Van Richten's Guide to Werebeasts

Before I came to this gell place, this land called Barovia, I considered myself a skilled hunter. In the hills surrounding my home, I was successfully hunted all of the naturally occuring predators - bears of various sizes and ferocity, dire wolves whose packs terrorize the local shepherds' flocks, even the great wyvern that wings over the peaks. Yes, I considered myself well versed in the art of the hunt. There was no beast that could get the better of me.
Or so I thought until I was engaged to lead that ill-starred hunting trip.

Was there any clue, any omen, that should have warned me that what I hunted was no ordinary bear? No, looking back on the events I have to say there was no indication. None, that is, until the members of the party began to die, and I realized that I was not the hunter, but the prey!

- From the journal of Darzin Morcantha

On the Hunt

Knowing the mind of the werebeast is the first rule of the hunt. Both forms of the lycanthrope - true and infected - are equally deadly. However, each has its own mindset, its own view toward mankind. Hence, recognizing which is which can be crucially important.

Pursuit of a true lycanthrope is as much a battle of strategies as it is a contest of blood; the true werebeast has lived with its mutable nature all its life, is accustomed to its predatory nature (if not comfortable with it), and remains ever cognizant of its nature. In contrast, tracking the infected lycanthrope is far more subtle, more cerebral on the hunter's part. The infected creature is either unaware of its bestial aspects or desperately concealing its murderous double life. As a result, seeking one of these pitiable creatures may seem like hunting two separate prey at the same time. To complicate matters, this lethal creature is curable.

If the two, contrasting mindsets of these monsters were not enough to muddle the hunter's strategy, I must pause and re-emphasize the fact that werebeasts are no more "typical" than vampires or ghosts or liches. Each lycanthrope has its own strengths and weaknesses, both of which are often quite subtle. Hence I return to the axiom by which I began this chapter: Knowing the mind of the werebeast is the first rule of the hunt. If this treatise can be of service to that end, so much the better, but the study of my work is not nearly sufficient to arm even the doughtiest enemy of darkness against the task at hand. Those who hope to survive such a quest must search out every report of the creature and follow up every clue. Werebeasts are some of the most violent and ruthless beasts to prowl the land of the Mists. No matter how powerful you are, and no matter how typical the werebeast may seem, failure to seek at least some inkling of the monster's strengths and weaknesses will deprive you of your throat and quite possibly your very humanity!

Enough said; on to observations regarding the two basic stages of a successful hunt: identification and entrapment.

Knowing a werebeast when one sees it may seem obvious enough, especially if the monster occupies either its hybrid or animal form, but the mutability of the creature, plus its intelligence which is sufficient to counter-strategize, forces us to reconsider this issue.

Certainly the man-beast form, under normal circumstances, is unmistakable, if not singularly horrifying. Even the charming and seductive werefox is terrible in her beauty, alluring yet cruet and sadistic. When the werebeast reveals itself in this form, blood is almost sure to follow whether the creature is a true or infected lycanthrope. In this aspect the monster entertains no thoughts of stealth, and in this shape it is the most effective killer it can be, calling upon the powers of both its forms to achieve its deadly objectives. In short, when one meets a werebeast in hybrid form, one should prepare to kill or be killed - the beast most certainly will.

Indeed, the hybrid aspect seems to be the form in which the lycanthrope most often kills. By far the predominant report of those who have survived an attack by a lycanthrope is that the creature resembled man and beast, and was thoroughly horrifying to look upon.

I have conferred with several sages on this matter, and I have arrived upon a few reasonable speculations as to why the lycanthrope might prefer to kill in hybrid aspect. Certainly the man-beast is a more efficient killer, for it enjoys the advantages of both human and animal forms, as I have already stated. Its claw and bite attacks are more instinctive and, thence, more accurate than the swing of a sword, and it can employ multiple attacks in the place of only one. The inhuman creature also threatens its adversaries with a fell disease, which is, or should be, fairly intimidating to even the most courageous hero. Meanwhile, the hybrid aspect has fingers and an opposable thumb, which are necessary for opening doors, jimmying locked windows, climbing trees and roofs, and wielding a weapon if it proves to be the most effective means to the creature's ends.

