The Cursed Wererat

Another PF2E bestiary poem chosen at random from creatures in the first bestiary between level -1 and 2. Enjoy.

From the Journal of Vyscaria

I escaped the mantis, obviously, by running as fast as my short little legs could carry me while it was still distracted with the gnoll who had been hunting me. I ran for quite a while that day. Ended up finding a trail that led to a village I’d never been in before. Met some nice folk there. Turns out they had themselves a monster problem and I got lucky. They’d hired some green adventurers to handle it and I convinced them to let me watch.

*Scribbled in the margins: I later learned that not all wererats are created by bites. I may have to revisit this at some point as a result.

The Cursed* Wererat

Today we discuss a most tricky foe,
Its own nature it may not yet see…
Trouble soon follows wherever they go,
On this much, we all can agree.

Their curse, it is bonding
With lesser creatures of their kind.
They oft find corresponding
Can help them if they’re so inclined.

These critters can see in the faintest of lights,
They can tell where you are by your scent,
And if they should manage the slightest of bites,
Your life you can likely lament…

For their curse they will share with you
Spreading it on with their fangs,
And all memory of what you’ve been through
Will be lost as you run with their gangs…

They walk among us with not a trace,
And most of us have no suspicions…
Their kind exists among every race,
And survives in the harshest conditions…

For their curse is a sly curse,
It hides their appearance by day,
‘Neath the full moon their disguises disperse
And their blood-lust demands they obey!

They scamper and skitter when under attack,
They are quick to dodge most assaults!
They are savage and vicious while they’re fighting back,
Taking stock of their enemies’ faults.

For their curse is compelling,
Honing their instincts anew,
Their morals it is quelling,
While their hunger is claiming its due.

With all of the strengths gained from their new form,
A weakness they all must endure,
When stricken with silver their wound will transform,
More painful and ragged for sure.

Know that their curse can be ended,
By magic the thing can be tamed…
And their violence, unintended,
Will fade when their lives are reclaimed.

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