying forever to breath life into themselves through new experiences that become banal all too soon, leaving a trail of broken mortal hearts and lives behind them, to say nothing of fledglings that, like, Shinobi, are pulled into this world they’re not ready for and typically destroyed by soon enough. While many people deride them as romance novel vampires, I think they’re actually a very clever subversion of that, and in their own way as horrifying as more famously frightening ones. Shinobi, bitter and wounded over being rejected and abandoned by his sire, has become exactly that kind of Toreador himself. He also strives to be as seductive and glamorous as other members of the clan, and he has the image down, but it falls apart quickly when others question or reject him. He’s also a very young and weak vampire, so he has no political strings to pull, and since he has no art, is looked down by his clanmates as a poseur. All this just makes him more pathologically driven to prove himself and gather allies who will love and respect him, even as he fails at it every night. Also, the Tories are often called divas and “Degenerates” is literally a nickname for the whole clan, it’s perf. I also think he’d make a good Ghoul. When someone---be it a human, animal, even a fellow vampire---drinks the blood of a vampire three times, they become Blood Bound to them. In the case of animals and humans, this makes them the vampire’s ghoul, and the vampire their domitor or regnant. The blood bond is one of the most powerful tools of vampirekind, as the victim is completely enthralled to them, forced to obey. The ghoul is obsessed with them, usually in love, and will do anything asked of them. Continual drinks reinforce it, and the ghouls WANT this, for vitae---vampire blood--is addictive. And the longer they serve a vampire, the more they’ll need it not just out of addiction, but to survive. Ghouling a human (or animal) will freeze them at their current age, just like a vampire, and even grant them some vampiric powers...but when the blood stops coming, all those years catch up with them...all at once. It’s not pretty. Some ghouls who manage to escape their masters---usually by the latter’s death--become vampire hunters in order to get their vitae fix, drinking from different ones in order to avoid the “three strikes and you’re out” Blood Bond. As for what vampires get from this, ghouls have any number of uses, from daytime bodyguards to managers of mortal affairs, messengers, servants, it goes on. The sad, cursed existence of a Ghoul is in many ways worse than that of a vampire, and with none of the benefits. I could see him either as a group ghoul, perhaps, serving a coterie (small group) of powerful female vampires...but I feel like that’s more his fantasy than anything. The reality is probably that he went looking for his birth father, tracked him down successfully, and got a lot more than he bargained for...but hasn’t aged a day since either. Much like Ghouls serve vampires, Kinfolk serve werebeasts, and out of a very different sense of being bound by blood. Kinfolk are the human and animal relations of a werewolf or other werecreature, and breeding with them yields a higher chance of a Garou offspring (since, remember, the offspring of two Garou is a sterile, deformed metis) A Garou birth will still be rare, and most or all of their children will just be Kinfolk, but maybe the next gen will have a Garou, or the next. Because of this, the Garou (or Bastet, or whatever they may be) maintain close ties with their Kinfolk, watching them like shepherds over their flocks. There’s a dark side though. Their primary role ultimately is breeding stock, and many tribes treat them exactly like that. They’re automatically seen as part of the Garou tribe to which they’re related (or worse, its property) and are thus beholden to its regulations, owing them their loyalty, but get none of the respect and glory that the Garou do in return. They’re "valuable second class citizens" at best. Besides breeding, other roles they take includes childcare (since the werewolves are off battling the Wyrm), financing, politicking, and bureaucratic maneuvering on behalf of the Garou, directly or in their interests, are all examples, but there are dozens more things an individual Kinfolk might to do serve their family. Sebastian would definitely be a Shadow Lord werewolf as described in Fabian’s section, and Shinobi his unfortunate Kinfolk pup. A disappointment twice over, firstly for not being Garou, secondly for not even being the USEFUL kind of Kinfolk. All the tribes have an individual approach to their kin beyond the general basics I just described, and Shadow Lords tend towards the abusive. To quote the canon,  “[Shadow Lord] Kinfolk don't receive much coddling, however. Weaklings and victims don't deserve to breed.” So not only is Shinobi not supposed to be sticking his dick in anything that can get pregnant, he’s supposed to purely serve his father’s interests while also growing up a society where he will NEVER be good enough. Which...look it’s horrible, but you can’t deny it FITS! (Also: While Sebastian def would be a Shadow Lord himself as a werewolf, he also could easily just be a human "target" of one as a mate. To quote canon: "Female Shadow Lords are sometimes drawn away from the flock toward men with power. A ruthless businessman, a brilliant crime lord or even a military dictator may find himself overpowered by a stalking suitor.") Since Shinobi is half-Japanese, he could be a kuei-jin if he was born/raised/died in Japan or a place with a strong Japanese (or other Asian) culture. Now, the kuei-jin are very problematic, White Wolf (the game company that does all this) mashed together a bunch of different Asian cultures together (even “kuei-jin” is a combination of Japanese and Chinese) and appropriated a bunch of terms they used incorrectly (ex: dharma) but I really like them and I’d like it if one day they could go back and fix them like they have with other creations they made that were really problematic at their