In spite of all these legitimate arguments for preferring the hybrid form, though, I think that the real reason lies below the surface. I have the chilling belief - not a certainty, quite, but close - that the beasts prefer this form because of the terrible fear it strikes into the hearts of their prey before they die. The beasts might relish this terror out of some unholy, sadistic joy, or perhaps they, like cats that play with mice before eating them, enjoy or even crave the taste of fear itself. Whatever the reason, I must return to my previous warning before proceeding: When you meet the hybrid werebeast, prepare for battle.

I do not believe it is practical to seek to identify a lycanthrope in the company of natural animals. If the creature differs in size or coloring from its natural counterparts, readily recognizing it is not beyond the scope of observant hunters, and most werebeasts realize this, including the infected ones, who are little more than beasts when the curse overcomes them. Conversely, if the lycanthrope is not readily discernable from its natural cousins, then a hunting party might be forced to kill entire populations of natural animals in order to ferret out the monster among them; this is plainly unacceptable, as any ranger or druid will angrily point out.

If the lycanthrope is pathologic, it is possible that the monster could lose so much of its conscious identity that it might actually believe it is a wolf or bear or badger while occupying that particular form. These poor creatures, who may be wholly ignorant of their ailment while they suffer from it, can be easy targets for those who hunt them. Any hunter with the ability to magically speak with, befriend, or control animals may quickly learn through any number of approaches which beast is the monster. However, I hasten to add that most infected lycanthropes retain enough consciousness to understand that they are not natural animals, so it is highly unlikely that the hunters will euerfind a werebeast lounging carelessly among its distant relatives, heedless of discovery.

Knowing that the werebeast can and does take the form of an animal still has its advantages, though. Werebeasts commonly surround themselves with their natural counterparts and take that form while they do so. Hence, any ranger or druid who can track a animal can also lead a hunting party to the trail of a lycanthrope. That is often as good as place to begin the search as any.

Ironically, this lycanthropic aspect is by far the most dangerous. Recognizing the true nature of a werebeast in human (or demihuman) form is frequently accomplished in hindsight, too late. Survivors of a close encounter with a werebeast sometimes observe that they should have noticed the elongated forefingers or the abnormally hairy eyebrows before, and the common failure to do so leads all too often to bloody mayhem, as well as the spread of a cursed affliction and unbridled evil.

The hybrid form may be the more efficient killer and the animal form may move faster, but the human form is the beast among us; it is privy to our plans, a wolf in sheep's clothing, and as capable of killing in this aspect as any. Anyone, be they strange or familiar, friendly or hostile, may suddenly change to a terrifying monster before your unsuspecting eyes, or worse, when you are not even looking.

As the physical signs of lycanthropy are always there, visible to those with foresight as keen as their hindsight, an objective search for these features may prove invaluable. Certain features of the animal breed - the beady eyes of the wererat, the feral grin of the werewolf, the piggish nose of the wereboar, and so on - are inescapable to the human form. If the hunting party knows the phenotype of the lycanthrope, body traits can do much to eliminate some suspects and indict others. Even so, I hasten to add that these features are often subtle in the extreme, and no one can be blamed for missing them even when actively looking for them.

Perhaps the most important key to recognizing a lycanthrope in human form is to return to the first rule of the hunt and determine whether the creature is born or fallen to its condition. True lycanthropes tend to formulate evil agendas, while infected ones live in ignorance or shame of their other selves. The former takes the human aspect as a disguise, while the latter simply remains human until some circumstance beyond control sweeps him or her into a nightmare world where nightmares are reality. The reasons for occupying the human form are diverse, and therefore the means of identifying the two types are different.

True Lycanthropes: Born a monster, the hereditary werebeast's awareness of its identity and actions in any form enables it to use its mutability to deadly advantage. These creatures are more likely to spot the hunting party oefore it spots them. A true .ycanthrope in human form engages in psychological warfare. Therefore, the hunting party must respond in kind.

If the true lycanthrope is aware of its enemies, the clever hunting party can turn this vulnerability to its own advantage. An alert hunting party should pay attention to people aroun them and note who Is perhaps unreasonably interested in helping or hindering them. Watch fur casual onlookers who turn up wherever the party goes. and most especially beware of people who offer a "sure way to kill a werebeast". They may be sincere or they may be agents of the monster, if not the beast itself.

