Gnawing Plague

The true origin of the Gnawing Plague is uncertain. Some claim it was born from ancient curses placed upon the first wererats, while others whisper that it was created deliberately by Jacqueline Renier herself—an arcane pestilence designed to purge the weak and create the ideal conditions for her hidden empire of lycanthropes to thrive. Regardless of its genesis, it has become a cyclical terror in Richemulot’s cities, surging without warning and vanishing just as mysteriously.

The plague spreads in two primary ways:

• Bites or wounds inflicted by infected creatures—especially rats, giant rats, swarms of rats, or wererats.
• Physical contact with a creature already infected, particularly during late-stage symptoms when the disease manifests most aggressively.

Curiously, and suspiciously, all rats and wererats are completely immune to the plague, even while serving as its most prolific vectors. This immunity—and the plague’s unnatural targeting of other humanoid species—has led many to believe the disease is magical in origin and possibly intelligent in its propagation.

Infection lies dormant for 1 to 2 days before manifesting in increasingly grotesque and debilitating ways. Symptoms typically unfold in the following progression:

• Stage One: The victim suffers from fatigue, aching joints, and intermittent chills. Small, red rashes begin to appear on the limbs and face, accompanied by a general feeling of unease or paranoia.
• Stage Two: Swelling of the lymph nodes causes painful buboes to rise beneath the arms, along the neck, and in the groin. Splotchy purple-black bruises spread across the skin, and the victim experiences night sweats and high fever. The shaking begins—at first subtle, then escalating—especially affecting the face, jaws, and hands.
• Stage Three: The tremors intensify into full-body convulsions, and victims may experience delusions or hallucinations of rats crawling beneath their skin. Some scream of phantom bites or voices whispering from the shadows. At this stage, the infected become extremely contagious. Death is common if left untreated, though some survive with permanent neurological damage or facial paralysis.

Those who perish from the Gnaws often do so in agony, their final hours filled with uncontrollable spasms, frothing breath, and wild-eyed terror. Corpses of the infected decay rapidly, attracting swarms of rats within hours of death.

Unlike mundane plagues, the Gnawing Plague resists most traditional treatments. Herbal remedies may slow its progression, but only magical healing, alchemical elixirs prepared with rare reagents, or divine intervention can fully purge the illness. Even so, healing magic must be applied with care—if administered too late or without spiritual shielding, the disease can flare back to life within hours.

The plague appears to recognize its carriers; it does not harm wererats, who remain healthy even while spreading the disease. Some infected individuals report seeing rats gather around them—watching silently, as if waiting.

The recurring outbreaks of the Gnaws have shaped Richemulot’s society and psyche. Cities seal themselves off during flare-ups, leaving the sick to die behind closed doors. People whisper suspicions about those who seem "too healthy" amid the sickness. Some even accuse their neighbors of being wererats in disguise.

In Richemulot, everyone knows the signs: the rash, the tremble, the sweat. Superstition runs rampant. It is said that to dream of rats is to be marked for infection. Children are taught not to chase strays, not to walk alone, not to look too long into the gutters.

And all know that when the tremors come, it may already be too late.