conception (most all of this shit was made up by white nerds in the 90s) So, kuei-jin are vampires of a sort, but an entirely different sort than the Kindred are, despite some calling them ‘the Kindred of the East’. Firstly, their range has more to do with culture than geography. They populate Asia, but have begun emerging in the West in places like Chinatowns where Asian cultures are prevalent. Which brings us to the second difference---they are not Embraced like Western vampires, they rise from the grave on their own. Something drove them so hard that their souls clawed their way out of Yomi World and back into their bodies...well, usually their bodies, there have been cases where they came back in a DIFFERENT body. The goal of the kuei-jin is to remember what this something was, for they believe it is their purpose, and they must then accomplish it. In order to discover their purpose and fulfill it, they will choose different paths that they think will be best for this. These paths, called Dharmas, are liked clans, but, as I said, can be chosen, and even changed. Shinobi’s Dharma would be the The Dance of the Thrashing Dragon, also known as the Laughing Rainbows. Yes, they all have names like that. Again, white nerds in the 90s. The Thrashing Dragons are the Yang-Aspected paths, they  seek to defy their undead state through frenzied revelry and acts meant to celebrate life (in all its beauty and bloodcurdling savagery both).  These Kuei-jin are as alive as the undead can be, believing  creation is a rainbow – illusory, but too colourful to ignore-- and their ideal is to experience each of those colours as vividly as possible. As a result, Laughing Rainbows shun society's restrictions, are often messy and vulgar, indulging themselves with wild feasts and drunken orgies - celebrations that usually feature living "entertainment," too. In their calmer moments, a Thrashing Dragon can be gentle and compassionate, nurturing life even though they consume it---the kuei-jin are still a type of vampires, and they feed on chi. They can get it from flesh and blood, but, as they get older and more powerful, can suck the pure chi out of the air from a person. But the Thrashing Dragons like to eat their prey raw, and often alive. They’re violent and combative, in addition to  shameless, impulsive, lusty, and having a tendency towards nudity. What’s interesting is that in life, many Thrashing Dragons denied the flesh, and believe they came back due to their repression during life. Some ferociously carnal people do return to finish what they started in life, but most Laughing Rainbows learned to laugh only after they died. So perhaps Shinobi had a sad life that ended prematurely (COUGH DAD COUGH) and now that he’s come back, he’s “living” large at last. Or perhaps he’s one of the ones that was ALWAYS a hedonistic idiot and he was actually brought back as a lesson to live a better life, but he hasn’t learned it yet. Kuei-jin have two souls, the Hun and P’o, and they struggle against the latter. The Hun is  higher, rational half of the soul, akin to  morality, conscience, honor and devotion to duty. The P’o is the evil bestial half of the soul, akin to “the Beast” that Western vampires struggle against. Each person’s P’o takes one of several archetypes, based on which is most likely to tempt a kuei-jin off their path, and Shinobi’s would be The Monkey. The Monkey is  a creature of the moment, its each new pleasure or distraction being the most important thing in the world. The Monkey is capable of concocting elaborate plans to achieve small or momentary goals, but it’s in no way concerned with any overarching mission that the Kuei-jin might have. Indeed, the Monkey seeks, at every turn, to waylay Shinobi from his appointed goal, to divert all of the his attention and energy to lesser, transitory things. So basically it tempts him to be HIMSELF. (As a note, I think the Adversary would translate REALLY well as a P’o for a kuei-jin Haven; India is part of Asia too!) Finally...I might be typecasting him too much by race, but there’s also the kitsune. The kitsune, as one would expect, are the werefoxes of East Asia, mostly found in Japan and China. They are the youngest of the Changing Breeds, and the story goes that when a fox named Bai Mianxi was brought before Gaia (who created all the werecreatures) by Luna (the moon) for playing tricks that created havoc in the world, Gaia’s punishment was that Bai Mianxi be given a duty. Bai Mianxi tried to trick her way out of it, claiming that  Gaia's other children were all adequate enough in their duties and she was not needed. Gaia's wrath at Bai Mianxi's impudence shook her residence, but after soothing words from Luna, Gaia promised the fox that in return for their service, the fox-people would one day become the BEST at something, better than all the other werecreatures were at it, whatever it is. Like all other were-types, the kitsune are born in animal or human form, and the offspring of two Kitsune will be born in hybrid form and be stuck that way until their First Change. Unlike the Western metis of the Garou and many other fera though, these “shinju” as they are called, are NOT sterile or deformed, nor are they looked down upon by other kitsune. But all kitsune, no matter what form they were born in, carry a curse, and that is that when a kitstune is born, at least one of its parents will die. Usually, it is the non-kitsune parent, and there is also a one-in-ten chance that the Kitsune parent may die, either instead of, or along with, their mate. So my thinking is kitsune Shinobi was born in human form in Japan to a kitsune mother, but has a human white dad in America (Sebastian obvy) who despite the great distance still passed away mysteriously at the moment Shinobi drew his first breath. And so Shinobi grew up raised by his mother and her Kinfolk, and he never saw his father and he grew up feeling loved and wanted, and now he is a happy healthy adult werefox who will indeed be the best at something one day! You can see why I wanted this for him ^^