Pathologic Lycanthropes: These poor fools are often completely unaware that they become monsters when conditions are right (or should I say wrong!) Others have made the painful connection between the blood they find on their hands when they awaken and "last's night murder by an animal of some kind": these sorry creatures are torn between the shock of committing actions over which they have absolutely no control and the consequences of a crime of which they have no memory. In either case, the afflicted werecreciture generally lives in effective denial of its bestial nature and, in all likelihood, lives its human life as if it has no other.

If the affected person has no knowledge of his or her acts, a hunting party cannot depend upon suspicious behavior to identify the monster. Neither the werebeast itself nor any associate is likely to play any form of "cat arid mouse". In fact. I know of a few infected lycanthropes who have noticed the subtle emergence of telltale physical traits of lycanthropy (a narrowing of the nose, excessive facial and body hair. etc.) considered them a cosmetic nuisance resulting from growing older, and took steps to hide them without ever realizing that they were protecting their inner beast from the outside world. In short, werebeasts who are ignorant of their bestial nature may be even better at hiding their identities than true lycanthropes.

I'm afraid that the most efficient way to identify an Infected lycanthrope is also the most tragic: by drawing a connection between the guilty party and its circle of murdered loved ones.

If a predator targets prey who are all members of a single family or social group, the odds are good that the hunter is a lycanthrope and a member of that same circle. Unfortunately, this kind of identification depends on the beast establishing a pattern of victims, which means that a number of innocents must meet their deaths before the pattern is established.

Unless the werebeast you hunt possesses the capability of flight, it is unlikely that the monster can help but leave a trail (and even avians must land sometime). After all, how does a wolf pass without a trace as it lopes through the forest with the rest of its pack?

The rules of tracking werebeasts are much the same as those for hunting natural animals. Here are a few pointers for those who do not enjoy the company of rangers or druids:

Naturally, you must find some tracks before you can follow them. There are always some particular places in the woods where tracks are much easier to see than in others. Once the trail of a lycanthrope is undeniably identified, it can be traced through some of the most adverse conditions if the tracker's eye is keen and heart is patient.

Study the track at length, get to know it. Many hunters discover, too late, that they lost one set of tracks and picked up another. Suddenly, they closed in upon a beast that was only a beast while the monster they sought came upon them from behind... One druid suggested that hunters sketch the footprints they wish to follow. Doing so does not necessarily provide an incriminating picture of the track, but it does force the drawer to make note of many nuances that might otherwise go unnoticed.

If possible, it is best to track the beast either early or late in the day. Even the trail of the largest lycanthrope may be shallow, and shadows cast by the sun will help the hunter find it.

Take note of all signs of the creature's passing, not just its tracks. Broken twigs, bent branches and grass, even displaced pebbles can tell the alert tracker that the prey has been here, as well as which way the creature is heading. if the hunter is lucky, tracking a lycanthrope can be easier than tracking a natural beast. Since the size of the lycanthrope is often larger than that of a natural animal, so are its footprints. I myself have once successfully followed a trail of bear tracks virtually twice as long, wide, and deep as those of a grizzly (which did not result in a feeling of victory, believe me!) Unfortunately, most werebeasts' footprints are not nearly as dramatic as this, and some are not distinct from the natural animal's footprints at all, but those skilled in the arts of tracking still provide an invaluable service to the hunting party. Following such a lead may not always reward the hunters, it can still provide a fresh start when more esoteric trails have gone cold, and it can at least tell you where the monster has been.

As an aside, I would think that even a novice woodsman could recognize the footprint of a werebeast in hybrid aspect. Typically, such a mark is possessed of the padlike "toes" of the animal form, but the print is longer and narrower, in the manner of human feet. These tracks are most often found on and near sites of death.

Sadly, a lycanthrope may be tracked by more than its footprints. The beast leaves carnage in its wake, and such brutal evidence of its passing as would render a mad butcher sick to his stomach, in the company of its natural fellows or alone, the werebeast abandons a corpse terrible to behold. And more horrible yet is it to search that disfigured mess for some clue that may lead to the murderer!

Even so, examination of the werebeast's victim is important for two reasons: First, he or she may reveal something important from his or her possessions, position in death, state of decay, or any number of other things. Second, many other creatures (natural or monstrous) may leave a body in shreds upon the road. The conscientious lycanthrope hunter must be sure of exactly what caused the fatal wounds or risk tracking the wrong killer.

The bite marks of a lycanthrope are wider and deeper than those of natural beasts, and I also have observed a certain viciousriess in the making of the wounds, as if were not enough to simply bring down the victim and then eat of it. Agony and terror are often quite visible in both the eyes and the crimson, gaping rips of a werebeast's kill; it is not a sight that can be objectively described, but you will definitely know it when you see it, and I apologize in advance for insisting upon it.

Uncovering the lair of the beast certainly advances the identification process (especially if the monster is at home), but it also may provide some crucial insight into the beast's strengths and weaknesses. The best way to approach this den of death depends upon whether you seek a town or a wilderness lair, and I shall briefly address those two issues here. Note that I speak of the abode of a true iycanthrope in either case, since infected werebeasts do not normally maintain a lair as such.

In the case of the town lair, finding the residence of a werebeast is mostly a matter of confirming the hunter's suspicions. When the search is narrowed to a short list of suspects, it's a good idea to penetrate the living quarters of those people and look for evidence. I am riot suggesting that the intrepid hunter find a way to break into the home of anyone who was not accounted for the last time the lycanthrope made an appearance. When criminal activity is justified by the virtue of its intent, then the line between good and evil is lost and we quickly find ourselves hard in the company of those we despise. Rather, I am suggesting that the hunter enter into a, shall we say, diplomatic form of pursuit.

Pose as a delivery clerk, drop by unexpectedly for tea, even boorishly invite yourself into the suspect's home under the pretense of using the facilities, but find some way to insinuate yourself into the suspect's quarters, if only to take a quick look around. It's not necessary to find the meat larder in order to confirm your hunch. If you have reason to believe that someone is a werebeast, then a simple scan of their living room can condemn them. Do not look for overt signs of violence and cannibalism, but for subtler clues that fit into the puzzle you have already been piecing together. Observe the suspect's taste in decoration, for example. A dark and disturbing painting often reflects a similarly disposed character. Or seek objects lying about that link the person to the scene of a crime, like a possession of the deceased. I once identified a wererat when I coincidentally observed a shiny brooch on its coffee table that had belonged to a friend of mine, recently murdered.

My discussion of the wilderness lair assumes that the hunting party has already found it - whether they have followed a set of tracks to the monster's doorstep, convinced a natural animal of the beast's phenotype to lead them there, or bungled it be sheer luck.

Discovering the residence of the beast is a step in the process of both identifying the beast and learning a bit about it. If you are lucky, you may find some insight into the monster's habits, and maybe a record of what the lycanthrope knows about you. But best of all, a hunting party that locates the lair of a werebeast has just located the ideal place to set a trap!

When the place in question is located, first search it for all its entrances and exits and all its hidden nooks and crannies. Then learn what you can about the beast's domestic habits-where it sleeps, stores its food, hides if necessary, and so on. Finally, design a trap that will blend into the surroundings, avoiding the disturbance of so much as a pebble if possible. Don't forget that you yourself leave a scent wherever you go, which most werebeasts can detect as easily as a shark smells blood in the water. (Most druids and rangers are highly adept circumventing these problems - I highly recommend engaging the services of one of these folk before attempting to infiltrate a wilderness lair.) Remember, true lycanthropes are as cunning as they are lethal; suspicion is second nature to them, especially if they know they are being hunted.

Beware the sudden arrival of the werebeast while you inspect its domicile. Such forays are necessarily clandestine, especially when one seeks to prevent the monster from detecting the intrusion, so bringing along a complement of warriors for protection is impractical. If you are caught, know well that no fury can match that of the beast whose "safe haven" has been compromised.