[theflowofink]

Punks by Spell-Light

This is a world where magic and technology are so entwined that you can scarcely tell them apart. Airships fueled by engines blending both eldritch power and steam soar the skies, and steam trains use enchanted gems to heat the engines. Occult powers are used to craft mechanized walkers to operate in hazardous areas and to accomplish tasks beyond the strength of flesh alone.

It is a world where one fourth of the population has full magic, known as Warlocks. They have control over the elements, can conjure blasts and blades of pure force, and can enchant magical items. Then there are the 1/4th Talented born with a single magical ability. They can use their Talent as much as they  wish, while as Warlocks have a pool of magic that while it grows as they use magic, like a muscle, is limited to that pool and going beyond it drains one’s life force.

Then there are the other 1/4th blessed with magic, the werebeasts. Born part man, part animal, they follow a code from one of the patron Spirits of their kind, and in return are granted a Boon. The remaining one fourth of the people of this world, have no magic at all.

This world is ruled by the two thirds that can use magic.  There are the twin Guilds: The Sheep Dogs and The Witch Kings. Composed of the  heroes and villains who rule the world, the Sheep Dogs seek to protect and uplift the innocent, while the Witch Kings seek to keep them under an iron grip, exploiting them and oppressing them. Heroes both legendary and just beginning call the Dogs their kin, frequently operating in small teams in their chosen cities or sections of the wilds. The Witch Kings, likewise operate in groups, with the most powerful ruling over his team.

A half demon leans against a Mag-lamp’s post, lighting a cig with a spark called to his hand, wings curled around his body to cut out the arctic winds whipping around him. A werewolf stands in a dark alley, the crest of the Sheepdogs on his leather jacket, a feral smile on his lips as three marked with the jagged crown of the Witch Kings on their suits close in, knives in hands. 

@leonajasmin-writeblr @thel3tterm @theswordofpens

[dailyhirosekoichi]

I know nothing of LoL but please assign the other boys hero kins. Gotta make the crew (tm)

I feel like Josuke would be just a human, but with strong magic connection. So most likely Ionian mage of some kind!!! Ionia is basically the SEA of Runeterra and a lot of the magic there tend to come from natural sources (and they prefer to preserve nature as well. Most of the houses are trees bended into house shapes rather than having to chop down the wood). It’s a little isolated from Valoran (the western part of Runeterra) so Joseph was probably an explorer from Piltover (Valoran trading town that’s known for its tech advancement and neutral stance on the Noxian invasions) who came over to Ionia on his travels and met Tomoko in a village, had Josuke. 

Okuyasu I feel would be a Vastayan. Vastayan are chimera like creatures that are all sorts of animals/insects/etc. They’re the descendants of a pure magic species crossing over from the spirit world and mingling with humans, and there’s a TON of Vastayan branches. From basically furries, to shape shifters, and they are like...EVERYWHERE in Runeterra, but they originate from Ionia mostly. At least most preserved Vastayan tribes are located in Ionia and some are in the Shuriman near areas. NOW...what kind of Vastayan Oku would be?? Maybe he’s some sort of bull like humanoid. Or maybe he’s got the ability to shapeshift from man to werebeast. It depends how connected you want the Nijimuras to be to natural magic. Their father is probably a fucked up Vastayan that suffered transmutations from Zaunites. It depends what Dio would be in a Runeterra AU that would affect why Mr. Nijimura is the way he is. 

Koichi is ofc a Yordle. They’re like, magic furry creatures from another dimension called Bandle City and portals to Bandle City are randomly opened and closed based on the year alignment and such in Runeterra. Most people can’t even perceive a Yordle’s true form and they appear to be humans to those who aren’t attuned to the natural magic. Josuke as a mage and Oku as a Vastayan would give them the ability to see Koichi. He’s probably a Yordle who wanted to leave Bandle City and explore Runeterra so he opened a portal to Ionia and ended up meeting the two because they perceived him in his true form. Basically a faerie like folk. 

UHHH if you wanna read more about Runeterra species and the continents there’s a whole website dedicated to that and I recommend it. THERE’S ALSO TONS OF GREAT FUCKIN ART. And a Map to Runeterra!!

Here’s the Universe site

Here’s the Map

[soulsxng--a]

🎰

More chaos! | Accepting!

Sachiel & Oleander

“A-ah…a shifter…?” It took him a minute to realize it, but…well, Sachi had enough experience with shifters and werebeasts to be able to tell them apart from most other species. Sword appears in hand, held protectively in front of himself, and wings flare at his back. “S-stay back!”

Kadios & James

Nose tips upwards to scent at the air around the other male, ears pricking up when it became evident that the other was kin, of a sort. “Not really my type, but I never mind meetin’ other shifters. Who knows, maybe we can get t’ know each other a lil’ better.”

JJ & Zilant

“Oh, you work for the S.P.H.A? You guys have helped me out quite a few times in my own work, but I’ve never really heard much about the organization as a whole. You don’t have to tell me about them if you’re not allowed, but I’d still like to hear some stories about your jobs, or the places you’ve been!”

Rourke & Etienne

“Hey there, stranger. Sorry to disappoint, but I’m a very happily mated man.” A flirtatious wink, and a laugh, and Rouri leans into Etienne with a content little sigh. “Come on, I just need to buy a few new shirts, and then we can go home, okay? I’ll be fast!” A playful nip beneath the wilder’s ear, and he’s starting to get up again, ready to be on their way again.

Darrow & Kaminari

“Oh, you’re a nogitsune? It’s been some time since I’ve seen one of your kind. Something tells me that even if I wanted to get along with you, it probably wouldn’t work out, huh?” Ears are pulled back flat, and body is tense, as if he’s ready for the other to attack, or something.

[hiraeth-wayfarer]

Hiraeth Creature #826 - Evalagos

"Far in Hiraeth's northern lands is said to have been where the spiritual knowledge and the primal forces of the world completed their awakening when the world finally settled after her thunderous birth. The massive taigas of the north carry a primordial and pure magic that flows into the wind. The atmosphere among the towering trees and hallowed ground resonate with memories of both auspicious events and intimate moments forgotten by time. Generation upon generation of peace were broken in only a few days when the Mad Queen of the north let loose her vile machinations for the world to see. The sacred woods at the edge of the world became sullied and putrid,  and the beasts who lived there either ran or were corrupted by the brambles and muck that spread from the kingdom. One of these beasts is the Evalagos, a mighty and proud hunter who can only be found in the heart of pure northern forests.

Evalagos find solace in solitude, unlike some of their other kin around the world who hunt in packs. Many are taken aback by their size, as they easily match some of the more elaborate and defensible caravan wagons in terms of height. Though serene from afar, the sound of their eerie, ringing howl rattles the bones and sends souls into shivers. Evalagos are powerful hunters, but tend to avoid travellers unless they act first. They let out a trembling, deep growl before their infamous shriek to those who intrude into their boundaries. What truly sends these beasts into a frenzy is when they detect something out of place in their woods. Forest guardians and spirits are keen defenders, but some things are bound to slink by when they are engrossed in other problems. Evalagos are taken over by spite when werebeasts and other monsters from the cursed woods try to enter their domain. Their eyes turn a violent, stark red and they chase down the monsters with fervour. Not only are their powerful frame armed with fangs and claws, but also a horn protruding from their forehead that has been blessed by forest spirits-- a strike from it burns and tears at cursed beings. The horn of an Evalagos is so powerful, it is said to be able to pierce through a soul to dislodge haunted and parasitic beings who hide away in other beings and plague their minds. Desperate folk cursed by these beings are said to seek out the Evalagos if they can find no help from a cleric or other magic user, but at the risk of having their soul scarred or their physical body eaten by the beast."