Most of the creatures of darkness I have studied are more solitary than the lycanthrope, and more careful about multiplying their numbers. Vampires, for example, are careful not to create another of their kind with each feeding, if for no other reason than to assure that the general blood supply is not depleted. Liches consider the existence of even one other of their kind to be an affront. On the other hand, werebeasts, in their native savagery, are not nearly so concerned with their own numbers. Indeed, some of them actively seek to infect as many people as they can in the hope that they may command entire legions of murderous creatures. I have heard a tale of an entire city of lycanthropes which grew in leaps and bounds as its army, organized under a king who was himself the lycanthropic trigger, spread across the lands, killing and devouring every living being in its path.

Hunting parties who are attempting to learn the identity and type of a lycanthrope should consider the possibility that they are hunting any number of monsters. An intelligent pack of werebeasts may confound the most astute and scientific of hunters. I can say from personal experience that there is no shock as sickening as that which comes from learning you are surrounded when you believed that you were hot on the trail of a single monster!

Perhaps the surest way to identify an infected lycanthrope is to catch it in the act of transforming. The secret to this is in learning what triggers the change, which comes from careful observation of objects and conditions that are repeatedly associated with the monster. Perhaps a pattern of killings emerges in conjunction with a time of day, or the lycanthrope's victims are repeatedly found in a patch of wild flowers. Discovering what triggers the change of an infected lycanthrope without actually witnessing the agent at work is but a slim possibility, but any prospect is worth considering.

If the catalyst is something that the hunters can manipulate, so much the better. However, be prepared for a singularly negative reaction if your hunch is right and your trigger device is effective. The hunter who forces a werebeast to change form becomes both a witness and an enemy with a deadly power over the monster; nothing short of murder will satisfy the lycanthrope's fear and indignation. Also be warned that some of these creatures can fight the change, if only for short periods of time, averting suspicion and removing any advantage of knowledge that the hunter may have enjoyed.

The hunter of werebeasts faces a moral dilemma: If the monster suffers from a disease that was thrust upon it through a bite or scratch, then its condition is, first, not its own fault and, second, most possibly curable. What is the lycanthrope hunter's responsibility in this case? Should he or she slay the beast outright, and thereby prevent any further attacks by the creature? Or should he attempt to entrap the beast and effect a cure, even though such action may leave the door open for further destruction?

There is no simple answer. Certainly, if a victim is willing to undergo a cure, then every effort must be made to assist that person. If the victim is unwilling, however, destruction of the beast may be the hunter's only recourse.

Whether the lycanthrope is born to its condition or acquires it, trapping the creature should be the ultimate goal of the hunting party. Unless the monster has special abilities, it cannot take gaseous form like a vampire or teleport away like a lich. As long as the bonds of a trap are strong enough, the captured beast may remain captured. This procedure is particularly recommended if the werebeast is a cursed one that may be cured. The method of trapping depends largely, of course, upon the form of the creature, and various parties might lay a snare for any one of the three aspects.

If the hunting party seeks to trap the animal form, it should probably mimic the traditional methods of trapping natural animals. I might recommend this approach if the monster in question has shown a definite predilection for its animalistic side. When such is the case, the creature tends to practice the habits of its normal cousins. These include following regularly traveled paths, frequenting a dependable source of prey, revisiting favored watering holes, and practicing predictable defensive patterns. Sometimes the hunters may find a commonly used path and then simply

A hunting party of good alignment should seek to cure an infected lycanthrope rather than kill it. This creates a challenging and exciting adventure while it demands more roleplaymg from everyone, including the DM. It is sweet irony that the ideal resolution to a scenario involving one of the most violent of monsters is to avoid the common "hack-'n'-slash" remedy by which many adventures end.

Seeking a cure to lycanthropy can extend an adventure that otherwise might have come to an end with simple defeat of a monster. One of the best things about infected werebeasts is that they can be saved from evil and regain their peaceful existence, with the help of intelligent and heroic PCs. Some quick adventure hooks for this scenario are: an NPC werebeast who holds a strongly rumored key to the PCs' escape from Ravenloft; a time limit before the beast must kill an innocent or die himself; one of the PCs is infected, and the adventurers learn (perhaps from the Vistani) that the only way to cure the PC is to first cure the werebeast that infected him and then kill the true monster that began the chain of contagion. The DM is encouraged to think of a hook that affects the PCs personally or one that affects the overall story of the campaign (any recurring villains or quests to tie into the adventure?).

PCs who seek only to wipe out the menace are arguably committing an evil act, regardless of the victim's alignment, and thus are subject to a powers check. At the very least, the DM can impose an experience-point penalty for such irresponsible behavior. It's a good idea to introduce an NPC priest or other character early in the adventure who will warn the PCs that killing monsters is not as simple as following a trail of blood and executing whatever is found at the end of it. That way, there can be no excuses for PCs who hack first and ask questions later.

lie in waiting for their prey to come by. Other times the hunters must discern freshly tracks and then follow, remaining upwind and approaching the beast in utmost silence. In either case, patience always wins the day. You may be right about the path, but wrong about the time or day, or you may find the pack and be forced to approach it through dead leaves.

Snares are a tricky thing with lycanthropes. The hunter cannot depend upon limited intelligence and so it is unreasonable to expect the creature to simply step into a noose or fall into a pit. I recommend stalking the monster as if it were an animal, but snaring it as if it were a (very powerful) human. Magical traps are better if they can be deployed in such a way that will not alert the prey to your presence. The werebeast's senses are keen, and whispering half spell may be the last thing you ever do.

The psychological factor also comes into play here, and it may be necessary to create a feint of some kind, to distract the monster while it blunders into a real trap. I cannot provide any useful, specific suggestions for accomplishing this; there are too many factors to consider. The best advice is, once again, to first understand the mind of the beast and then use that knowledge to trap it.

Those who would trap the monster while in its human form may eliminate the need to crawl through the forest. If you are certain of your target as it moves incognito through the streets of a city, then you may perhaps lure the monster into a trap. This is more tricky than it sounds, though; the lycanthrope is most lucid in this form, and even if it is not aware of the PCs, it is instinctively suspicious and not easily fooled.

Of course, those who plot to trap the lycanthrope in its hybrid form must be doing so as part of a battle plan, but it is wise to plan the entrapment of a werebeast as if you expect it to be in the hybrid aspect. The monster is quite likely to assume that form as soon as the trap is sprung. This leads me to a final piece of advice for those who would snare the beast.

The hunters should strive to control the place where they will confront the werebeast. If they can do so, they can booby-trap the entire area against escape, then hope to force or flush the monster into one of several snares. This is rarely a simple task, but it provides the best chance to save an infected werebeast or to interrogate one born to its condition.

When destruction becomes the only alternative, and I know well that it does, then the processes described above should still be adhered to, except in this case it would lead expressly to a lethal trap. The hunting party should use whatever means at its disposal to incapacitate the creature before putting it to death. This is much preferred to meeting the werebeast in open combat, for it may pass on its disease and escape or even leave a person infected after it dies. Like the animal it essentially is, the lycanthrope is most ferocious when cornered, capable of surprising feats and deadly blows even in its death throes.

If it is the hunter's intention to kill the creature, then I would suggest first learning the lycanthrope's chemical susceptibility (discussed in Chapter Two). Then set the trap with innumerable blades or points, generously coated with the substance. Finally, find a way to flush the quarry into that trap and let the poison do its work. The hunters should coat their weapons with the toxin as well, but I strongly urge them not to meet the beast in combat! They may accomplish their goal in battle, only to give rise to yet another curse and the necessity of destroying yet another hapless creature.

When the deed is done, invite a priest to consecrate the remains according to the dictates of his teachings and then cremate the body as soon as possible - immediately if you can. While werebeasts are not known for regeneration or rising as undead, they do harbor disease, after all, and it is proper and necessary to eliminate the possibility of its spreading in any way, shape, or form.

Hunting a werebeast is a difficult task, one which many would rather leave to someone more skilled (or foolhardy) than themselves. To the good folk seeking such assistance, I offer this caution: beware of charlatans. There are many who tout themselves as werehunters, self-styled "professionals" who claim to be skilled in the arts of detecting and destroying lycanthropes. These individuals travel throughout the land, hiring out their services to villages that believe (often falsely) that they suffer from a werebeast's attacks.

Few of these so-called professionals actually know what they're doing. In fact, virtually all the hunters I've encountered are scurrilous rogues. They charge exorbitant rates and leave town as soon as the money is pocketed.

The hoax perpetrated by such scoundrels is often simple. They visit a settlement, preferably an isolated one, and publicly claim to have found evidence of a lycanthrope in the vicinity. They frighten their victims with pseudoscientific babble about the "atmosphere of pestilence" and other intangible horrors. Some charlatans manufacture the so-called "proof by savagely slaying some farm animals before approaching the village. Then they can appear, claim they are "following the spoor of an itinerant terror", and offer to eradicate the scourge (for a fee, of course). I know of cases where the charlatans doctored animal remains by adding bits of shredded clothing and human bones to heighten the villagers' terror.

Creating the appearance of a successful hunt is easy. The "intrepid hunters" sally forth into the wilderness for several days. Then they return, looking exhausted and wounded (thanks to quantities of mud and animal blood rubbed into their clothes and skin), claiming to have destroyed the beast. The more brazen hunters proudly present the hacked corpse of an unfortunate animal, claiming it's the werebeast in question. (Trusting, of course, to the ignorance of the villagers, who may not know that slain lycanthropes revert to their human form.) The satisfied villagers bolster the charlatans' reputation, making it easy to repeat the ruse in a nearby locale.

While individuals like these provide no value for the money they receive, at least they do little enough damage. Unfortunately, other hunters take this fraud much further. The ruse begins as described above; a savaged corpse is found (usually an animal). But instead of claiming that the werebeast at fault resides in the wilderness, the charlatans declare that the culprit is an infected lycanthrope - and probably one of the villagers.

After a period of "research", for which the hunters are compensated, they name the "ravening beast". This is usually a social outcast, a villager isolated by appearance, language, or eccentric behavior. By selecting a person already considered odd or not of the norm, the hunters can readily persuade the townsfolk to accept their supposition. To add further horror, sometimes the person identified as the fycanthrope will also accept the hunters' claim and beg for assistance in finding a cure.

Thus, the hunters can begin the process of "curing" the lycanthrope. Such cures have two things in common: they are impressive and flashy ceremonies, playing to all the base beliefs and misconceptions of the townsfolk; and they are very expensive. Most charlatans claim success, which is a simple matter given that no lycanthropy existed. Unfortunately, some evil few who claim failure have found this an easy excuse to commit murder.

A true hunter always has as much respect for the prey as he has for himself. This is as true for those who track werebeasts as it is for those who hunt deer and birds. It is not only a matter of understanding that the lycanthrope can kill at least as easily as it can be killed, it is more importantly a matter of recognizing the creature as a living thing instead of an object simply to be destroyed, it has drives and fears and a desire to live! When one understands the heart and mind of the beast, one becomes more attuned to it. When one knows what motivates the prey, one may anticipate its reactions. When the hunter puts himself in the place of his quarry, he comprehends what he would do if he were the hunted (as he may well be!).

That is the difference between hunting and murder. In the end, that is the sole distinction between a man who contains a beast within and another who becomes the beast without.

The werebeast is a fell opponent - intelligent, cunning, and fearfully lethal in combat. Detecting its presence, locating it, and then hunting it down is a singular undertaking. Too often the task easily claims the lives of hunters, or curses them with the dread affliction, which is certainly worse than death.

Yet the task of hunting down and destroying the werebeast is an important one. Lycanthropy is a pernicious, insidious infection in the body of its victim and the body of society as well. It is a plague upon both the individual and the societal soul, for it erodes our ability to embrace our own neighbors for fear that they may not be what we think they are. Pitiable they may be, yet still they must be condemned.

As I draw to the close of this treatise, I must admit that studying the lycanthrope has been most disturbing, For all my condemnation of these monsters, I must pause a moment and reflect upon the reality of the beast within me. The werebeast kills because killing is what it instinctively does. It has no agenda, no point to prove, no hatred to vent. On the other side, I have no need to kill at all, instinctively or otherwise, yet I have pursued that objective with righteous tenacity. We are both predators, yet who is the more monstrous?

I must conclude that my agenda to destroy all creatures of darkness, my point to prove that they are indeed vulnerable in some way or another, and my utter hatred of all things evil renders my deadly intent a tragic necessity - and I am therefore no monster at all.

Let the werebeast look well to its hunting skills; I shall show it who is the superior predator!